Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance)

by Dalia Daudelin

  "And if I agreed?"

  "Then you'd be dropped off with a room key and I'd go back to work. Perhaps I would call on you tonight. More likely than not, but I haven't decided. But eventually, I would come to you. Until then, room service would be paid to my bill, and you would have access to a small, but comfortable, charge account."

  I took a deep breath. I had been afraid of something like this, but something much less tempting, and much less long term, and I hadn't expected to have as much say in it. I fretted for a moment that felt like an eternity. Then the decision was easier than I'd expected.

  "Yes."

  Mr. Stone's lips spread into a thin smile that cut across his almost-ageless face.

  "Perfect."

  When I got to my room, it was perfect. I hadn't slept on a bed in almost a year. I remedied that situation almost immediately, and when I woke it was to the sound of a ringing phone. I picked up the receiver on the bedside stand. The voice on the other end was familiar enough.

  "Jen?"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm on my way. Be ready. Thirty minutes."

  I wasted no time. Another shower was in order, and a toothbrush I found wrapped up in the bathroom served well enough to get my oral hygiene sorted out.

  After thirty minutes on the dot, I heard the door open. He didn't knock. I was lying in bed, covered only by the sheets. He walked up slowly, dropping his jacket on the floor and pulling apart the buttons on his shirt.

  "Good girl."

  He took a pinch of the sheets on the bed and pulled gently. The sheets slowly slid down my body, revealing my breasts. He practically salivated at the sight of them. Earlier he had had such a guarded expression, but now he looked like a wild beast with the scent of blood. I could feel the arousal already spreading in anticipation of what was to come. When he spoke, it was softly, but it was not a request.

  "Come here, now."

  I crawled across the bed as he unzipped his trousers, reaching inside to pull out a fat cock. It was already hard, I noted, pleased. I took it in my hand, looking it over, before licking along its length.

  A big hand fell on top of my head, pushing me gently towards his cock. I took the hint, taking it into my mouth. I let my tongue play along it as I bobbed my head, savoring the quiet hitch in his breath when I took his entire length into my mouth. I sucked hard as I pulled off and his fingers dug in, taking a fistful of my now-short hair. He tugged me off him harder than I would have liked, but I've had vigorous lovers before.

  "Get on your back, you slut."

  I leaned back and spread my legs.

  "You like talking dirty, Mister Stone?"

  He grabbed me by my hips and pulled me to the foot of the bed, dragging the sheet along with me. He reached down and rubbed gently against the opening to my pussy, before lining up his cock. I yelped when he pushed in, hard and fast. I grabbed his tie and pulled him down into a kiss. At first he resisted, but only for a moment. Our lips crashed together as he pounded me, his hard body pressed against mine. I cried out and he bit my neck, eliciting another yelp as pleasure and pain churned inside me. I could feel my orgasm approaching.

  "Don't stop," I murmured. "Oh, God."

  He didn't stop. He pulled back, grabbing my hips for leverage as he slammed into me harder and harder.

  "I'm gonna cum in you. Is that a problem, whore?"

  "Ohhhhh," I moaned. "I'm not on birth contro-o-ol."

  "Is that going to be a problem? Are you saying no to me?"

  "No si-i-ir," I saw stars as the pressure that had been building inside me exploded. I could feel Jake Stone fucking me a million miles away and yet it was right there, spurring me on to greater and greater heights. "Oh, don't stop, please don't stop -- cum in me!"

  He thrust against me harder, faster, and finally he pushed in deep. I could feel the cum splashing against my cervix, the hot fullness of his sperm. I found that I couldn't pick up my head.

  "Oh, God. That was..." The breaths came hard, each one burning in my chest, matching the burning pleasure in my pussy.

  "Now, then," he said. I realized with a start that he wasn't finished just as a hand clamped around my throat and started to squeeze. For a moment, I was afraid. But if there was a line in the sand, he hadn't crossed it.

  And then, all of a sudden, he did. A hot, stinging slap rang across my face: not playful, but with force behind it. I could still feel it as a hundred thousand bad nights sped across my vision.

  I opened my eyes. I could feel him stirring inside me, but I blocked that out, focused on the anger and the hurt.

  "What the fuck!"

  He looked at me with a tired anger. He couldn't imagine being told no. And then he stepped back, pulled out of me. He picked his clothes from the floor, and he left without a word.

  Two

  I thought about leaving right after my distant benefactor, for a moment. Mr. Stone seemed so angry, and I was angry, too. I'd dealt with so much shit from Travis that I'd just spoken without thinking. That's never smart, I knew.

  Then the cold chill ran down my spine when I thought about what my options were. Nobody would take me in, after all. I was at this man's mercy. I thought about the sex. It was great, frankly, outside of the roughness.

  The smell of sex permeated the air and I laid back on the bed, my pussy feeling a little sore, the constant stimulation and pain only serving to remind me of what had happened, only making me feel more aroused. I wished that I hadn't stopped him; it could only have led to more pleasure.

  The late hour was addling my thoughts, I realized, but at the same time, a part of my mind cut through the haze of sex and fatigue. I remembered the taste of the steak that I'd eaten earlier, remembered the feel of the shower. Felt the silk sheets underneath me, and the feeling of being fucked real good and hard.

  Then I remembered how cold the streets were. How infrequent the meals were, and how unappealing they were when I did manage to find one at all. This was a meal ticket, and a permanent one at that. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut, after all. That was a great deal if I thought about it. I reached down and started playing with myself in slow, lazy circles around my clit.

  I could feel my mouth watering at the thought of the meat, looking so delicious and seared on the plate. I wanted more of that. Jake Stone's cock flashed into my mind, as well. I wanted more of that, as well. I would endure whatever he wanted. I could feel an electric buzz of arousal that was seeping into my mind, driven harder and harder by the continued stimulation.

  That would be enough, I thought. Sure, Travis could get ugly when he was drunk. But how often had Travis been able to get into a hundred-dollar-a-plate restaurant without notice, skipping the wait list entirely? How often had Travis dropped everything to have a dress made specifically for her? Did Travis have a driver?

  Sure, he'd had some money. Everyone I knew had, once upon a time. Before I'd left Travis, I could have said everyone I knew period. But he didn't have the kind of money that Mr. Stone had, and that was not something to be ignored. I knew what hunger felt like, and when you go hungry, the money starts to matter much more than scruples.

  I moved my hands faster, my mind racing. How far would I go, I thought, for money, if it came down to that? I realized that I couldn't think of a limit. Every example, as I got further and further down the rabbit hole, only served to increase my arousal. I imagined being choked until I passed out, letting my other hand slither up and wrap around my neck to complete the fantasy. I was moving my hips against my fingers, now, adding pressure to the increasingly-erratic rubbing.

  I imagined Mr Stone's powerfully muscled body moving against me as he stuffed a big rubber cock down my throat. I could almost hear him calling me a slut, almost feel him spitting on me. It didn't matter, I thought. There was nothing he could say to me that his money wouldn't pay for, and I was okay with that. As long as it was a trade, I'd take whatever he had to offer.

  The thought was liberating, and it was making me hot. I moaned, rubbing faster
and harder, trying to keep the rhythm steady. I could feel an orgasm approaching, and I moaned out the name that was on my lips: "Jake!"

  It felt like an explosion inside me as the pleasure and strain that had been building up inside me suddenly let out. For a moment, I imagined what Mr. Stone would be there as I finished, watching me with a smug smirk on his face. He'd pull me back down the bed so that my ass hung off the end and my hips were nice and accessible for his hardening cock. He would lean forward as he unzipped his trousers, as he lined himself up with my entrance, and then he'd whisper in my ear. "What do you think you're doing here all by yourself?"

  The fantasy made it hard to open my eyes. Part of me wanted nothing more than for it to play out just like that. I could feel the arousal coming back, hard and hot and strong. Part of me was afraid of being caught at my most vulnerable, being watched. But there was another big part of me that was afraid of what it meant if he wasn't there at all, if it was just a fanciful notion that I'd made up in my head.

  Would he kick me out now? I had pissed him off, and now I knew that I wanted nothing more than to keep this lifestyle I'd found for myself once more. So what if he was a bit kinky, and a bit bossy? I could live with kinky. I could live with bossy. I could even live with a little bit abusive.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes. The ceiling was unfamiliar, an odd shade of beige, after so long being forced to stay outside, it seemed like a dream to be in from the rain. But I couldn't bring myself to check and see if my sugar daddy was there, like I'd imagined him to be.

  I rolled over and wiggled my butt in the direction I imagined him to be. I wouldn't look. I couldn't look. But slowly, I turned around, trying to look cute and sexy. A robe was slung over the plush, comfortable-looking armchair, where I'd tossed it after I got out of the shower. But the room was empty. I felt the bottom of my stomach fall out and I rolled back over. I didn't need him to be there, after all. I would just have gotten mad again, probably.

  It was better this way, I told myself. But I was lying.

  I couldn't take the not knowing. I had thought it would be easy to just wander around town. It wasn't as if there was nothing to do in walking distance. But with the way things had ended that night, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get back into the room if I left, and I had to be there in case Jake came by unannounced. I had to explain, to apologize. To get him to forgive me.

  But he didn't come. Not on the first day. Not on the second. Not on the third. The room service didn't stop coming to my room. They didn't complain about my tab. I guessed, hoped, that meant that I was okay. It was almost a relaxing thought, but the silence from the man who was paying the bills was deafening. I could be out on my own again at any moment, I knew. And even though the food kept coming, the lights stayed on, and no big bald men in hotel suits came by to escort me out, I couldn't stop knowing it for even a second.

  I didn't see him again until nearly dawn on the fourth day. He didn't call the hotel phone. He didn't call the prepaid cell phone he had left on the table, either. He texted. "Be ready. JS"

  I got the text at two. The hours waiting for him to arrive were as agonizing as they were endless. Was this going to be the time when he finally told me that I was out? Would he forget the whole thing? What could I do to make it go away? The door opened at five fourty-five and I practically skidded to my knees in front of him.

  "Please, sir, I'll do anything." I didn't look up right away. "I'm so sorry that I talked back to you, it'll never happen again."

  I looked up, then, putting on my best apologetic face. He didn't look angry. For a fleeting instant, his face was a whirling mess of emotion. Then he caught himself, and put on a self-assured look that seemed to fit his features so well.

  "Never again?" He asked, rubbing his thumb along my jaw.

  "No, sir. Never again."

  He unzipped his slacks with the other hand, holding the other against my cheek.

  "Show me," he said, letting his hardening cock fall free in front of my face. I took it into my mouth greedily, slurping and sucking hard, bobbing as fast as my slender neck would allow. I could feel the tension of the last few days unraveling in my mind as I worked. I knew that as long as I managed to impress him here, he would forgive me. I was sure of it, and that confidence gave me strength.

  I could feel his hands interlacing through my hair, tugging softly at them, eliciting a moan of mixed pain and pleasure. I wanted him to think I loved it, no matter what he did, but he knew which buttons to push. He pulled me off.

  "Do you want to swallow my cum?"

  I nodded desperately. "Anything you ask me to do, sir, yes, please."

  He smirked at me, the haze of pleasure fogging up his eyes. "Beg me."

  I could tell that this was leading up to what he really wanted. The cocksucking, the sex -- it was all foreplay, to him. He didn't want my sex. He wanted my body, but what he wanted it for was something else entirely. And I was willing to accept that, if it was a choice between that and going back on the streets.

  "Oh, sir, please let me have your cum. I want it so bad. I'm so hungry, sir, don't keep me waiting. Please!" I strained against his hands, holding me back from his cock, trying to take it back into my mouth. He thrust forward against my face, and I could feel him press into the back of my throat, stretching it open. I choked, just a bit, but at the same time it was so arousing. I fought the desire to let my hands wander downward.

  I had been willing to put up with whatever he asked, and I knew he wanted me to beg. But in that instant, I wanted him to cum down my throat, to mark me, to make me his. When he pulled me off again, the whimper was not part of the show that I was putting on for him.

  "Please, sir," I said, without a hint of pretending. "Don't stop."

  He smirked, the same look of cool and collected confidence that fit so well onto his broad features. And then he grabbed me by my throat and squeezed. I couldn't breathe, but that only added to the feelings of arousal. Then he squeezed harder, and it hurt.

  I wanted to get mad. I could feel my temper slipping away from me. But I knew I couldn't afford the mistake, not after what had happened. I knew that would be the last straw. So I let him pick me up from the floor by my throat, and throw me onto the bed. I started to spread my legs, but he pulled me back to my feet and turned me around.

  "You're going to get a spanking now, Jen. Is that a problem?"

  "No, sir."

  "That's good, Jen. Because I don't care what you think, and I'd really hate to have you trying to fight back." He whispered it into my ears before shoving me back to the bed, bending me over the end. The first swat came down hard. I could feel my pussy tingling in time with the stinging pain that radiated from where he'd hit my ass.

  "Ow," I said, softly. I gritted my teeth and waited for the second blow to come. For a moment, it didn't, and I relaxed. Maybe it was only the one. And as I relaxed, as I started to believe that maybe I was not going to get another spanking, his hand came down again on the other cheek, spreading a jolt of hot pain that I could feel from my toes to the hairs on my head. I fought to keep the tears from coming to my eyes, but they wouldn't be stopped, blurring my vision. My face felt hot.

  "Did I hurt you, Jen?"

  "No, sir, I'm sorry sir." I didn't know what I was saying. I would have said anything before to please him, and now I only wanted it to stop. But when the words came out of my mouth, I could feel that I'd hit on something deep in my own feelings. I was sorry, though I didn't know why. I had felt like I had been some sort of failure when he left, and the stinging pain that sizzled through my ass felt like I was paying some kind of penance for that.

  It made me hot as hell.

  "Do you want another spanking?"

  "I don't know," I sobbed. I could feel the pain, and the idea of having another swat come down was terrifying. But the feeling of hot, white, electric pleasure that came with it was hard to resist, as well. I felt another smack come down, softer this time, and I moaned. The pain seemed to dull a little bi
t, the pleasure shining through even brighter.

  "Thank you, sir." I stuck my ass out for him, trying to make it easier for him. I didn't know why I was enjoying it, but I didn't need to. Another swat came down. Another. I could feel something building inside me, the beginnings of what might have been an orgasm. "Oh, Mister Stone -- please fuck me. Please."

  The next swat came down sharper than the ones before it and I yelped out in pain, but the pleasure built even still. I wiggled my ass and another swat came down. I didn't know what to do to stop the onslaught that he was unleashing on my bottom, but I didn't care any more.

  I could hear him behind me, now. His breathing was heavy with the force of his swings and arousal. I could feel a smile breaking across my face, even as the tears began to fall from my eyes. It hurt so much, but there was a part of me that wanted it to continue. I felt him slapping his cock against my ass, testing the hardness of it. Compared to the rough slaps that seemed to go on for eternity, it was a bright shining star of relief.

  He lined himself up with my pussy and thrust inside in a single powerful motion, and in that instant I saw God. The buildup from the face-fucking, the spanking, the tension of having been in a state of limbo for so long, it had all built up to an arousal that was now exploding like fireworks inside my head. I could feel my body moving under him, pushing back against his cock, but it was like I was a thousand miles away, feeling only the pleasure. Floating on a cloud.

  "Do you like that," he said, and I nodded vigorously. His hand reached forward, shoving a finger into my mouth and tugging like a fish-hook. I didn't know what hurt and what felt good any more, every touch a shade of gray that muddled the feelings and made the pleasure that much sharper.

  I wanted his cum. If he wouldn't cum in my mouth, I swore to myself silently, then he'd cum in me now. I pushed back against him, wanting desperately for something, anything, to happen. After the first orgasm I had felt like the tension had gone, but it hadn't -- it had gone straight to my head, making everything fuzzy except the desire to be fucked.