Forced to Bloom, The Complete Series: (BBW Alpha Male Billionaire BDSM Romance)

by Alexis Adaire

It was me.

  I gasped audibly. The picture was taken during my walk a few days earlier along the Willamette riverfront in downtown Portland, when M had me wear a very sheer blouse with nothing on underneath. The picture was taken from a pretty close distance, maybe twenty feet or so. It was in sharp focus and with my blonde wig pulled back, I could plainly see my breasts under the shirt. My nipples stood out, impossible not to notice. And in the picture were several men near me, staring right at my chest. I didn’t miss the fact that I was replacing the woman on the MAX car and wondered again if she were a former sub of M’s. Looking over the picture, I saw that I looked quite sexy and was holding the rapt attention of every man in the area.

  “It’s interesting,” I said. “Did you take the photo?”

  “No, I didn’t,” M replied. “I found it on a Tumblr page dedicated to exhibitionism. It seems someone couldn’t resist.”

  I remembered a young man taking my picture during that part of my walk. After a few seconds of panic at the idea of having a picture or me like that floating around online, I looked again and knew it would be impossible for anyone to recognize me in that wig and sunglasses. M had been smart to buy them and insist I wear them while doing those kinds of things for him.

  “I look sexy,” I said. “All of the men are looking at me.”

  “You are sexy, Rachel,” he corrected me. “And we are going to prove it tonight. Are you prepared to do whatever I tell you to?”

  A knot suddenly formed in my stomach. I tried to smile. “Of course, M.” I would do absolutely anything he asked of me.

  “Where is your wig?”

  It was in my purse, where I’d stuck it that morning. I’d forgotten all about it in my rush to get to M’s office. I removed it and held it up for the laptop’s camera.

  “Good, now remove your bra.”

  I could have done it without taking off my shirt, but I relished the opportunity to show my breasts to M. After removing my shirt, I took off the bra and stuck it in my purse, delaying putting my shirt back on to give M a good, long look. I had worn a pale purple silk blouse and when I slipped into it without my bra, my hard nipples stood out.

  “What am I going to do for you tonight, M?” I asked, looking directly at the laptop’s camera.

  “I’ll tell you on the way there,” he said. “I’ve called a car for you. It should be waiting downstairs.”

  “A car?”

  “I don’t want you driving,” M explained. “You’ve been drinking and you’ll be distracted. Now go. I’ll call you in the car.”

  I hurriedly left the office. When I passed Whitney’s desk, I caught her glancing at my breasts. Remembering that I wanted to ask her questions about M, I stopped.

  “Whitney, would you like to go with me for drinks sometime?” I considered elaborating, but left it at that.

  She first looked surprised, then smiled. “Sure, that would be fun.”

  We exchanged numbers and I headed downstairs. It wasn’t until I passed the after-hours security guard and saw him staring at my chest that I realized I was carrying the blonde wig in my hand. Because it was dusk, I had no sunglasses on, either. I held my head high and smiled at him as if that were the sort of thing I wore every day.

  As M had promised, there was a shiny black car waiting curbside, the driver standing next to it. He opened the rear door when I approached, saying only, “Good evening, ma’am.”

  In the car, I slid the blonde wig over my black hair just as I heard M’s ringtone.

  “Don’t worry about the driver,” he said when I answered. “He’s been with me for a while. Very trustworthy.”

  “Seen it all, has he?” I asked playfully.

  “He’s seen enough,” M said.

  “So where is this mysterious stranger taking me?”

  “To an adult bookstore,” M replied. “It’s time for your next step.”

  2

  The car headed east, away from downtown, the driver remaining absolutely quiet. M had hung up, telling me to call him when we arrived. I sat in the back, wondering what he was going to have me do. I imagined walking around inside the store, looking at porn DVDs with my shirt unbuttoned. By the time the car pulled off of Division Street onto 82nd, I was getting nervous. Luckily, though, the alcohol in my system had me equally excited.

  When the driver pulled into a parking lot, I looked up to see a large sign for Peeping Tom’s Adult Books. As he parked in back, I called M’s number.

  “We’re here.”

  “Okay, here’s what I want you to do,” M said. “Unbutton your shirt more, then go into the store. Ask for Vince; he’ll be working the register. Tell him you’re M’s girl. He’ll show you where to go. Call me when you’re settled in.”

  M’s girl. I loved the way that sounded. The rest sounded ominous, though. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get “settled in” at a porn shop. I unbuttoned a few buttons, exposing some cleavage.

  “I’ll let myself out,” I told the driver.

  “I’ll be waiting right here for you, ma’am,” he said. “Send for me if you need me for anything.”

  I wasn’t sure how to take that last part, but I thanked him and exited the car. There was thankfully nobody in front of the bookshop as I walked toward the door. I checked my cleavage and knew that M would want me to be more daring. But how daring? I decided it would be better in this case not to err on the side of caution and unbuttoned my shirt down to my navel, leaving only two buttons fastened at my waist.

  I was so fixated on my shirt’s precariously plunging neckline that I didn’t notice the hand-painted sign on the door until I was reaching for the handle: “Video Booths / Buddy Screens / Glory Holes.” I had no idea what a buddy screen was, but I had seen videos of glory holes and wanted no part of them. I didn’t have time to process the thought before the door swung open and a man stepped out, almost hitting me. He apologized, then stared at my cleavage as he held the door for me to walk through.

  The inside was typical of a porn shop, and I had been in a few to buy lube, condoms and my Rabbit vibrator. This one had rows of DVD racks and showcases for dildos and other sex hardware. Several men inside noticed me immediately when I entered. Ignoring them, I walked straight to the register and asked for Vince.

  “That’s me,” said the rockabilly type behind the counter. “You M’s girl?” His eyes fell to my chest, where they remained.

  “How could you tell?” I asked facetiously. He didn’t get the joke, but came around to my side of the counter.

  “Follow me,” Vince said. “I’ve got everything ready.”

  Everything ready? The knot in my stomach returned as we walked into a dimly lit hallway. There were men milling around, blinking in disbelief when they saw me. One side of the hallway had doors with lights above them, glowing green or red, and signs on them reading either “Buddy Window” or “Glory Hole,” and some had both. What the hell was M sending me back here for? I hoped he didn’t think I would agree to have sex with strangers.

  “Here you go,” Vince said. He pulled an “out of order” sign off of one of the booths and unlocked the door. I noticed the adjacent door on one side also had an “out of order” sign, while the one on the opposite side did not. He held the door open and said, “It has been thoroughly cleaned, per M’s instructions, and the video machine has been set to ‘free’ mode.” As I stepped in, the men in the hall had already begun gravitating in my direction. I quickly shut the door behind me and locked it.

  I was in a small booth with black walls on all sides. Opposite the door was a video screen set up to accept money and play porn. There was a single plastic chair in the middle of the booth. To the right was an oval glory hole, just below waist-level and about as big in diameter as a cantaloupe. Through that hole was the booth with the “out of order” sign. I leaned down and peered through the hole and saw nothing but an empty darkened booth. On the left wall of my booth was a large opaque glass pane. I inspected it and found that it was shoulder-to-waist as I sto
od facing it, and a couple of feet wide. Above it were a few buttons, but in the dark I couldn’t read what they were for.

  I felt uncomfortable in the darkened room so I pushed a few buttons on the video machine until I saw a couple of young porn stars fucking away shamelessly right before my eyes. There were many channels to choose from, but I ignored those and turned down the volume. I saw an empty wastebasket in the corner with a fresh liner in it and a roll of paper towels mounted on the wall. If I didn’t already know what went on in here, I would have figured it out by now. I sat and took out my phone to call M, worried about what would come next.

  “Are you inside?” M asked.

  “I am.”

  “How many shirt buttons did you undo for me?”

  “Almost all of them,” I replied. “I left two buttoned at the bottom.”

  “And you walked in like that?” he asked. I could hear the excitement in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl, Rachel,” he said.

  “Why am I here, M?” I asked. “Please don’t make me touch someone else.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you,” he assured me. “But you are going to show off your gorgeous body for me.”

  My gorgeous body? I didn’t care how pervy M was, I adored him for saying things like that.

  “Look at the screen on your left,” he said. “Is the light blinking?” I looked again and noticed a light on the top was indeed blinking now. When I told him it was, he said, “Okay, push that button.”

  I did as told and my suspicions were confirmed: The screen went from opaque to absolutely clear and I was looking right at the man in the adjoining booth. He was standing there, facing his own video screen. He seemed quite average in height and build, and was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. I could only see him from his chest to his feet, but that was enough to see the limp cock in his right hand. More importantly, it appeared that he could see me as well, because as soon as the screen turned clear, he turned toward me and began to stroke himself.

  “Is there someone there?” M asked.

  “Yes,” I said breathlessly, staring at the screen in front of me.

  “Good. I want you to open your shirt for him.”

  I understood what M wanted and tried to be as sexy as I could for this stranger, whose face I couldn’t see unless I bent over and looked up, which I wasn’t about to try. Holding the phone with one hand, I slowly pulled the front of my shirt open with the other, sliding the material across my breasts until they tumbled out. I pulled the long blonde hair of the wig back over both shoulders, fully exposing my tits to the man. He continued to stroke himself and his cock was already stiffening.

  “Okay, he can see my breasts,” I said.

  “I’ll bet he likes them.”

  “Um, it would appear he does,” I replied.

  “Take off your pants, Rachel,” M ordered, his voice firm and his excitement audible.

  I set the phone on the chair and undid my pants, sliding them over my large hips. My belly was now visible, as were my panties. By the time I got the pants completely off and was standing in just my underwear and shoes, the man was as hard as a rock. I picked up the phone again.

  “I’m in panties and heels now.”

  “Can you see his cock?” M asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, continuing to stare as the man jerked off.

  “Is he hard?”

  “Very,” I said.

  “Take off your panties,” M ordered.

  Wow. Not entirely unexpected, but this was a big deal. I was going to show my totally naked body to a complete stranger who wasn’t wearing a stethoscope. The vodka in me agreed with M, insisting I finish my strip tease. I did, slipping my panties off and putting them on the chair with the rest of my clothes. My waxed pussy was now on display, the pink folds peeking out from between my lips.

  “I’m naked, M,” I said.

  “Are you scared?”

  “Yes,” I replied. The man in the screen let his pants drop to his ankles, then lowered his underwear. He grabbed his hard-on and resumed stroking it, quickening the pace.

  “Good,” he said. “That’s what I want. You’re excited, too, aren’t you?”

  “I am.” But not because of the stranger. I was excited because my dom was ordering me to strip.

  “Is he jerking off?” M asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you watching him?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t tell M that I’d always loved the idea of guys masturbating. That was my go-to scenario for those times I watched porn. It was fascinating enough watching over the Internet, but this man was jerking himself off while looking at my naked body. The thought was insanely hot: My chubby body was being used as a source of visual and sexual pleasure.

  “Stand right next to the glass,” M commanded.

  I had been a few feet away, so I moved to the screen, standing mere inches from it. The man stepped closer as well. There was not more than two feet separating our bodies. I could see the veins bulging on the man’s cock as he stroked it furiously.

  Without warning the man’s cock erupted and a spray of cum hit the screen, then another. I gasped as the thick white liquid slowly oozed down the glass in two distinct rivulets as he continued to pump his cock until he had nothing left. He stood there for a minute, then I heard a muffled voice say, “Thank you so much,” and the screen turned opaque again.

  “What’s happening now?” M asked.

  “He came,” I said. “All over the place.” I felt myself becoming wet. Talking to M, stripping for him and the stranger, watching a man jerk himself off from close range… it was intensely exciting. I heard the door shut in the room where the man had been.

  “See?” M said. “You have such a lovely body. You don’t have a clue how irresistible a figure like yours is.” I touched my breast, lightly pinching my nipple, then slid my hand down over my belly and continued until it was between my legs and I felt the wetness. I wanted to play with myself, to come for M. Instead, I saw the light above the screen begin to blink again.

  M said, “Rachel, you will stay in there for a while. I want you to be a dream come true for ten men tonight, to allow them to look at your body while they get off. Only after you have accomplished this are you allowed to call me back.”

  “But what if there aren’t ten men outside?” I asked.

  “Then you will wait until more show up.” His voice was stern.

  “Okay.” I would do it for M. I would do anything for him.

  He hung up and I started to push the button, then realized I was completely naked. I didn’t want to have to get dressed for each man, but I felt they needed a bit of build up, a little tease. I slipped my panties back on, then put on my shirt, leaving it unbuttoned.

  I pushed the button to change the screen and was looking at a totally naked man with an amazingly sexy body covered in tattoos. His large cock hung limp between his legs. I stepped near the glass and he followed suit until we were less than a foot apart. “Let me see those tits,” his muffled voice said. I slowly opened my shirt and exposed myself to him. He put his hands on the glass in front of me and I leaned in, pressing my breasts against the glass opposite them. It was a rush, having a guy with such a hot body be so into mine. I pulled back and slipped off the shirt and noticed his cock was pointing straight out in front of him, long and thick. His hands were nowhere near his cock; I had done that to him. Me. I slid my panties down as he took that big cock in his hand and began to stroke it. “Touch yourself,” he said.

  The alcohol in my system definitely made me more daring than I normally would have been, and I felt relatively safe locked in that little booth. I dropped my hand to my pussy and felt for my clit. I was very wet and began rubbing myself while watching my partner in crime work his massive hard-on. When he began pumping himself rapidly, I placed my free hand against the screen at the same level as his cock, and he put the head of it there as well. I couldn’t believe how big he was and gaped at the lar
ge head in front of me, wondering whether I could handle a cock that big inside of me. A few hot seconds later, stream after stream of his cum hit the glass less than half an inch from my hand. I was still working my clit as he finished, feeling the initial stirrings of my own orgasm while he squeezed the length of his shaft to produce a few final drops. Then the screen unceremoniously turned opaque and I was left alone. Goddamit.

  I never did get my orgasm that night, as nothing else that occurred through the screen had the same intensity as the encounter with the tattooed guy. There was one very fat guy with a very fat cock, a kid who looked like he’d probably turned twenty-one just that day, a black guy with the smallest dick I’d ever seen, a nice old man who had to be at least seventy and only got halfway hard before he came, and a guy wearing panties and a bra. For each of them, I opened the screen with my panties and shirt, did a slow strip for them, and watched them jerk off to orgasm. Some of their orgasms were forceful, while others just dribbled out onto the floor. It was fascinating to watch as they rose to full erections while looking at my nakedness and by the time I’d made eight men come, I was feeling like a sex goddess, like I was capable of getting any man off. I could imagine what Cleopatra must have felt like. For a chubby girl like me, this was a major breakthrough.

  The ninth man was the quickest of the bunch, blowing his load against the screen the moment he saw my pussy, before my panties were even down to my knees. Possibly out of embarrassment, he quickly shut the screen. Pulling up my underwear, I put the shirt back on and waited for the tenth and final guy. I was anxious to get back to the car to call M and tell him I’d done it. The light above the screen wasn’t blinking, though. I waited a few minutes, but heard nothing. I unlocked the door to the booth, cracking it open and peeking outside. The dim hallway was empty, not a soul in sight. Then I saw someone walk in from the store area, a younger guy in jeans and a black concert shirt. I quickly shut the door, glad that my last man of the night wasn’t too old or too weird. I waited and waited, but five minutes passed and the blinking light never came on.