by Krista Lakes
Worthy of the Billionaire
by Krista Lakes
Published by Zirconia Publishing, Inc., 2013.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
WORTHY OF THE BILLIONAIRE
First edition. June 21, 2013.
Copyright © 2013 Krista Lakes.
Written by Krista Lakes.
Table of Contents
Worthy of the Billionaire's Attention
Worthy of the Billionaire's Trust
Worthy of the Billionaire’s Love
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Worthy of the Billionaire's Attention
I sat admiring Mr. King's picture on the cover of a magazine in the waiting room of his company’s tower. Gregory King had aged little in the photo from when I saw him last. Would he even recognize me?
We had gone to college together back before he earned his millions. We took English Lit together, and had been partners for our final project at the end of the semester. As a result, we had spent a good deal of time together and became more than friends.
Gregory King was frequently featured in both Forbes’ Magazine’s list of Richest Men and People Magazine’s list of sexiest men alive. He was the founder of a small software company that suddenly found itself the main security software for handheld devices. He had worked hard to stay ahead of the technology curve and had kept himself the leader in the industry.
But that's not why he was a fixture in all the magazines. Every magazine enjoyed featuring him in pictures as his strong jaw and boyish blonde hair always made for gorgeous covers. His eyes were an odd combination of blue and brown that refused to be classified and held a smolder that threatened to light the pages on fire.
He kept a treadmill in his office that he often ran on between meetings and a set of weights for when he was between clients. As a result, his body looked as though he spent hours in the gym instead of the office.
I had gone to school with him, and now I was applying for an entry level position at his company. I thought back to our time in school...
His eyes consumed me from across the table.
“You want to do this?”
“Yes”
I gasped with pleasure as he took me in his arms and pinned me to the table. Knowing that he would put me exactly where he wanted me, that I was at his mercy was intoxicating. My pussy dampened at just the thought of it. He bit my collar bone gently, and then sucked on the delicate skin of my throat, leaving a large sensitive red mark. It hurt in such a tantalizing way that I couldn’t wait for more.
I shook my head, clearing the memory. Gregory King was the best sex I had ever had. Our first time together was the traditional celebratory end-of-semester-sleep-with-your-classmate kind of sex. A little too much alcohol had made us both brave to try something new. Between the biting and the ass slapping, he was just rough enough to make me want more.
The second time, he tied me to the bed and gave me one of the most pleasurable experiences of my life. Every night was better than the last. It was spectacular, and I never wanted it to end. Unfortunately, he graduated that summer and got a job in another city. Our last night together, he tied me to a chair and taught me how well pain and pleasure could mix. It was hard to let him go, but while we had enjoyed each others’ company, neither one of us was interested in a long distance relationship. We tried to keep in touch, but our hectic lives took control and we stopped talking. The next time I saw him it was on the cover of a magazine as an up-and-coming business man.
“Claire Vanders?” A mousy secretary brought me back to reality. I stood up, smoothed my skirt and picked up my resume. She brought me to a conference room and showed me to a seat. There was only one other person in the room, a tall wiry man, busy reading over papers scattered across the table. His grey hair was cropped short and he peered at me over thin wire glasses.
“Ms. Vanders? You are here to apply for the finance junior associate position, is that correct?”
I nodded and handed him my resume. He took it from me, but didn’t even look at it as he set it on the table. It disappeared into his conglomeration of documents. I swallowed into a dry throat. I needed this job. I was over-qualified for this job.
“My name is Mr. Jenkins, and I have been instructed to hire you, Ms. Vanders, but not for the junior associate position. King Enterprises would like to offer you a position in the finance department as liaison to Mr. King himself. He saw your name on the application list and requested you personally.”
I was pretty sure my jaw was bruised from it hitting the table. This was the best interview I had ever had and I hadn’t even said a word yet. I couldn’t believe my luck.
“A liaison to Mr. King? Would I be working with him personally?” I finally managed to sputter out after a moment of silence. My tongue tripped over most of the words and my voice cracked at the end. I am not entirely sure it even sounded like English.
The thin man nodded curtly, obviously wondering how someone so incredibly articulate had gotten this position. He slid a folder across the table with all the information. I read through the job description and a grin broke out as I saw my proposed salary. The man sat and patiently collected the documents as I signed them, then stood and had me follow him out the door.
He brought me to an elevator and up to the 69th floor where he deposited me at a giant desk with a tiny secretary perched inside. She motioned me to sit down and chirped into the intercom that I had arrived. A moment later, Mr. King came out to greet me.
He looked the same as I remembered him. A little wiser around the eyes, but the same intense gaze that made my knees feel like jelly. He shook my hand warmly and guided me into his office. I stood admiring the oversized mahogany furniture and giant glass window as he balanced himself on the edge of his desk.
“You look great, Claire. I'm glad I saw your name come up. This position has been vacant for a while- I have been looking for someone I can work with, someone who will give me what I want.” His eyes traveled up and down, appraising me. My dress suit seemed cheap in comparison to my surroundings. It was just a black pencil skirt with a matching jacket. I had paired it with a pale blue button up short sleeve dress shirt and shoes with just enough heel to look feminine but be able to walk quickly. I had felt professional this morning, but now I just felt nervous.
“I always was good at giving you what you wanted.” I replied before realizing the sexual implications of the sentence. I started blushing as soon as the words left my mouth, the room suddenly feeling warm. Mr. King just smiled and stood, offering me a chair. I quickly took it, glad for some movement.
He began describing the job and what he expected of me. It was going to be demanding work, but it was in my area of expertise. I would work closely with him on a daily basis and keep him apprised of all necessary financial matters. I could see why he would want someone he could work well with given the amount of time we would be spending together to coordinate his current projects. I shook his hand as he welcomed me aboard, his cool hand seeming to calm my nerves at having such an important job ahead of me.
The next week was filled with classes, some in groups, some as an individual. I had to be brought up to speed on the general workings of the company, the ethics policies, and the various computer programs. I took this training in groups with everyone from temporary employees to independent contractors.
For my individual classes, I worked closely with Mr. Jenkins, the tall wiry man from my initial interview. He told me all the things I would be responsible for keeping track of, who would report to me, what I should tell Mr. King and what I shouldn't waste his time
with, and so on. Any time I asked a question that I thought was a pretty good question, he looked at me like he couldn't believe that Mr. King had chosen me for this job. He obviously thought I got this job by sleeping my way to the top, but I knew that I was every bit as qualified for this job as Mr. King thought I was.
The next Monday I was as ready as I was going to be. I met Mr. Jenkins, who gave me a daily summary and told me to memorize the key points by the time we got up to Mr. King's office. I did my best, but I knew I would stumble over some of the key points. When we arrived, Mr. King shook Mr. Jenkins' hand, and gave me a quick smile. After that, we got straight down to business.
I was surprised at how quickly he jumped into the fine details of the company, asking questions that I was supposed to track down the answers to, and nodding at the different explanations for why different departments were having different issues. He read from one of the pieces of paper. “The third quarter revenues were ...When did you start hunching?” He interrupted himself as he walked around the desk. I looked up from my notes confused, but realizing that I was indeed hunching over my pen and paper. I shrugged and sat up straight, but within two minutes he caught me hunched over again.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Claire.” I looked at him, startled at his language. He never spoke to me like that while we were undergrads. I guess time had changed him. He angrily opened a desk drawer and fumbled around in it, finally finding a roll of duct tape. My heart skipped as I thought of him taping me to this very chair and having his way with me, like our last night together. I felt a heat surge between my legs. The same thoughts must have gone through his head, because he stopped and held up the tape to explain.
“I can't have my liaison slouching. At all. At any time.” The words left him harshly, as if he were surprised he even had to explain this to her. “I learned this in my earliest days of growing my business, before I was even a millionaire. If you put a line of tape down your back, any time you hunch, the tape will pull on your skin and remind you to keep straight.”
“Sure, I'll give it a shot,” I said.
“Sure? Are we back to being buddies in English lit now? This isn't a request.”
I leaned forward, suddenly much less relaxed. “Yes, sir.” I took the tape and tore off a piece before realizing I had no way of putting it on myself. He reached over and took the tape, waiting for me to take off my coat. I hung it on the back of the chair, unsure how to proceed.
“Un-tuck your shirt, and I’ll slide it up your back.” He made it sound like it was the most normal thing in the world. I un-tucked my shirt, as he commanded, and turned my back to him. He pulled my shoulders back into the correct position and then starting sticking the tape up my back. I tried not to squirm as he maneuvered the tape under my bra and up my spine, but I could feel my skin tingling under his touch. His hand brushed my skin and I wanted it to just keep touching me.
He patted the tape firmly onto my back. I could already feel it pulling on the small hairs, keeping me upright. I turned and grinned at him, tucking my shirt back into my skirt. He was so close to me I seriously considered kissing him, wondering if he still tasted the way I remembered. We locked eyes, and for a moment I thought he would this opportunity to kiss me instead. I began to lean in...
A loud beep interrupted us as the secretary outside paged him to let him know his next appointment had arrived. We stood there, shocked out of our moment, the sexual tension still tangible between us. I don't think I imagined any of it, I was sure he wanted me right then. It was like we had stepped back in time to our last night together. He pulled back and scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
“If you are interested, be there at 9pm. You will still have a job either way, so only come if you want to relive old times,” he said, very matter-of-factly. My blood was still pounding into my ears as he strode towards the door and out to the main desk to greet his next appointment. I hastily gathered my things and made what I hoped could pass for an organized departure.
I played with the piece of paper for the rest of the day. I wondered what I was getting myself into, but the memory of that moment when we locked eyes was still lingering within me. My body craved to be satisfied by him again. I stayed late setting my desk up and getting my space organized for work. At 8:30pm I finally decided to go.
***
I showed up to his mansion at 9pm sharp. It reminded me of an old castle from a dracula movie. Massive wrought iron gates guarded his home. I buzzed the intercom to gain access. The noise of the buzz startled me with its volume, but the gates unlocked and swung open silently and I made my way up the drive. I parked near the front door, the yard quiet. Sweat was forming on my back, I could feel it condensing on the duct tape running down my spine. Deep breath and a knock that I hoped sounded confident.
Mr. King opened the door and ushered me into a lavish interior. I marveled in awe at the crystal chandeliers, the heavy wooden furniture, the expensive artwork hanging on the walls. There was classical music playing softly somewhere in the house, but other than that the building was quiet. I didn't see a single servant or housekeeper. He maintained his silence as he guided me up the main stairs and to a small room at the end of one of the halls.
There was nothing in it but a single plastic folding chair in the center of the room with a heavy wooden box behind the chair’s right shoulder, and a couple more wooden trunks in the corner. The room was dark except for the light in the entryway leaking onto the chair. It gave the room a grayed out appearance with the black of the chair looking ominous. I looked around curiously, tilting my head to look into the small room without leaving the light of the entryway. His jacket was tossed carelessly by the door but he still had his tie on.
“This room reminds me of my apartment when I first started out after college. Please take off your shoes and jacket.” He spoke quietly and deliberately. I slipped off my shoes and folded my business suit jacket neatly on top of them. I stared at the chair, thinking of the amazing things we had done with a similar chair years ago.
“Sit down” he commanded. I instantly moved and sat on the plastic folding chair. He walked around me slowly, appraising what he saw. He loosened his tie, pulling it over his head instead of untying it. It dropped to the floor as he walked, and he stepped on it as he undid his shirt cuffs and collar. I perched on the edge of the chair, my knees pushed together to keep from knocking and my feet pointed up on my toes. I was concentrating on maintaining my posture, the tape pulling at the small hairs on my back, the sweat loosening the edges of the tape. I hoped he wouldn’t notice the sweat.
He pulled out two clothespins from his pocket as he walked in front of me, then set them on the box behind me. They were the cheap kind that my mother used when she dried sheets outside when I was a kid; I wondered what he was going to do with them. He rummaged in one of the boxes in the corner, bringing out some twine, scissors, and what looked like an egg, and he set them down behind me with the clothes pins. I kept looking obediently straight ahead.
“Put your hands behind you, Claire,” he asked, politely but with a tone that made it clear that it was an order. My hands flew back, hooking my elbows around the cheap plastic chair back. I felt a rough twine wrap my wrists and tie them to the bars of the chair as he knelt behind me. I tested the knots, finding that he had left the twine loose enough to rub against my skin but that I couldn’t break free. He leaned in and kissed my neck where the collar to my shirt ended. He stood and caressed the nape of my neck, tickling the small hairs that escaped my ponytail. A shiver ran through me, and he chuckled before grabbing my ponytail and forcing my head back.
I gasped, part with pain and part with pleasure. “You like that? Good.” He kissed my forehead gently and let my hair go. My heart was fluttering in my chest with excitement and a little apprehension. I rubbed my thighs together as I felt invisible strings of lust tightening through my body.
He stood in front of me, the light from the entry silhouetting hi
s figure and shadowing his face from me. He reached out and undid the top button of my shirt, then ripped the remaining buttons open. My breasts heaved in their white bra, exposed as he tucked the two sides of my shirt over my shoulders and ran his hands down my arms. Goosebumps jumped up as he touched my skin, eliciting another deep chuckle.
He knelt down, and tied each ankle to the chair with the rough twine. Again, it was just loose enough for it to rub, but not to escape. His hand glided up my calf, around the inner side of my knee and up my inner thigh. He reached up and grabbed the scissors, and in a series of quick cuts made the demure slit in my skirt reach up my thigh.
I tried not to think of how much I liked this skirt, or how much it would cost to get a new one. I didn’t have much time to contemplate as he flipped my skirt open so I was exposed before him. I was really glad I wore the nice underwear today. He rubbed his finger along the edge of the fabric, right where my left leg joined my body. Anticipation was flooding my veins as he slowly slid a finger across the fabric to the spot right above my clit. He stroked it gently, and I couldn’t help but moan a little, feeling my panties dampen. He smiled and traced his finger down to the wet spot.
“You will not come until I tell you to.” He spoke quietly as he looked deep into my eyes. Again, a polite command. I nodded feverishly, wanting only to please him. He moved smoothly and grabbed something from the box behind me. A soft buzzing noise came from the egg-shaped device in his hand as it vibrated. He put it on my inner thigh, moving the vibrations up my leg and towards my eager sex. He slid it under my panties, right on top of my clit, and left it there.
I felt like my world was pulsing with pleasure as the vibrator shook my poor little clit into a frenzy. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to come, but I was determined to please him, to wait until he gave me permission. I bit my lower lip, trying to think of other things as he smiled and stood up. He walked around me again, observing, smiling at my pleasurable discomfort. He put his hands on the back of the chair, and put his lips against my ear.