Insatiable: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by Sophia Desmond

  Chills, up and down my spine. His undivided attention. Make it worthwhile. What did he mean by that? I felt like I was expected to perform, to do something special for him, but I had no idea what.

  But I bet that was part of his strategy. He wanted to see what I was willing to do for him. I licked my lips. I found myself liking the delicious anxiety, the knowledge that I would be expected to do whatever he wanted...

  As evening neared, I showered and dressed. I didn't put on any underwear. I figured that's what he had meant by "only that," with regards to the dress. I guessed he wanted easy access to me... The pervert.

  I did, however, put on make up. Not a lot. I find a more natural look has always looked best on me. I'm naturally very pale, so I but on some blush and even bronzer, and then a light pink lipstick that, if I do say so myself, made my lips look perfect for sucking cock.

  The dress he had picked out for me sparkled with my green eyes. It hugged my curves, my rejuvenating curves, beautifully, as if he knew exactly what size I would be after a week and a half of intensive weight lifting and gouging on high protein meals.

  I found a single bottle of Dom in the fridge, one which hadn't been there earlier in the day. Not bad. Not bad at all. I could get used to this. I hoped the Dom Perignon was an all the time thing, and not just a special welcome gift. I uncorked it, poured two glasses, and set myself up on the terrace to wait.

  I was a bit early, and it was a good thing that I was, because I heard the door to the apartment open and slam shut at ten-fifteen. A full forty-five minutes before my Boss was supposed to be home.

  I bit my lip as I heard him walk through the apartment. His footsteps stopped for a moment, and then, he stepped into view, wearing one of those colorful Venetian Mardi Gras masks that look like the faces of demented harlequin dolls. His mouth and his chin were visible beneath the mask and I saw his stubble, his wry, confident smirk as he caught sight of me. His smirk stretched into a full smile and I shuddered once more, partially from the cold but mostly from the thoughts of what he would do to me.

  "It's good to see you, Tara. You look... Amazing. As I expected."

  "This is a great dress. You did a great job, picking it out--it fits perfectly."

  "I asked Bobby to go buy it, actually. He has to take all of the credit. He's great with women's clothing."

  Of course. He was a drag queen. He probably knew more about dressing like a girl than I ever would. He had probably forgotten more than I, even as a model, had ever known.

  Boss took a seat next to me on the chaise I had arranged myself on. I handed him his champagne and our fingers grazed one another.

  "How was China?" I asked, unsure of how to proceed--unsure if he wanted me to just bend over and beg for it, or maybe get down on my knees and go to work, or what. But I decided a lead up, some conversation, that would make things easier.

  "Big. Crowded. Dirty. I love China. I always feel like I've gotten some good work down when I'm there. It's a place where people want to get things done. You have a country of a billion people and for decades, they were told they couldn't own businesses, couldn't own money. You've got all this pent up energy and boom, it's out, it's roaring across the world."

  He sipped thoughtfully.

  "Maybe I'll take you sometime. The food is amazing. And I bought a few interesting art pieces while there."

  "Any masks?" I asked, a teasing note in my voice. But his face didn't change. He didn't seem to interpret that as teasing.

  "Of course. I have an extensive mask collection--I'm not sure if that was clear or not. Probably one of the best in the world. From Hopi and Iroquois, and some pre-Colombian Aztec and Inca pieces, to modern day monster movie masks."

  "I... I didn't realize. Why do you like masks so much?"

  He looked out over the city. I felt like the time was right and I reached down, pressing my hand to his crotch. Yep. Hard as a rock. I began to unzip his silky smooth suit pants, my fingers getting closer and closer to his hardness.

  "Ever since I was a child, I've been fascinated by masks," he murmured. "Some of my earliest memories are of making masks in pre-school. Every time I was in an art class, I wanted to make a mask. I loved Halloween, precisely because of the masks. I would want four or five different masks per costume, want to change between them over the course of the evening, even if it didn't make any sense. I'm sure my parents thought I was touched. I even thought, for a while, in college, about moving to Hollywood and going into special effects, so I could make monster movie masks for a living. But they don't really use masks any more. It's all computers."

  By now, his cock was out, and in my hand. God, but he was huge. And throbbing. And... And hot. His cock all but burnt my hand as I began to stroke it up, my fingers all but barely able to grip him. I have small hands, but that should still give you some idea of how enormously thick he was...

  "You have such a nice cock," I whispered, leaning in close. His mouth curved into a smile.

  "Women tell me that often."

  "How often? Am I sharing you with someone else?" I asked suddenly, unsure of why I was feeling jealous.

  "Maybe you are. Maybe you aren't. You're my little secret right now, either way. I thought you understood that."

  I supposed I did. I was still his toy, his private little pet.

  One of his hands ran up my arm and I shivered at his powerful touch. Goosebumps rose along my flesh as his hand ran up to my neck, wrapped around it casually, not putting any pressure. I stiffened up, my fingers squeezing his cock tight, but he didn't choke me. Rather, his hand snaked around my neck, threaded his fingers through my strawberry blonde hair, and pulled me close for a kiss.

  Our mouths met and I all but melted into him, leaning into him, feeling the tip of his cock grow wet with anticipation as our mouths dueled, as he held me tight by the hair. I gasped a little as he pulled, showing dominance. Reminding me who was in control.

  "I think you should get down on your knees," he growled as we broke the kiss.

  "Funny. I was thinking the same thing," I replied.

  I knelt in front of him, hiking up my dress ever so slightly. Faced with his cock--long, thick, veiny, and a dull purple under the light, I was suddenly nervous. This was a bigger cock than I had ever sucked before. And when was the last time I sucked cock? Weeks ago.

  Still, I wasn't about to fail him. Especially not since he put his hand behind my head and guided me, firmly, to his shaft--I had no choice, and that feeling of helplessness only made it hotter for me. I was damnably wet, with my juices slicking my inner thighs as I took the tip of his throbbing manhood in my mouth, swirling my tongue around him, savoring the meaty, slightly bitter taste of his flesh and the saltiness of the pre-cum leaking from his tip. He grunted, thrusting his hips forward involuntarily as I took him deep, lowering my face onto him.

  "Deeper, Tara. You can keep going," he growled. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

  I looked up at him, eyes on his with his cock in my mouth as I forced myself to take it, take his cock deeper and deeper into my throat. I gagged a little bit on the way down, but years of forcing myself to puke had basically gotten rid of my gag reflex for all intents and purposes, and before long, my nose was buried in his wiry pubic hair, his hand on the back of my head, pressing me into him.

  He held me there for what seemed like an impossibly long time. My eyes started to water. I started to get dizzy. What if I passed out with his cock in my mouth? Finally, just when that was beginning to seem like an inevitability, he let me pull off him.

  I gasped for air, starting to pant as soon as I could breath again.

  "Not bad. We'll train you to go for longer."

  "What... Whatever you say..."

  "Sir."

  "Hm?"

  "When you address me, you should use Sir. We're getting over the honeymoon here, Tara. It's time that you understood what you're getting into."

  I nodded. I was all ready too far into the game now. It only made
sense. Of course he was Sir. Of course.

  "Yes, Sir," I nodded again. "I'm sorry, Sir."

  "Nothing to apologize. You didn't know. But, there will be consequences in the future."

  But not now, apparently, because he put his hand behind my head once more, lowering my lips to his cock. I took him deep and then pulled off of him, starting to bob my head like a demented doll, hungry to make him cum, hungry to show him my worth. I wanted to taste him, to taste this man who was dominating me so brilliantly. I wanted to suck down his seed and...

  But then he pulled me off his cock and I gasped in surprise and dismay.

  "Just lick it for a while," he ordered.

  I nodded.

  "Yes, Sir."

  I began to lick him, from his balls, which I rolled around with my tongue and suckled, and then began to lick up his shaft, tracing the veins of his skin, feeling the way he throbbed, feeling how hungry and desirous of me he was. He was only moments from bending me over and fucking me senseless. I could tell that, based on the way he grunted, the way he pulled my hair. God, I was going to be sore after this one. I looked forward to that delicious soreness, to the way his fucking would leave me aching in my guts the next morning, like a workout but deep inside of me...

  "Now, down, Tara," he growled. He forced me down onto his cock and then off of it and soon, I found the rhythm he wanted--practically fucking my face on his cock, impaling my lips with his shaft and then, occasionally, pulling off of him to slurp at his skin, to slurp at his flesh, to nibble and suckle him. I grunted as I worked, tears leaking from my eyes. My lips and throat ached, but I couldn't be brought to think about that right now. I was loving my role as his slave, loving my role as his toy. All I could think about, all I wanted... Was to please him.

  "Fuck, you have no idea how long I've waited to see you sucking my cock, Tara..." he growled. "You're absolutely gorgeous, you know that? I'm sure you know that. You've had people telling you your whole life how pretty you are. But none of them appreciate you like I do. You should realize that."

  What the hell was he talking about? Of course, I'm a model. That's my job, to be pretty. I wished he would just shut up and let me service him. I didn't reply at all; just fellated him like my life depended on it.

  "Everyone else wants to eat you up and spit you out, Tara. I want to do that too; only, I'll put you back together at the end."

  That he would. There was plenty here at this Tribeca palace for me to put myself back together with--a big screen TV, a private gym worthy of the finest hotels and spas in the world, gourmet food every single day... It was easy to be a slave when this was slavery.

  "Faster," he ordered, grunting louder and louder, leaning back on the chaise, the city seeming to swirl around us as I worked, as I sucked and lathered his cock with my spit. "Faster. Suck me like that's all your good for."

  Those words, those degrading words, sent a thrill up my spine. I couldn't help myself: I obeyed, impaling my throat on his cock harder and harder, until he groaned and grabbed my hard, pressing my mouth, my face to his crotch.

  "Fucking hell..." he groaned, his hips bucking as he unleashed his salty seed into my waiting mouth. I gasped and grunted, accepting it eagerly, taking his cum like a good little pet as I swallowed every single drop--not that I had much choice. He was cumming so deeply into my throat that I could barely taste him.

  Finally, gasping, panting, he let me pull off of him. I sat back, my legs spread, not even realizing that I was exposing my bare pussy to him from the way I was sitting. He noticed and smiled. I want to close my legs but he put his foot out and I gasped, shuddered, as his fine, leather, Italian shoe touched my wetness.

  "What's this? No underwear?" he growled, putting pressure on my snatch. I whimpered and nodded.

  "I thought you would like it, Sir. Do you?" I whimpered, on the verge of tears, half from the exertion of the blow job, and half from the painful-pleasurable pressure my Boss was putting on my pussy as he stood up, pressing in precisely and painfully with the tip of his foot.

  "I do. But I think it's a very, very naughty thing to do. Don't you?"

  I nodded dumbly, only gasping and whimpering as he moved his foot around, manipulating my lips and even my clit deftly. I finally couldn't support myself and I leaned back as he forced more pressure onto my crotch.

  "Sir... It hurts... Oh, god..." I moaned, writhing. "It's too much."

  "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice low and mellow, even. In control. I shook my head rapidly. No. No, I did not want him to stop, not under any circumstances. I felt a dribble of cum sliding out of my mouth but I didn't even have the wherewithal to wipe it away.

  "You're a naughty little piece of cunt, Tara," Boss continued. "No underwear. I bet you're not wearing a bra either."

  I shook my head.

  "Is that a yes-bra, or no-bra?" he growled loudly, pressing hard into me. I arched my back, shrieking. Could he actually make me cum, literally under his boot?

  "No-bra, Sir."

  "That's a bad girl," he growled. "Stand up and take off that dress, since you're already mostly naked."

  I bit my lip and nodded. My pussy ached as he took his foot away and I stood, with trembling legs, and began to pull the dress off, with equally trembling hands.

  And then, just like that, I was naked in front of him. Out here, on the side of a building in the Manhattan night. Anyone with a telescope could see me.

  "This isn't the first time I've seen all this, you know," Boss said, picking up his glass of champagne and taking a sip as he walked around me, admiring my body like a man who just bought a fine race horse might admire his purchase. "You know what I'm talking about."

  I struggled to remember. And then I did.

  "Oh. Those pictures."

  You see, I did some nude modeling back when I was in law school to help make my first tuition payment. It was the only nude modeling I had ever done, and god, did it pay a lot. That's the dangerous part about modeling nude. It's seductive, because it pays so much--at first. But it only pays a lot if you do it rarely. Once you start taking your clothes off all the time, that's what you become known for. And then, they'll pay less and less for it. Unless you're willing to do more. Unless you're willing to, say, pose with another naked girls, hugging her, your breasts on her back, or maybe breast-to-breast, and once you're there, why not kiss? And then why not spread your legs and let her lick you? And then maybe you might as well eat her out on camera and what if you got fucked in the ass at the same time? And then you're a porn star and you're wondering where your career went.

  But I had only done one nude shoot. My agency still has the rights to it. Nora must have forwarded it to Boss.

  "Yes. Those pictures. You were a bit younger back then. Of course... It shows."

  I flushed.

  "That's not a nice thing to say," I murmured, unable to meet his eyes.

  "But it's the truth," he said, ruthlessly, his hand forcing my face up to look at him, look into that harlequin mask. I felt tears in my eyes, and it wasn't because of the ache in my lips or my crotch.

  "Shut up," I growled. "Just because I'm your toy or whatever doesn't mean you can humiliate me."

  "I think you misunderstand. It does. Bend over. Spread your legs and bend over."

  I scowled and started to do it, bracing myself against the chaise, my breasts hanging down. I felt like a cow waiting to be impregnated and my cheeks were burning.

  I heard him undoing his belt and then my breath got caught in my throat as I realized what was in store for me.

  "Do you know what this is, Tara?" he asked, running the leather of his belt over my back. I instinctively recoiled from it, but he reached down, grabbing me by the belly and pulling me into it.

  "That's your belt."

  "And what do you think I'm going to do with it?"

  "You're going to whip me."

  "And why am I going to do that?"

  "Because I told you to shut up."

  "That's ri
ght. Do you think you deserve to be whipped?"

  I bit my lip. God, but this made me wet.

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Do you want to be whipped?"

  "Yes, Sir," I murmured, tears streaming down my burning cheeks. God, I felt so humiliated but somehow, it made me feel all the more ready for his cock as I dug down deeper into the pit of my humiliation, as I submitted to him and gave myself over to him.

  "Are you sure? Say it. Say it if you want it."

  "I want you to punish me, Sir," I said, forcing my voice to be steady. "I've been oh-so bad and, and, and... Insolent."

  "That's right. And how do you want me to punish you?"

  "Please, Sir. Whip me."

  There was a brief silence and then, the leather collided with my backside. It didn't actually hurt as bad as I thought it would, and I shrieked, more from the surprise and anticipation than from anything else.

  "I barely touched you. Don't play act," he grunted, slapping my ass with his hand, and harder this time.

  "Sorry, Sir. I was surprised."

  "Don't be. You should be expected to be disciplined at any moment, especially if you know you deserve it."

  "Yes, Sir. Of course, Boss."

  Another silence, which I knew, almost immediately, meant the belt was being raised and readied. And then, again, it came down, slicing into my flesh. Now, this was harder. I arched my back, a strangled groan escaping from my lips, my backside wiggling as the reverberations of the strike flowed through my body.

  "How was that?"

  "Harder, Sir," I said, before I even knew what I was saying.

  He whipped me again and now, I screamed. He didn't seem to think that was unjustified.

  "How was that?"

  "I can take harder, Sir."

  "I don't fucking care what you think you can or can't take, Tara. I'll decide that."

  "Harder, Sir."

  "Good girl," he grunted, and before I knew it, the belt was slicing into my ass over and over, carving me up. I screamed at first, but then I just let my mouth fall open in a silent groan, the delicious pain overwhelming me.

  He even whipped my sopping wet pussy, though not nearly as hard--each strike made me shriek and I nearly doubled over, nearly lost my balance as the leather conquered my needy, hungry flesh.