“Fine. Whatever. This is exhausting,” I said. “Please feel free to see your way out.”
“Not so fast. Don’t you want to kiss me goodbye?” How did he know? He took me firmly by the shoulders and lowered his mouth to mine. His tongue was firm and questing as it pushed through my parted lips and explored the inside of my mouth.
I suppressed a moan as my body reacted to being so close to him again. Muscle memory or some other physiological marvel caused my entire being to tense up in preparation for release, and we hadn’t even taken off our clothes. In fact, thus far we had done was kiss and be kissed while my heart threatened to short circuit from desire.
He moved his mouth from my lips to my neck. “Take me to your bedroom,” he whispered into my ear.
I took him by the hand and led him the short distance over pizza boxes and aluminum cans to my bedroom with its mismatched décor and unmade bed.
“Take off your clothes and lie down,” he said. While I obeyed, he rummaged through the box of varied accoutrements that he had sent me and removed the silky red rope. Although my overloaded brain conjured up images of him tying me in elaborate red knots from neck to navel, he simply secured my wrists and ankles to the headboard and footboard, respectively.
“Don’t make a sound, or I’ll have to put this in your mouth,” he said, holding the rubber ball gag aloft.
My heart pounded. Maybe I wanted him to put it in my mouth. It suddenly became very important to feel the hard rubber between my teeth while the leather straps left creases in the skin of my cheeks.
“What kind of sounds?” I asked.
“Any sounds,” he replied. “I’m looking for complete silence. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t think I understand. Why don’t you show me?”
The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. “I know what you’re doing. This isn’t my first time at the rodeo. I know that you’re trying to bait me into putting this ball in your pretty pink mouth and fastening the buckles so that you can’t say another word. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let someone like you get her own way, but I think I will indulge you just this once.”
“Goody,” I said. “Yes, Master, let’s get this kinkfest on the road.”
“I don’t typically refer to such things as a kinkfest, but I’ll overlook it since you are so amenable to being bound and gagged for your Master.” He pushed the red rubber ball past my lips. It was far larger than I had thought, and he had to push it firmly to pass my teeth. The ball settled onto my tongue where it effectively prevented either complaints or words of encouragement from leaving my lips.
Master arranged the straps, and his warm hands touched my face. Just the feeling of his fingertips on my cheeks made me shudder with anticipation. Within seconds, the apparatus was firmly attached to my head, and I could feel a thin trail of saliva already leaking from the corners of my mouth.
“You’re right” he said. “That’s much better.” He went back to the box and removed several of those metal clothespin things. When he systematically clipped a pair of them onto my unsuspecting nipples, I cried out from behind my restricting ball gag.
I peered down at my tortured nipples. Seeing them in that awkward position was strange and undeniably hot. I wished he would put his hot tongue on my aching flesh before I burst into flames. Either that was next on his agenda or the thought waves I was sending him totally worked because he climbed over me, still completely dressed, and flicked his glorious tongue over the tips of my breasts like a snake sniffing out its prey.
When I tried to moan, it was more like a wet strangled cough, but I didn’t care. We all got the message. This was flipping amazing. Then he left me cold while he went to fetch the feather on a stick. This isn’t good.
Master ran the feather lightly over my skin. He started with my chest. It felt nice. Was it ticklish? Maybe it tickled just a little bit, but I was so aroused that it felt like just another component of the sensory overload I was experiencing.
The feather moved across my arms. It felt lovely, like little butterfly kisses, until he tickled my armpits with it. That was a little too much, and I tried to show him with my eyes that the tickling wasn’t fun anymore. I breathed hard through my nose, and tears formed in the corners of my eyes. That’s funny, I didn’t even know I was ticklish.
That horrible, wondrous feather swept over my belly before running up and down my legs. I discovered that my inner thighs were terribly ticklish, as were my knees. The fronts of my calves weren’t so bad, but when he ran the feather over my kneecaps, I fought so hard against the silky red ropes that I thought they would burst. They didn’t, and the feather moved to my extraordinarily ticklish sides until I thought I was going to asphyxiate.
By the time he finished, my entire body was thrumming with hypersensitivity. I could even feel the motionless air where it pressed against my naked skin, and it felt like a caress.
Master moved away again, leaving me trembling, bound and drooling on the bed where I had spent so many nights alone. He came back with the lubricant and poured a few drops on his fingertips before massaging it into the pink flesh of my private area, which wasn’t so private at the moment, as if I needed it.
He moved from the bed and stood where he was sure I could see him before he began to strip. Obviously, he knew exactly what a woman would like because I could never tire of watching his body emerge from the cocoon of his designer shirt and absurdly expensive suite.
Once he finally stood naked, he paused and spun in a slow circle to allow me to take in the entire work of art that was John Goldman. He was just as marvelous as he thought he was as he lowered his body onto mine just seconds before I completely lost my mind.
I felt something enormous, hard and familiar press against the place between my thighs. If I could have spoken, I would have begged him to move faster. I was more than ready, but he was taking things slow. The only problem was that I didn’t want slow. I wanted now.
Out of desperation, I tried to push my hips upward and impale his flesh within mine. That didn’t work. He was more than capable of eluding my pathetic attempt at getting the party started. Then he touched the little clamps that still squeezed the sensitive pink tips of my pendulous breasts. The sensations started there and coursed upward and downward across my entire network of nerve endings, making me even more desperate to be filled.
Just when I thought that it was never going to happen, he plunged deep inside me and moved with a rhythm that defied any beat. His movements were quick, slow and then quick again. He teased me with his body, fully aware when I was about to climax, then changing the tempo to leave me hanging.
My poor body was a tingling, trembling, quaking ball of confusion. I wondered why he was denying my orgasm every time I was close enough to reach out and touch it, but the satisfied look on his face every time it happened told me that it was fully intentional. Now I knew why he had tied my limbs to the bed. If he hadn’t, I would have used them to scrape the smug smile off his face.
Finally, at the point when I thought I was going to bite straight through the red rubber ball in my mouth and spit out the pieces, he let it happen. He was moving with a slight circular motion, grinding his body against the most sensitive part of my body while his shaft was buried deep within my channel, and I just exploded. He waited, like a gentleman, until my quaking had subsided before he released himself inside me.
The wet heat moving from his body into mine set off my wriggling and squirming all over again until I was tossing my head from side to side and sweating like a marathon runner. I couldn’t scream thanks to the handy ball gag in my mouth. So I had to content myself with incoherent gurgling as I came. To be honest, I didn’t mind. It was oddly freeing even though it was also just plain odd.
When he was done, the first thing he did was release my hands from the silky red ropes. He untied the knots around my ankles and unfastened the metal buckles that held the leather straps against my face. “I’ll let you pull the ball gag from your m
outh yourself,” he said. “I’m sure you’re dying to say something.”
I carefully extricated the ball from behind my teeth and massaged my jaw. Contrary to what he expected, I was speechless.
“Are you okay?” he asked. The concern in his voice was touching.
“I’m fine,” I said in a small voice that I hardly recognized as my own. This was a new facet to my personality that had remained unexplored until now.
“Are you sure?” The concern in his voice had spread to his eyes.
“Yes, I am totally sure.” It was the truth. I was completely fine save for the funny taste the ball gag left behind in my mouth.
“Good,” he said. “I’m relieved to hear it. Now start packing. The moving van will be here in an hour.” He looked pointedly at his watch.
“How can I pack in one hour?” I asked. It often took me that long just to brush my teeth. I had a propensity for daydreaming, and my thoughts often got in the way of speed and productivity.
“It’s like I told you. Just pack the bare essentials, the things that you can’t live without and things that have sentimental value. I will take care of everything else. If there is anything that you want, let me know. It will be my pleasure to provide it for you.” He stared at me expectantly, waiting for my response. Obviously, he knew one was coming.
“You don’t even know me,” I protested. My mind vacillated between complete confusion and absolute certainty when it came to the current situation. At the moment, the pendulum was hovering directly above complete confusion. This was all happening so fast.
“Annabelle, I feel that I have known you since the beginning of time. Now stop dilly-dallying and get started. You have one hour.” His voice was stern, but his eyes were kind.
There was little doubt. Whatever I was feeling, he was feeling it, too. It didn’t matter if this electricity was due to some sort of hormone and pheromone cocktail. This was real, or at least it could be if I played my cards right. I wanted it to be real.
“Okay,” I said softly. I hardly recognized this obedient, submissive version of myself, but the old version had never been invited to live in a mansion with her very own elevator. The mind blowing orgasms didn’t hurt, either. “I’ll be ready in an hour.” If I was going to do this, I might as well go all the way. Besides, in all likelihood, an opportunity like this would never cross my path again.
My agreement seemed to satisfy him. He was finished dressing. With a single mind-melting kiss on my swollen lips, he was gone. I stared at the place where we had made love for a good long time, reviewing our non-traditional lovemaking in my mind. If I didn’t have sore nipples and a box filled with sex tools as a reminder, I wouldn’t even believe it had happened.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, I looked around for those essential items that I couldn’t live without. Somehow, I managed to whittle those items down to a single backpack stuffed with mementos, my cellphone, a few articles of clothes and the box that had been delivered to me last night, complete with the slightly used silky red ropes, nipple clamps, purple dildo, et al. I didn’t think it would be polite or appropriate to leave his kind gift behind.
The nice moving truck men would probably be surprised at the light cargo, but they could give me a ride to my new home. Whistling happily, I sat on the front steps, which were so unlike Master’s marble staircase, and waited for the moving van to come transport me to my new life. I made a mental note to contact Sarah soon and let her know all about these new developments. She would be so happy for me.
Chapter 4
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I would be living in a mansion with a kinky billionaire and a room filled with silky red ropes, chains, leather riding crops, cuffs and other assorted accoutrements. Despite my non-traditional body type, I’d always had more than my fair of confidence, and men were always drawn to me. However, I didn’t think a fabulously wealthy hunk like John Goldman would ever choose me over the million other women who would be happy to take my place. It was a nice surprise for this thirty-year-old BBW with attitude..
After a whirlwind courtship of approximately two days, he invited me to move into his mansion. I accepted with only the tiniest of reservations. Now I was safely ensconced in my very own room with a walk-in closet larger than the entire apartment that I left behind. I couldn’t complain. There were so many designer outfits lodged within that immense closet that I could have worn something new every day for a year without repeating a single garment, and that includes underwear, shoes and purses.
So what if I had to call him Master and submit to the occasional wild lovemaking session wearing nothing but padded restraints and a rubber ball gag? It was all good, and the orgasms were legendary.
I moved into the grand mansion around Halloween. In the topsy-turvy reality that my life had become, I didn’t even realize All Hallow’s Eve was upon us until I found a neatly wrapped package sitting on top of my new bed.
With trembling fingers, I untied the bow on the plain brown string that held the cardboard box securely closed. I had already learned that I couldn’t judge a gift by its wrapper when Master was concerned. The last cardboard box that he’d given me contained flavored lubricant, a huge silicone phallus and various restraints. I pulled the box open at last to reveal its contents.
Everything in the box was crimson. It looked like a box filled with blood. I laughed out loud and chided myself for being dramatic. The box was filled with lovely soft scarlet fabric. I removed the first item. It was a satiny red gown that felt smooth, cool and rich beneath my fingertips.
The next item out of the box was a red corset with black piping and black velvet ribbons that crossed the front and tied in a bow. There was a long red hooded cape, a red kerchief, black lace fingerless gloves and a pair of red leather cowboy boots. I smiled. Master remembered my penchant for cowboy boots. I was wearing a pair on the night that we met.
There was also a note. It read, “Be my Little Red Riding Hood tomorrow night. We’re having a private Halloween party. Feel free to invite a friend. No boys allowed.”
That was weird. I read the note again. Then I eyed the outfit. It did look pretty sexy, and I already knew that Master enjoyed various different aspects of kinky sex. If wearing a Little Red Riding Hood costume was a turn-on for him, then I was all for it.
I read the note a third time. He wrote that I could invite a friend. So obviously I was wrong about the kinky sex. Maybe we were just having a run-of-the-mill Halloween party. My mind turned to thoughts of Sarah, my former coworker. She had left me several voice mail messages that I had yet to return. Maybe I should call her and invite her to the party. It would be a good opportunity for her to see my new digs. She was at least twenty-one and a real party girl to boot. I knew that she wouldn’t see anything at the mansion that would corrupt her.
My cellphone was on the bed. I snatched it, suddenly in a hurry to phone Sarah and let her know what had happened over the past few days. She answered on the first ring.
“Hello, Terry,” Sarah said. “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
“Sarah,” I nearly shouted. “Girl, you’re not going to believe where I’m living.”
“The Playboy Mansion?” she asked.
“You’re pretty close,” I said. “He asked me to move in with him.”
“Are you serious? You haven’t even known him for an entire week.”
“I know, Sarah. It’s crazy, but how could I pass up the chance to live in a mansion. There are more perks and benefits than you could possibly imagine. Plus, I really like the guy, you know? I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“He must be a beast in the sack,” Sarah mused.
“No, he isn’t a beast in the sack exactly. He’s more like a dictator.” I had already told Sarah about the first time we made love. So she had some idea of what I was working with over here. “Anyway, there’s a reason that I called you.”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “I assume you called to assure me that y
ou weren’t lying strangled and dead in a shallow grave.”
“That’s horrible,” I exclaimed. “I hope that’s not what you really thought.”
“Well, the thought crossed my mind,” she admitted. “So what’s the big news? Are you getting married?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” I said. “Although after that question, the purpose of my call will come as a bit of a let-down. We’re having a small private Halloween party tomorrow night, and he said I could invite a friend. I thought you might like to come over and see where I’m living. Maybe I can have his driver pick you up. He said I could take the car whenever I wanted. So I’ll just come get you. How does that sound?”
“That sounds great,” she said. “What time is the party?”
I laughed. “To be honest with you, I have no idea. He left me a note, but it didn’t say the time. Why don’t I pick you up early, and you can help me with my costume and makeup?”
“Sure,” Sarah said. “What should I wear?”
“Wear something sexy, but don’t dress as Little Red Riding Hood. That’s what I’m wearing.”
“Okay, I’ll figure out something,” Sarah said.
“I’ll be there tomorrow at six.”
“I’ll be ready,” Sarah said. “There’s just one more thing. Frank wants to know when you’re coming back to work.”
“That’s right. I told him that I was going to be out of work for a while, but I didn’t give him the details. Um, it looks like this is more of a permanent vacation, unless things don’t work out.”
“I’ll just tell him you need a little more time,” Sarah said. “It wouldn’t hurt to keep the door open. See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” I echoed.
After I got off the phone, I raced around the mansion to find Master. I wanted to thank him for the gift and ask him for more details about the party tomorrow, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. After failing to locate him on the upper level, I took one of the elevators into the basement where he kept the room he called the dungeon. Despite its moniker, it wasn’t so bad, so far.
Cocktails and Curves: A BBW Billionaire Romance Page 5