Disappointment showed on his face, and then a quiet, still anger. His tongue moved inside his mouth from one cheek to another. Sniffing, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out his billfold. Emptying it, he grabbed a thick wad of bills and wrapped it around his business card. Then, he shoved it all inside of her bra.
Of course, he felt up her tits when he did.
Of course, she was powerless to stop her.
“I guess that just makes you a regular old whore, then. What a shame.”
With that, he got up, zipped up his pants, and walked out of the door, like none of it affected him at all.
“That card has my number. Call me when you realize what's what.”
Dripping with lust and shame, her pussy on fire and her body shaking with humiliation, Juliana promised herself she would never see him again.
* * * * *
The Southern Estate took up over forty square miles, deep in the Pacific Northwest. The mansion itself was the biggest on the West Coast, easily taking up over one hundred fifty thousand square feet. The rumor went, in elite circles, that over a thousand of those were dedicated to an enormous bed that he had built for fucking whatever rich trophy cunt he had elected for that week.
At the thought of being fucked by Nathan for over a thousand feet, Juliana's cunt went slick.
It two days since Juliana had kicked Shana out of the small house in Peru. She had spent that entire time preparing to come be with Nathan.
The mansion was châteauesque, with tall spires and steep-sloped roofs crowding around gorgeous red masonry. She arrived in a car, but her driver was detained by the security guards, and Juliana had to walk up the mile-long driveway in her heels.
And what heels they were, covered in gemstones and five-inches high, pushing her tight butt to the sky and flexing her calves with each step. Juliana had pulled out all the stops for Nathan. She couldn't dare to imagine him refusing her—she would break down in tears. And with the way she looked now, if he did turn her down, she couldn't imagine him ever wanting her again.
She wore a shimmering blue gown, made from sheerest silk. On either side of her hips, there were long gaps, openly displaying the twin curves of her dynamite ass and the diamond-adorned silk thong that only just covered essentials.
Long silk ribbons, again covered in tiny diamonds, wrapped around her picture-perfect legs, leading down into her five-inch designer heels inlaid with little sapphires.
A tight choker necklace clasped around her tan, soft neck—essentially a collar made up of interlocking gold and precious gems. The tight collar matched her orchid-shaped earrings and the ornate bracelets around her wrists, which were covered by elbow-length white calf leather gloves.
But the star of the show was what was on her chest. The gown's tight constraints covered her amazing tits only barely, held up by a precarious little string around her neck. Beneath the tiny strip of cloth, her breathtaking chest was showcased by the ten million dollar bra she wore, made entirely out of gold latticework interlaced with brilliant diamonds, topazes, opals, and sapphires.
The bra had been given to her as a gift for her sensational runway walk just last year. Normally, they didn't let the models take home such expensive jewelry, but the designer had an enormous crush on her.
Juliana was used to such things. She knew—being Nathan's property—that there was nothing wrong with abusing such privileges with weaker males. They would give her things, and she would use whatever she could gain however she could get it to obtain Nathan's favor. That was only proper.
The outfit, in all, cost over twenty million dollars. She would, probably, never wear it again. She didn't care. Nathan was worth it.
He opened the door. He had on a pair of loose tan slacks and an open shirt, his muscular six-pack easily visible. Thick pec muscles dominated the sight of his chest. She imagined sliding into them, cuddling there, leaning into his perfect strength and knowing its hot weight as he pressed in on her.
For a moment, Juliana enjoyed the growing lust on his face as he openly devoured her from head to toe with his eyes.
She posed, as best she knew how—and Juliana knew how to pose incredibly well. All of her thick, soft hair landed on one side, and she put her finger to her open mouth.
“Oh Nathan,” she purred. “Oh, Nathan.”
It was so hard to control herself, to not kneel right there. He was so hot. So rich. His scent filled her nostrils, and she welcomed it openly.
And the money wasn't the object to Juliana. It was just the power it represented. That even as she could seduce and almost own any man alive, he could own her will so completely, so easily. Like he had been made to do it, and she had been made to let him.
God, he could just buy and sell nations.
He could buy and sell her.
The overwhelming lust on his face seemed to get reigned back under control.
“Hello again, Juliana.” His voice calm and measured. “I've been expecting you. Though . . . I don't know that I was expecting all of this.”
He waved his hand up and down, indicating the outfit.
“I hoped . . . ” she pressed her lips together, opening her eyes wide at him, “ . . . I hoped you would like it.”
“It looks like a decent enough outfit for a hot slavecunt.”
She blushed, heat flooding up her bare neck and shoulders. His control over her thoughts, her actions, was palpable.
“I wish you wouldn't . . . wouldn't just start like that.”
Not for the first time, she wondered why it was so hard just to make demands of him, to let him know what she wanted like a normal person.
And not for the first time, the answers spiraled down to her pussy: because she wanted him to make demands of her, because she wasn't a normal person, because she was supposed to be a slave.
His slave.
One hand on his hips, Nathan frowned.
“Start like what? That's what you are. I know it. You know it. I'm not going to play any games with you. You know exactly what I want. Are you here to give it to me?”
“I wanted . . .” she put a hand through her hair. “I wanted to try and start over with you.”
That smirk of his danced across his face, banishing the frown.
“You got my gift?”
She nodded, her eyes lighting up.
“It was very lovely, Nathan.”
“If you got it, then there's nothing to start over. If you want to approach what we have a different way, I'll go ahead and tell you—there is no other way.”
“But there can be. It's just, the way you treated me—”
“The way I treated you is why you're back here now, my little slaveslut.”
Her pussy twinged from his words. She shook her head.
“That's what I'm talking about. You can't just—”
Still smirking, he reached forward and put his hand through her hair, where her hand had just been. His was so much rougher, so much larger and stronger. The gorgeous turn of her cheeks melted into his thick palm. She surrendered completely.
“I can do anything I like, slave. Why are you talking so much? Pretty objects like you shouldn't be so talky.”
She couldn't look up in his eyes. He was so strong, standing over her like that. So tall.
Weakly, she raised up a hand to his chest, trying to push him away. Instead she just slid her gloved fingers over his open shirt, trailing down the magnificent musculature waiting there.
“You can't . . .” her voice had downgraded to a whisper. “You . . . you shouldn't . . .”
It ate her up inside, but she wanted this. She loved being objectified by him.
It was something she had considered on the ride over. Other men, they tried to objectify her because the reality of her being a woman was too much for them. They couldn't handle the thought that she had problems, complaints, grief in her life. Times when she wouldn't look gorgeous or would seem flawed.
Nathan didn't care about any of that. She was an object
to him because everyone in his life was object. He was only being honest about it with her, though.
That made her special to him. She was his slave, someone who needed him utterly.
Others want to use him for the same reason they wanted to use her—for what he represented, what he owned. He wanted her for the hot grip he held on her mind and her mind alone, and she wanted him purely because of that. This was the most honest thing in her life.
And it terrified her that she might ruin it somehow.
She pushed her face forward into his chest as he stood in the doorway, kissing it softly. Trying as best she could to supplicate herself. His head nodded down onto hers, letting her feel his thick jaw on her mane of hair.
There was no shame with him. Nothing terrified of what he was born with, of what he imposed on the world.
Juliana wanted that lack of shame. His money could fix anything. It could even fix how terrible she felt about being so privileged. If, from then on, she lived in nothing but that glorious privilege, if she experienced nothing but opulence, she would never have to feel bad about what she had been gifted with ever again.
“I j-just . . . I wanted you . . .”
Her hand slid down lower, resting right above his crotch. It took all of her self-control not to dive her fingers right in there. She could see his enormous bulge thickening from her proximity. Her head was getting foggy with lust.
“I know you want me, slave. That's what females do. They want strong men like me to tell them how to live. Tell me what a toy does.”
His hand slid down to her ass, gripping it firmly. Juliana let out a short, sharp gasp of pleasure.
Her ass was like a handle for him, leading her wherever she pleased.
“A t-toy . . . a toy wants you and serves you, however you want. To be filled by you. To give you the heirs you want. A progeny. A brood.”
She felt so fucking filthy saying all that—but in her heart, with his perfect thoughts pushing on her mind, she knew it was all correct.
He nodded.
“Good.”
Stepping to one side of her, he adjusted his grip on her ass so that he could toy with her diamond thong as he finally led her into the house.
The interior was enormous. There were little tables with vases and busts lined up down the cavernous entryway. Ornate wooden fixtures decorated the walls, every floor made from polished marble. Chandeliers dangled down in long rows in every room, each area flooded with an abundance of light.
It was a lovely place. Even so, Juliana could not help but imagine it with a woman's touch. With her own ability of creating warmth to make it even better for him, so that when he was fucking her again and again, it was in a place that she had made perfect for him.
Nathan's fingers dipped past her thong entirely, slipping up inside her pussy. Juliana gasped and clung to him, needing his big, strong frame just to keep standing.
All she could think was that she was so lucky he was there to catch her fall.
He brought her into a study. Books completely lined the twenty-foot tall walls, arranged on gloriously carved cherrywood shelves. There were a number of thick, oaken tables with leather-backed chairs surrounding them. He pushed her against one of the chairs, his fingers sliding out from inside of her.
“If you're a good enough slave,” he told her, licking his pussy-juice covered digits, “then maybe I'll let you go to my bedroom next.”
She nodded meekly. Yes. She had to prove herself. That was only right.
“Y-yes,” she moaned at last. “T-take me, Nathan. Fill me.”
“Sir.” He shook his head, tsking a bit.
One hand slid up her dress, roughly grabbing her bra. He tugged it down, away. It was a fragile thing—dozens of the multi-thousand dollar gems clattered to the floor. They were nothing to him. Nothing to her, anymore, just decorations for the decoration that she had become. She stared at him with open need, her breasts heaving in his hands as her breaths got quicker and quicker.
His other hand slid down her slender, perfect abs and pushed down her diamond thong, plunging fingers into her cunt.
“You call me Sir,” he said.
“Y-yes Sir!”
Pleasure flooded through her body, her knees feeling weak. Her hips pushed down into his fingers.
It wasn't enough to call him Sir. No, not by half. He needed a better title. He deserved a better title.
“Yes M-Master!”
His fingers twitched at that, and he pulled her in for a kiss, clearly happy with her initiative. His breath was hot inside her mouth, his tongue tugging at hers. All of him wanting more of her closer to him. He was so wonderful.
“Bend over for your Master, slut.”
There was no helping it—Juliana moaned happily, her pussy gushing into his fingers.
“Yes, Master!”
She did as he ordered, bending over with a happy, vapid smile on her face. Her thoughts were rapidly diminishing, focusing only on order to the next.
She didn't need to think when Master was here. Master would do all of her thinking for her. Thinking was such a silly exercise for a hot slavecunt like her. Best not to do it at all.
She watched him drop his pants. With a grin, he slapped her on the ass.
“Oh!” she gasped.
He slapped her again.
“Oh, yes!” she cried.
He slapped her again, and when he did, he slid his bare cock deep inside her pussy.
Deep inside her slavecunt.
Without warning, without any kind of an idea of how, Juliana came right away. Weeks and weeks of need were being sated and exploded so suddenly that her body's only conceivable reaction was to cum.
It was so perfect. Her slavecunt being filled with orgasmic bliss by her Master's thick, perfect rod. If he noticed that she came, he recognized it only by fucking her harder.
That was fine by Juliana. She existed for his cock now. Fucking an orgasm into her with the very first stroke. From now on, his word was law.
The position was so similar to what Shana had done, except a million times better with her Master's actual cock inside of her.
He picked up legs by the heels, pressing her shins under his arms. Her heels clacked on top of his shoulders. Every part of her was dominated so completely.
She bucked against each thrust, every inch of his cunt-owning meat filling her more and more with each passing second.
“Yes!” she moaned. “Fuck your little bitch! Fuck your supermodel whore, Master!”
“That's my fucktoy,” he grunted, ramming into her harder and harder. “That's a good sexdoll ornament, doing what Master says.”
He wrapped a thick length of her hair around his fist, holding her tight.
Picking up his pace, he practically bent her over backwards, pulling her head toward his chest. Juliana was flexible from years of yoga, and was happy to finally know why. All that bending and stretching to be fucked as perfectly as this. She maneuvered her head backward, leaning against his. Her tits were easy to access. His thick, rough hands slid over them, ripping her ten million dollar bra apart.
If he really wanted, he could replace it with thousands more in a heartbeat without even hurting his bottom line.
The feeling of his big hands on her big tits was so natural and perfect. She didn't know how she had been living her whole life without them there before. Grabbing onto her plump flesh so roughly, telling her how fast to fuck, how much he was enjoying himself. Big squeezes were for when he was having trouble holding back. Little squeezes were for when he was grinding his cock into her pussy just right, the cockhead pushing up against her g-spot.
“Please come,” she begged him. “Please cum in my pussy. Fill me up full of your hot jizz, Master! Your fuckslave needs her Master's hot white cum, please!”
The second most perfect moment in Juliana's life was when she felt him nodding against her face, indicating his orgasm was on its way.
The most perfect moment, of course, arrived just secon
ds later. A few more hard, finishing strokes and he came explosively, his seed piling inside of her pussy in liquid hot jet spurts. There was so much of it. She could feel it dripping out of her pussy onto her million-dollar heels, staining the ribbons and dress.
Unable to do any different, she came with him, so incredibly turned on already by the soaking wet feeling of this billionaire stud penetrating her cunt, penetrating her mind, penetrating her very will. Every possible way to be fucked, he fucked her. When she came, she felt like her soul was twisting inside out.
“Thank you, Master,” she purred. “Thank you so much.”
Shuddering, she squeezed onto his still-trembling cock, hoping to keep his bliss-inducing shaft inside of her for as long as possible.
Her entire outfit was ruined, all twenty million dollars of it. It would be impossible to wear it again. And it had been so worth it, just to be fucked once by this incredible stallion of a man. She slid up next to her stud, happily nuzzling against him.
Almost casually, he picked her up and brought her down with him onto a long, soft cloth couch. Juliana naturally gravitated downward toward his cock, cleaning it with her tongue. His cum still oozed out of her sparkling hot pussy. Probably she was ruining the couch. She didn't care. It was all replaceable, just like her.
“That's a good fuckslave,” he said, stroking her hair appreciatively. His thick fingers taking up so much space on her head. “You'll sleep down there tonight, where you belong.”
Sleeping next to his cock? God, she almost came again.
“Yes, Master.”
“And if you want anything tonight, you start your request by servicing my cock.”
She nodded again, moaning affirmatively. It would be so hot to want to get up in the night for a glass of water, but only be able to leave by sucking off her amazing Master first.
He owned her so well.
And how could he not? He was Master, and she was just Juliana the slavecunt decoration fucktoy.
All night, she snuggled up to the cock that owned her, the man who completely enslaved her million-dollar supermodel pussy.
# # #
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The Owned By Studs Bundle Page 10