Lesbian Billionaire

by Olivia Hampshire

  Allison agreed, but deep down, under the buzz of the cocaine and the haze of the alcohol and her exhaustion from all the excitement that day, Allison felt a bit nervous. It was just a small, gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach, but Allison knew she was not on a television show and she had done nothing to prove herself worthy of being a beneficiary of all this charity. She had just looked cute in her waitress uniform and an older lesbian had come on to her and was now offering her one year of a dream life. She wondered if this was prostitution, or if Lucille had been right and she was going to end up some sort of sex slave to Harriet. Allison was a small town girl, but she had lived long enough to know that everything comes with a hidden price. Harriet seemed nice enough, but she wondered what was really motivating the woman.

  Harriet smiled at her and asked if there was anything wrong. Allison shook her head no, and the two climbed back into the limousine. It was getting late, and Harriet wanted to drop Allison back off at her home so she had time to think and prepare herself.

  As they got close to the house, Allison suggested that the limo drop her off down the street. Truth be told, she was a bit ashamed of the trailer she lived in, but she gave a plausible excuse that she did not want to disturb Lester or wake him from his drunken slumber, if he had already fallen in one. It would be quieter to walk home. Harriet agreed, and Allison got out and gave the woman a hug goodbye.

  Allison walked into her house, a bit tipsy on her new high heels and still dressed in her expensive clothing. To her surprise, when she opened the door she saw Lester waiting, wide awake in his lazy boy with his arms crossed. She saw a glass of rum on the side table that was nearly empty, the ice cubes melting, and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he was drunk. He also knew something.

  Lester told Allison that she had been seen by someone with a woman, driving around in a limousine. He told her he was very disappointed to hear about this, and that Allison was bringing a lot of shame to him and to her kids. "What are you trying to do, you slut? Destroy this family? Look at the clothes you are wearing! What the fuck has gotten into you? Are you fucking for money now?" Allison shook her head and tried to explain, but Lester would hear none of it. He got up from his seat on the lazy boy and tore the beautiful designer clothes she was wearing and ripped her necklace off and stomped on it.

  "You stupid whore," he seethed, his words slurring, and then he spit in her face.

  Allison screamed. She told Lester that she was moving out and she was going to take the kids with her. She was determined to get as far away as possible from Lester and live a better life.

  "A better life? As a prostitute?" Lester laughed, "you have got to be kidding me. You can move out and start selling your body to the highest bidder, but you will never get the kids. On my life." Then he began to beat the living shit out of her, punching her and tearing at her skin until she was lying on the floor a bruised and bloody mess, sobbing desperately for mercy.

  "There's no mercy left for you, whore," Lester screamed. Then he picked Allison up and threw her outside of the house, practically naked in her tattered clothing, and locked the door.

  Allison was left outside, beaten, drunk, and crying. She had nowhere to go, and she no longer had shoes on and her clothes were hanging in shreds, her tits and underwear exposed. Feeling intoxicated and hopeless, Allison began to wander the neighborhood. It was already late out, and she saw few people with lights on.

  She wandered and wandered until it was almost 3 a.m. and then she saw the flash of police lights behind her and heard a small warning siren. Allison stopped in her tracks, thinking that she had been rescued and the police would take her home and maybe even arrest Lester. She was sorely surprised when two male cops exited the car and started harassing her, accusing her of being a prostitute.

  "Why would I be walking the streets like this all bloody and beat up?" Allison moaned, suddenly feeling terrified. She did not have any form of identification on her because Lester had thrown her out without her purse or her cell phone. She knew she must look tattered and like a hot mess, but surely she also looked like the victim of domestic violence.

  The police were looking at her, but talking to each other. "Must have gotten beat up by her pimp or by a John," one of the officers said to the other. "Yes," his partner agreed. Then, speaking to Allison, he asked her, "what happened? The John wouldn't give you your money? You two get in a big fight over it before he kicked your trash ass to the curb?" Allison shook her head wildly, protesting that she was not a prostitute.

  She tried to explain to the officers that she had gotten in a fight with her husband and was kicked out of her trailer, but they weren't buying it. "Where would you get the money for flashy clothing living in a trailer, sweetie?" the cop chided her, showing her he was too smart to fall for her games. Plus, she was slurring her own words, both because of a split lip and the remaining effects of all those martinis. She knew the cops would never buy her story if she told them what had really happened. She burst into tears.

  The two cops were discussing with each other what to do, confirming that the woman in front of them smelled of alcohol, seemed disoriented and on drugs, and was guilty of indecent exposure and most likely prostitution. They came to the conclusion that they were going to have to book her and take her to the jail. "Hopefully your pimp will come to get you, if he wasn't the one who did this to you in the first place," one of the cops told Allison, as if to lift her spirits.

  Allison thought she was going to pass out, the world was spinning upside down in front of her eyes.

  Chapter 6, Very High Heels

  The cops had Allison leaned over the back of their police car, but before they could put the handcuffs on her they were flooded by bright headlights and several loud honks. Everyone turned around to see a big black stretch limousine.

  "What the heck?" one of the police officers wondered aloud, as a classy woman stepped out from the backseat of the car and walked over to the scene, her high heels clacking loudly on the pavement with each step.

  Harriet interrupted the police officers and told them that Allison was her younger sister and she was indeed beaten up by her husband and Harriet was here to retrieve her and take her home. The cops looked puzzled and dazed, and it was clear they were not buying the story, but Harriet waved some money in front of their face, and they agreed to release Allison to the custody of her "sister."

  "Well, that was a close call," Harriet said when she and Allison were both safely inside the limo. Allison told Harriet what had happened, and thanked her for rescuing her. "No problem," Harriet told her, "and despite the fact that I love your naked body, please wrap yourself up in a warm blanket. You look tired and in shock." Allison accepted a nice wool blanket from Harriet's assistant and bundled herself up. Without realizing it, she fell asleep.

  When Allison woke up, she was laying down on a comfy couch inside the suburban house that Harriet had shown her earlier.

  "I'm sorry, I must have passed out," Allison told Harriet. "It is no problem, my dear," Harriet told her, "in fact, it is only to be expected considering the trauma you have been through. And perhaps I added a bit too many martinis to the mix, I should have known the situation would turn volatile. With men, it always does."

  Harriet asked Allison to explain to her what had happened, and Allison recollected her conversation with Lester and the beating she had experienced at his hands. She told Harriet that Lester wanted to keep the children from her. Harriet was a bit in disbelief, she could not imagine that a horrible drunkard like Lester had any sort of emotional attachment to his kids. Most likely, he just wanted to use them as pawns against his wife.

  "Why don't you take a shower and get some of the blood and grime off of you while I make us some drinks. Perhaps a Bloody Mary for breakfast and maybe some light crudites to nibble on? You must be a bit hungry from walking around all night long," Harriet told her.

  Allison went off to one of the bathrooms. She was taken aback at the size of the shower;
it was as big as the entire master bathroom in her trailer. It had a large, powerful shower head and walls made of glass. It was stocked with sweet smelling French bath soaps and a soft bath poof. Allison turned the temperature high until all the glass was steamed up, and then she enjoyed a hot, relaxing shower. She washed the dried blood off of her body gently, and then worked on her feet, which were quite dirty and scraped up from all the barefoot walking she had done before Harriet found her. The soap smelled great and it made her feel clean and refreshed.

  When she finished her shower, Allison stepped out onto a comfortable bath mat and dried herself off with a super plush towel. She found a silk bath robe in the closet and put it on once she was dry, and she wrapped her hair up and put on a pair of fuzzy slippers. There were several unopen toothbrushes and a new tube of tooth paste laying out on the countertop, so Allison opened one up and brushed her teeth. She removed her hair wrap and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She didn't look that bad now that she was showered up. There was some bruising on her arms and back and her lip was cut open, but Lester had not pulled out any big chunks of her hair, as he was sometimes liable to do, nor had he left any bite marks or black eyes.

  Feeling good, she wandered down to the kitchen and found that Harriet had set out an assortment of light snacks for breakfast along with two perfect looking Bloody Mary drinks, complete with celery sticks, and a tall glass of water. Allison downed the water first, and then the women chatted over their drinks and snacks. Allison discovered that she was hungrier than she thought, and she devoured most of the food.

  When they had finished their drinks, Harriet suggested that she and Allison get in the hot tub. "It will be good to promote your body's natural healing processes, you must be feeling a bit sore even after a nice shower," Harriet suggested. Allison agreed and followed Harriet outside to a massive hot tub.

  "Wow," Allison marveled. It was as big as a small swimming pool and had glowing colorful lights inside and the bubbles were going on high speed. Allison took of her slippers and robe and got into the hot tub naked, and Harriet got undressed and followed.

  The hot tub had an excellent view of a beautiful garden, bordered by a dense forest. Allison took in the view and the sun rise as she let her body relax among the jets and the bubbles. She could feel the aching in her bones and muscles, the heat seemed to bring it out, and she told Harriet she was feeling a bit sore.

  Harriet swam over to Allison and began to give her a full body deep tissue massage, prodding at the injured areas of her body and applying a pressure that was painful but never too much for Allison to handle. After she had loosened up a bit, Harriet placed her facing one of the jets, with the stream hitting Allison right around her clit, and began a deep back massage. It was double trouble with the jets stimulating her pussy and Harriet's kind hands kneading her back.

  Allison interrupted the massage and turned around and kissed Harriet. The two women made out, naked and caressing each other's wet bodies, occasionally getting the shivers as one of the hot tub's jets grazed their swollen, aroused clits.

  Harriet and Allison sucked on each other tits and fingered each other until they were both on the verge of cumming. Then they got out of the hot tub and went over to one of the patio chairs. Allison laid down, and Harriet proceeded to eat out her pussy with expert skills. In all honesty, it had been Allison who was so eager to taste pussy back at the mall, but now she was tired and beaten up, and it didn't seem right to make her kneel down on the hard wooden planks of the patio for Harriet's pleasure. Besides, she had no experience and it was bound to take a while. Harriet would find a more appropriate occasion for Allison to learn the wonders of cunnilingus.

  Harriet was gentle as always, but she navigated her way around Allison's lady parts like a pro. Allison's nipples were hard and taut in the crisp early morning air and her body was tensed up, on the verge of orgasm. Harriet encouraged her to relax a little bit and let her tension go. Allison tried her best to comply, focusing all of her thoughts on the sensations she was feeling in her vagina.

  Lester had never eaten Allison out. He told her that it was dirty and improper, against the teachings of the Bible, he had once said. And once Michael Douglas got throat cancer, Lester had even more ammunition for not going down on his wife. "You could kill me," he always told her before they had stopped having sex and she had occasionally tried to push his head down in that direction.

  Now, she had a beautiful older woman eagerly eating out her pussy, sucking up her hot juices and caressing her hard bead of a clitoris with her soft tongue. Harriet darted her tongue in and out of Allison's tight pussy, making her want to scream. It felt so good, so wet and so soft. Allison knew she couldn't hold back much longer, and Harriet could sense it as well. She picked up the intensity, lapping at Allison's cunt in long, powerful strokes of the tongue until Allison was wriggling and screaming in pleasure, releasing all of her delicious, pent up juices into Harriet's mouth.

  After getting Allison off, Harriet offered her a small silver tray with several small lines of coke, and told her to enjoy. She was going to pop inside and get them two more Bloody Mary cocktails.

  It took Allison a few moments to even be able to move again, her body was at once exhausted and totally relaxed and there was a strange tingling up and down her whole spine. Finally, she sat up and did a few baby lines. The coke enhanced her feeling of post-orgasmic bliss, and when Harriet returned with new drinks and told her not to worry about Lester and the kids, Allison trusted her.

  Chapter 7, The Call

  Debbie Brown, the smoking hot red head international spy and bad ass crime fighting detective was cruising around in her luxury BMW when she heard her phone ringing. She knew from the ring tone that it was her boss, Harriet.

  "This is Brown, Debbie Brown," Debbie answered her phone. She got paid lots of money by the wealthy billionaire Harriet to complete all sorts of crazy missions and adventures, and she knew without a doubt that if Harriet was hitting up her cell phone it meant she was needed for a new assignment.

  No surprise then when, over the sound of the music blasting from Debbie's car stereo, she heard, "Brown, this is Harriet. I need you to take care of something for me ASAP." Debbie nodded to herself and listened to Harriet's assignment. "Ok. Yep, uh ha. Yes, okay, consider it done," Debbie told her boss.

  Then she put her car into high gear and zipped off down the road.

  Chapter 8, Hi Lester

  Sabrina had requested the day off to fight a hangover, and her boss, Lester, had agreed. Now he was performing her daily tasks, stocking the shelves of the store with the latest seasonal special. His crack was hanging out from his sagging pants, clearly visible to all of the customers each time he reached up to place a new item on the shelf. He was bored and feeling a bit resentful of Sabrina for making him do her work, but it was his own fault for getting her so drunk.

  All of the sudden, Lester heard someone behind him clearing their throat. He turned around to see a hot red head dressed in a slinky, low cut black dress and high heels. Her bodacious rack was fully exposed from his position on top of the ladder, and he felt his dick growing stiff in his pants. Lester had no idea who Debbie Brown was, and when she told him that she was a customer who had long had the hots for him and had just worked up the courage to ask him on a date, he believed her, of course.

  Lester clocked out of work, he was the floor manager after all, he didn't need to ask permission to leave early, and he invited Debbie to go with him to lunch. "I thought maybe we could skip the meal and just go straight to a hotel," Debbie winked. Lester's woody was groaning in his pants. "Of course we can do that," he told her eagerly. His eyes nearly bulged out of his skull when he saw the hot little BMW she was driving.

  Debbie took Lester to one of the best hotels in town, and they went up to their room. Lester sat down on the king bed, patting the space next to him in a gesture for Debbie to join him. She seemed a bit reluctant, and he asked her what was wrong. "Well, I am a bit embarrassed
to say this, and I hope you will still like me," Debbie told him demurely, "but I like it a bit rough." Lester smiled with a big shit eating grin. "Oh, that is fine with me sweetheart. What do you want? Me to spank you a little bit?" he asked.

  "Actually," Debbie told him, "I was hoping that you would let me tie you up. I get off on having power over men in bed." Lester was a bit turned off by this idea, but not enough to say no. The lady did have a BMW after all and she was paying for the hotel room. Plus, her rack looked mighty fine in that tight little black dress she was wearing. "What the hell," Lester agreed. He let Debbie tie him up to the bed, face down and blindfolded.

  Just as Debbie finished with her rope work, there was a loud knock on the door. Lester was feeling exposed and worried. "Just let that be, Debbie," he told her, his voice trembling a bit. He did not want some young hotel bellhop to come in and see him hog tied like a bitch.

  Debbie ignored Lester's instructions and opened the door and let five big black thugs into the room. Lester could not see what was going on, but his instincts told him it was not good and his dick withered as his heart began to race. He heard the voices of gruff men making fun of him, calling him a wife beater and a pussy, telling him he was pathetic and they ate shit like him for breakfast.

  "What's going on?" Lester yelped. "Don't worry," Debbie told him, "I just let five of my good black friends in for some extra fun." Lester pissed himself, soaking the bed in hot, smelly urine. The black dudes laughed and began to beat on him lightly, smacking him with their long floppy dicks and their palms. Lester was so scared he thought he might shit himself, but he somehow managed to hold back.