Don't Ever Stop: A BDSM Billionaire Romance

by Rock, Vivie

  There was no way I could tell my boss that I’d never had sex. Besides, I didn’t think he wanted to have sex with me. He just wanted to do this rope thing. For the sake of art. Someone like Redmond Cooper would never actually want to have sex with me. Just humiliate me in some way.

  ‘Rose,’ he said softly, ‘this rope is an extension of me.’ I felt suddenly embarrassed that I was squeezing and kneading part of it between my fingers, but I didn’t let go. I held onto it even harder.

  ‘And I’d like it,’ he continued, ‘if it became an extension of you, too.’

  He lifted up the rope now, taking it out of my hands, and slid it over my shoulders. Feeling the weight of it behind my back made me realise just how powerful it was, how tightly a rope like this would be able to bind me. How impossible it would be to break free of it if I was, say, held hostage somewhere. Was I being held hostage now? He slipped the rope further down my back, and I felt it running over my spine, reminding me how skinny I was, how much I’d enjoyed being told what to eat this week. As the rope passed further down my spine, the hairs on my arms began to stand on end.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I shivered, aware of a growing tingle between my thighs, a gradual moistness spreading at the top of my legs.

  I looked into my boss’ eyes, and he stared back at me, harsh and serious, full of stern desire. ‘Think about it,’ he said.

  ‘Okay,’ I responded, gasping as the rope reached my coccyx, and he pulled it tight against me, sending quick ripples down into my buttocks. ‘I’ll do it,’ I said. ‘I’ll let you tie me up.’ I couldn’t believe what I was saying. I don’t know if it was the saké, or the wine, or the smell of Mr. Cooper’s aftershave, or the warm, wet feeling between my legs, but this wasn’t like me at all. I had no idea where I was going with this. I felt strangely free – and like I was tumbling forwards, unable to stop myself.

  Mr. Cooper’s lips looked dry, and he ran his tongue across them quickly, looking down at my neck, my shoulders, not letting his gaze travel further, though I guessed he might want to. ‘If you agree to this, Rose, then you know I’ll have to be in complete control. This isn’t something you can dip your toes into. You go all in. You surrender. Completely.’

  I felt the rope grazing my the back of my dress, looked at my boss’ big, strong hands. ‘I’m surrendering,’ I whispered. ‘I surrender.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  An Exercise In Imagination

  There’s nothing much to tell you about the rest of that night. Don’t believe me? I’m serious. We didn’t make out. I didn’t stay over. Nothing weird happened. No funny business whatsoever.

  In fact, after I’d finished my glass of wine, I felt pretty disappointed, heading home in the cab alone. I had been ready to give him everything that night. It was like I was under his spell. I’d have let him take my virginity. And that’s no small thing. I’d been waiting to pop my cherry in just the right way for years. How I thought losing it to my billionaire boss, while he tied me up into tiny, painful knots was the right way to do it, I don’t know. I suppose it felt so wrong that it just made nothing matter any more. Losing my virginity was never going to be perfect. Why not just accept that and make it as imperfect as possible?

  By the time I got back to my parents’ house, they were both in bed. I crept up the stairs, into my room, and took a long look in the mirror. My lips and teeth were stained red from the wine. I looked like I’d been drinking blood. I looked at the rest of my face. My high cheekbones, my small, delicate features. I think, now that my boss had seen something in me, it made me see myself differently. I took off my cardigan, and unzipped my dress. I looked at myself in just my bra. It was an old, white, cotton bra, that had turned gray in the wash over the years. Good job I didn’t let my boss see that! I needed to go underwear shopping, stat.

  Aside from my bra though, I actually looked okay. I tried to imagine I was someone else, looking at me. Like I was Redmond Cooper, looking at Rose Smith. Tonight, when I looked at myself, I actually thought I had some stuff going for me. I had a nice neck. Yeah. My neck was absolutely fine. I had a great neck! I was a bit tipsy, and couldn’t help laughing. It wasn’t just my neck that was okay. My collarbone was quite elegant too, and the shape of my shoulders wasn’t too far off the shape of the shoulders on that statue of Artemis. My pale green eyes sparkled like Amazonite crystals. I looked like something was burning inside me.

  I felt different too.

  I felt like the old Rose Smith was about to be put to rest. Like something momentous was taking place inside me. It made me feel powerful for the first time in I don’t know how long. It made me feel horny.

  I took off my pants next and sat on my bed in my underwear. Then I lay on my back and looked up at the ceiling.

  I wondered what Redmond Cooper was doing at this moment. If he felt horny too. He hadn’t even kissed me on the cheek when we said goodnight; just gave me a firm handshake and said he looked forward to our arrangement. No clue as to when this arrangement might take place. The thought even crept into my head that I’d made it too easy for him. That now I’d agreed to let him tie me up, he’d lost interest. The excitement of the chase had subsided.

  You idiot, Rose! Always make them wait.

  I tried to imagine my boss’ actions after closing the door. Did he finish off that bottle of wine? Stay up caressing the rope, thinking of me? Did he touch himself? It was strange to imagine my boss having a penis. He was the most gorgeous-looking guy I’d ever seen, but he was one of those untouchables, those A-list hotties that you actually know in real life, that you have to talk to on a daily basis, so you just tried not to imagine them as sexual beings, in case they could see it in your eyes when you next spoke.

  But Redmond Cooper was all man. He had a penis, and I’d been sitting on the sofa beside it this very evening.

  I let my hand trail down my stomach, running over my gray cotton panties. I was still wet down there. The muscles in my thighs kept tightening and loosening, as if they were fucking the air between my legs. I was desperate to find out how it might feel to have a cock in there. How much better than my own fingers would it feel?

  I pushed my hands all the way into my panties, and stroked my fingers over the moist, silken lips.

  I want my boss. I want to fuck my boss.

  I imagined myself back on his sofa, wondered what might have happened if, while he pulled the rope across my back, I’d leant forwards slightly, pressed my lips against his…

  My boss wants to tie me up.

  Or what if I’d let him tie me up? How might that have felt?

  I reached down to the carpet and picked up the pantyhose I’d been wearing all evening. They were soft but heavy duty, forty denier so my legs didn’t show through. They felt strong. I wound the pantyhose around one of my wrists, then pulled them taut against my skin using my teeth. I pulled a little harder, trying to see how tightly coiled I could get them, but my teeth started to hurt, and the taste of nylon on my tongue was unappealing.

  I lay back, frustrated, and began stroking myself again. I ran my fingers over the warm juices dripping out of me, and then stuck in an exploratory finger. How might two fingers feel? And now three? How big is a penis? All five fingers? I couldn’t get all five fingers in. The angle was a bit too weird, but I pushed in three, which felt most comfortable, and let my fingers sit inside me.

  I hope my parents don’t walk in now.

  I tried to imagine my hand was Redmond Cooper’s cock. I imagined him whispering dirty things into my ear, running those jute ropes all over my body, dragging them across my skin, tying knots around my back…

  He didn’t even ask for my number. Maybe he was just drunk tonight. Maybe he didn’t mean any of it…

  I pushed my fingers deeper inside myself.

  He didn’t seem drunk…

  I began circling my clit with my thumb, and pushing my fingers inside me as fast as I could, feeling my nail nick the edge of one of my soft little lips, causing me to w
ince in pain for a moment. But I tried to embrace the pain, and carried on. I turned over onto my stomach and humped my fingers as hard as I could.

  Imagine it’s a cock, Rose. Imagine you’re fucking a nice big dick.

  My stomach muscles tightened. My inner thighs felt burning hot, like there was electricity running through them. I felt like I’d never be satiated, like my fingers could never be enough. With my free hand, I pushed off my bra and felt my nipple, squeezing it to make it hard beneath my fingertips. Then I squeezed it harder still, until it made me cry out in pain. I couldn’t stop myself. I continued to push my fingers in and out, as hard and fast as I possibly could, until I was sure the squeaking of my mattress would wake up my parents. I pushed my face into the pillow, cried out again, imagining Redmond Cooper’s dick, hard and red and pumped full of blood, desperate to fuck me, imagined him lying on his bed, just like me, ejaculating all over his smart silk sheets…

  I pressed my thumb hard against my clitoris just as I felt myself come. I breathed heavily, the ripples of pleasure running all the way through me.

  Then I picked up my cell phone, beside my bed, and wrote a text.

  Patrick, I miss you. Let’s meet up. xxx

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Negotiation

  Thursday. It had always been my least favorite day of the week. I think it went back to my schooldays. I used to have double math first thing on a Thursday morning, which always filled me with a sense of dread. But I also hated the fact it was so close to the weekend, but not quite close enough to get excited about it yet. By the time you reached Thursday, you’d become sort of institutionalized from nearly a full working week. You’d forgotten how freedom felt, what it was like to get up at a leisurely hour, eat breakfast in front of the television in your pajamas, go for a walk in the park and stop to look at squirrels and birds, to see nature getting on with its thing, all around you.

  Today was a Thursday, and it was no different to any other. I was tired and ratty, and desperate for the weekend. Mr. Cooper hadn’t said a word to me since Tuesday night, which confirmed my suspicions: he was drunk, or out of his mind, when he said all that weird stuff to me at the restaurant, and showed me back to his apartment, and he sincerely regretted making such a fool of himself. The only silver lining was that Patrick had replied to my text and we’d arranged to meet up on Saturday. He’d suggested we drive out into the countryside, and go to a ‘pick your own fruit and veg’ farm. The asparagus and beets are in season, he said, and if we were lucky we might get some chard. It sounded… kind of romantic. Maybe not the chard bit. But at least he was making an effort. And I’d been a fool to think Redmond Cooper was any sort of serious prospect. He was my boss. He was a billionaire. He was drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, sure, he was eccentric… But he could have anyone. And he’d clearly forgotten all about me.

  ‘Oi, Daydream Believer…’ Tegan’s voice surfaced in my mind. ‘Earth to Rose? Hello?’ Tegan had been saying something. Shit. I was sitting back in my chair, slack-jawed, staring at the ceiling. I sat up straight, wiggled my mouse to make my screen crackle off the screensaver and back into action, and I looked at Tegan.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘What can you do for me?’ Tegan scoffed. ‘Jesus, Rose. ‘You’ve been in this job less than a fortnight. You need to apply yourself, sweetness! I don’t know how you got the job, considering you have zero journalistic qualifications, but now that you’re here, you need to get on with it if you want to get anywhere. You’re on probation, you know. You need to learn your shorthand and learn the ropes. All I’ve seen you doing the past few days is staring dreamily into space, and stuffing yourself with wasabi nuts, popcorn, and all kinds of crunchy shit that I hear you chomping away on all day long. Come on lady, pull your socks up!’

  I looked down at my computer keyboard, full of crumbs, in embarrassment. Mr. Cooper had sent me a long, and very detailed, food list for the week. As the days went on, he was getting me to snack more and more. He had obviously been keen for me to put weight on my bones, and fast. The food was all very healthy, and I was a fairly active person, so I didn’t have a problem with it, from a health perspective. Besides, the more I’d been eating, the more of an appetite I’d been starting to build up. Even though I was pissed at my boss, he’d really helped me out with this diet plan. I felt like my clothes were starting to fit me better already.

  ‘You’re right, Tegan,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve found this job a big adjustment. I’m learning shorthand outside of work, but I’ve fallen behind these last few days. I’ve been exhausted, and my mind’s been elsewhere. I’ll get back on top of things.’ I smiled sweetly. ‘Just you watch.’

  Bitch, I thought secretly. You’re not my boss. As soon as I’d had the thought, I felt myself tighten with shock. I wouldn’t normally let myself think something like that. And normally, I’d be devastated for being told off by a co-worker. What was happening to me lately?

  I opened up a Word document I was in the middle of composing, a piece about a local school that had had its funding cut lately. I was just putting a few facts and figures together, really. It was for another journalist, a proper one, to take off my hands and spin into some kind of story. And they needed it by noon. I had to crack on.

  I clicked on my internet browser, and closed that down, so I’d be free to distractions, then I clicked on Outlook, about to minimize the window, to get that out of the way too. But I noticed I had a new email. It wasn’t a round robin. It was addressed just to me. And it was from Mr. Cooper. The subject of the email just said: ‘Negotiation’. It sounded official. I opened it warily.

  Rose,

  As per our discussion the other night, here are my terms and conditions for the arrangement. You will be required to read through this list thoroughly, print off a copy, sign it, and return it to me in a sealed envelope via internal mail. Absolute discretion is vital.

  1. I, Redmond Cooper, and you, Rose Smith, are to undertake an agreement, by which we will engage in a number of ‘scenes’, in which the top (Redmond) will dominate and discipline the bottom (Rose) in any way he sees fit, including but not limited to the use of bondage (namely rope bondage, or kinbaku), sensory deprivation and spanking (using a whip or birch rod), for the purposes of aestheticism and corporeal pleasure for both parties.

  2. The top expects the bottom to be obedient throughout the entire scene. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action, including spanking.

  3. Scenes will include episodes of humiliation (for the bottom), verbal violation and infliction of pain (by the top).

  4. While sexual arousal may be a by-product, sexual intercourse will not be part of the scene. The top considers sex overly indulgent, and it distracts from the purity of the activity. Furthermore, during a scene, the top’s opinion of the bottom will be so low that she will not deserve intercourse. She must be made to suffer.

  5. At any point, either party may use a safeword to stop all action immediately and come out of the scene. If either party says the word ‘red’ all BDSM activity stops. The word ‘green’, on the other hand, can be used to encourage more activity, in either frequency or intensity. The word ‘yellow’ may be used as a discouragement, to stop particular activity, but not stop the scene altogether.

  6. Each scene will last up to three hours. After this time, it is expected that both parties will require a rest, and, if necessary, some aftercare.

  There was a postscript at the end of the email.

  Attached to this email is a confirmation code for a three-hour luxury spa treatment. I have booked you in at the most luxurious spa in New York, this Saturday. Go and get pampered, and then meet me at 5 p.m. for our first scene. A cab will pick you up. You do not need to bring anything.

  I couldn’t believe it. He had been serious the other night. Extremely serious, by the looks of things. He’d drawn up a contract! If I wanted to, I could show this email to personnel, and Redmond Cooper could get
in a lot of trouble. Maybe even lose his job. Newspaper Tycoon’s Saucy Sexploits. Hey, I could even write the article. My first big story. Ha. I skilled grimly.

  I minimized the email and looked at my Word Document, pretending to read over it while I thought about what to do. My heart was thudding in my chest. I felt pumped up with adrenaline. BDSM. He’d used the acronym BDSM! I’d heard of it before, of course, and seen the trailer for that film about the secretary, but I never, ever in a million years thought it was something I’d end up getting involved in…

  But reading the email had made me get kinda horny again. This was becoming all too common for me now. Grinding my ass into my desk chair, thinking dirty thoughts about my boss.

  My mind raced through the possibilities.

  Could I actually go through with this? What if I hated it? What if my boss tried to kill me?

  And this Saturday, too. I was meant to be picking chard with Patrick.

  Oh shit. Who was it going to be? Patrick? Or my boss?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Pick Your Own

  ‘How does that feel? Tell me if anything feels painful, or if you want me to stop.’

  I let out a long, delirious groan. ‘It feels perfect. Don’t stop.’

  Don’t ask me why I did it, but I bailed on Patrick. I asked him if we could postpone it, maybe meet up on Sunday instead, but Patrick said he had ‘a family thing’ on Sunday. Which was a bit confusing considering all his family are in Ireland. I had no idea where things stood between me and Patrick any more.

  And I really didn’t know if I was doing the right thing being here today, either. But against all my good conscience’s better judgment, I’d ended up at the spa.