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

by Alexis Adaire

  My couch buddy began to moan, softly at first. The woman had a hand on his shaft, jerking him off as she sucked him ferociously. I was right next to this blistering hot act and felt my pussy become wet again as I stared at his cock disappearing into her mouth over and over. Suddenly I felt his hand moving from my shoulder downward, sliding under my corset. My breath caught in my throat as he moaned louder, his fingers brushing my hardening nipple. The woman looked up from her blowjob and saw him feeling me up, then went right back to work.

  Does that feel good?

  How was I supposed to respond to a question? M couldn’t hear my voice.

  Shake your head yes or no.

  I nodded. It felt fucking amazing. I was shocked to suddenly feel fingers on my leg, just inside my knee, and looked down to see the woman’s arm disappearing up my skirt. As the man cupped my breast, his partner’s fingers moved up the inside of my thigh.

  Still no additional instructions were coming from M. Before the woman’s fingers went very far, the man’s hips arched off the couch and he groaned loudly. His hand squeezed my breast tightly as again and again he thrust forward into his woman’s mouth and she took him all the way in. As his orgasm subsided, he pulled his hand from my corset and returned it to my shoulder. The woman’s fingers traced back down my thigh until her arm reappeared from beneath my skirt. She smiled up at her man and I saw her swallow.

  Thank them for an interesting experience.

  The man was breathing hard and his woman was still stroking his slippery cock.

  “That was intense,” I said. “Thanks for letting me watch.”

  “Thanks for helping,” she said in a sweet voice.

  “Maybe we’ll see you again sometime,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

  “You never know,” I responded as I stood and straightened myself out. I felt the wetness between my legs as I left them. I’d only taken a few steps when I heard M again.

  Get your car and go home. We’ll Skype later.

  Ducking into the upstairs restroom, I checked myself in the mirror and saw the same beautiful woman I’d seen earlier. The only difference was that this one was so sexually excited she was about to burst.

  I walked out into the club and passed the Fish Bowl window, looking in to see several bodies on the bed. Boobs and cocks were everywhere and a crowd was watching. As I continued through the upstairs lounge and down the stairs, men were still looking at me, smiling as they passed. I felt more attractive and alive than I could remember. I wished I could somehow get M to come out of hiding and be my date here tonight.

  Stepping out of Club Sesso, I handed my ticket to the valet and waited in the cool night air for my car. My exposed shoulders and cleavage felt refreshed and I reveled in the admiring glances I got from people entering and exiting the club. My car pulled up and moments later I was on my way home.

  5

  As I entered my building from the parking garage without my wig, I ran into my next-door neighbor, Todd. He was a good-looking man who’d ignored me until recently. That was no longer the case, as lately he’d stopped to chat every time he saw me. As we made small talk, he kept peeking at my cleavage and instead of being mortified, I felt gloriously sexy. I wished him a good night and hurried to my apartment.

  No sooner had I fired up my computer than M’s Skype call came through. I answered it and saw him from the neck down, seated on the same couch as the last time, barefoot with jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt. I wanted to crawl up next to him on that couch, or to kneel subserviently at his feet. I wanted to be his sex toy, forced to do anything he demanded of me. Most of all, I desperately wanted to be in the same room as him.

  I started the conversation. “M, thank you so much for the necklace. I love it. It’s so beautiful.”

  “As are you, my dear,” he said. “You’re very welcome. Did you enjoy your night?”

  I arranged myself on the bed so that he could see from my head to my hips. I was still in the outfit I’d worn to Club Sesso.

  “You were there tonight, weren’t you?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” M said, “maybe not. Did you enjoy the club?”

  “It was intense,” I replied, touching the diamond.

  “But did you enjoy it?” he asked again.

  “Yes, but I would have enjoyed it more if you had let me see you.”

  “As would I,” M said, “but that can’t happen yet.”

  “Will it ever happen?” I asked, hoping I didn’t seem desperate.

  “In due time, Rachel,” M said. “I’m growing pretty fond of you.”

  My heart pounded so fiercely I could actually see it beating above my corset.

  One thing bothered me, though. “And yet you were okay with the man on the couch touching my breast?” I asked. I wondered if it had made M jealous.

  “It was harmless fun. I wouldn’t have allowed it to go further.”

  He waited a second, then asked, “Did you like that?”

  I started to give him an answer to reassure him, but the fact was I had been thrilled by that man’s touch.

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s been a long time for me.”

  “I understand, Rachel.”

  That triggered something in me. I had so much pent-up sexual energy from the club that I almost exploded. Reining in my emotions, I calmly addressed M.

  “I’m not sure you do, M.”

  “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

  “I know my primary purpose in this relationship is to serve you,” I began. “But to be honest, it has grown into something more for me. I spend my days wondering when we’re going to finally meet and I’m going to feel your body against mine.”

  I paused. “Go on,” M said. That was all the permission I needed.

  “I need more than phones and earbuds and Skype. I need skin-to-skin contact. I need to kiss you, to put my mouth on you, and to feel you do the same. I’m dying to touch you.”

  On the screen, I saw him sit forward on the couch and push his sleeves up to his elbows. He appeared to be listening intently.

  “Give me some release, M,” I begged. “I need to be touched. Please.”

  Neither of us spoke for a minute. I wondered if M could see my chest swell with every breath. During this short silence, I happened to glance at the wristwatch on his wrist that had been hidden under his sleeve until now. A bolt of recognition surged through my brain. It looked identical to the one I’d seen on the stranger’s wrist at the glory hole. That had been M after all. I knew it. My heart beat faster.

  Finally, M spoke up.

  “You’re right,” he said. “This isn’t fair to you. Let me think this over. I’ll get in touch tomorrow.”

  That was it? Seriously, that was the best he could offer me right now, despite my begging? After he’d gotten me all worked up at that sex club?

  “Goodnight, Rachel,” M said.

  I sighed, loud enough for him to hear me. I felt bratty and insolent and hoped it didn’t land me in his doghouse again.

  “Goodnight, M.”

  As the video clicked off, my brain clicked on. I was now pretty sure I knew what M’s watch looked like, having seen it up close in that adult bookstore booth. What if I could match it to one of the pictures John Collingwood had given me on that flash drive? Why hadn’t I thought of that before?

  I quickly pulled up the folder on my computer where I had copied the contents of the flash drive and began looking at the photos, starting with the most likely candidates. Crispin Rashka was easy to identify as a Rolex man. Not only was that the only brand he ever seemed to wear, but he’d also been in a print ad for Rolex that ran throughout Oregon.

  I moved to the second suspect, Ryan Dorrance — Montgomery Ryan Dorrance. In the first few pictures, he wasn’t wearing a watch. Then I found one in which he was, but it was hard to see, as half of the watch was under the sleeves of his shirt and suit jacket. Finally I found a publicity shot he’d posed for, looking directly into the camera with his ha
nd on his chin. In that picture the watch was very visible. I enlarged it in my image viewer — once, then again, then yet again.

  It was the same watch. “IWC” was the brand, and the face had only four numerals: 3, 6, 9 and 12. This was the exact watch I’d looked at on the wrist coming through that glory hole. I was certain of it, which also made me certain that was M’s cock I’d sucked that night.

  Although it was late, I was suddenly full of energy and spent the next two hours looking at the dozen photos I had of Ryan Dorrance, then Googling his name to find more. I was able to uncover a shirtless picture of him, taken at a charity basketball game. The upper body looked exactly like the one I’d seen when M jerked off for me the night we stayed up for hours on Skype.

  My pulsed quickened when I uncovered a video clip of an interview with Ryan Dorrance, buried in the archives of Wired magazine’s website. As I clicked the “play” button, I wondered how John Collingwood could have missed this. I watched as someone introduced Dorrance then asked him the first question, about a new technology one of his companies was developing. Dorrance listened patiently, a very sexy smile on his handsome face. He leaned forward and began to answer the question.

  I’d heard all of three syllables when I knew I’d found him. That was M’s voice.

  M was Ryan Dorrance!

  My god, he really was a billionaire. I watched the clip over and over, not quite believing what was so obviously true. Then I looked at all the pictures of him again, marveling at how handsome Dorrance was — how handsome my M was.

  I glanced at the clock and saw it was four in the morning. A wave of exhaustion crashed over me and I forced myself away from the computer. Stripping out of my beautiful new outfit, I pulled the ratty Pearl Jam T-shirt over my head and slipped under the covers. I wasn’t about to take off the necklace, though. My earlier insatiable need to masturbate furiously had given way to emotions stronger than desire.

  As I lay in bed thinking of M, I recalled what had happened at Club Sesso. I had felt so sexy and attractive, and the way the men in the club responded to me had only reaffirmed that feeling. It was a revelation to me and I imagined the moment when this new Rachel would finally meet the handsome billionaire dom who had forced her to bloom.

  I realized there was now a real possibility that M and I could eventually have an actual relationship, one in which I could serve him in person.

  I was, for the first time in my life, happy and confident.

  And I was still awake. I wasn’t dreaming.

  To be continued...

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  on the Forced to Bloom series.

  Forced to Bloom

  The Complete Series

  Book 5

  by Alexis Adaire

  1

  Ryan Dorrance!

  My enigmatic dom was new media mogul Montgomery Ryan Dorrance!

  I sat bolt upright the moment I woke up and remembered the events of the previous night. Almost by accident I’d discovered M’s identity, which he fought so hard to keep from me over the two months I served him. My pulse racing, I lay in bed and recalled my evening at Club Sesso, Portland’s upscale sex club, bringing to mind vivid images of people having sex right in front of me. I remembered sitting on a couch next to a man as his woman’s mouth slid up and down over his hard cock. The man had touched my breast as his woman’s fingers slid up my inner thigh just before he came in her mouth. All these memories flooded my brain and I found myself as aroused as I’d been the night before.

  My cat Mingus jumped up on the bed and I stroked his soft fur while I tried to wrap my mind around everything that had taken place. How did things get to this point? I wondered. Two months ago, letting strangers grope me in a club while I watched them have sex would have been inconceivable. Yet I’d done so willingly, partly because my dom had told me to and partly because those two months had left me desperate for physical contact.

  How had things gotten to that point? The answer was simple: M.

  I had fallen hard for a man I’d never even met.

  M entered my life when I responded to a “billionaire seeks submissive” Craigslist ad. I read some domination erotica and couldn’t get the idea of being a submissive out of my mind. Rather than reassure myself every day that I was pretty enough and thin enough to date a man, I would lose myself in serving one. From our first interaction, I was under M’s spell and had blossomed while serving him. If he indeed turned out to be an actual billionaire, that would just be icing on the cake.

  For some reason, M picked me over the many other women who responded to the ad. He claimed he liked my big, curvy body, which he ordered me to reveal to him during my interview. At the time I thought he was just placating me, though he eventually convinced me that he honestly found my curves sexy. After years of thinking of myself as large, chubby, plump, plus-size, and even fat, having a sexy man proclaim my body as gorgeous was the most powerful aphrodisiac imaginable.

  During the couple of months I’d served M, he’d commanded me to do things to feed his exhibitionism/voyeurism fetish. He started me out slowly, knowing I would be uncomfortable with more than sitting in public with a few too many shirt buttons unbuttoned. Over time I graduated to strolling in broad daylight in a sheer blouse in public with no bra underneath, then letting strangers jerk off while looking at my naked body through the window of an adult bookstore booth. I’d done all this while disguised in a blonde wig and large sunglasses.

  Knowing he was pushing me even farther out of my comfort zone, M had sent me to Club Sesso the night before. I witnessed people having all kinds of scorching hot sex, including the blowjob couple. M had instructed me via wireless earbud to sit next to the man and watch. I had been so stimulated by the sights and sounds in the club that I relished the few seconds of physical contact when he and his woman touched my body.

  I knew M was somewhere in Club Sesso, watching me as he told me what to do through that hidden earbud. It was all very sordid and sleazy — and incredibly exciting. I couldn’t find him in the club, though, because I had no idea what he looked like. In the two months I’d been serving him, M had kept his identity hidden from me. We’d still never met in person. Everything we’d done had been over the phone or on Skype with his face always positioned just off screen.

  Then I’d inadvertently discovered that M was Ryan Dorrance. It was his expensive IWC wristwatch that gave him away. We had Skyped when I returned home from Club Sesso, as M always insisted on hearing my take on the tasks he’d given me. When I saw his watch on my computer’s screen, I recognized it immediately as the one I’d seen on the wrist of a man in that adult bookstore booth — a man I already suspected might have been M. Even in that booth, I hadn’t seen his face, just his hand and his erect cock. After I recognized his watch on the Skype screen, I looked at pictures of famous Oregon billionaires and found an exact match on Ryan Dorrance’s wrist. A single video I was able to dig up of Dorrance confirmed my suspicions, as his voice was identical to the one that made my heart skip a beat so many times over the last couples of months.

  Damn, M really was Ryan Dorrance.

  My desire to be with him, to feel his naked body against mine, to submit to his every sexual desire, was growing out of control. I wanted this man more than I’d ever wanted anyone in my entire life. His money wasn’t even important; I adored the power he had over me.

  M wasn’t yet aware that I’d learned his secret. He told me several times that he would reveal himself to me when I earned his trust. What a strange situation to be in. I was certain I couldn’t tell M I’d discovered his identity without sounding all kinds of alarms and scaring him off forever. He would reveal himself to me when he was ready.

  Until then I would remain his faithful, obedient servant.

  I made coffee, still unable to steer my thoughts away from the previous night. I had gone to Club Sesso scared to death that M was going to order me to have sex with a stranger, and as the night wore on part of me was
almost disappointed that he hadn’t. By the time I left I was bursting with pent-up sexual energy.

  I took my mug to the balcony and eased into my lounge chair. It was a warm, sunny mid-June Saturday morning and my brain was spinning in confusion. My phone rang and I got my hopes up for a second before seeing my older sister Gwen’s name on the screen. I let the call go to voicemail and closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind. I breathed deeply as images of Ryan Dorrance’s handsome face and people having sex took over my brain.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”

  I was startled awake by the voice of my next-door neighbor, Todd, calling from his balcony just a few feet away. I opened my eyes and looked in his direction. He was shirtless and for the first time I saw his taut muscular chest. Either he looked really hot or I badly needed to get laid. Perhaps both.

  “Hi, Todd,” I said. Looking down, I realized that M’s Pearl Jam T-shirt, which he demanded I wear to bed every night, had ridden up to my hips in the chair. Thank god I’d slipped on panties when I got out of bed. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but Todd had undoubtedly gotten a good look. I tried to look casual and unconcerned as I pulled the shirt down, but there was nothing I could do to hide my braless tits and erect nipples pushing against the material.

  “Where’d you go last night?” Todd inquired. “Someplace fancy?”

  I’d forgotten that he’d seen me in the hall when I returned from Club Sesso. “Yeah, I had dinner with some friends.”

  “Well, you looked amazing.”

  Amazing? Todd had never talked to me like that before. “Thanks,” I murmured.