“Where are we going?” she asks me.
“You’ll see,” I tell her.
“You’re just full of surprises lately,” she says.
“That I am.”
I don’t let go of her until we’re in the marble tile shower— or should I say shower room. It’s big enough for ten people, the most luxurious shower I’ve ever been in. I sit her down on the ledge and turn on one of the faucets.
I lift up the handheld shower head and say, “Surprise.”
“You really do have the best ideas,” she says, smiling.
She blushes a bit, still my slutty virgin.
“Spread your legs,” I command her.
“Yes, Sir.”
She opens them wide for me, so I can see every inch of her beautiful pussy.
I hold the shower head up so that the pressure of the water hits her where it counts.
“Yes,” she says, that looks on her face that shows she’s in the midst of extreme pleasure immediately showing up, just as I had hoped.
I watch her face turn into different phases as ecstasy as the water continues to hit and massage her pussy.
“Oh, my God,” she cries out, leaning her head back onto the tile. “Gavin. I’m coming.”
“Come for me,” I tell her, getting excited myself.
I hand her the shower head and say, “Let me watch you come some more.”
As the water makes her come again and again, I take my cock in my hand and stroke it. It grows to its full length and wide girth, and all I want to do is explode.
But not yet. I need to be in her.
I pick her up, soaking wet and slippery, and carry her to the bed. I notice there’s a bedpost, so I grab my tie and constrain her wrists.
“Time for you to be my slutty little sex slave,” I tell her. “You ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
Her ass is sticking up in the air for me as her wrists are tied to the bed post. I grab my belt next and quickly lash it across the pale skin of her ass.
“Ouch!” she cries out, but then she quickly says, “More, sir. Please.”
Whap, whap.
I hit her again, watching welts appear as she cries out in both pleasure and pain.
“That hurts so bad, Gavin, but it also feels so good.”
“Oh, my poor baby,” I tell her, coming closer and grabbing hold of her ass cheeks. “Do you need me to make you feel all better?”
“Yes, Sir,” she says, and I spread open her ass cheeks nice and wide.
Without any warning, I plunge my large, hard cock into her ass hole, and she cries out, “Oh, my God, Gavin, that hurts.”
She jolts away from me but she can’t get far because she’s tied up. Mine for the taking, now and always.
“Does it hurt too much?” I ask her, rocking inside her tight little asshole, stretching it to its limit, but already knowing the answer.
“No,” she says, whimpering. “No, Sir, it doesn’t hurt too much.”
“Good,” I answer. “Because I’ve been wanting to fuck your ass again ever since I proposed to you.”
I reach around and play with her clit while I fuck her ass hole.
She continues moaning in both pleasure and pain while once in a while saying, “Oh, Gavin,” slow and deep.
“Yes, my slutty little fiancée,” I tell her, as I feel her juices gushing out into my hand. “Does your ass hole hurt while you come for me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she says, grinding her teeth.
I stick my fingers in her mouth and she bites them to muffle her screams as my cock tears up her little ass hole. But soon she must feel better because she’s desperately sucking my fingers that were just in her pussy, saying, “More, Sir, More,” as I plunge myself in and out of her ass.
She begins to rock her whole body, grinding her ass against my cock, while I play with her clit with my other hand.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she calls out, in the throes of desire fulfilled.
“I’m about to blow my wad in your ass hole,” I tell her, overcome with passion myself. “I’m going to fill you up with my cum.”
It bursts out of me, feeling like more than I’ve ever shot into her in my life.
“Yes, yes,” she gasps, collapsing as much as she can— in this position and with her wrists bound— down onto the bed. She gasps and pants and I watch my cream pie fall out of her ass hole before I join her.
“This is everything I’ve always wanted,” I tell her, petting her sweaty hair before reaching up to untie her wrists. “I can’t believe I’m going to have it for the rest of my life.”
“Me too,” she says, still panting. “And me neither.”
We both laugh as we realize that didn’t make a lot of sense.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “You completely blew my mind tonight. I can’t even think straight.”
“Blowing my wad into you sure blew my mind too,” I tell her, and we laugh again.
“I love you,” I say, seriously, looking into her earnest eyes.
“I love you too, so much. Let’s get married soon,” she says. “You already made me wait forever and a day before you proposed.”
“Anything you want,” I tell her, wrapping her up in my strong arms, determined to never let her go. “You may have sold me your body, but you stole my heart.”
Sold to My Professor: A Billionaire and Virgin Romance
Chapter 1 – Sarah
It's three in the morning and I can't sleep because I'm so horny. I know it's wrong, and bad, and ungodly, and unholy, but I can't help it. I know it's all of this stuff because my father, the pastor of Born Again Baptist Church, tells me that God says it is.
I've always tried my best to be a good pastor's daughter. I was Bible Quiz Champion all through Sunday School. An avid and enthusiastic youth group member throughout middle and high school. And I was even a teen missionary, traveling to El Salvador to help build an orphanage on a work team and then to Uganda on an Africa Choir team.
Following the rules and being a good girl has been driving me insane. I'm nineteen years old and I've never had sex. To be honest, it's not even for lack of trying. I've dated some guys but because they're super religious and/or scared of my father, they haven't wanted to touch me.
Sure, I'm an adult now but I live with my parents who pay for my college tuition. I go to a small Christian school close to my hometown. I'm majoring in business so that I have money of my own and not need to rely on my parents so much.
The business program at my school isn't great. It's mostly for people who want to own Christian bookstores or soup kitchen charities. But it's the best I've got as it's the only place my parents would pay for me to go— they like to keep me under their wing still.
I'll never be able to leave the nest— or fly the coop— while I still need my parents to pay for everything, so that's why my plan is to be financially stable. Only then can I get away from my parents' crazy rules and my image as the squeaky clean pastor's daughter who boys are afraid to date.
It all started with Kevin Kearns, my first boyfriend, three years ago, when I was sixteen. That was the first time I was allowed to date but it had to be group dates only, and to this day, that's the still the rule that I have to follow. ("As long as you're under my roof, you'll follow my rules," my dad always says.)
We went to a PG movie— the only kind I was allowed to see— and then the ice cream parlor. Kevin held my hand under the table and we played footsies. He kissed me in the parking lot and then went home with his friend Dean while my friend Jane drove me home.
When I got home, my parents were in bed and I was in seventh heaven. I'd had my first date, my first kiss and everything had gone perfectly. I knew my dad would kill me if he found out that Kevin had kissed me, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?
I couldn't be more wrong about everything. Of course, my dad knew all back then, just as he always had and always will. Later that night, I got a Facebook message from Kevin.
I couldn’t wait to write him back.
Sarah: I had a great time with you too!
Kevin: I loved kissing you, it was so hot.
At this, I'd blushed, but I'd wanted to hear more about how hot he thought I was. I'd certainly thought it was hot when Kevin kissed me as well.
Sarah: Yes.
Kevin: Will you let me touch your boobs?
Woah. It had been a rather blunt question, and it hadn't even sounded like Kevin. Up until that point he'd been a perfect gentleman who had barely even used his tongue when we kissed. I figured he'd gotten braver behind the computer screen. And I liked it.
I felt free, liberated. I'd been thinking about sex, wondering what it was like, how it would feel. I knew I wasn't supposed to have such thoughts but I couldn't seem to stop them.
Finally, I could explore my baser nature with a like-minded individual. Who knew Kevin was secretly as horny as I was? I knew my answer before my fingers typed it out.
Sarah: Yes.
As I wrote it, my palms felt sweaty just above the keyboard. My heart raced as I awaited whatever he was going to say next.
Kevin: What else will you let me do to you?
The answer to that question felt obvious to me as well. I didn't even have to hesitate, even though I knew I should have.
Sarah: Whatever you want.
I waited anxiously for his answer. Would he want to meet up right then? Maybe I could sneak back out. Or would it more of a long and drawn out tease, where we would take things a little further each time after our group dates until we couldn't stand it anymore and finally we would feel as if we would just die if we didn't get into Kevin's car and drive to the area known by everyone in school as Make Out Point?
But no answer from Kevin ever came. Instead, there was a knock on my door.
"Sarah, we need to talk."
It was my father.
Holy crap.
Chapter 2 – Sarah
Had he known I'd been online? How could he possibly know?
Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling.
"One second," I said, clicking the "view profile" option on the chat window.
"Sarah, open the door right now," he'd said, knocking harder.
There was a lock on my door, but my dad began dismantling it. I hurried to figure out what exactly he knew, and how. The profile I'd clicked on showed Kevin's picture, and the same cover photo he'd always used. But that was all it showed.
There were no other photos I was used to seeing in Kevin's albums— of him snowboarding down the mountain or skateboarding down stair railings with his friends. There were none of his normal posts quoting Newsboys lyrics or sharing charity drive requests or Bible verse memes.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I searched for "Kevin Kearns" in my friends' list, for what I already knew I would find: two profiles. The one that was the real Kevin Kearns and the other that belonged to—
"Dad?!" I shrieked, as he opened the door to my room.
He'd gotten a drill and taken the handle with the lock off my door, while I was trying to figure out what he was doing outside my room and why he was so mad. Suddenly, it all made perfect, nauseating sense.
I hadn't been talking to Kevin. I had been talking to someone who at some point along the way had made another profile just like Kevin's.
"Young lady, you have broken the covenants of our faith and you have gravely disappointed me," my dad said, as he sat down on my bed and glared at me.
"How could you do this, Dad?" I asked. "When did you make that other profile? Why? This is just sick!"
"The focus is not on me," Dad said, shaking his head. "This is about your disobedient ways and your dark nature. You didn't even realize I had made my own profiles for several of your male Facebook friends. You accepted the friendship requests without even having discernment. You clearly would let anyone do anything in the name of acceptance and peer pressure…"
"Dad, that makes no sense," I told him, trying to calm him down and calm myself down as well. "If I thought I knew them, of course I'd accept their requests. "It's not as if I was accepting requests from perfect strangers."
"I knew you and that Kevin boy would be up to no good," my dad said, ignoring what I had just been saying. "I saw him kiss you and I decided…"
"You saw him kiss me?" I exploded. "You followed us?"
Where had he been? I hadn't seen his car parked in the parking lot of the ice cream parlor but my mind had been otherwise occupied.
"I can't help it if I happened to have a hankering for Applebees' chips and salsa at the same time you were leaving the ice cream parlor," my dad said.
So that explained it. He had gone to the restaurant closest to the ice cream parlor's parking lot. Just to spy on me and see what I was up to. He'd seen Kevin kiss me. Then he'd gone online and messaged me to see how far I would go with Kevin.
He'd found out, alright. And then he'd made my life a living hell because of it.
"You can't be trusted with dates, even group date," he'd said. "And you can't be trusted on the Internet, either."
He did everything he could to shame me into submission, into chastity. And it worked, because he turned me into a social pariah.
First, he sat me down in front of my younger siblings and announced my sins. He'd told them that because of my deviancy and perversion, I'd lost all Internet privileges. He took the computer out of my room and he changed the password to the family computer in the living room. He told them that if any of them was caught giving me the password, they'd lose their Internet privileges as well.
He put a new handle on the door to my room, but it didn't have a lock on it. He told me he could come into my room at any time and that he would always be checking on me.
He made me go up in front of the congregation and give testimony. I had to confess my sins— letting Kevin Kearns kiss me and then saying I would let him do anything to me— and explain that this was a sin and that I had asked Jesus for forgiveness and to cleanse my body and mind and make me pure again.
And that isn't even the worst thing my dad did. The worst thing he did was to post our conversation on Facebook, tagging Kevin and telling him that he corrupted me and that he was responsible for my fall from grace. Kevin was as mortified as I was— not that he ever told me that, because he never talked to me again.
But I heard about Kevin's reaction through the grapevine, just as I heard that other classmates laughed hysterically and thought the whole thing was hilarious. They thought I was hilarious. All because of one little kiss.
After that I was the laughingstock of the school. No one wanted to date me for fear of what my dad would do. I got a few dates with boys from a neighboring town but as soon as they found out my dad was the pastor of our church they kept their distance from me. I once scooted closer to a boy on his couch, after he had invited me and a friend over to watch a movie, and he had recoiled from me. Later, that friend told me he was telling people, "The rumors are true. Sarah is really forward, slutty even."
You'd think boys my age would have been excited to hear about a supposedly slutty girl, and would take full advantage of the chance to be with me. But, no— in the small town in which I lived, everyone was religious, and chaste. No one wanted to be with a girl who was known to be "slutty" with a crazy father.
So, the remainder of my high school years passed without any more chances for me to be kissed. My dad was quite pleased with the situation but I, needless to say, was not. I'm nineteen years old and a college student and I still don't have a computer in my room.
After a year of punishment, I was given the password to the family computer in the living room. But that's the only place I'm allowed to get on the Internet and I'm strictly observed by my father.
It has been hell, and I can't wait to graduate from college, start my business— a line of pet toys made of recycled products such as tires and plastic bottles— and get out of her
e. In the meantime, I found out about the Kindle Fire.
Oh, what a glorious discovery that was. My father had no opposition to me having a device that let me read books. He just didn't know what kind of books I liked to read on it.
Late at night, under my covers, I read dirty, filthy smut while I fantasize about doing such acts of depravity in real life. My hands wander between my legs, and my fingers snake their way into my wet pussy, as I imagine what it would be like to have sex.
The very first romance book I ever read was by Cassandra Dee. I couldn't believe such things could be easily downloaded onto my Fire. Two guys at once. Three guys at once. Older guys. Experienced guys. Rich guys. All my favorite fantasies were all in one place.
As time went by, I read more and more smut. Piper Phoenix. C.A. Quigg. Jess Bentley. My Fire was a dream come true, and it remains the same to this day.
I can't find a guy of my own until I move out of this house, and away from this town. But I have plenty of make believe guys to dream about in the meantime. And lots of "me time" in my bed at night, where the men of my dreams come alive and make me come, over and over and over.
Chapter 3 – Adam
Click, clack, click, clack, click.
Jane Peterson's high heels make so much noise as she walks into the conference room where I had just given the last lecture of the business class I was teaching over the summer. It's as if Jane has to announce her presence and rub in my face the fact that she is here to chastise me.
She is the head of the Board of Regents and she had already told me she was coming to talk to me, via a snappy email she'd sent earlier today, but now she had to emphasize that fact by click-clacking her way in. I wish I could fuck some sense into her. I bet after she had my cock up her ass, she'd take out the stick that was up there.
"Mr. Masters," she says, gesturing towards a pull-down seat in the front row of the auditorium- style classroom. "Have a seat."
"I'd rather remain standing," I inform her, and I do.
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