by Simply BWWM
Five, ten, fifteen blows rained against her already-sensitive skin until Jessica’s bodily instincts took over, making her dance and fidget within the bindings. She whimpered helplessly between blows that came fast and slow, and then--when she was certain she couldn’t take any more--Brad paused, one hand cupping her hot, throbbing pussy, rubbing against her wet labia. One of his fingers slid between her folds, finding her clit and beginning to rub her there. “You like being punished for being bad, don’t you, Jess?”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, pushing her hips back into his touches. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Do you want more punishment, Jess?” Jessica considered that question, but it was so difficult with the tingling fire in her buttocks, along her thighs. It was so difficult to think when Bradley slid two fingers inside of her, working them along her inner walls, rubbing her so intimately. She was so turned on that she was pretty sure she would let him do anything he wanted to her in that moment, and she knew that he knew that. He wanted her to push past that addictive need, to tell him honestly what she wanted.
“M-m-maybe a little more, Sir,” she mumbled.
“Do you want me to make you cry, Jess?” She nodded. She needed that release--after all the stress of the week, of the hearing, she wanted to be taken all the way to the edge, and then wanted to be held.
“Please, Sir,” she murmured.
“I’ll keep going until you use the safe word,” Brad told her. “Or until I think you’re trying to violate our rules about the safe word. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, nodding to emphasize her agreement.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Brad instructed her. “I want to change things up a bit, and you look so sweet, so trusting like this.” Jessica smiled.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, her breath and pulse finally slowing. She heard him step away from her, heard him open a drawer, and resisted the temptation to open her eyes and see what he was going to use to punish her next.
Bradley approached her again, and Jessica felt her skin crawling, anticipating the first of the blows to come. “I don’t want you to count this time, but you will thank me for each one. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jessica replied. She whimpered softly, tugging at the ropes on her wrists, hearing the bells on her nipples jingling and tinkling as she fidgeted.
The first blow hit her right buttock, and Jessica yelped in surprise; it was more painful than the previous flogger, and not just because the effects of getting spanked were cumulative. Brad had chosen something with heavier--maybe braided--straps, and they hurt indeed. “Thank you, Sir,” she said, as soon as she could remember.
Brad flogged her carefully, and Jessica was glad that she wasn’t expected to count; she would have lost the ability to remember which number they were on after about three. Before too long, she was dancing within the confines of her bindings, her body trying to move itself out of the way of the blows, and Brad continued, raining the straps down against her buttocks, against her thighs.
Jessica felt the tears heating up her eyes, and then rolling out from under the lids, soaking into the comforter on the bed. Brad didn’t stop until she was truly crying, until her body shook not just from tremors of anticipation but from the cathartic sobs pushing their way out of her.
She didn’t realize how far gone she was until she came back to herself, the sobs easing, and realized that the bindings were all gone, that Bradley had her in his arms. “You did so well, Jessica,” he murmured, dusting her wet face with kisses. “You’re so good. You took that punishment so beautifully.” She whimpered, more out of a sense of overwhelming gratitude and the inability to form words than anything else, and cuddled closer to him. “My beautiful Jess,” Brad murmured, kissing her lips. “My beautiful little submissive.”
“Thank you,” she said, kissing him back. Brad’s fingertips slid over the inflamed skin of her buttocks, sending a shiver through her--composed not just of sensitive nerve endings reacting, but desire as well. She wanted him inside of her.
“How do you want to be fucked, Jess?” It was as if Brad had read her mind. “Tell me.”
“Show me how good I am,” she murmured, desperation in her voice. Brad laid her gently on her back on the bed, and Jessica realized belatedly that he’d put a pillow under the small of her back, keeping her over-sensitized buttocks from pressing against the bed. He spread her legs, and she shivered, knowing what was coming next.
But instead of thrusting into her, Brad slipped down below her hips, nuzzling her reddened inner thighs before delicately parting her labia. Jessica closed her eyes and moaned out as he buried his face against her pussy, sucking and licking, worshipping her with his mouth.
“Oh--oh, fuck,” she cried out as she felt the tip of Brad’s tongue slithering up and down along her inner labia, as she felt him suck her clit between his lips. He worked her as if he intended to devour her, as if he intended to enjoy every last bit of her drenched flesh, wriggling his tongue inside of her and then sliding it out to swirl the tip around her clit.
She arched and twisted, pushing her hips down for better contact. She gave herself up to the pleasure that Brad created, just as fully as she had the punishment he’d meted out to her at her request, letting the sensations light up her nervous system.
She was on the edge of orgasm when he pulled back, making her groan with frustration. “Do you want my dick, Jess?”
“Yes--oh, fuck, yes, please. Please, Sir, please give me your dick,” she cried out.
“Do you want me to come inside you, Jess?”
“Yes, please,” she said with a moan. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire, and the only way to extinguish it was the orgasm that Brad had brought her so close to and then denied her. “Please, Sir.”
She felt the thickness and heat of Brad’s cock against her slippery folds and moaned in pleasure as Brad thrust into her slowly, filling her up inch by inch. He pushed deeper and deeper into her, until his hips met hers, and held himself absolutely still as Jessica’s body tightened around him in little convulsive spasms, as if her pussy itself couldn’t bear to let him leave it.
Then, he pulled out almost halfway and thrust into her again, and Jessica wrapped her legs around his waist, reaching up to pull him closer to her. She grabbed at his face and kissed him hungrily, falling into the rhythm he created, pushing her hips down to meet his thrusts.
She was hungry for him, hungry to feel him inside of her, to feel his orgasm and her own. She tried to hold back the climax she could feel building up in her hips, so close she could taste it, but after a few moments, she couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Please can I come, Sir?”
“As many times as you want,” Brad told her, kissing her lightly on the lips. “Come as much and as hard as you want, Jess.”
She cried out in pleasure as the tension broke at Brad’s permission, snapping deep down in her hips and sending wave after wave of sensation through her body. Jessica grabbed at him, clinging to him as if she were drowning, panting and gasping as the orgasm ripped through her, lasting so long that it almost scared her. Brad kept moving inside of her, keeping pace with her climax, slowing down as the waves began to ebb, just enough to let her recover.
Then, as he sped up again, Jessica felt herself becoming turned on all over again, arousal stirring and then building up between her hips, through every nerve in her body. She kissed him everywhere her lips could reach, pushing down to meet his thrusts, caressing his back and shoulders as they fell into the same tidal rhythm once more. Once more, she felt the arousal building up inside of her until it reached an almost feverish tension, and she remembered that she was allowed to come as many times as she wanted; she didn’t have to hold back.
The second orgasm hit her, not as strongly as the first, but with a deep sweetness that warmed up her body from the inside out; Jessica gave herself up to it, kissing Brad hungrily as it washed through her, and felt the satisfying, delicious sensation of his body tensing
on top of her and inside of her, of his cock twitching. He groaned against her lips and thrust into her hard and fast as he came, the wet sounds of their fluids mingling in their movements filling her ears.
They both collapsed on the bed, tangled up in each other, and Jessica couldn’t help but smile in spite of the lingering pain in her buttocks and breasts from the punishment she’d received from her Master. She wasn’t “cured” of her addiction--she knew she never would be--but it felt so amazing to be loved, to be respected and cared for, to know that the man she was with would fight for her, would give her what she needed.
“I was thinking of something,” Brad said, once they were both recovered from the intense climaxes.
“What’s that?” Jessica curled up against him, feeling so satisfied she couldn’t even imagine needing anything more--needing another fix. She knew the itch would come again later, but Brad would be there to scratch it.
“How do you feel about tattoos?” Jessica frowned in confusion.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Brad smiled and looked down into her face.
“I was thinking that since you enjoy being my sub so much, and I enjoy being your Master, we could both get a tattoo,” he explained. “It wouldn’t be names--nothing like that--but something to mark us belonging to each other.”
“You want to get a tattoo for me?” Jessica stared at Brad in amazement. His smile deepened into a playful grin.
“I want us to both get tattoos,” he said. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, then on the tip of her nose, and then on her lips. “And I’d love to watch you get a tattoo where only I would ever see it. Maybe on your hip, here,” he caressed the ticklish flesh, and Jessica squirmed, smiling. “I would say your ass but then I’d have to avoid punishing you there for at least a few weeks until it healed.”
“Where would you get yours?” Brad shrugged.
“Probably the same place,” he said. “We could pick each other’s designs.” It would be--if not a marriage, if not an engagement--then some way of marking each other for life. Jessica considered it. Brad was prepared enough to commit to her that he was willing to mark himself for the rest of his life, in her honor.
“I love it,” she said. “Let’s do it.” Brad kissed her hungrily, and Jessica knew that whatever happened to Drake, she had overcome the worst of the worst of her downfall through addiction. She could count on Brad to be there for her, to hold her, to care for her, and to always treat her like a person, like someone of worth. She didn’t know how she had earned the privilege of being so blessed, but she wasn’t going to question it anymore. She was just going to give into it.
THANKS FOR READING!
This book is part of a bestselling series called “United States Of Billionaires”.
Every book features a different billionaire in a different city and very soon we could be coming to your home town!
Below are all the books currently available, is a city you love in there? Download now and check it out. (Be warned, all these books are extra STEAMY!)
Book 1 – The Billionaire From San Diego
Book 2 – The Billionaire From Atlanta
Book 3 – The Billionaire From Dallas
Book 4 – The Billionaire From New York City
Book 5 – The Billionaire From San Francisco
Book 6 – The Billionaire From Chicago
Book 7 – The Billionaire From Miami
Book 8 – The Billionaire From Hawaii
Collect the whole series!
Peace, love and high heels!
Lena & The Simply BWWM Team
P.S
If you already have the above books then just turn the page to start enjoying a SURPRISE bonus book that I included for you!
HER ITALIAN
PLAYBOY
LENA SKYE
Summary
Gabriella Williams had always worked hard to be taken seriously as a model in a world where it all about who you know than what you know. Now she is on the brink of being the cover model of one of America's biggest magazines and all her dreams could be about to come true.
However, the owner of the magazine is powerful billionaire Julian Medici. A known playboy, he is the man with power to either make you or break you in this industry.
After meeting Gabriella and being stunned by her beauty he was delighted to allow her to be the cover model of his flagship magazine.
That is, only if she would spend the night with him.
She wants to be on his magazine covers. He wants her under his bed covers. It is clear they both want something from each other.
But is Gabriella really willing to sell her soul to the devil in order to get where she wants to be? Or could there be a fair compromise to the Italian Playboy's indecent proposal?
Chapter1
The solid beat of the music filled the vast room, reverberating through the floors and walls and echoing off of the high ceilings and enormous windows. The sound waves pulsed in the bodies of everyone in the open space, intensifying the energy they felt and driving it through them as they worked.
One photographer stood behind a massive black camera on a tripod while another photographer moved about the work space with a smaller camera body in his hand, pressing the shutter button as he ducked low here and there, and rising up now and then to different heights to capture varying perspectives of the women in front of him.
The women were wearing variations of floral prints and solid colors in pastel tones, each of them modeling an outfit designed for spring fashion. The models, all three of them, were laughing and smiling, having what looked like a great time as they gushed excitedly over bouquets of flowers and baskets of colored eggs. One of them was dressed in a sky blue raincoat and she played with an umbrella, looking out from beneath it at the main photographer as he directed her.
Her umbrella matched her sky blue raincoat, and both of them were just a few shades darker than her light blue eyes; eyes which stood out from her dark milk chocolate skin and caught the attention of anyone who happened to look at her. Her cheekbones were high and gracefully arced beneath her striking eyes, ever so slightly shadowing her narrow cheeks.
Her jaw was strong and square, coming to a softly rounded point at the end of her chin, just below her full rounded lips and her long straight nose. She had an exotic and rare look about her; a breathtaking beauty that radiated from her warm soul through her arresting light blue eyes, easily taking in those around her.
“Gabriella!” the photographer told her. “Pull your hair forward over one shoulder!” He ran his hand over his own shoulder, indicating where he wanted her to move her hair. She reached one hand back behind her shoulder and closed her slender fingers around the multitude of thin braids that hung behind her head, drawing them all forward and laying them over the soft curve of her breast beneath the raincoat she was wearing. The intricately woven braids reached to her waist, all of them shimmering ebony with strands of white gold throughout them.
She parted her lips slightly and stared wide-eyed at the center of the lens, as mist billowed and clouded around her, and the photographer, James, laughed gleefully as he snapped away, creating image after image of her, giving her more freedom than direction. He allowed her to play and interact with the camera enough that the shoot was over sooner than any of them had thought it might be.
James finally stood up and waved his hand at the workers around him, from the young man handling lighting to the woman on the floor with the fog machine, calling out to them that they were done for the time being.
Everyone smiled and nodded at each other, talking about what good work had been done. All of them, except one woman, who stood silently, her brown eyes watching sharply through her black framed glasses. She never smiled. Kathy looked at all three of the models, one by one, and after scrutinizing them individually, she would look down at the tablet in her hands and make notes.
Gabriella eyed her and wondered if it was a good time to bring up the one thing that h
ad been on her mind that entire week. She reasoned with herself that it was probably never a good time. Kathy was never going to be receptive or warm, or in any friendly state to discuss anything personal and vital, such as what Gabriella had on her mind. She took a deep breath and, giving Kathy a long look, walked toward her.
Kathy stood there in her short black pumps with her black pencil skirt hanging just a little loosely on her and her white button up shirt covering up and closing off the light skin at her chest and neck, as well as on her arms. It crossed Gabriella’s mind more than once how strange it was to see a woman as conservative and straight laced as Kathy was in the position of editor for a fashion magazine. She often speculated that had she met the woman outside of the office, she never would have believed that Kathy held the position that she did.
Gabriella lifted her chin and took another deep breath as she approached Kathy. She reached her and stood beside her, her shoulders squared as she waited for Kathy to look up from writing her notes on her tablet.
Kathy did not look up and Gabriella felt her resolve begin to waver. She stood silent a moment longer, and Kathy continued to write. Gabriella watched her, clearing her throat slightly. Kathy sighed loudly and continued to move her electronic pen over the screen she was writing on.
“What?” she asked without lifting her eyes or her head. Her pen glided swiftly over the screen illuminating her stony face.
“I was hoping you had a moment to talk with me,” Gabriella said in as friendly a voice as she could muster. She smiled, hoping it would be more convincing.
“I never have a moment. Just talk,” Kathy said shortly, continuing to focus on the tablet.