by Simone Leigh
"I turned the music up again." he says. "I think that when I get you properly Mastered, you're going to be quite the little screamer. We'll keep it private shall we…"
That grin again. He stands for a moment, seeming to be savouring the situation. Then stepping forward again, "Just to keep you on the boil." he says, holding me around the waist again, and pushing one, two, then four fingers up inside me. Again I writhe and pulse, on the brink of orgasm, as he finger-fucks me once, twice, thrice, and then stops.
Padding over in his bare feet to the shelf he pops something in his pocket and then opens the "washbag" - it is a washbag - and takes out a razor and a can of foam. "I like the taste of pussy," he says, "but not a mouthful of seaweed." He kneels in front of me again and aims the can over my crotch.
I recoil, trying to back into the shower stall. "No!" I say. "No. you can't do that."
"Really ‘No’?" he asks, pausing. "If you say No to this, then it's No to everything." He parts my pussy lips and takes a lingering lick over my clit, flicking me with the tip of his tongue. My resolution crumbles.
"Well…."
"Perhaps I can help with your decision." He reached into his pocket and pulls out the ‘something’; and I hear a low buzz, then a high buzz.
"Just something to keep you occupied." he says and pushes the egg up inside me. He does it slowly, sliding it along my engorged lips and up past my aching pussy muscles so that I feel every inch of movement.
Then, with the egg buzzing inside me, he sprays the foam and sets to, shaving away my curls. He takes his time, and he is careful, but he is thorough. A few minutes later my crotch is as naked as the rest of me. "I don't like the taste of soap," he says "and you are getting a bit sweaty". He reaches for the shower head, turning it on full, but cool. He aims the fine needles of water over my breasts, concentrating on the nipples. I squirm and squeal. The water is just cool enough to make me react without chilling me.
"S'cuse me" he says, reaches up inside me with a couple of fingers, and pops out the egg, still buzzing. He negligently tosses it onto a towel and then, turning the shower head upside down, sprays squarely up into me, over my pussy and my clit with the water. Water, lather and pussy juice ran down my legs as I struggle and squeal against the intensity of it all.
The sheer scale of the stimulation is beyond bearing. I scream, trying to escape the intense pleasure/pain/over-stimulation of the needle jets. I am about to cum uncontrollably.
And he stops again.
By now, I am almost delirious with the desire to cum, and I sag in my bonds, head bowed.
"You said that you still have some work to do?" he says. “More rooms to clean?”
"What?" I raise my head to look at him. Is he really suggesting……?
"You do have work to do. We don't want you getting into trouble with your Boss do we. I’ve met Mr Chambers and he’s not really a very nice man." He reaches above me and starts undoing the tie. "I think you should go and do your work, and then I can finish you off later." The tie comes loose and he starts dressing me, slipping my arms through my bra straps, clipping me up at the back.
I stare unbelievingly. "You can't be serious. After all that, you want to just break off and I'm supposed to…."
He interrupts. "Get dressed, and come back later. That way you won't lose your job, and I'll know that you really do want me to fuck you……". He smiles as he buttons up my blouse. "Now here's your skirt. Pop that on…. No, you don't need those." He takes my panties away from me, and tosses them into a corner. "Lift your feet one at a time."
I step into my skirt unresisting as he pulls it up and zips me up. "And before you go," - he retrieves the egg and slips it, buzzing quietly, up inside me. "I'll expect to find that still there when you come back. You just practice gripping it so it doesn't slip out - that would just be embarrassing wouldn't it". He roughly towels my hair dry, and gives me a brush.
He pushes me out and towards the door. As he propels me into the corridor, brush in hand and buzzer within, he whispers "What's your name?"
"Elizabeth."
"I'll see you later, Elizabeth" he says.
The Story Continues in “The Master’s Contract”
The Master’s Contract
An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance
Part Two of the
‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series
Author: Simone Leigh
Part Two
The Master’s Contract
I stand in the corridor, speechless, but gasping.
A complete stranger has brought me to the verge of the most explosive orgasm ever, and then stopped, shoving me out into this corridor to carry on cleaning hotel rooms. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I stare at the closed door, and want to shout the question at its blank surface, but if I were heard shouting in the hotel, I might lose my job. Suddenly I want to cry, at the sheer let-down of what has just happened.
Reaching into a pocket, I pull out a hair tie, pinning my long red locks, still damp from the shower, back onto my head. I start to step towards my trolley, full of clothes and brushes and furniture polish, but as I move, am brought to a sudden stop by the vibration of the egg, still whirring away inside me. I yelp, and then clap a hand over my mouth in case anyone hears me.
The door opens again. He stands there, wearing an arrogant smile. “Still here Elizabeth? I said to come back later. What time do you come off shift?”
“Er, seven pm.”
He nods. “Fine. I’ll see you at five past seven. Don’t be late. I’ll be waiting for you.” And he closes the door again. I can’t believe the gall of the man. Does he think I am going to coming running? Just because he asks, and appears to expect it?
Then I admit the truth to myself. Yes, of course I am going to come back. The man, whoever he is, is devastatingly handsome and has just played a game that brinked me on the edge of a crashing climax.
Correction: is still playing a game.
I check my watch. Five thirty: an hour and a half. Might as well get on with my work.
Walking awkwardly, because of the egg buzzing away inside me, I push the trolley along to the lift. There are no other rooms on this floor. The Penthouse Suite stands alone. I wonder who he is, to be able to afford to stay here.
For the next hour and a half, I work in a bit of a dream. Fortunately, I have no real problems with any of the work, because were I to have to, for example, bend over, the whole world would see that I’m wearing no panties. He has those, discarded by his shower. The egg works sporadically, sometimes lying still inside me and then suddenly bringing me upright with a gasp as it suddenly vibrates to life inside me. My pussy juices are running, working their way down my thighs.
Seven o’clock comes and I put my trolley back in the utility cupboard. I am wondering what excuse I can use for going back up to the Penthouse, but as I pass reception, Ricardo calls me from the desk. “Hey Beth. Penthouse wants a bottle of champagne. Can you take it up to him please.”
Ricardo shouldn’t have asked me to do it. There are other staff for room service, but I am not about to complain. The timing is perfect. I collect the champagne on ice, trying not to bend over as I push the bar cart along, and take the lift back to the top floor.
Suddenly nervous, I hesitate before tapping on the door, but almost before my knuckles touch the wood, the door opens and he is there again. I glance up. Of course. There is a camera by the lift. He knows exactly who is outside his door.
He smiles a welcome. “Ah Elizabeth. Lovely to see you again. Do come in.” He takes the champagne cart from me and I follow him inside. “I hope you don’t mind, or think me forward.” he says, “But I’ve made a few preparations for you.”
Preparations?!?
I halt, then jerk as the egg buzzes me again. An hour and a half of it working inside me, has left me almost limp with desire, and desperate for a real fuck.
He looks pleased at my reaction. “Ah, you do still have it ins
ide you. Nice to know that you can follows instructions.” He holds up a small box and jabs a button on it as I watch. The egg inside me jolts to life again, sending electric arousal up my spine. I yelp. “Good girl.” he said. “That’s what I like to see. Obedience.”
Suddenly, he steps up close, circles an arm around my waist and brings his mouth to my ear. “Don’t need the help now though, do we? I just wanted to keep you on the simmer until you came back.”
His free hand strokes my cheek, slides down over a breast, cupping and squeezing briefly, continues its way down to the hem of my too-short skirt and under. I am unbelievably aroused. Beginning to pant again, I can only ask myself how a complete stranger can be doing this to me, as his fingers journey up and in, stroke past my clit and up into my swollen pussy. He flicks out the egg and tosses it onto a side table.
“Go have a shower again Elizabeth.” he says. “You’re hot and uncomfortable from working. I want you relaxed.”
Even in my inflamed condition, I have to admit that this is a good idea. I nod, and walk to the shower-room.
Stepping into the room, still steamy from my earlier visit, I start to unbutton my blouse, then can’t be bothered and simply lift it up over my head. For a moment, my vision is blocked as the blouse goes over my face, then as I can see again, I realise that he is in the room with me. I startle and he grins. “Don’t mind if I watch do you?”
I shake my head dumbly.
He nods in satisfaction. “I might decide to help. But let’s see how it goes.” His grin drops to a half smile and he tilts his head in that expression of his that I am coming to recognise. “Take your bra off Elizabeth. Slowly. And turn to face me. I want to see you properly.”
Turning to face him fully, I unclip my bra, black and lacy, then slide it slowly down my stomach, before letting it drop to the floor. Then I start to unzip my skirt.
“No.” he says. “Not yet. Fondle your breasts, Elizabeth. Caress them. Play with your nipples.”
He wants me to perform for him? I hesitate.
“I’m waiting.”
I cup my own breasts, then, stroking and squeezing them, watch his gaze drop to watch. Suddenly, I realise that I very much want to give him a show. I start tweaking and pinching at my nipples, making them crinkle and harden. I feel myself warming from within and flushing. He smiles again, knowing exactly what is happening. He really does have the most beautiful smile, starting at his lips and curving up through his deep blue eyes.
He speaks. “Don’t move. Stay right there.” and he walks out, returning only a moment later with the champagne bottle. “We’ll drink this in a while, but I have better uses for it right now.”
The bottle is chilled from the ice, running with condensation. He holds the cold glass up to my nipples, flicking over their already crinkled skin with the icy surface. I gasp at the sheer pleasure/pain of the sensation, not cold, just stimulating. “I’m going to enjoy training you, Elizabeth.” he says.
“Sorry? Training me?”
“You’ll see.” he says. “I’m going to fuck you raw in a while. But first you have to please me. You have to be a Good Girl.”
I groan. Desperate to fuck, I want nothing more than to feel him inside me. “Oh God…”
“Yes, Elizabeth? What is it?”
“Please…”
“Please what?”
“Please. I …. I need to cum.”
“So what would you like me to do?”
“Please….”
“I told you before. You have to ask. You won’t get it without asking.”
I am almost incoherent with lust. “Oh God. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”
“Good Girl. That’s better.”
Abruptly he pulls me close, kisses me hard on the mouth, lingering as he runs fingers through my hair, then twists me around, bending me face down over the hand basin. From somewhere he produces a silk cord, obviously having it already prepared. He loops it over my left wrist, around a tap, then around my right wrist and the other tap, I am tied down, my back arched, and my butt presented to him.
Face down, I feel him come close behind me and pull me, by my waist backwards, until my arms are outstretched and my hips pulled upright. His pelvis is pressed against me and I can feel his erection. Pushing my skirt up around my waist so that my naked derriere is exposed, with one foot, he spreads my legs, stretching my aching pussy open.
He lays himself over me. I did realise before how tall he is. I am not short, about five foot nine, but to bend over me like that, he must be well over six foot. I hear his voice, murmuring, close to my ear. “Now then Elizabeth. You’ve been good and asked nicely, so you deserve something. Which do you want? My cock inside you? Or do I tongue fuck you?”
Shaking and trembling, I can barely speak, gasping out “Don’t care. Just let me cum.”
“As my Lady wishes.” He backs away from me, and the next thing I feel is his tongue, not gentle this time, but licking hard and slow from the front, over my clit and beyond, before making circles inside and around my pussy. I cannot help myself, and I come within seconds, breaking into helpless screams as pulses of pleasure pump through me. I try to buck, but he grips me firmly around the pelvis and continues his merciless probing.
When I can bear no more, when I think I am going to explode, I shriek “Enough. Enough!” He stops instantly and as I hang slack and limp over the basin, panting, he strokes one hip, and I feel him kiss my bud.
He stands up, untying me. For a moment I don’t move; I don’t feel capable of moving, thinking my knees will buckle if I try. As my breathing subsides, he lifts me upright, taking my weight for a moment, holding me to his chest. “Are you alright Elizabeth?”
Speechlessly, I nod, then, as I become able to support myself, he says. “Have your shower. I’ll see you in the lounge. Don’t bother with the skirt.”
The shower is blissful, and I alternate with hot and cold jets, playing the water over my breasts and stomach, my pulse slowing, my breathing returning to normal. The shampoo and the soap are wonderful; expensively perfumed, and I inhale deeply through the steam.
Stepping out, the towels are huge and fluffy. Only the best in this suite.
Although I have been told to leave my skirt, I do not quite like to step naked into the room. I shake my head. Shy? I have just allowed a man I only met for the first time two hours ago, to tongue-fuck me to orgasm, and now I’m bashful about it?
I dry my hair so that it falls long and loose around my tiny waist, then step into the lounge wearing a white bathrobe.
He looks up from where he is pouring champagne into two glasses.
“Ah. There you are. I thought I might have to come looking for you again.”
I suddenly feel awkward again. “My hair takes a long time to dry.”
Now he looks admiring, and he comes up close, lifting my long tresses, holding them to his face and breathing deeply. “Yes, and beautiful hair it is, Elizabeth. By the way, time for a formal introduction. I’m Richard.”
He holds out his hand and, a little confused, I take it. “Nice to meet you Richard.”
“Sit down.” He gestures to one of the expansive settees, positioned to take in the spectacular view over the City. He passes me a glass. “Sit down.” he repeats. “Let’s talk a little, before we move on to other things.”
It is good to know that talking is an option, but…. “Other things?” I ask uncertainly.
He smiles that tilt-headed smile of his again. “You didn’t imagine we’d finished, did you? No, not by a long way. The evening is young.”
I hide my confusion in the glass, sipping at the drink.
Richard refills it and sits beside me. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you drunk. We’ve already established that I don’t need to, haven’t we?” He looks me full in the eye, and then continues. “Tell me Elizabeth. Why are you cleaning hotel rooms?”
Why is he asking me? I shrug. “I need the money. I’ve got to get through college and my parents ca
n’t help much.”
He nods. “I thought it might be something like that. Do you enjoy the work?”
I think it is a silly question. “No, of course not. It’s lousy work, but it’s work.”
“What are you studying at college?”
“Business studies.”
“Not just a pretty face then, or a beautiful body.” He nods, raising his eyebrows, seeming to be thinking about something.
Then he stands, holding out a hand to me. “Come along, Elizabeth. Time to move on.” When I hesitate, he wriggles his fingers at me, eye-pointing a door. The bedroom?
I take his hand, and he raises me from my seat. He is amazingly sexy. His smooth, tanned skin highlighting his dark, but slightly greying hair and deep, deep blue eyes. As I rise, he fixes me with those eyes.
I could lose myself in those eyes.
He takes my other hand also, and facing me, leans forward, kissing me on the mouth, soft and full. I lean into the kiss, hungry for more, hungry for whatever he is offering.
He leads me to the door and opening it, stands to one side, letting me in first.
It is a bedroom, but I wonder how much sleep it sees. A huge room with an entire wall of glass, it overlooks the city far below. A large bed, made up with white silk sheets and pillows, scattered with rose petals. For a moment I think the petals are also silk, but then a heady perfume tells me they are real. The corners of the bed are posted in black wrought iron and from each post dangles a chain ending in a cuff.
The lighting is low, flickering in the glow of candles, and with a real fire in a hearth. My eyes slide past wardrobes and drawers, a thick fur rug lying before the fire. I can only look at that bed. This is a room of fantasy, of dreams.
“Do you trust me Elizabeth?”
Do I trust him? I have only just met him. But then, I have already allowed him tie me up, twice. He could have done anything to me, helpless as I was. “Yes, I trust you.”
I hear the smile in his reply. “Good. Because I want to be your Master, and for that, you must trust me.”