by Simone Leigh
As I try to digest what this means, he pushes me forward to the bed. I think he wants me to get onto the bed, but he stops me, and turning to me to face him, starts to untie the belt of the robe I am wearing.
“I’m not……” He stops me speaking, putting a finger to my lips.
“Shhh...” he says, very quietly, looking me in the eye. “I am your Master now, and I have not given you permission to speak. Do you understand?”
I nod my head.
“Good. For now, the only things you may say, are either to ask for more, or to ask me to stop. But if you do ask me to stop, everything stops and you will be going home. I will tell you what to do, and you will obey, or you will go home. Do you understand?”
I nod again and he smiles in satisfaction. “Good. Now, take off the robe Elizabeth. I want to look at you.”
I shrug the robe from my shoulders, standing naked for him. He looks very carefully over me, his gaze examining me, my breasts, my waist, my sex. He starts to circle me. Involuntarily, I start to turn. to follow him.
“Did I tell you to move?”
I shake my head and stand still again. Now I feel his hands on my shoulders. From behind, his fingers slide over my arms, my stomach, my buttocks and thighs. Despite my amazing orgasm only a little while ago, I begin to feel warm inside again.
“Get on the bed Elizabeth. Lie on your back.”
Obediently, I climb onto the silken sheets, rose petals scattering under me. “You’re so beautiful, Elizabeth. I love beautiful things. Do you like the bed? Is it not beautiful too?”
I nodded silently.
“Open your legs, Elizabeth. And raise your knees. Show me yourself.”
I hesitate.
“Do you want to go home?”
I shake my head.
“Then do as you are told. I want to see all of you. Show me your pussy.”
A stab of desire runs through me, and as I open my pink folds to him, I feel myself growing wet again. He sits on the edge of the bed, examining me, one finger running over my stomach as he looks. “Touch yourself Charlotte. You’re not wet enough yet. I want to see that you are ready for me.”
I slide my hands down to my clit, rubbing and tweaking, lust rising in me rapidly. He watches for a minute or two, then rises and goes to a cupboard, his eyes never leaving where I am playing with my sex. Pulling something from the cupboard, he tosses it to me, then pulls a pillow from the bed and, with little effort, lifts my hips from the bed, slipping the pillow under me.
“Now use that.” he commands. The gentleness is leaving his voice now, but I am becoming too excited to care. Taking the vibe he has given me, I start working myself with it. Distracted for a moment, by the sensations running through me, I close my eyes, my pussy getting hotter and wetter, my pussy juice running down my thighs onto the beautiful sheets. The feeling of giving my all to this beautiful stranger, is riding me ever higher. Opening my eyes again, Richard is taking off his shirt, watching me all the time. As he starts undoing his belt, he says “Not just your clit. Inside you. I want to see you fuck yourself.”
The vibe glides into me easily, my slit slippery and hot, the little attached finger vibe working my clit too. I can feel orgasm start to rise again. Richard sees it too and snatches the vibe away from me.
“Enough.” he says. “No-one gave you permission to cum.”
I lay, dumbly looking at him, wondering what is coming next. His jeans are bulging and as he removes them, I see his massive erection, firm and stiff against his navel. Can I take that much?
He sees where I am looking and guesses my thoughts. “Yes, you’re getting it. All of it, if you are good and do as you are told.”
“Off the bed, Elizabeth. Stand in front of me.’
Compliantly, I obey, and not sure where to look, cast my eyes down. He leans to one side and, opening a drawer, takes out a single red silk scarf, then others. Using one of them, he blindfolds me, binding it tight around my eyes, then leads me a few steps by the hand. “Bend forward.” Again, I obey and feel first my left wrist, and then my right, being bound to something. The bedposts?
As earlier, he lifts me from the waist, positioning me with hips up, and pussy exposed. My legs are spread and my ankles bound also. I am utterly helpless and completely exposed, at the mercy of this man. My pussy lips are swollen and aching, juices are running down my thighs. I have never felt so utterly aroused, so utterly ready for whatever would happen next.
Quivering and trembling I hear him speak again. “Just to remind you, Elizabeth, you can tell me to stop at any time, but if you do, everything stops, and you go home. Say ‘Yes’ if you understand.”
“Yes.”
I am almost palpitating now, to have my Master inside me. His penis pushes against my pussy lips and I move my hips to accommodate the huge erection, tilting myself for easy access. The vibe was a poor substitute for what I really want. I pulse with arousal, frantic now to have that cock, to swallow it within, to take it as far as it will go, ball deep into me. Once, twice, it pushes against me, easing me open, slippery and wet. My pussy muscles jump in reflex, tightening around my Master, as he hesitates on the brink, not yet penetrating, not yet filling me as I want.
“What do you want Elizabeth? You may speak.”
I don’t hesitate. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.”
The penis eases against my pussy and my muscles twitch. I lean back as far as I can, to take it, but again, he pulls away.
“That’s not good enough Elizabeth.”
“Oh God, please fuck me.”
“Not good enough Elizabeth. I have to really know what you want. You won’t get it if you don’t tell me.”
I scream. “Please. Please fuck me with your cock! Bury yourself in me. I want to be fucked.”
“That’s better.” He thrusts hard inside me. My pussy walls take him easily, so wet and swollen are they, but he is huge and I feel him bang against my inner wall, then again harder. It hurts, but I am beyond pain or pleasure, and know only that I want more of this. I feel my Master grasping my buttocks, holding me still as he fucks me. Over and over again, his shaft spears me. I cry out in rhythm with his thrusting, again and again as he plunges deep inside me. I cannot move. I cannot see. Blind and spreadeagled, all I can do is scream in response to the pain/pleasure of my Master fucking me.
Climax wells up from within, mounting and building, threatening to take me completely. Then in a shattering crescendo, my heart pounding and pulse racing, orgasm overwhelms me, and my cries turn to screams at my body’s release. Still he pounds inside me, plunging and thrusting, but I feel him now, leaning over me, arms wrapped around me, kneading my breasts, his breath ragged next to my face. He spasms as he bucks and presses into me, pumping his load. His hips jerk convulsively once or twice more, and then he relaxes and sighs.
“Good girl Elizabeth.” he says quietly. “Yes, that was good.”
Withdrawing, he unties me, steadying me as I stand a little uncertainly, then removes the blindfold. My breathing is still quick, and he is flushed and panting, hair sweaty and disordered. He smiles as he catches my eye, tossing me the bathrobe. “Shall we finish that champagne now?” he suggests. I nod, uncertain as to whether I am permitted to speak, and he takes me by the hand, leading me back into the lounge.
On the fur rug, we sit in front of the fire, me cross-legged in the bathrobe, he naked in the firelight, his deep blue eyes lambent in the flames.
“I want you to come here again tomorrow Elizabeth.”
Again? I am not sure I can cope with another night like this so soon. But my body betrays me. At the suggestion that I could have such magnificent, stupendous sex again, that my Master might again take me to the brink and beyond, my heat starts to rise again inside. Bewildered by the scale of my own lust, I gulp at the champagne. Bubbles shoot up my nose, making me sneeze.
He laughs. “Is that a ‘Yes’?”
I waver. “I’d like to, but if the manager knows that I’ve, well, you know, w
ith one of the guests, I don’t know what he’d do.”
He stays silent, pursing his lips slightly.
I continue. “I’m sorry, but I really need this job. And, no offence, you’re great, but, you’re a guest. You’ll be moving on in a few days, and I’d be left high and dry.”
He steeples his fingers, holding them up to his lips. “Elizabeth. I understand you, but you don’t understand me. I will not be moving on. I live here. And you will not lose your job, because I will make sure you don’t.”
I am confused. He lives here?
“Elizabeth. I live here in this apartment. I own it. I own the hotel in fact, along with quite a lot else. I have other houses, out in the country, but I live here most of the time, because my business is here, over there in fact, in that office building there.” He points out of the window across the city to the Towerpoint offices. “And for the avoidance of doubt, I own those too.”
I goggled. I’ve just been shagging with Richard Haswell. “Oh!” I say.
He laughs. “That impressive, eh? Listen Elizabeth. Here’s the deal, if you want it. You don’t have to take it. If you say ‘No’, then I’ll say nothing to anyone, and you can go back to cleaning rooms for a living.”
Running fingers through his hair, he is clearly choosing his words carefully. “You come here, whenever I ask you. I will wine you, dine you and buy you beautiful things. You will want for nothing, but you will do my bidding. I am your Master, and you will do anything I ask of you.” He pauses. “I don’t think you will find it unpleasant. I think you enjoyed yourself as much as I did this evening.”
I gulp as conflicting thoughts raced around my head. “Um, yes, thanks. It’s a great offer. But why me? You must have a hundred women chasing you. What about my college? I wasn’t looking for a life as a kept woman. What happens when you get bored with me? And I’ve thrown my college education away?”
“Fair point, and fair questions.” he says, sitting again, close, and looking into my face. Yes, you’re right. I can take my pick, but there are always strings. I have a casual date with some money-seeking huntress, and suddenly find that I’m supposed to have offered marriage, a house and fifty thousand a month housekeeping. Somehow, I’ve taken advantage of her and ruined her reputation. Next thing I know, I’m up to my ears in lawsuits. This is a ‘no-strings’ offer Elizabeth. If you accept it, we have a Contract. I am your Master, and in return, you will have everything you want. Your college? You don’t have to give it up. Quite the opposite, you should pursue it.”
He bites his lip, thinking. “How’s this then? I will pay your way through college; fees, living expenses, the lot and you’ll have a credit card to get anything else you need. You’re doing Business Sstudies, you said?”
I nod.
“I assume they like you to get some practical experience with ‘Big Corp’, as well as the academic material?”
I nod again.
“Right, then, you get that experience here in my company, in that office over there.” He points again at the office block. “You serve as an intern there, and get your business experience that way.” He holds out his hands to me as I listen, dumbstruck. “Actually it’s perfect. You can take your pay through the internship. That covers you against any……embarrassment….as to where your funds are coming from.”
He looks me in the eye. “What do you think?”
Those blue, blue eyes stare into mine. At some level I feel that I should be outraged. This man, who I only met earlier today, is offering me a position as his personal… what? Concubine? Mistress? Whore? Call girl? But it doesn’t feel like that. I like him. And he seems to like me. And if I could concentrate on my studies instead of cleaning up rooms after some jerk has had too much booze and thrown up in there….
He is still silent, gazing steadily into my face.
I make up my mind. “When do I start?”
He nods and smiles, then looks at me and says “When do I start, Master?”
Yes of course. I cast my eyes down. “When do I start, Master?”
“Right now.” he says cheerfully, then pauses. “Outside this apartment, a simple ‘Sir’ will be sufficient I think.”
“Yes, Master. And what would you like me to do, Master? Right now?”
“I assume you can type? Yes? There’s a computer and printer in the office through there.” He points at another door. “You can start by writing a letter of resignation. After that, you can join me in the bedroom.”
The Story Continues in “The Master’s Courtesan”
The Master’s Courtesan
An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance
Part Three of the
‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series
The Master’s Courtesan
I wake up in my dingy bedroom, and for a moment stare, confused, at the ceiling, events of the previous day swirling up inside me
It seems unreal; fantastic but unreal. I shake my head. After meeting and having mind-blowing sex with a complete stranger, he offered me a job as his… his what? Courtesan? Call-girl? And I accepted.
He said he owned the hotel. He said he owned a huge company. And I believed it all. Took it at face value.
My stomach churns. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. Was I taken in by some con-man, after a quick roll with the maid?
I wrote a letter last night, resigning my old, horrible job; cleaning at the hotel.
Oh my God! I resigned my job! What did I do with the letter?
Then I remember. It’s still in his apartment. I’ve not delivered it yet. So, technically, I’m still working at the hotel, and due to start my shift again this afternoon.
I shake my head. Can it be real? The whole of the previous day feels surreal to me; from my foolish decision to use the stranger’s shower, to the mind-boggling sex, when he found me there, naked in his bathroom.
I haul myself out of bed and set about making coffee and toast. My head doesn’t work in the morning until I have coffee inside me.
The intercom buzzes. “Delivery for Elizabeth Kimberley.”
I buzz back. “Just leave it in the pigeonhole.”
“Sorry. Needs a signature.”
“Okay. I’m coming down.”
What could it be? Am I expecting anything? I shake my head, trying to think if I have perhaps ordered something on the internet, and forgotten about it. Not very likely on my very limited budget.
The courier is waiting in the tatty lobby, with its peeling paint and the smell of damp. In fact, he has two items for me; a letter and a package. Puzzled, I sign for them, and take them back to my room. I open the letter first, then take a deep breath as I read the contents, on letter-headed paper, for the Haswell Corporation.
“Dear Miss Kimberley,
We are pleased to inform you that your application for an internship with our company has been accepted.
Please report to our offices……….”
I read on, catching my breath as I do so, at the stated salary; much, much more than I earn now in my miserable cleaning job. Then I do a double-take. I am being instructed to report to the offices this afternoon!
My eye drifts to the parcel. With slightly trembling fingers, I open it to find a skirt and jacket, blouses and a pair of shoes, all very sensible and business-like, but beautifully made and expensive looking. I check the labels and take a deep breath. These designer brands cost a fortune. I would never be able to buy them myself.
I try them on, smoothing down the gorgeous slinky fabric over my curves. Looking at myself in the cracked mirror, I have to admit, the outfit looks great, and not quite as ‘sensible’ as I had first thought. The jacket is tightly tailored to my trim waist and large breasts. The blouse is cut just low enough to suggest a cleavage without actually revealing anything. The shoes have just enough heel to show off my legs, and the skirt, whilst at a business-like knee length, is cut with a sexy swirl from the hem.
I love it. Obviously it is a gift from him, but ho
w had he known my size? For that matter, how had he known my address, to have them delivered?
I check the time. I have two hours before I must report for my new job. I gulp down my coffee. A little low key make-up, and my long red hair confined into an orderly bun, and I feel ready to take on the world
__________
Arriving at the office building for Haswell Corp, all steel and glass plate, I hand over the letter at Reception. The receptionist checks my name against a daybook and directs me to the tenth floor, where I find a second reception desk, where a pleasant looking woman sits behind it.
Again I hold out the letter. “Hello. My name is Elizabeth Kimberley. I was told to report here.”
The woman smiles. “Ah yes Miss Kimberley. Mr Haswell is expecting you. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
She buzzes through on an intercom. “Mr Haswell. Elizabeth Kimberley for you.”
“Thank you Francis.” replies the voice I came to know so well yesterday, under such unusual circumstances. “I’ll just be five minutes. Please ask her to take a seat.”
‘Francis’ waves me to a line of low chairs and, gesturing at a coffee thermos on a low table, says “Make yourself comfortable Miss Kimberley. Do help yourself to coffee.” But I am feeling too nervous to want the coffee.
After a short time, the intercom buzzes. “Show her in please, Francis.”
“Come with me.” she smiles. “It’s just through here.”
Francis leads me through, taps on a door and then after a moment, opens it. “Miss Kimberley for you, Sir.” Then she leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.
The room is a wide open office, one wall, entirely glass, overlooking the stunning cityscape far below. Neutral colours and minimalist decor only accentuate a large desk in a beautiful polished timber, walnut perhaps. I do not study it, because behind the desk, sits Richard Haswell.
He rises, smiling. In a dark suit, white shirt and tie, and immaculately polished shoes, his slightly greying hair contrasts against deeply tanned skin and piercingly blue eyes. Ye gods, but he is handsome. And that smile makes me melt inside, as I remember that same smile the night before.