Table of Contents

Bought By the Billionaire

Part One  - The Master’s Maid

Part Two - The Master’s Contract

Part Three - The Master’s Courtesan

Part Four - The Master’s Desires

Part Five - The Master’s Fantasies

Part Six - The Master’s Obsession

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Bought By the Billionaire

Box Set One

A BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance

Parts One to Six of the

‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series

Written By Simone Leigh

Copyright © 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, mechanical, electronic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing.

Simone Leigh Publishing

An Imprint of Simone Leigh Ltd

20-22, Wenlock Road,

London,

N1 7GU

Bought By the Billionaire

Part One  - The Master’s Maid

It’s hot; stuffy and hot. I load my cleaning cloths and sprays onto the cart and push it along the corridor. It’s a high-class hotel and normally it’s very comfortable working here, but the air-con isn't working properly and so my daily job of room cleaning is very uncomfortable today. I take the elevator up to my next room, the penthouse suite and unlock the door. It is a stunning room, bright and sunny, and when I cleaned it through the day before, it smelled pleasantly of the occupant, a mixture of expensive aftershave and a musky male scent. The scent still lingers, in stark contrast to my own clammy and sweaty odor.

I consider the owner of the aftershave for a moment as I open the window to let sunshine and fresh air in. I saw him leaving a few minutes ago, so I know I am clear to clean the room. He was dressed smart casual, wearing an expensive jacket with a loose linen shirt; perfect in this heat; and tight black jeans cut to flatter his noticeably male physique. He strode down the corridor with a bouquet of beautiful red roses, a briefcase, and a gleam in his eyes. Despite the briefcase, he did not look like a man with work on his mind.

The room is clean and tidy, needing almost no work. In the office, I empty a wastebasket by the desk and dust the desktop. I make up the bed in the room I can access. Some of the rooms are locked. I am supposed to do everything - all the work, every time. Vacuum the carpet, clean the bathroom, dust all the surfaces, wipe the windows, but the room is so clean already that I think I can skimp.

I decide it is good enough and go to check the bathroom. Again, it is immaculate.

Why am I doing this?

I am hot, sticky, and tired, and working for minimum wage at a job I only took a few days ago to help me through my university studies. Already I hate the work, but I need the money.

The shower looks so inviting. Temptation wins. I kick off my shoes and quickly unbutton my tightly cut blouse. I immediately feel better as the cool air washes over my sweaty, glistening breasts. Unhooking my low-cut black bra, I drop it on my blouse and then unclip my hair. It is far too warm to wear my hair loose, but now freed, it cascades red and silky to my waist. Wriggling out of my short skirt takes only a moment, and my moist and sticky panties follow. I turn on the shower and step into the beautifully tiled enclosure.

The water feels wonderful on my skin and hair, coursing over my arms, breasts, and belly, taking the heat, sweat, and fatigue with it. I stand, stretching luxuriously in the warm stream, with the needles of water massaging me.

There is a click and the sound of a key in the lock.

I freeze. Here I am, stark naked, in the shower of one of the hotel guests. Has he brought his date back to the room?

Oh, God! What is his girlfriend going to say when she finds a naked woman in her boyfriend's shower?

Frantically, I turn off the water and reach for a towel, wrapping it around my naked torso to dry off as quickly as possible.

Oh, God! Oh, God. Oh, God...

Please don’t let him come in here.

The bathroom door clicks open and the guy walks in. He has his back to me, but everything about him says pissed off. Has something gone wrong with his date? Still turned away from me, he almost rips off his jacket, hanging it up by the bathrobes. I can see him fiddling irritatedly with his tie as he slides it from around his collar and then hangs it with the jacket. He takes a couple of steps towards the mirror which has misted over from the warm shower.

He pauses, apparently noticing the steam and the misting for the first time and starts wiping the mirror with one hand. As the view clears, he sees me in the reflection, standing behind him, wrapped in a towel in his shower stall. He starts, then whips around, looking at first furious and perhaps alarmed, but then relaxing as he registers my complete harmlessness.

"I'm sorry. I was so hot. I'll go now..." I stammer.

"Oh, no need to be so fast," he says, grinning. "Finish your shower. Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

"Please don't tell anyone. I'll lose my job."

He smiles. "Is that right? Yes, I suppose it wouldn't look good, would it? Maid caught using guest facilities." He steps forward, still smiling. He really is very attractive, with deep blue eyes against tanned skin, and tall. "Are you going to make it worth my while not to tell anyone?"

One finger hooks itself around the top of my towel. He tilts his head to one side as he moves still closer, and his other hand takes a curl of my long, wet hair, twiddling it around a finger. “Beautiful hair you have there,” he says.

"I have to get back to work," I stammer. "I have other rooms to do."

"I'll tell the manager I had some extra cleaning for you to do - there's no hurry. I'm sure the hotel would expect you to... service the guests first..."

The finger tugs ever so gently at my towel. It parts and then slides down to the floor.

His eyes, meeting mine, smile as they follow the downwards path of the towel. I vaguely clutch at the damp cloth, but my heart isn't in it, and the towel continues its journey south.

"I think you owe me something," he says, and the towel finger wanders downwards between my breasts. I feel I ought to be frightened, but instead, my pulse is beginning to race.

He reaches back and pulls his tie from the hook. Quickly, he binds my wrists together, glancing briefly into my eyes as he does so, looking for a sort of permission. Then, pulling my arms up over my head, he attaches my bound wrists to the shower wall fitting. He stands back, cocking his head, admiring his handiwork. I stand there, naked as the day I was born, stretched up and tied for the perusal of a complete stranger. And yet, I am growing warm and wet.

His eyes lock onto mine. "And now, milady, let's see how well washed you are."

Placing one hand on my breast, he starts kneading as his mouth lowers to the other, first to suckle, and then nibble the nipple. His tongue circles, flicking the nipple to hardness. When he seems to feel he has a satisfactory result, his mouth and that tantalising tongue move to the other nipple, while his hand slides over my stomach, descending. I feel him outlining the curve of my waist, over my hip and belly. His fingers twine themselves in my curls before slipping in between my thighs.

I can hardly contain myself. Wriggling, I hear his chuckle of approval as he feels how wet I am. His tongue circles the nipple, one finger mirroring the movement over my clit. Torn between the desire to stay still and just let it happen, or to grind my hips around his hand, I find myself simply trembling helplessly and my thighs growing wetter and wetter, and warmer and warmer, and my pussy juice beginning to flow.

He pauses, standing upright. He looks into my face again, running his hands up and over and down my trembling torso, breasts, and shoulders, gauging my reactions. His pupils are wide and dark, and I know that he likes what he finds. Very slowly and gently, he runs his hands back around my shoulders and into my hair, pulling my face to his. He kisses me very softly on the lips and then starts nibbling at an ear.

"Enjoying this, aren't we..." he whispers. "Want to take things further?"

Do I want to? He’s driving me wild. Tied up as I am, this stranger could do anything to me, but his slow, careful, caressing, and touching is arousing me far more than any straight shag could have. I am quivering with arousal, but I can't bring myself to reply. After all, he is still a stranger who has tied me up.

"Shy, eh?" he whispers again. "Let's see if we can fix that..."

With his head nestling into the curve of my neck and shoulder, he reaches behind me with one hand, firmly pulling my buttocks to him. I hear a clunk and then another, and I am puzzled.

"I thought I should play the gentleman," he says. "Time to take my shoes off." As it dawns on me, in my stupefied arousal, that he is still more or less fully clothed, his feet slide between mine, easing my legs apart. I stagger slightly, but his other arm takes my weight as I regain my balance.

"Now," he says. "Do I need to tie those ankles apart? Or do I get some cooperation?"

I still can’t bring myself to speak. My trembling continues, and I am beginning to pant, my breath coming in short bursts and my colour rising. He knows exactly what he is doing to me.

"Still shy? We'd better sort it out then." He releases me slowly and stands up straight. "Don't move, Miss Silent," he says as he turns and walks out of the room.

For a minute or so I hear nothing, and then there is music, some kind of soft classical. It grows louder, and then he comes back into the bathroom carrying the roses I saw earlier and something else I can’t make out. He has stripped off his shirt. His smoothly muscled torso bespeaks the kind of man who either has a very physical job or who works out, knowing that women don't go looking for overly muscled morons. In his bare feet and wearing just his black jeans, which are now bulging at the front; dark-haired, lambent eyed, and clearly with a purpose in mind, he is utterly, astonishingly, suggestive and inviting.

I could no more have said No than fly.

But I cannot quite bring myself to say Yes or, more appropriately; Please.

"I hope you like the music, Miss Silent," he says. "I think it's time we got some noise out of you. The music should cover it up in case anyone comes by." He brings the roses close to my face. "I did have other plans for this evening, but she stood me up. Would you like these? They are beautiful, aren't they? Do you like the scent?"

The scent is ravishing. What kind of woman stood this man up? I can’t imagine. Delicately, slowly, he holds the roses for me to smell, and then, with only the very tips of the petals, he caresses my face with the flowers. The petals have small drops of water on them, and as he brushes my face and then moves down my neck, and over my breasts and stomach, the small cold droplets chill me and titillate at the same time. A moan escapes me, and I feel my pussy juices running below.

He smiles and raises his eyebrows. "Ahh... So you can make noises. Let's see what else you can do."

Abruptly, he turns away, and quite carefully, places the roses in the basin. He produces the something that I was unable to identify before - it is a spreader bar with leather ankle cuffs...

What kind of evening did he have planned before?

He looks at me and grins wickedly. "This might be even better than what I had planned," he says. He displays the bar to me. The cuffs look padded but strong. "She knew what to expect, but, well, I think you might be new to this... Hmmm? Still silent? Let's see what we can teach you."

I am panting uncontrollably now. He kneels and straps in first one ankle, and then the other. My feet are held firmly apart, my hands are tied securely above me, and my legs are spread wide.

He stands up and steps back, looking me up and down, just standing there, with his arms folded and his head tilted. Just looking.

"You are really beautiful, you know. With a figure like that, and your hair... What are you doing in a job like this?"

He comes close to me, almost but not quite, touching. I can smell him, warm and spicy, and I can feel his breath on me. I am longing for him inside me.

Carefully, and touching no other part of me, he reaches for and rubs my left nipple. The steam of my shower has cleared now and so I am cooling off. Under the influence of chill and arousal, my nipples are hard, crinkling with stimulation. He tweaks the nipple, smiles, and nods while Hmmming to himself.

He releases my nipple. Still touching no other part of me, he reaches down between my spread and dripping thighs. "You do like this, don't you?" Carefully - oh, so carefully - he touches my clit and delicately rubs it.

This time there is no escaping it, I moan uncontrollably and gush. My knees give way, but this time he does not support me, and my weight drops onto my tied wrists. I stagger upright, hobbled by my cuffed ankles. As soon as I am upright again, he repeats it, this time rubbing my clit a little harder.

I gasp and cry out as my knees buckle again.

"Good thing I put on that music," he says, as I pull myself upright again. "Don't want anyone outside hearing you yelp like that. But it's nice to know that you can make noise." He pulls quickly at my clit this time and then massages it for a moment. This time he holds me by the waist as my legs give way. "Don't want you hurting yourself in your enthusiasm," he whispers into my ear. "Tell me, what would you like to happen next?"

I am almost beyond reason. "I want... I want..." I can't get the words out. I can't bring myself to speak them.

His fingers make lazy circles around my clit and I gush again. I am frantic for something inside my pussy, but nothing is forthcoming.

"What do you want? You have to tell me." He now holds me very tightly, supporting my weight - my God, but he’s strong. My legs are like string, but he takes my weight without effort.

“You have to tell me,” he repeats. His fingers continue flicking and kneading my clit.

I am about to come, and I feel myself reaching the plateau. And he stops.

Still holding me by the waist, he takes his hand away. "You have to tell me what you want before it goes any further. I won't let you come until you tell me what you want me to do."

His hand slips between my thighs again and quickly, ever so briefly, his fingers stroke across my pussy; my lips are swollen, engorged, and sodden, and they pulse as one finger strokes between them and then withdraws.

I am almost frantic with lust. "Let me cum. Let me cum," I say.

"What do you want me to do?" His breath by my face is like a promise.

"I... I... I want..."

"You have to say it..." He kneads my clit quickly between two fingers, sending electric desire pulsing up through me. "You have to say it," he repeats. "You don't get it without saying it."

I surrender. "I want you inside me." If I wasn’t tied and supported, I would collapse entirely. "I want you inside me."

He doesn't move. "That's better," he whispers into my ear. "You have to do better than that if you want to cum, but I can give you a little more now..." He slides a finger inside me, his thumb over my clit, and begins to work me. My climax, which had subsided a little, begins to build again immediately. He feels it. "Oh, no," he chuckles. "Oh, no, it doesn't work like that." His fingers withdraw. "What do you say?"

My mind blanks for a moment. Is he serious? What do I say? But my tormented clit and my aching pussy, brook no argument. "Please," I mumble.

"That's better." His finger brushes over my pussy lips. "But, 'please' what?"

I gasp and moan, writhing in my restraints and his grasp. "Please make me cum. Please fuck me. Please. Please fuck me."

"Now we've got there."

He kisses me full on the mouth, making sure I am standing up, and then pushes two fingers up inside me, hard. I feel them almost scrape against me inside, against my G-spot. I cry out, but he has already withdrawn and is down on his knees, his face to my thighs. From my rather awkward position, I look down to see him looking back up at me, at my face. As he looks, his hands are working, parting my curls to reach my pussy lips. He leans forward, and for one delicious moment, I feel his tongue swirl around my clit.

This time, there is nothing half-hearted or restrained about my reaction. I scream, just in time to feel him pull my thighs fully apart, and his tongue lick up from the back of my cunt, through and over my pussy lips.

And he stops.

I hang, my weight on my wrists, making incoherent gasps and wishing there was something I could say.

He pulls away and stands, smiling at me, as I am standing there in my shackles and my own sweat and juices. "This won't do you know," he says. And he turns and walks out again.

I can't believe it. I finally put together a sentence. "You can't do this to me! You can't leave me like this!"

His voice drifts through from the lounge. "Well, you didn’t think I'm going to tongue-fuck you in that condition, did you?"

What?

What?

The sound level of the music goes up. And up again. And I wait.

He comes back in, again carrying something, which he puts on a shelf. I strain to see what it is - a toiletries bag? And he immediately leaves again.

A moment later, he is back, and he puts something else in his pocket.

"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, he says, "Just to keep you on the boil," as he holds me around the waist again, while pushing one, two, and 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 toiletries bag - it is a toiletries bag - and takes out a razor and a can of shaving cream. "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 pauses. "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 reaches into his pocket and pulls out the something, and I hear a low buzz, and 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, is careful and 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 showerhead, turning it on full, but cool. He aims the fine needles of water over my breasts, concentrating on my nipples. I squirm and squeal. The water is just cool enough to make me react without chilling me.

"S'cuse me," he says, reaching up inside me with a couple of fingers, and popping out the egg, which is still buzzing. He negligently tosses it onto a towel, and then, turning the showerhead upside down, he sprays squarely up into me, over my pussy and my clit with the water. Water, lather, and heated juices run 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, and overstimulation of the needle jets. I am about to climax 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 asks. “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, and hooking 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 me. "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... and no, you don't need those." He takes my panties away from me, tossing them into a corner. "Lift your feet, one at a time."

I step into my skirt unresistingly 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’

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 was heard shouting in the hotel, I might lose my job. I could cry over the sheer let down of what has just happened.

Reaching into my 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 cloths and brushes and furniture polish, but as I move, I 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 o’clock.”

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 come 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 brought me to the edge of a crashing climax.

Correction: is still playing a game.

I check my watch: five-thirty, an hour and a half still to go. 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 daze. Fortunately, I have no real problems with any of the work, because were I to have to bend over, for example, the whole world would see that I’m not wearing any panties. He has those, discarded on his bathroom floor. The egg works sporadically, sometimes resting quiescent inside me, but then bringing me upright with a gasp as it suddenly vibrates to life. My pussy juices are running, working their way down my thighs.

Seven o’clock comes and I put my trolley back in the utility closet. 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 and then jerk as the egg buzzes inside 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 with my reaction. “Ah, you do still have it inside you. Nice to know that you can follow 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 says. “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 your return.”

His free hand strokes my cheek, slides down over a breast, cupping and squeezing briefly, and then 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 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 must admit that this is a good idea. I nod and walk to the bathroom.

Stepping into the room, which is still steamy from my earlier visit, I start to unbutton my blouse, but I 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 black and lacy bra, 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, I 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 to his deep blue eyes.

“Don’t move. Stay right there,” he demands as 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 combination of pleasure and 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, kissing me hard on the mouth, lingering as he runs his fingers through my hair. Twisting me around, he bends 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, with my back arched, and my butt presented to him.

With my 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 splays himself over me. I had realised he’s tall. I am not short, about five feet nine, but to bend over me like that, he must be well over six feet. His voice murmurs 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, and gasp 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 all right, 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, spraying the water over my breasts and stomach. My pulse is slowing and my breathing is 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, and 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.”

I suddenly feel awkward again. “My hair takes a long time to dry.”

Now, looking at me admiringly, 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 eyes 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 can’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, his eyes pointing to a door.

The bedroom?

I take his hand, and he helps me from my seat. He is amazingly sexy. His smooth, tanned skin highlights 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, he 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, is 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 the hearth. My eyes slide past wardrobes and drawers, a thick fur rug spread out before the fire. I can only look at that bed. This is a room of fantasies, of dreams.

“Do you trust me, Elizabeth?”

Do I trust him? I have only just met him. But then, I have already allowed him to 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.”

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 me to face him, he 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 eyes. “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 me over very carefully, 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 sliding over my arms, my stomach, my buttocks, and my thighs. Despite my amazing orgasm only a little while ago, I am feeling 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’m growing wet again.

He sits on the edge of the bed, examining me, one finger running over my stomach as he looks. “Touch yourself, Elizabeth. 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 he 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, and my pussy juices running down my thighs onto the beautiful sheets. The feeling of giving my all to this beautiful stranger rides me ever higher.

Opening my eyes again, I see 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 is slippery and hot, and the small, attached finger vibe is working my clit too. My orgasm is starting 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 lie there, 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 he 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 my hips up and my pussy exposed. My legs are spread, and my ankles are bound also. I am utterly helpless and completely exposed; I am at the mercy of this man. My pussy lips are swollen and aching, and my 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 his 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, balls-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.”

His 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, I am so wet and swollen, 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. Repeatedly, 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 spread-eagled, all I can do is scream in response to the pain and pleasure of my Master fucking me.

Climax wells up from within, mounting and building, threatening to take me completely. Then in a shattering crescendo, with my heart pounding and pulse racing, orgasm overwhelms me, and my cries turn to screams with 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, and he then removes the blindfold. My breathing is still quick, and he is flushed and panting, his 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 and 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... with 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’ll 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’m confused. He lives here?

“Elizabeth, I live here in this suite. 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, actually, 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 goggle. 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 race through 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 close again, 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 for 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’ll have a contract. I am not your boyfriend. 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 studies, you said?”

I nod.

“I assume they like you to get some practical experience with a big corporation, as well as the academic material?”

I nod again.

“Right, then you’ll 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 eyes. “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...

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, but 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’

Part Three - The Master’s Courtesan

I wake up in my dingy bedroom, and for a moment, I stare up in confusion at the ceiling, the 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 suite. 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 some 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 dampness. In fact, he has two items for me, a letter and a package. Puzzled, I sign for them and take them back to my apartment. Opening the letter first, I take a deep breath as I read the contents on Haswell Corporation letterhead.

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, which is 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 eyes drift 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 my 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 cleavage without actually revealing anything. The shoes have just enough of a heel to show off my legs, and the skirt, whilst at a business-like knee-length, is cut with a sexy swirl at the hem.

I love it. Obviously, it is a gift from him, but how did he know my size? For that matter, how did he know 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 makeup and my long red hair confined into an orderly bun, and I feel ready to take on the world.

*****

Arriving at the Haswell Corporation office building, all steel and plate glass, I hand over the letter at the reception. The receptionist checks my name against a daybook and directs me to the tenth floor, where I find a second reception desk, with a pleasant-looking woman sitting 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 points me to a row of low chairs and, gesturing to a coffee thermos on a low table, she says, “Make yourself comfortable, Miss Kimberley. Do help yourself to some coffee.” But I am feeling too nervous already to want more coffee now.

After a short time, the intercom buzzes. “Francis, please show her in.”

“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 is entirely glass and overlooks 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, 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 the same smile the night before.

“Ah, Elizabeth, good to see you again. Have a seat.” He waves me to a couch overlooking the amazing vista. “Coffee?”

“Please, yes.” Still a little anxious, not knowing quite what is expected of me, perhaps some caffeine pumping through my bloodstream might help. We have a contract, this man and I, and so far, he is fulfilling his end of it perfectly. Does he expect me to perform my end of it here?

He buzzes through, “Francis, coffee for two, please.” Then he looks at me, perhaps divining my confusion. “Don’t worry, Elizabeth. Here and now, in this place, you are a trainee, an intern. Your other duties come later.”

I smile nervously and nod my head.

“The suit looks good on you. I see I got the sizes right.”

“It’s lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Elizabeth, but it is not simply a gift. Working here, you are representing my corporation, and I cannot have my representatives looking like, forgive me, but looking like hotel cleaners. Those clothes you were wearing last night, while well-chosen I’m sure on your limited budget, are not the kind of clothes I want my people to be seen in.”

“However,” and he smiles again, arching his brows, “there will be others. Some should be waiting for you when you get home. I expect you to wear them when you visit me this evening.”

There is a tap at the door; Francis silently enters with a tray bearing a coffee pot and two cups, sets it down on the coffee table and just as silently, departs.

I gulp, then ask, “How did you know my address to send the things?”

“I asked the driver I sent you home with last night to make a note of it, and aren’t you forgetting? You wrote your resignation letter on my laptop. Your address was on the letter too.” He hesitates. “That’s not a good address, Elizabeth. Not a safe place for a single girl to live.” He pauses. “I am assuming you are single? No jealous husband out there?”

I shake my head.

“Boyfriend?”

I shake my head again. “I’ve been working so hard. My job and my studies...”

He nods in satisfaction. “Of course. Good. That’s one potential problem dealt with then. Now... and I must ask you this...” He leans forward, closer to me. “Are you still happy with our arrangement? You need to tell me.”

I nod, my mouth a little dry. “Yes, you’ve done everything you promised so far. I’ll keep my end of the bargain.”

He nods his head in approval. “Perfect answer, Elizabeth. Yes, I always keep my promises, and I deliver my end of any agreement. It’s good to know that you see it that way too.”

“Won’t people think it a bit odd that I suddenly appear like this? Out of the blue? It’s not as though I had an interview or anything.”

He laughs. “I think you did rather well at your interview last night, Elizabeth. As for people thinking it odd, no, they won’t. I have a number of employees who I met outside of normal channels and have offered them a job.”

He sees my expression and laughs. “No, not quite like you and I met, and no, not with the same agreement. But, Francis out there, for example, my personal assistant, I met her on a train. She was reading the business pages of her newspaper, quite unusual in a woman, if you don’t mind me saying so. We started talking about her views on equities and a city merger that was coming up. She was working as a waitress - all that potential going to waste. I hired her on the spot. A good personal assistant needs to understand the business of her employer. So, no, don’t worry, the staff here know that I choose employees for my own reasons.”

I am feeling more reassured. “So, what happens now?”

“Francis will take you to HR. They’ll take you through the usual formalities, and then we’ll put you through the usual intern routine. You will spend time in every department of the company: finance, procurement, marketing, everything. You will see the whole machine, and we can find out how much you already know and see where you can fit in best.”

He leans back in his seat, holding me with his eyes. “Now, about your other duties - when you finish here for the day, you will go home and put on the clothes you will find waiting for you. Wear your hair up, as you have it now. I expect to see you in my suite at eight o’clock. Any questions?”

“Um, I’m not sure what to call you.”

He laughs. “Here, I am Mr Haswell. When I take you out to dinner, I am Richard. In my apartment, you will call me Master. Understood?”

“Yes, Mr Haswell.”

“Finish your coffee.” He buzzes the intercom again. “Francis, can you take Elizabeth to HR please?”

The rest of the day passes in a blur as I sign my contract of employment, am introduced to people, shown my office, and talked through rules and procedures. By five-thirty I am exhausted, my head is spinning, and I am ready to go home. I am eager too, to see what is waiting for me.

There are a number of parcels waiting for me in the tatty lobby. Dashing up to my room, I open them with trembling anticipation.

There is a pair of shoes, black satin with impossibly high heels; they are beautiful but not intended for actually walking in. Richard is tall, but standing whilst wearing them, I might be taller. Or perhaps not, as he is well over six feet. And, I reflect, we are all the same height lying down...

There are also stockings and underwear, mainly in black, but some in red and others in white. A bodice, with long silk laces dangling invitingly. A skirt, with a long slit up the side, in a far more daring cut than I would normally wear. Another skirt, this one a wraparound style, and I notice it’s cut for easy access. The list goes on, and I am dazzled at suddenly having so many beautiful things.

I cannot wear them all, and so I take my time, trying them on, in turn, twisting this way and that, trying to see myself from all angles in the stained mirror. Eventually, I make my choice, adding only a small necklace from my own things - a glass dewdrop on a silver chain. I take a long dark coat to cover my outfit.

I do not want to walk through the dark streets, and with my new and gloriously high salary, I can afford a taxi. At the hotel, I spot Ricardo at the reception desk.

Damn.

This could be embarrassing.

I decide to be brazen and simply walk to take the lift, behaving as though I have every right to do so. Then it dawns on me. I do have every right to do so. I have been invited. I cross the lobby, only to hear Ricardo’s voice behind me.

“Excuse me, madam. That’s a private lift. The main lift for the hotel is over there.” I turn to see him pointing, then recognition dawns across his face and his polite talk to the guests face turns into a scowl. “Beth! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? First, you don’t turn up to work, and then you march in hours late as though you owned the place?”

Words stick in my throat. I wrote my resignation letter. Surely Richard would have given it to the hotel manager?

“Mr Chambers is fucking furious with you. He told me to send you down to the office if you turned up.”

What do I say? I have no idea, so I settle for the truth. “I’m sorry, Ricardo, and please tell Mr Chambers so, but I’ll have to talk to him later. I have an appointment upstairs now.”

“The fuck you do! Get your ass into the office. I’ll tell Mr Chambers that you’re here.”

I don’t know what to do. “Ricardo, I’ll come back to explain, but right now I have to go.” And I walk back to the lift, pressing the up button.

Ricardo is talking on the phone. I overhear some of it. “...don’t know what the fuck she thinks she’s doing...” and as he finishes speaking, Mr Chambers, my old boss, stomps into the lobby.

“What is all this about? Beth, you didn’t turn up to work today. Where were you? And what do you think you’re doing trying to take the penthouse lift?”

His face changes as he registers my appearance and how I am dressed. “What’s this then? Get your lazy butt...”

The reception phone rings and Ricardo picks it up. “Good evening, Hotel Haswell. How can I help you? Oh, yes, Mr Haswell... Yes?” His eyes cross over to me. “Yes, sir, she’s here. We were just having a little chat. Yes, I’ll send her right up.”

He puts the phone down and looks me up and down. “Got our feet right under the table, haven’t we?” he says, his voice dripping venom. “Go on then. Off you go. Mr Haswell wants to see you.” His lip curls. Unnerved, but determined not to show it, I lift my head high and take the lift to the penthouse.

*****

I knock on the door and Richard Haswell, billionaire owner of one of the largest corporations in the world, my Master, opens the suite door, inviting me in with an outstretched arm. Inside, he takes my coat, slipping it from my shoulders, and hanging it carefully in a closet. Dressed casually again, he wears a loose white linen shirt and tight black jeans.

He leans in to kiss me, looking closely at my face. “Are you all right, Elizabeth? You seem upset.”

I nod, not wanting to discuss what has just happened. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

He holds my gaze, clearly not believing me, but then changes the subject. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

“Err, yes, I’m hungry. Actually, I didn’t eat,” I say. Then flushing, I add, “I was excited by all the lovely things you sent. Thank you.”

He smiles, nodding in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome, Elizabeth, and I see you have used them well. Come over here into the light. I want to see you.” He leads me to stand by the window, then sits in an armchair, looking at me. “Turn around. Let me look at you.”

A little self-consciously, I turn around under his fixed gaze. I am wearing a simple blouse, very low-cut that shows off my cleavage. The teardrop pendant dangles between my breasts. The wraparound skirt, tight on my trim waist, flares out, silky and sensuous over my long legs. I pull the skirt slightly to one side, showing my Master one stocking covered thigh.

He sits, head on one hand, propped on the chair arm, just watching, drinking me in. He looks simply astonishing, dark-haired and dark-eyed as he gazes on, his beautifully chiselled features fixed on me. He is my Master now, but I have never felt so powerful, so alive.

“You look beautiful, Elizabeth.”

I flush again, unsure now of his wishes.

“Unbutton your blouse,” he says, “Slowly.” Then seeing my eyes glance at the window, he adds, “It’s mirrored glass. No one can see in. Now, unbutton your blouse.”

My Master expects to be obeyed, and so, one by one, I slip the buttons free, until the silken garment hangs loosely from my shoulders, my full breasts protruding beyond the folds.

“Take it off.” Obediently, I let the blouse slide to the ground where it ripples onto the thick, soft carpet. My bra, chosen to enhance my cleavage, is black satin, matching the thong I am wearing. I start to take off the bra, but he says, “No. Come here.” And compliantly, I approach.

I feel incredibly erotic. My total surrender of will to this man’s wishes is arousing something in me, which, until only the previous day, I had not suspected in myself. I warm from within, embers of arousal beginning to fan into flame.

“Closer. I want to be able to touch you, to smell you.”

As I stand over him, he reaches into the folds of the skirt, pulling the fabric back in a train behind me, exposing the thong panties along with my stockings. His hands continue their journey behind me to the tops of my thighs, gathering me in and pulling me close, his face against my stomach as he kisses and nibbles my skin. Then, one hand still clasping me from behind, with a single finger he slides inside the front of my panties, pulling them slightly to one side, and lowering his head, nuzzling his face against me.

I can feel his hot breath against me as he softly bites at my skin. My breathing quickens, and he smiles as he hears it. “Good girl, Elizabeth. That’s right.  I’ll have you screaming soon enough, but you have to earn it.”

He laps slowly at my sex, tongue exploring, then says, “Part your legs. Spread your thighs for me.”

He slides two fingers between my legs, over my bud, and towards my pussy, stroking gently, fondling my clit, massaging my pussy lips. I begin to gasp, and I stagger slightly as my body reacts to the oh-so-gentle stimulation he is giving me, waves of arousal fanning over me.

“Did I say you could move?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not easy to stand still when you’re doing that.”

He glances up into my eyes. “Is that so? We’d better do something about it then.”

In a swift change of mood, grabbing my wrists, he pulls me into the bedroom and pushes me roughly back against a wall. Hand hard on me, flat between my breasts, he simply says, “Stay.”

On a side table, there are several items laid out: vibes, ropes, dildos, handcuffs...

He selects the cuffs. Snapping them onto my wrists, he says, “What’s it to be? Stretched up or bending over?”

I don’t know what to say, so with my heart beginning to race, I say nothing.

“Silent again, Elizabeth? Let’s see what we can do to change that.”

Grabbing my arms roughly, he raises my arms above my head, to where I notice for the first time, a hook in the wall. Attaching the cuffs to the hook, he produces the spreader bar I saw the night before, cuffing in first one ankle, and then the other. He pulls the pins from my hair, and it cascades down over my breasts to my waist, a tumble of auburn waves.

He stands back to admire his handiwork and then shakes his head. Kneeling, he adjusts the bar, pushing it and my ankles wider. “Spread your legs. I want you open.” His voice is harsh, intense.

It is difficult to move at all, and as I try to obey, I totter, all my weight on my wrists for a moment. From his kneeling position, my Master forces my ankles farther apart, and farther, until I can barely stand at all, my wrists taking the strain. He unwraps my legs from the folds of the skirt, tucking the fabric behind me.

“That’s better,” he says. “Now we have you properly presented.”

Standing back, he starts to strip, his eyes never leaving mine as he removes his shirt. I am entranced by his tight, lean muscled body, by the dark line of hair leading from his navel to his belt and below. Broad-shouldered and tight waisted, I want nothing more than for him to fuck me stupid. His black jeans, previously a perfect fit, are straining at the front, and as he unbelts and unzips, his manhood stands upright against him, firm against his flat stomach. I watch, hypnotised by his beautiful physique, staring at his erection.

He follows my stare and grins. “Like what you see, Elizabeth? Don’t worry, it’s all going to be inside you. I’m just deciding where.”

Coming close, he lifts my breasts from the confines of the lacy bra, cupping and kneading each in turn. He tweaks at the nipples, raising them to hard brown buds, then bends to suckle one, whilst pinching and squeezing the other, sending electric waves of arousal through my core to my pussy.

My breathing is so heavy now, so fast, and moisture is running down my skin, from the sweat of my rising heat, and from my pussy, now flowing freely down my legs. He looks at me, eyes lingering on my breasts, my flat belly, the parting of my legs.

“Too many clothes,” he says, grasping the skirt at the waist and tugging. With a pop of buttons and a rip of fabric, it tears free. I start to protest, but roughly he grabs my chin, turning my face to his. “No!” he says, then, more gently, “I’ll buy you another one.”

The ragged cloth of the beautiful skirt is cast to one side. And next, he reaches for my panties, pulling and tearing, ripping them off me.

I am still wearing the bra and stockings. “You can keep those on,” he says, then kisses me fiercely. There is nothing tender or gentle here. His mouth is hard on my lips, forcing my mouth open.

He drops to his knees, face up close, pulling my pussy lips apart and wrapping his tongue around my clit, working it mercilessly.

I moan, trying to struggle, but I have nowhere to go. Cuffed hand and foot, legs spread, and with my all my weight resting on my wrists, I cannot move. I can only writhe helplessly against the cascade of sensation. With his tongue working my clit, he slips fingers into my pussy and rubs hard against my inner walls. I can hear nothing, feel nothing, except the pain of my wrists and the inescapable pleasure, pain, delight, and torment of my Master’s tongue and fingers. My moaning increases, turning to squeals, fighting against the breathlessness of my rapid breathing.

My heart pounding, a climax wells up inside, and my squeals turn into a triumphant scream as my orgasm pulses through me, pounding through my pussy, belly, and thighs. My legs give out from under me, and I hang by my wrists, writhing and shaking, helpless in the grip of my crashing climax.

I do not hang for long. Before the spasm passes, my Master rises, unhooks the handcuffs from the wall and propels me to the bed. Hobbled by the bar, legs asplay, I can barely move, and he picks me up, depositing me roughly kneeling facedown over the bed.

My legs spread-eagled by the bar, my pink and swollen sex is open and displayed to him as he kneels behind me, and with one hand on my back pinning me down, he thrusts his shaft hard into me.

He is huge, and at almost any other time, I would struggle to accommodate him, but in my state of screaming arousal, he sheathes himself, full-length, straight into my dripping passage, pounding into me.

I scream again, and an orgasm wells up once more, my pussy walls grasping and gripping as they throb around him.

His hand leaves my back and I feel him grasping me by the waist, forcing me back and forth against his rhythm, heightening the drive of his shaft, intensifying his already deep thrusting as he rams into me, plunging into my depths.

Through my own cries, I hear him moan and gasp, feel the pulsing of his cock spurting into me. For moments, he holds, shuddering against me, then relaxes down with a gasp.

For half a minute, he simply lies on top of me spent, before taking a couple of deep breaths then kissing the back of my neck. “That was good, Elizabeth. Thank you.” He pulls away, moving to unshackle me.

He throws me a white terry cloth robe and puts one on himself. “Ready to eat?” he asks.

I suddenly realise I am starving. “Oh, yes, I am.”

“We’ll have something sent up. Order what you want. I’ll have a steak, rare.”

I order the same for myself, slightly self-conscious to be asking for service from people I was working with only the day before.

“What happened downstairs in the lobby, Elizabeth? You looked upset as you came in.”

“I’d forgotten to give them my letter of resignation,” I said sheepishly. “They wanted to know why the maid was taking the private lift to the penthouse.”

He looks me in the eyes. “You didn’t forget. It was here. I’m sure you assumed that I would pass it along. In fact, I had realised that it is not appropriate.”

Confused, I shake my head.

He continues. “You haven’t resigned. You’ve simply been promoted. Yesterday, you were just as much my employee as today. I own this hotel, remember? You are simply working under a different contract.”

My Master takes my chin in his hand, kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry if I caused you embarrassment. I should have thought to let them know down there. I was thinking of you in other ways...”

He is apologising to me?

He wiggles his eyebrows at me and winks, and I laugh.

“Now,” he continues, “a break, I think, for some rest and refreshments.”

A break? And then?

There is a knock at the door. “Room service.”

He smiles at me. “Ah, perfect timing.” Then he calls out, “Leave it there.”

Turning back to me, he says, “I’ll make sure that things are settled with your previous manager. For now, I don’t see the need for you to meet any of the other staff.”

He waits a moment, then opens the door, bringing in a trolley bearing our meals, plus champagne on ice and strawberries and cream.

An hour later, with the food eaten, and a glass or two inside me, I am lying on the fur rug in front of the fire, eating strawberries dipped in champagne and cream, reveling in the sheer luxury of it all. I notice that my Master, who is sitting on the couch, has only drunk a little of the champagne, and is watching me closely.

As I dip each bright red berry in the wine and then the cream, I pass it, still dripping, to my mouth, sucking it gradually through my lips.

It dawns on me that I am giving a performance, so I take my time, locking my eyes with his as I lick and suck the creamy champagne from the fruit. I see the approval in his eyes as, one at a time, I slowly consume each fruit.

He watches as I caress each strawberry with my tongue, licking it clean of the dripping cream before gently biting in and swallowing.

He stands up, towering over me, lying at his feet. “On your knees, Elizabeth.”

I obey. Looking up at my Master, it is clear what I am being instructed to do. I rise to kneel before him, untying the belt of his robe and opening it to expose his already hard cock.

Only an hour ago, this man came explosively inside me, and yet now, his erection stands proud once again.

“I’ve not had a shower yet, Elizabeth. Lick me clean.”

I lean forward to kiss away the drop of pre-cum already glistening at the tip, sucking my lips at the combined salty and sweet flavour of him. Then I start to lick slowly at the head of his shaft, tracing its contours with my tongue, exploring and probing with the tip. I feel my Master shudder and hear his gasp.

His voice is hoarse as he orders me. “All of it, Elizabeth.”

Compliantly, I lick the full length of his shaft, starting at the base and drawing long slow strokes up his massive, throbbing member. His breathing turns ragged, and he starts to flow, as do I. My slit is wet again, and juices trickle inside my thighs to my knees.

He grasps my head, winding my hair tight around his fingers. “Open your mouth.”

I do so, wondering how much of his length I can take - certainly not all of it, but he says huskily, “Use your hands as well.”

Fastening my lips around him, I use my hands to take much of his length. My saturated slit is running freely with pussy juices, and I use some on my hands, to make the grip I have on him slippery and pleasurable.

His breathing is patchy, and looking up, I see him looking back down at me, watching as his cock slides in and out of my mouth.

With my lips, I give him as tight of a grip as I can, and with my hands, I feel his tension build. His balls tighten and harden, his musky scent growing stronger as his flow increases.

I taste his essence filling my mouth, and then, with a groan, he grabs my head firmly, pinning me and thrusting hard into my mouth.

My hands prevent him from filling my throat, but as he spurts, I gag, his cum hitting the back of my throat. His pelvis flexes and bucks as he shoots into me and cum dribbles from my lips, dripping onto my breasts.

As he relaxes, he pulls my head back, withdrawing from me a little and turning my face upwards. “Don’t even think about spitting,” he says, his eyes intense as he watches me lick my lips clean and swallow his cream.

He reaches down, and with one finger, he wipes the cum from my breasts and holds his finger to my mouth. “Finish it.” And I lick his finger clean.

“Good girl,” he says approvingly. “Now, finish your strawberries.”

The Story Continues in ‘The Master’s Desires’

Part Four - The Master’s Desires

I am lying on a bed, blindfolded and with my arms stretched wide above my head, chained to the bedposts.

I am wearing very little - a silky black camisole, stockings with black lacy tops, and a matching thong, which, right now, is doing little except act as a partial barrier to my flooding pussy.

My legs are spread, and kneeling between them I think, although I cannot be sure because I cannot see or even move very well, is Richard Haswell, billionaire owner of one of the largest corporations in the country, perhaps the world. My Master.

Two weeks ago, I didn’t have anything. I was an almost penniless student doing dead-end work to make ends meet. Now, I have an amazing job, am receiving top-class training so that I will one day be qualified and independent in my own right, am showered with beautiful clothes, wined and dined, and taken to amazing places. And for all this, all I have to do is give my Master whatever he wants, whenever he wants it.

I think he is still clothed. I feel the smooth fabric of his tight cut black jeans rubbing against my open thighs, his erection pressed against my stomach.

His lips are suckling on my left nipple; his tongue is manipulating and kneading it, sending electric currents of desire shockingly down through my stomach, hips, and aching cunt.

He switches to the other nipple, and forcing my legs farther apart with his knees, he arranges me to his satisfaction. His hot breath on the sensitive skin of my breasts is making me flush and sweat. I feel his tongue trail along my cleavage, licking me dry. My breath is rapid and shallow, and as his tongue rides back to a nipple, he bites, not hard, but enough to startle me and I half gasp, half yelp at the almost pain of his nip.

“No noise, Elizabeth,” he says. “This time, I want you silent.” Then he bites the other nipple. Arching my back and shuddering, I try to obediently be silent through my panting.

One hand slides across my breast, pinching the nipple and then tweaking and teasing until I know that it is a solid, erect bud, crinkling rose against my Celtic pale skin.

My other nipple gets the same treatment, and I writhe under him, my hips beginning to judder with the need to have him inside me. So far, he has touched only my breasts, belly, and neck, not yet venturing near my streaming pussy and swollen clit.

“What do you want, Elizabeth?” he asks in his deep, rich voice.

What does he expect me to say? I want him to plant his mouth over my slit and suck me dry. I want him to fuck me until I can’t stand. But all I can do is moan incoherently.

*****

Earlier that day, having been sent to his office with some documents for his attention, he waves me to a seat. “Sit down, Elizabeth. I just wanted a brief chat. Bear with me, I won’t be but a moment.”

Quickly, he scans the documents, then signing one, he passes the file back to me. “Thanks. Give those back to Mack and tell him I’d like to see the two-year forecasts as well.”

I make a quick note of this. Mack, Micale Kane, manager of the procurement section, is my immediate supervisor for the moment, while I spend a couple of weeks in procurement. As part of my internship program with the company, I learn what each department does, how it works, and where it fits in the scheme of things.

I don’t care for the man. His smile always seems fake to me, and while he hasn’t tried to make a move on me, there is something about him that always makes me want to wash my hands after I’ve been talking to him.

Of course, I have said none of this to Richard. I am the new kid on the block, and even with our special arrangement, I am sure that it would not be well-received if I started mouthing off about people who have been here for years.

“So, how’s the training going?”

Pulling back my attention to where it belongs, I reply, “Great. It’s so interesting. Being able to link up what they teach us at college with how a company actually works in practice...”

“And the college? Your studies?”

“Oh, it’s all fine now. HR got me onto a day release program, with three days a week here and two in college. I can cover all the bases this way - get to grips with the things I need to learn, both on paper and for real.”

He nods in satisfaction. “Good. And you are getting to grips with things? Where are you now, for example? Procurement, is it?”

I nod. “Yes, I’m working my way through. I haven’t got my head around all of it yet, but I’ll get there.”

“Something’s giving you problems? What is it?”

I am reluctant to ask him a lot of questions. This is, after all, Richard Haswell. Billionaire tycoons have better things to do than answer questions from half-cocked trainees.

“C’mon,” he says. “Out with it.” He glances at the clock. “I have fifteen minutes before my next meeting, so ask.”

“Err, well, I am learning my way around the procurement process and trying to tie up in my head where the paperwork fits in with the computer system...”

“And?”

“Well, I can’t figure it out. It is just so complicated with all the different projects you have going on, and in so many different places, so I decided to just pick one project, as a kind of working example, and follow the paper trail.”

Nodding his head, he says, “Good idea. So?”

“Well, I picked the Hanover Mall project you’ve got going on over at the other side of the city. And I just can’t get it to work in my head when I try to fit the pieces together. I keep coming back in a loop and finding myself at the same place again. It is like the same things are being charged twice or even more than twice. I don’t get it at all.”

I shrug. “Certainly, that can’t be it and I’m probably missing something really obvious...” My voice trails off. I feel nervous that I’m making a fool of myself in front of this man who has given me the opportunity of a lifetime.

He nods thoughtfully, pursing his lips. “As you say, you are probably missing something. Print me off a copy of what you’ve got and bring it over tonight. I’ll take a look at it for you. Meanwhile...” he looks at me meaningfully, “... speaking of tonight - seven o’clock?”

I cast my eyes down “Yes, Sir.”

He sucks in his cheeks, smiling. “Elizabeth, don’t do that here. I can’t attend meetings with a raging hard-on.”

Lost for words, I bob a curtsey. “Yes, Mr Haswell.” And I go about my business.

*****

Later that evening, I am sure he does have a raging hard-on. While I can’t see it, I can feel it pressing against my thighs as he leans into me.

“What do you want, Elizabeth? This won’t go any further until you ask me for it.”

I hear a buzz, then feel a sharp pain in one nipple, then the other, as he clamps vibes to my small, firm buttons.

This is too much, and I struggle against the chains, trying to escape the electric arousal spiking through me. My pussy gushes and I moan, trying to thrash both against and into the sensation.

“What do you want, Elizabeth? Tell me. You have to tell me.”

“I want... I want...”

“Yes?”

“Oh, God! I want you inside me. Please. I want you inside me.”

“That’s better. And then?”

I am half-crazy with lust. I can barely think straight. “I want you to fuck me. Please, just fuck me.”

“That’s good, Elizabeth. And how do you want to be fucked?”

I am not sure how to answer and hesitate, my panting growing ragged.

“How do you want to be fucked, Elizabeth? Tongue? Fingers? Or do I get myself balls-deep inside you, and pin your pretty brains to your skull?”

The image this question conjures up is too much, and I moan again. It is about the only thing I can do, bound and blindfolded.

“Enough noise, Elizabeth. If you can’t ask nicely for what you want, I think I’ll shut you up.” His fingers prise my mouth open, forcing something inside and then tying around at the back of my head. A ball of some kind? It is soft and rubbery against my tongue, but my mouth is held open against it. I am effectively gagged, and now my helpless moans are muffled.

“You look good like that, Elizabeth, with your mouth held open. I might have to think about what else I might put in there. But for now, a little more stimulation, I think,” he says.

After a moment, I again feel a sharp pain in first one nipple and then the other. I try to yelp, but cannot. Then, my already sensitive nipples start to vibrate, gently at first. I am just beginning to handle this exquisite sensation when the vibe increases violently. I convulse, my hips bucking, my urgent cries blocked by my gag. I try to speak, but cannot.

“Too late now, Elizabeth. You had your chance to speak.”

He lifts my left leg by the knee, passing something under it. A rope? A belt? A cuff? Blinded as I am, I cannot tell. Then he does the same with my right knee. Abruptly, I find both legs being spread, parted at the knees, lifting me from the hip and displaying my throbbing pussy. For a moment, my weight is suspended quite painfully as my knees are pulled back and towards my face, but then he pushes something under my hips, a pillow or cushion supporting me and the pain subsides.

I lie, almost crucified on the bed, blindfolded, gagged, arms chained, and legs bent almost doubled back on themselves, with my pussy splayed.

“Not quite wide enough, I think,” comes my Master’s voice. And the ropes pull my knees farther apart. He adjusts the cushion under my hips, forcing my back to arch, pushing my hips higher, and my dripping pussy is now even more exposed. “That’s better, Elizabeth. Now I can see you properly.”

I am so ready for him. Frantic with arousal, crazy with lust, I just want him to plunge his cock inside me and pound away at my core.

Instead, I feel the lightest of touches. Fingers part my pussy lips, stretching them wide. His face is so close to me. I feel his warm breath over my swollen and pulsating labia, then his tongue curls around them, over and around, continuing on to my pussy where he pushes in, licking me inside. The pressure of his face against me tells me he is licking as deep as he is able, probing with the tip and tasting my juices. His whole mouth fastens around me, and he starts chewing at me, his tongue working me all the time as I heave and struggle and squeal against my bonds, the gag, and the exquisite pleasure and pain of it all. I try to scream against the ball gag in my mouth, but it fights against me, and only muffled cries escape.

Then he withdraws, leaving me shaking and shuddering, hips jerking and bucking against my ties. My pussy is hot, drenched, engorged, and I am desperate to have him inside me.

He removes the gag. “Anything to say, Elizabeth?” he asks. “Any requests yet? You know you have to ask first.”

My mouth is dry from the gag, and my jaw is aching from being held open, so I have trouble speaking. “Inside me. Please, Master, inside me.”

“That’s better, Elizabeth. You are learning nicely. I’ll take your training a little further after today.”

I barely have time to wonder what he means by this when he slips something inside me. Sliding easily against my slick pussy lips, he inserts something, which for a moment, simply sits inside me. Then it also starts to vibrate to a pulsing rhythm. An egg?

I convulse again, but still, I am pinned.

“Calm down, Elizabeth. We’ve barely started.” He probes with a finger inside me, pushing the vibe in deeper, pressing it in as far as it will go. “Now, Elizabeth, I want to hear you yelp for me.” He turns the power up, and this time, the part-moan, part-howl that comes from me is loud and long.  Mercilessly, he wraps his mouth around my clit, sucking hard at my swollen bud. I struggle and wriggle, trying to escape the sensation overload, but at the same time, glorying in it.

The combination of vibration on my nipples, pulsing from within, and his mouth clamped over me, is tormenting and pleasuring me and is irresistible.

From within, an orgasm swells and rises, building to the peak, and then in an uncontrollable surge, takes me. My Master works my clit with his tongue, drinking me as I gush, one hand on my flat belly, massaging my inner muscles against the egg. I scream against the unbearable, sweet, bitter, pleasure, and pain that overwhelms me completely.

“Stop! Stop! Oh, God, please stop!”

Instantly, he takes his mouth away. Inserting fingers, he flicks the egg out of me, then tugs the clamps off my nipples. The blindfold is ripped from my face, and in the shimmer of the candlelight, I see my Master, shirtless and undoing his straining belt. Unbuttoning his jeans, his erection bulges from the fabric, standing upright as he releases it, rigid against him.

He climbs onto the bed, settling between my knees, the tip of his penis kissing my pussy lips, still twitching in the aftershock of my orgasm. As he touches me, my inner muscles convulse again at the thought of this thick shaft penetrating me.

“Watch me, Elizabeth,” he says and obediently, I look up into his face.

“No,” he says. “There.” His eyes point down to where his massive cock is brushing my entrance. “Watch me, Elizabeth. Watch me fucking your cunt.”

I drop my gaze, and he leans in, pushing slowly inside me. An inch. Two inches. Four inches. His thick shaft, wide against my pussy, stretching me open, penetrates slowly and I tremble.

He breathes deeply and says, “That’s good, Elizabeth. That’s really good. Keep watching.”

Briefly, my eyes flick up to his.

“Down! Remember what you’re looking at.”

His own hips quiver, and then with a gasp, he plunges the rest of the way inside me, his balls banging against me. Almost instantly, my climax starts to gather again, and I moan and then yell as he pounds inside me to a slow rhythm. Deliberately, he times each stroke, and I watch as he thrusts his cock deep into my core, my pussy welcoming him as he bangs into me hard.

Again and again, I watch as he sheathes himself in me, thrusting in deep as far as he can go against my inner walls. I gasp and quake, but bound as I am, all I can do is shake, quiver, and scream. I fling my head back, wanting to scream up to the ceiling, but he grabs the back of my head. With his fingers twisting through my long red hair, he pulls me forward. “Watch, I said!” he says fiercely. “I want you to watch me fucking you.”

I look as his cock fucks my slick pussy. Then, with a deep intake of breath, he shudders against me, pumping his load into me, and grasping onto the ropes restraining my knees as he climaxes inside me.

For a moment, he remains still, his chest heaving and his skin glistening with sweat. Finally pulling himself upright, he looks me in the eyes and grins. As he unbuckles the cuffs from my knees, he says, “You’re quite a woman, Elizabeth.” With both hands, he sweeps his sweaty hair back over his head. Then he looks at me. “Have you eaten?”

“Er, no. With you asking me to come a bit earlier, I didn’t...”

“Would you like to go out to dinner?”

Would I?

On the arm of this amazing man?

“I’d love to, but I’ve nothing to wear. I can’t go out in public wearing what I arrived in.” I’m sure the taxi driver had my number, or at least X-ray vision, when I wore just a long coat over my undies.

He waves that off. “Yes, you do. Look in there,” he says, pointing at one of the wardrobes. “I have prepared for this eventuality, and you will find plenty to choose from in there. Pick something... demure, but accessible.”

I begin to see where this is going. “What kind of place are we going to?”

He thinks for a minute. “Courtney’s, I think. The management there know me and the staff are well paid to be discreet about their diners.” He waves me towards the wardrobe. “Pick out your clothes. I’m going for a shower.”

I know of Courtney’s. It is well-known as a hangout for celebrities, from rock stars to politicians, actors to newspaper tycoons - public faces who value a bit of privacy from time to time. It also has a reputation for being stupendously expensive.

My Master leaves me, like a kid in a candy store, investigating the wardrobe, working my way through beautiful fabrics, expensive designer labels and gorgeous fuck me dresses.

All the clothes are beautiful, stylish, and well-chosen, with a good mix of themes and styles, but as I work my way through them, it dawns on me what the common themes are. Firstly, they are all just my size...

How does he do that?

Secondly, every one of them, in some way, is easy access. The lovely garments might be demure on the surface, but every one of them has some form of flap, wrap, slit, lace, or button that would allow an experienced hand an easy way in.

I pick out a cocktail dress with a tightly fitted bodice, but a loose, flaring skirt. The filmy fabric swirls as I lift it up to admire before I lay it carefully on the bed and head off to shower myself.

Showered, made up, and dressed, I go through to the lounge, to find Richa - my Master - sitting; he is dressed and well-groomed and is looking through the file I brought. He glances up and then looks up again as he registers that I am dressed. He tilts his head admiringly. “Ready?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“I think so too. You look beautiful, Elizabeth, but of course, you always do. Shall we go?” He stands, puts the file on the table, and offers me his arm.

*****

I walk into the restaurant on the arm of Richard Haswell. It is beautiful, with elaborate chandeliers and polished woodwork, and there is even a pianist playing softly in the background. The meal is to die for, perfectly cooked and exquisitely served.

My Master seems distracted. After seeing the clothes in the wardrobe, I had thought that perhaps he would want to make some kind of play in the car on the way here. Instead, whilst he slipped his hand inside the skirt, resting it on my inner thigh, he did not speak, he just simply looked out the window until, pulling up outside the restaurant, Ross, the driver, asked, “You want me to wait, Mr Haswell?”

“Yes, please, Ross. I’ll call you when we’re ready to leave.”

Sitting at the table, with the wonderful food and wine being served, and a low murmur of conversation around us, he is silent. I had expected that since he has brought me out to dinner that he might want to talk.

I wonder if I have upset him somehow.

“Mr Haswell. Is something wrong? Have I... have I done something wrong?”

He almost jerks back to reality and smiles at me. “No, not at all, Elizabeth. I just have a lot to think about right now. I’m sorry. It’s not very gracious of me to sit in silence. And also, here...” he takes my hand before continuing, “... here, in this place, in this setting, it is ‘Richard.’”

Relief washes over me. “I was beginning to worry that I had upset you, Richard.”

He leans close and kisses me on the forehead, cupping my face in his hands. “No, I am simply distracted. Please, do enjoy your meal. Is your fish good?”

“Yes, very.” In fact, the fish is divine, with tender white flakes in a buttery sauce, piquant with capers and lemon, and served with tiny, bite-size vegetables, crisp and fresh, that taste as though they were still on the plant five minutes ago. The restaurant deserves its reputation and is a world away from the takeout pizza I was living on only a short time ago.

Later, Ross drives the car to my apartment to drop me off.

Richard almost growls when he sees where we are. “I don’t like you living here, Elizabeth. It’s not safe. I can understand why you lived here... in your previous life... you couldn’t afford any better then, but it’s different now. Why haven’t you moved somewhere else?”

“Oh, I will. I have somewhere picked out, in fact. But I’m waiting for my first paycheck to come through. Then, trust me,” I laugh. “I’ll be out of here. They won’t see me for dust.”

“Of course, yes. That’s good. Good night, Elizabeth.” He kisses me as I step out of the car.

As I turn the key in the lock, I look back. The car is still there, and Ross and Richard are both looking at me. “Waiting for something?” I call.

Ross replies, “Always do, Beth.” He tosses his head, pointing to the rear seats. “He’s made it clear that if I don’t stay long enough to see you in, he’ll have my ass.”

I chuckle. It’s nice to know that someone will take the trouble to watch out for me. “That’s great. Good night, Ross. Good night, Richard.”

*****

In my dingy apartment, my good mood evaporates into a feeling of let-down. Why? I’ve had a wonderful evening, have been wined and dined, had sex that left me wanting to scrape the top of my head off the ceiling. Why do I suddenly feel blue? The food, so delicious, sits heavily inside me.

In my bed, I admit to myself that I’m lonely for him. I would like to be curled up in his bed with his arms around me as I drift off to sleep.

But that is not the deal we have. This is not a relationship. I am not his girlfriend or even a fuck buddy. I am an employee, simply one with some very good terms written into the agreement we made. I will have all the good things in life, including the training and education I need, to one day be rich and independent in my own right. For that, I service my Master, billionaire Richard Haswell.

I can’t complain. It is the chance of a lifetime. Nonetheless, I wish for more.

I cannot sleep, finding myself thinking of my Master, of his face as he commands me with deep, deep blue eyes gazing at my breasts, my sex. I think of the obvious pleasure he takes in bringing me to crashing orgasms, of his beautiful body, lean and tanned in those linen shirts and tight black jeans that he prefers to wear.

He fucks me to a spectacular orgasm every time, but I am beginning to wish that he might, just once, make love to me.

Love. The forbidden word. It is not in the contract.

Oh, God...

Don’t let me fall in love with him.

Almost instinctively, my hands drift south, and I sigh deeply as I open my legs, raising my knees, and parting my thighs to allow my fingers entry.

Simply opening myself is so erotic. I think of his eyes on me, watching closely as he commands me to spread myself open, stretch my pussy lips open to his inspection, to pleasure myself, to bring myself to climax, to fuck myself so that he can watch and enjoy, and to take me when he wishes, his fingers probing my fluid core, or his tongue licking long, slow strokes up through my glistening folds, delving deep or lightly, barely brushing skin.

I think of his eyes, dark in the glimmering candlelight, intense with desire, brilliant in lust, looking at me as he instructs me in his wishes. I am to have no secrets. He must see it all.

And I respond and obey, my arousal rising sweet and hot from within, under the power he has over me.

My fingers slide through my red curls, just re-growing after my Master shaved me that first day he discovered me illicitly using his shower.

I chuckle as I remember my reaction - hands tied above my head to his shower fitting, naked to his eyes, as he produced the razor and foam. He shaved me then tongued me to a quivering orgasm, before bending me over the basin and fucking me, balls-deep inside me, to his own climax.

He hasn’t done anything like that since then, and with my fingers slipping past to my nub, I wonder if he would like me to wax. Does he want my pussy smooth and naked for him, so that he can see my slit, there for him, glistening with moisture as juices trickle down my thighs?

Does he prefer it now, sleek red hairs peeping through? Or perhaps he wants them to grow so that he can shave me again? My pussy juices are flowing at the thought of his mouth around me, sucking me. A flash of heat stabs up through my sex, and I feel my flow starting again, my slit swelling and my breath quickening.

I work my clit, rubbing and circling, slipping back the hood to reach the sensitive bud within. As I flick it, I think of his tongue encircling, probing with the tip, exploring my pink folds, lapping slowly at my pussy juices, tasting me as he slides fingers inside me and probes me within.

My heart begins to pound, and I wish that I had one of the vibes he uses on me so expertly. I want to feel something inside me, so with one hand still plying my swelling nub, the other slides inside, one finger, two, then three. I want him inside me, but this will have to do.

I reach in and up, stretching fingers for my G-spot, massaging hard, and for a moment or so, release my clit to have a free hand to push down hard, flat-handed on my belly muscles, increasing the internal pressure on my pussy walls.

I think of my Master, bending me forward, taking me from behind, his cock testing and teasing my slit, gently seeking inside me, an inch only, against my entrance, making me twitch and moan and shudder, before ramming into me hard, grabbing me by the hair and pulling my head backwards, forcing me to arch my back and turning my moans into screams.

Rubbing hard at my inner walls, electric arousal sparks flames in my head. My thighs are wet and hot, and the bed is damp beneath me.

Again, I am moaning, trying to be quiet so as not to be heard through the thin walls to the next apartment. My pulse is racing, and I am sweltering under the sheets.

I throw off the covers and lie, naked and writhing, sleek with sweat, as I plunge my hand deep into my cunt. Again and again, I try to bring my Master within me, taking me with his cock, filling me hard until I can see nothing but him, feel nothing but him.

I want him in my pussy. I want him in my mouth. I want to feel him judder and spasm as he cums, spurting his load into me and on me.

I want him to orgasm over me, over my face and breasts and belly, into my aching pussy, into my mouth, letting me milk him, licking his cream from my lips and face.

Harder and harder I work myself, plunging my fingers in as deep as they will go, desperate for a substitute for my Master’s body inside me. My hand is slick from fucking my own saturated pussy, my lips hot and swollen, pulsating with need and the desire for release.

It won’t come. My orgasm just won’t arise within me. I need more. Scanning my room, dimly lit from the streetlights, I spot a bottle of baby oil. It will do.

Grabbing the bottle, I slide it inside me. My aching cunt welcomes it, taking it in as I first test for fit, and then plunge it deep inside, fucking myself hard, again and again.

The bottle is slippery with oil and slick with my juices, but I ram it home, over and over. At some level, I am conscious that the headboard is clattering against the wall, but I don’t care.

Now my orgasm builds, the tension mounting, blood pounding in my ears, my body arched rigidly, my thighs shuddering and trembling in my search for climax.

With an unquenchable heat, my orgasm takes me. My pussy sends pulsating spasms through my body. My thighs and stomach throb and clench in a rhythm that takes me completely, and I cry out, still working the bottle inside myself, making the ecstasy last as long as I can, drawing out the moment when my Master will leave me.

Pumping away at myself, I hold onto the crescendo as long as I can, before it becomes unbearable, and with a gasp, I whip the bottle out of my still spasming cunt and lie, gasping and panting, on the mattress.

As the climax passes and my breathing slows, there is banging on the wall. “Keep that fucking noise down!”

To hell with the neighbours. I’ll be out of here soon.

The Story Continues in ‘The Master’s Fantasies’

Part Five - The Master’s Fantasies

I do not see my Master for some days while he is out of town. When he does reappear at the office, on the occasions that I see him, he seems distracted and says little to me. I wonder if I have done something wrong, or worse, if he is growing tired of me.

Then, Francis, his personal assistant, buzzes me. “Beth, can you come up, please? He wants to see you.”

“I’m on my way.”

As I step out of the lift, Francis is sitting behind her desk outside the office, a thoughtful expression on her face. There are angry voices coming from behind the door to Richard’s office.

Francis meets my eyes with raised eyebrows. “Hi, Beth. I’d take a seat if I were you. I don’t know how long this is going to be.”

The shouting continues. After a few more minutes, and with one voice becoming ever louder and angrier, Francis picks up the phone. “Frank? Yes? Can you send security up to the tenth floor, please? Yes, that’s right. Now.”

As she puts the phone down, the office door bangs open, and Mack Kane storms out, red-faced and furious. Slamming the door closed, he sees me and takes a step towards me, murder in his eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know it was you, you little bitch...”

I have no idea what he is talking about, and involuntarily I sit back in my chair as Mack steps closer to me, one hand raised.

Thankfully, the lift doors swish open and out step two blue-uniformed security guards. Mack sees them and backs off. At the same moment, Richard comes out of his office, looking stern but calm. “Francis, can you call Security, please... Ah, already here, I see. Thank you, Francis. Ben, Alan, can you please accompany Mr Kane to the exit. He will not be needing his security badge any longer. And he is not to be readmitted without my express permission.”

He turns back to Francis. “Francis, please clear Mr Kane’s desk and forward any personal effects to his home address.”

Mack is almost purple with fury and turns to me, jabbing a finger in my direction with a clear threat in his eyes. “You bitch. You haven’t heard the last of this...”

I am completely baffled. “I’m sorry, but I don’t underst...”

Richard interrupts. “Are you threatening a member of my staff, Mr Kane? Should we call the police?”

Mack falls silent, but his face is still mottled red with fury. Stiffly, he turns and heads for the lift, accompanied by the security guards. As the doors swish closed behind them, Richard turns to Francis. “Make sure he’s out of the building and that all the reception staff have clear instructions that he’s not to be permitted back in. Then, get onto IT, and have his security codes and passwords changed immediately.”

Francis nods. “Yes, Mr Haswell.”

He takes a deep breath and stares up at the ceiling for a moment. Exhaling, he says, “Francis, a pot of coffee, please, as soon as you get the chance. Elizabeth, in here if you would. You deserve an explanation.”

I follow him into the office, and he waves me to the settee.

“Elizabeth, I’m sorry. This wasn’t your fault. When you brought me that file of inconsistencies that you said you didn’t understand, you were quite correct. Those inconsistencies were not your misunderstanding of the procurement system. As I read through, and then when I investigated more deeply, it was quickly clear that what appeared to you to be the case, in fact, was the case. Someone was, in effect, having the same goods and services charged for twice, and sometimes more than twice. It would have been discovered at some point with a physical inventory count, but that could have been months away, and in the meantime, you have saved the company a great deal of money.”

Francis enters with the coffee, deposits the tray, and leaves again. Richard pours two cups, and I sip at mine, a bit lost for words.

He leans forward and takes my hand. “Elizabeth, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your quick wits and your eye for detail. A lot of people would have, if they had spotted the problem at all, passed over the mystery and moved on. You struggled with it and came to me with your dilemma.” He laughs. “It goes without saying that if you encounter any more such inconsistencies, I want you to come straight to me with them again.”

I ponder the implications. “What will happen to him? Will you call the police?”

Richard shrugs. “I don’t think so. It would be hard to prove that it was Mack. When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it. However, I caught him out, unexpectedly, today. No doubt if the police came in, he would have his answers ready, and in the meantime, the company’s shares would be falling. No, he’s out, and he won’t be coming back. And he’ll not find it easy to get another job. You on the other hand...”

“What made him think it was me?”

“I didn’t tell him that it was you, Elizabeth, but he knew which files you’d been looking at, and which projects you’d focused on. It didn’t take him long to work it out when I started asking him specific questions.”

I am really worried now. “He looked really mad. I thought he was going to hit me, but then the security guards arrived.”

Richard pauses. “Is that right? Just like him to blame someone else for his situation.” He rubs his chin. “Hmm... Just in case, I think we’ll get you out of that old apartment of yours, now. Get you to a new address. Would you mind that?”

“Well, no, but I was going to move at the end of the month when I could make the deposit for the rent.”

“I want you out of there before then. Where is the new apartment you have in mind?”

“It’s in the Crown Towers development, you know, one of those new ones they’ve just built.”

He smiles. “Yes, I know them. C’mon, let’s go see.” He buzzes the intercom. “Francis, can you call a car, please? We’re going to be out for a couple of hours.”

*****

In the privacy of the back of the car, I finally say, “I thought I had done something to upset you.”

My Master looks startled. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you dropped me off at my old flat last week and then I didn’t see you again, or barely. And when I did see you, you didn’t speak. I...” I falter. Am I safe to say this? “I... I missed you.”

“I’m sorry about that, Elizabeth. I have to say that I also missed our, er... adventures together.” He grins and wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t neglect you. I don’t want you wandering off, looking for pastures anew.”

“Oh, I won’t do that. We have a deal, don’t we? Anyway, I um... I sorted myself out,” I confess, blushing crimson upon realising what I have just blurted out.

A rainbow of expressions crosses my Master’s face - surprise, shock, and then, a sunrise of sensual pleasure. He tilts his head, and then taking my hand, he presses it against his groin, moving my hand in his, over him, showing me what is required of me. Through the fabric of his trousers, I feel his cock stirring to life.

He leans closer to me, his voice low and breathy by my ear. “So, you missed me, and you fucked yourself instead?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Yes, what?” He presses my hand against his growing erection.

“Yes, Master. I fucked myself thinking about you.”

“And?”

“I wanted you there, inside me. But you weren’t there, so instead, I lay naked on my bed and got myself off.”

“How? What did you do, Elizabeth? Tell me, in detail. I want to know.”

I am unused to this and am not quite sure what to say, so I hesitate.

“Elizabeth, I have given you an instruction. I want you to tell me, detail by detail, how you fucked yourself.”

“I spread my legs and I played with my clit.” As I say this, my Master’s cock jumps under my hand. I feel it straining for escape. As well as I can through his clothes, I work him with my fingers.

Ross’s voice comes over the car intercom, “Sorry, Mr Haswell, we’re stuck in a traffic jam. Might take a bit longer to get there.”

I see my Master take a breath for voice control. He succeeds, and sounding very casual, replies, “That’s fine, Ross. There’s no hurry.” Then he presses my hand down hard again.

Seeking permission in his eyes, I unzip and release my Master’s now throbbing erection. “I’d have you down hard on that, sucking me off,” he says. “But I want to hear what you have to say.”

“I played with my clit,” I repeat. “I rubbed myself and tweaked and flicked. And all the time, I was thinking of you, with your mouth around me, lapping at me and making me wet.” With the tips of my fingers, I work the head of his penis, licking my fingers to make it as good as I can for him.

“I made myself really wet. I was ready for you, and I wanted you. I wanted you to lick me out, and then fuck me brainless.” I feel that my fingers are not slippery enough. My Master’s cock deserves better than this, so for a moment, I bend over, taking him in my mouth, licking and moistening the tender skin, but at the same time, I continue to slide my fingers up and down his length. My own panties are moistening.

“I used my hand and finger fucked myself,” I continue. “But you weren’t there. I was ready to be fucked properly. I wanted to feel you all the way inside me, balls-deep, but you weren’t there. I would have used a vibe, but I didn’t have one, so I had to find something else instead.”

My Master is now leaking down my hand. As I hand fuck him, it is slippery and delicious, and I am becoming uncomfortable in my now soaking panties.

“What did you use? What did you bring yourself off with?”

“I found a bottle. It wasn’t right, but it was good enough. I slid it inside me, and then I fucked my cunt, hard. I wanted you to fuck me, but instead, I used a bottle to fuck myself...”

Ross’s voice comes over the intercom again. “We’re clear, Mr Haswell. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Richard’s eyes roll skyward. “Fuck!” he mutters.

I lean over him and lick him clean and dry, enjoying the taste of him and letting him see me lick my own lips clean. With a little difficulty, I tuck him away, and he pulls his jacket closed to cover his still overly obvious bulge.

*****

As we enter the lobby of the apartment block, the concierge does not at first even look up. “Yes?” he says. “What is it?” He is eating a sandwich, and casually brushes egg crumbs from his face onto his shirt.

I start to speak. “Hello. My name is Elizabeth Kimberley...”

Richard interrupts. “Is this how a member of my staff meets and greets members of the public?”

The concierge looks up sharply at him and then blenches. “Oh! Mr Haswell.” He stands up hastily, struggling slightly to push his chair back as he does so. Then he plasters on an obsequious smile. “Sorry, Mr Haswell. I didn’t know we were expecting you.”

Richard leans forward over the desk, eyeballing the man. “You shouldn’t need to be expecting the boss to show up to show common courtesy to a visitor to the building. That is your job. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get me the keys for 47A.”

“Yes, sir.” The concierge disappears into a back room for a moment, then reappears, jingling keys. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thank you,” Richard says. “And get a clean shirt on if you expect to be still working here next week.”

We take the lift to the fourth floor. “I didn’t know you owned this building too,” I say.

He smiles and shrugs. “Handy, isn’t it? And no one will disturb us.” His smile turns to a wicked grin.

On the fourth floor, he unlocks the door and gestures me inside. As soon as the door is closed behind us, my Master grabs me by the arm and pushes me back against a wall. “Now, madam, you were explaining to me how you handle yourself alone.” One hand grabs me by the wrists, gathering them and raising my arms above my head, pinning me to the wall. The other hand heads south, and not too gently, pulls up the edge of my skirt, questing up my thighs, past my panties, to between my legs. There is nothing restrained about his actions. My Master is ready now. His finger reaches in and up, straight inside me. I hear his grunt of satisfaction to find me already dripping for him.

With his face close to mine, he says, “Now, if you please, continue with your tale.”

“I screwed myself with a bottle... hard.”

His fingers plunge into me, and I yelp. “Like this?”

“Yes. Oh, God, yes.”

He stabs into me again, spreading his fingers as he goes, thumb outside, pressed on my clit, and I start to whimper in arousal. “You like that?”

I am breathless and gasping. “Yes... Yes.” His thumb is rubbing my clit and I need to cum.

“You want more?”

“Yes. Please, yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master, please fuck me. Please let me cum.”

He leans even closer, whispering into my ear. “I’ll forgive you this time because you didn’t know. But in the future, you are only allowed to fuck yourself if you have asked my permission first. And afterwards, I expect a report, in detail, of what you did to yourself, for what is supposed to be a substitute for my fucking you properly. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Master, I think so.” His fingers freeze. I am on the edge of an orgasm, brinking the precipice, and shaking with anticipation. I need to cum.

“The correct reply is, Yes, Master.”

“Yes, Master. Please, Master. Please, let me cum.”

“That’s better.” With his hand still inside me, fingers working my G-spot, he drops to his knees, splays my pussy lips with the other hand and wraps his tongue around my clit, flicking and tasting me.

Instantly, I orgasm, my pleasure pulsing electrically through me as I moan, gushing hot over my Master’s fingers. “Spread your ankles,” he commands and through a euphoric haze, I obey, trembling uncontrollably as my Master licks my thighs, clit, and pussy clean. My hips bucking, I want to give at the knees and let my weight slide to the floor, but he still has several fingers inside me. I can’t take any more. “Oh, God! Stop, please stop. Please stop.”

My Master sits back on his haunches, looking pleased with himself. “If that’s the result of leaving you for a few days, perhaps I’ll keep you waiting more often,” he comments and then stands, holding out a hand for me. “And if I may suggest, in the future, keep some fresh underwear in your bag. I find that I want to make you drip.” Speechlessly, I nod.

“And now to business. Shall we take a look at this apartment of yours?”

The apartment has one bedroom, with a nice open-plan lounge and kitchen area, a tidy little bathroom, and a lovely view over the park. The area is good, and the apartment is brand new. Everything sparkles, unlike my old, dismal flat with its peeling paint and smell of dampness. I am so pleased to think that I will soon be living here.

Richard looks around quickly, seeming unimpressed. “It’s very small,” he comments.

“Yes, it is, but it’s big enough for just me. And the area is so much nicer than my old place.”

“What if you want friends to stay? Or your parents perhaps? And where can you work? There’s no real place for a desk, or bookshelves, unless you have them in your lounge.”

“It’s fine. You can’t have everything at once, and I can afford this now, which I certainly couldn’t before.”

Richard purses his lips. “Get your stuff from your old place. I’ll send Ross to help you out. There’s no reason for you to be in there any longer, and I’d rather not risk your being there, just in case Mack Kane knows where you lived.”

A shudder goes down my spine. Mack had looked mad as hell with me, but surely he wouldn’t be dangerous? Would he?

I nod and agree.

*****

Ross drops Richard back at the office, then helps me pack my small number of possessions into the car - a few clothes and personal items, my steam-driven laptop, and my books. None of the furniture is mine, and I wouldn’t want it in my lovely new apartment anyway. When we return to the apartment block, with Ross staggering slightly under the weight of a cardboard box full of books, the concierge gives me a key. I notice that he is wearing a fresh shirt and is now sitting upright and alert at his desk.

“You’ve given me the wrong one,” I say. “This is for 127A. Mine is 47A.”

“That’s the one Mr Haswell said I was to give you.”

“Oh. Right.” Puzzled, I take the lift to the twelfth floor, Ross following me.

The twelfth-floor apartment is amazing. High above the city, the gorgeous park view is below, but now the view opens far over buildings old and new, across the river, and out to the hills beyond. There are three bedrooms, a huge lounge and dining area overlooking those stunning vistas in three directions, and a bathroom to die for with all polished glass and chrome fittings as well as a Jacuzzi.

I am torn between a broad grin and embarrassment.

“Where do you want this?” asks Ross, still weighed down under his load.

“Umm... I’m not sure. Anywhere, Ross. Just put it down.” I don’t know quite what to do next. “I can’t stay here. I can’t possibly afford it.”

Ross looks at me with a slightly pitying expression. “You’re working for Mr Haswell?”

“Er, yes...”

“So, he pays your wages? He knows how much you earn?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s your landlord, so he sets the rent...”

“Err... yes...”

“And he told the concierge to give you this key?”

“Yes.”

“So this is the apartment you’re getting. And you can afford it. Now, where do you want this stuff?”

He’s right, of course. What else can I say? I look around my new glorious apartment. Where to put things?

“Just put them down anywhere, Ross.” I need to decide how to lay things out, and it’s not as though there is any furniture yet.

I spend the rest of the day arranging my things as best I can with no furniture. I am just deciding that I should go out to shop for a bed, a table and chairs, and some other essentials when the door intercom buzzes. “Yes?”

“Hello, Elizabeth. It’s me, Richard.”

He’s here!

“Oh, come on up. It’s wonderful in here!”

A couple of minutes later, my Master enters then drops the latch on the apartment door. “I don’t want to be interrupted right now.” He smiles.

I start to speak. “I want to say thank you...”

He puts a finger to my lips. “You’re welcome. But you can show me your thankfulness in a better fashion. Now where...?” He glances around the lounge and then walks to the kitchen counter. “Come here, Elizabeth.”

I stand obediently before him as he tilts up my chin to kiss me on the mouth, then he gradually pushes me backwards towards the counter.

“Take your skirt and panties off.”

Simply hearing him say those words excites me, and I feel that inner warmth rising again. I unzip my skirt, letting it slide down to my feet before stepping out of it and kicking it to one side. I then slip down my already noticeably damp panties. Pretty and black though they are, they are not needed. My stockings are enough.

As I stand up straight again, my Master is unbuttoning my blouse, sliding his hands inside, and then slipping it off my shoulders to also drop, discarded, to the floor. Next, he unhooks my bra, leaving me in only my black stockings.

For a moment he stands back, just looking at me, then he unclips my hair and pulls it tumbling down over my shoulders, a tumbling red torrent to match the fox at my loins.

“Undress me, Elizabeth.”

I slip each shirt button slowly free, and then his cuffs, kissing the taut flat muscles of his abdomen as I do so. His bronzed skin contrasts sharply against the white linen of his shirt before it too falls to the floor. Unbuckling his belt and unzipping him, I am growing steadily wetter as I feel his already bulging erection. As I slide down his clothes, his hands push me down from the shoulders into a kneeling position, then, gripping my hair, he pulls my face towards him, as his other hand guides his penis into my mouth.

I lick off the twinkling droplet from the tip, loving the salty, sweet taste of his pre-cum. As my tongue and lips wrap around the head, his shaft twitches under me, and I revel in the odd feeling of power it gives me to obey this man, my Master, to do his bidding in everything.

With my mouth filled, I glance upwards to see him standing straight, head up and back, hands clasped behind his head. “Pay attention to what you are doing, Elizabeth,” he says, and compliantly, I suck and lick his cock, feeling it pulse as I trail the tip of my tongue around the rim of the head, first flicking quickly, then making long sweeping strokes of my tongue, from the base of his shaft, full-length to the crown, savouring his trickling juices as his lust rises.

I hear him take a gasp above me. “You’re so good at that, Elizabeth, but in a minute, you are going to stand, and I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

At his words, I flood and gasp, feeling wet heat dribble down inside my thighs. He chuckles as he hears me. “You like that idea then?” Suddenly he bends, grasping me by the waist and lifts me, depositing my naked ass on the kitchen counter. “Spread ‘em,” he says, forcing my knees apart as he does so, and making me lean back to support myself. “Lie down,” he says, pushing me, flat-handed, back down onto the marble surface, then pulling me forward at the hips until his cock kisses into my pussy.

He thrusts for a moment, then stops. “Not wet enough yet, I think.”

I am not sure what he means by this, as it seems to me that I am already swollen and slippery for him, but he drops down and plants his mouth squarely over my pussy, thrusting in with his tongue, twisting and probing, drinking my juices. Involuntarily, I heave and gulp, arching my back to raise my hips to him, locking my ankles behind his head to open myself fully to my Master.

“Lie still,” he says. “I have not given you permission to move.”

I try to obey, but as his lips purse over my clit, I cannot help myself; I groan and writhe at the exquisite fire stabbing up through my core. My Master’s teeth nibble gently at my bud, then his tongue circles it, flicking and manipulating it until my pussy juices gush over his face. He licks deep, over my pussy lips, trailing through my cunt, lingering deliciously as he drinks from me.

“Wet enough now, I think,” he says as he rises to his feet.

Standing, my Master’s erection is huge. He probes with the tip at my entrance, once, twice, thrice, as my pussy twitches and jumps in response, then thrusts hard, headlong deep inside me, stopping only as he strikes my inner walls. I scream in response, my cunt throbbing to his rhythm as I try to tighten my pussy and belly muscles around him. I can barely think as he plunges into me, again and again, but I know that I want him there and that I want him to take the greatest pleasure in me.

He pounds away inside me, no gentleness, and demanding a response. Lying flat-backed on the stone surface, there is little I can do beyond scream, it rises unbidden from my depths, a deep, primal reply to the earthquake of the flesh I am experiencing at my Master’s bidding. My hips try to gyrate in time to his thrusting, but with no give to the stone surface, I cannot really move at all, only quiver below him as he plunges inside me, again and again, harder and harder.

I feel the stone slab slick under me, and I begin to slide over the smooth surface. My Master seizes me at the hips, holding me steady, as he continues his pounding inside me, balls-deep and then out completely to his full length, in and then out again. Breathing is difficult as I pant uncontrollably between screams, my heart pounding and my pulse racing.

I feel the rise of my orgasm within me, the tension building and my belly muscles clenching as it builds. Convulsing in a paroxysm of ecstatic joy, I try to lean up to embrace the sensation, but my Master’s hand, flat between my breasts, pushes me down on my back again, holding me pinned as my climax overtakes me.

I am unconscious of anything but the release, as my pulsating cunt sends violent waves of pleasure through my stomach and thighs. I do not know if I scream, gasp, or cry, only that I am lying helplessly writhing, speared by my Master as he gazes down on me, cumming at his command.

Sated and exhausted, I lie there, my panting subsiding, as my Master locks eyes with me. “Don’t move,” he says. “You haven’t finished.”

He draws level with my face, and once again, seizes hold of my hair, pulling up my face. “Open wide.”

I open my mouth and he pushes inside. “Finish me off,” he commands. “I want to see you swallowing my cum.”

“May I use my hands as well?”

“Yes, you can play with my balls while you lick me clean, then suck me off.”

One-handedly, I massage his scrotum, tight and crinkled, palming at the harder kernels within. With the other, I support his huge erect penis as I lick away my own juices and his.

With one hand kneading his balls and the base of his erection, caressing and stroking, fondling and rubbing, I feel the growing throb and cadence of his rising climax. His own hips start to quiver, and then, as I feel he is going to spurt into my mouth, I slide the tip of my tongue into the slit of his penis, tickling, probing, and stimulating at this, his most sensitive moment.

In response, he exhales with a gasp, leaning forward and pulling me in deeper by my hair. He spurts into my mouth in a creamy cascade, and then pulling my mouth free of him, he finishes his climax over my face, his stream surging over my eyes and lips, dripping down into my hair. As he shoots his cum over me, I lick and suck where I can, taking what he gives as he rubs his cock and balls and cum over my face.

Finally, with a heave, he pulls free of me and stands, breathing deeply, arms akimbo.

After a moment he looks up again. “Elizabeth, you are good. You are so good.” And he leans over, kissing me deeply on the mouth and then my breasts. “Come on, let me help you down.” He picks me up from the marble, placing me carefully on my own two feet.

I wobble a little, a bit unsteady after the internal pounding he just gave my still swollen pussy and clit.

“A shower, I think,” he says. “Let’s check out your new bathroom.”

The shower stall is roomy enough for two, and with the hot water cascading over us both, my Master soaps and then sponges me down. He gives special attention to my breasts and between my legs, sucking my nipples as he reaches between my thighs. “Don’t worry,” he comments. “I don’t expect you to perform again quite this soon. But I enjoy the feel of your body.”

Afterwards, we sit on the carpet in my still unfurnished apartment, looking out over the city and the river.

“How much furniture do you have?” he asks.

“None really. It all belonged to the landlord in my old flat. It’s not a problem. I’ll go and get some over the next few days.” Then I try to collect my thoughts. “Thank you. The other flat was nice, but this is gorgeous.”

“Yes, the other was all right, but this one is better. You have the space for guests and for an office or study here. Speaking of which, we have plenty of spare furniture in the basement back at the office, desks, bookshelves, that kind of thing. Pick out what you want and I’ll get it sent over for you. It will do for you until you have had a chance to choose what you want and make the place your own.”

I don’t know what to say, so I settle for, “Thank you.”

He smiles and kisses the top of my head. “You’re welcome, Elizabeth. But we made a deal. You are keeping your end of it, and I am keeping mine.”

Inside my heart sinks. Everything he says is true, but I don’t want it to be a contract. I am falling in love with my Master.

The Story Continues in ‘The Master’s Obsession’

Part Six - The Master’s Obsession

I am just putting the finishing touches to the bedroom in my beautiful new apartment when the door buzzes.

“Hello, Elizabeth. It’s Richard.”

With a thrill, I rush to the intercom. “Hi! Come straight up. The door’s open.”

When my Master arrives, he is carrying red roses and a briefcase. I recall that the very first time I saw him, he was carrying this same briefcase and he also had a bunch of red roses. He had a date, but the date had stood him up.

I wonder what he has in the case. The last time it was a spreader bar and a vibrating egg, both of which he tried out on me, giving me one of the most electrifying experiences of my life. I am becoming excited in anticipation. What is he planning?

He hands me the roses with a smile. “I hope you like them?”

“Oh, yes, Master, they're lovely. I’ll put them in water.”

He flops down onto the settee. “So, Elizabeth, we're celebrating your new home,” he says, his gorgeous smile crinkling around his eyes.

I am so stirred by all this, my new life, my new apartment, and my Master, who I admit to myself, I am falling in love with.

“How would you like to celebrate?” he asks.

My eyes slide across to the briefcase. “I think you might already have ideas about that, Master.”

He laughs. “Oh, yes, I do, lots of ideas, always. But this is your celebration, Elizabeth. And I want to thank you for what you have done, and are doing, for me. Tonight, you can tell me what you would like.”

“I'd like...” my voice trails away.

Can I ask this?

He tilts his head in that now familiar gesture. “Yes?”

“I'd like...” I cannot speak, a lump is in my throat and tears begin to well up inside me.

He stands, concern on his face, taking me by the shoulders and holding me tightly to him. “Elizabeth, what's the matter? I want you to be happy. I thought you were happy. How have I upset you?”

“Oh, I am happy. I am. But...”

He holds me away from him now by the shoulders, squaring up to my face and holding my gaze. “Elizabeth, you have to tell me what's wrong. How can I make things right for you, if I don't understand your problem?”

“I... I want you to make love to me,” I blurt out then fall silent, wondering if I have just ruined everything. My Master and I have a contract - a no-strings contract.

My Master looks startled then laughs. “I thought you enjoyed our little games, Elizabeth? Was I wrong?”

“Oh, no, you’re not wrong at all. I love our games. It's just that...”

My Master falls silent, looking around the room. Moving to stand by the window, he stares out, his back to me. “Are you falling in love with me, Elizabeth?”

I hold silent for a moment but then take my courage in my hands. “Yes, I am...” I hang my head. “Are you angry with me?”

He almost whirls around, grabbing me again by the shoulders. “How could I be angry that one of the most beautiful women I have ever known, the most intelligent, and certainly the sexiest, is falling in love with me?”

Suddenly, he crushes his mouth onto mine, almost bruising my lips in his fervor, crushing me in his embrace. I respond hungrily, leaning into the kiss, exploding inside as he scoops me up, carries me through to the bedroom and, unceremoniously, dumps me onto the bed.

“I'll show you how a man makes love to a fucking star like you, Elizabeth.”

There is a sparkle in his eyes and his smile is like sunshine as he sits beside me, enfolding me in his arms, his kiss deepening by the moment. I am totally unprepared by the sheer scale of my physical response to this. I am afire. In my head, skies are blue, the sun is bright, and birds are singing.

With my Master sucking and nibbling at my bottom lip, my heart begins to pound as I heat within, a familiar moistness between my legs. He trails kisses down my neck, and then struggling briefly with the buttons of my blouse, he unhooks my bra with one hand, cupping a breast with the other to suckle. As he sucks and nips at my puckering nipple, I am working at his shirt. I want his naked skin and the smell of his maleness all over me.

Sitting up, he helps me with the shirt, simply pulling it up over his head before discarding it onto the floor, and then shucks off his trousers and shoes. His now naked body, bronzed, lean muscled, and lightly haired, smells deliciously musky. I have never been certain if this is his personal scent or some aftershave that he uses, but it is deliciously his scent, and right now, it feels like my personal property.

He slides fingers behind my skirt to unzip it and slip it off me. Wearing nothing but white lacy panties, I lie back for him, arching my stomach and hips up to him as he plants kisses between my breasts, down my belly, and beyond.

His fingers slip between my legs, pausing briefly to ply my thighs apart, his fingers stroking the delicate inner skin. I am already wet as his fingers part my labia, exploring my swelling nub, sliding back the hood to reveal the sensitive heart within.

He is gentle and tender, working to arouse, and succeeding, and I curve and strain to meet him, my ardour becoming hard to control.

“Please, Master. I want you inside me.”

“Easily done,” he says, smiling as he repositions himself.

I watch his magnificent erection, which is quivering slightly against the flat of his abdomen. Lowering himself onto me, he pauses momentarily, allowing me to stroke his length and to kiss away the trembling droplet at the tip. Licking his salty-sweet honey from my lips, I draw him towards me as he lies full-length atop me, the tip of his cock brushing my pussy. He holds himself there, not entering, but teasing and arousing, knowing well that I want him to plunge inside me. Pressing lightly in, he then withdraws, instead kissing me, open-mouthed, with one hand kneading one of my breasts and tweaking the nipple.

“Oh, God, Master! Please get inside me. I want you inside me.”

He whispers into my ear, “All in good time. Women don't always cum from penetration only. I want to make sure that you do.” And he continues his plying and rolling of first one nipple, then the other.

I am wild with desire. Every time his cock leans in towards me, I rock my hips towards him, trying to swallow him into my depths, but always he withdraws, leaving me shaking with anticipation. I am yearning to have him fill me, aching to have his length fill my pussy. My juices are flowing freely, and the sheets are damp below me. Sweat glistens on my chest, my skin slick and shiny in the half-light.

Finally, when I think I might pass out if he makes me wait any longer, he first probes my pussy, then smoothly sheathes himself inside me. I gasp and cry out, my head flinging back and then forward, my eyes closing instinctively. I barely know what to do with myself from the ecstasy I am feeling from within.

In he slides and out, in and out; neither hard nor gentle, but rather steady and even, and smooth as silk, with a heartbeat rhythm. My own heartbeat is wild, my pulse banging wildly at my temples with the gliding thrust of my Master filling my pussy, making me moan and pant.

Opening my eyes, my Master is gazing down watching my face as he works me. His eyes are deep and intense. I could drown in them. His teeth lightly gritted, I see a sheen of perspiration as he draws me to my climax.

It begins, rising from my core, rippling out through the muscles of my belly and thighs. As I convulse inside, my Master responds by thrusting hard, in his pulse-beat rhythm, my cunt squeezing his cock as I erupt into a mind-blowing orgasm.

Through my physical rapture, I am conscious of his arms encircling me as I cum, and his kisses on my neck and breasts. Gliding down once more from the heights of passion, I feel warm breath by my face and fingers running through my hair.

My Master does not cease his thrusting. Kissing me briefly on the lips, he raises himself over me as he thrusts, looking down on me as he builds to his own climax. And now, I stroke his face, reaching up to caress his beautiful features as I move with his rhythm, trying to gift him what he just gifted me. With my pussy, I relax as he glides in, squeeze as he pulls out, trying to make it good for him. His sweat drips onto my breasts, trickling over my hot damp skin, anointing me with his scent.

With a gasp, his eyes shut tightly, and he shudders into his orgasm, groaning as his hips buck, his cock pressing deeply inside me. With his chest heaving, he collapses on top of me and simply lies there as I comb his damp hair with my fingers, kissing the side of his face.

For a long minute, we lie there, unmoving, my mind full of glory. My Master has not said that he loves me, but he is not angry with me.

Perhaps I can yet hope for more than a contract...

“Master?”

He pulls himself up onto an elbow, once more looking down on me. His smile is like sweet honey to me. “Yes, Elizabeth?”

“What just happened?”

“What happened?” he laughs. “What happened is that I, as requested by a beautiful girl who says she is falling in love with me, made love to her. That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Dumbly, I nod.

His face turns serious. He takes my chin in his hand, looking me straight in the eyes. “Elizabeth, don’t misunderstand. I can’t claim that I love you. I am very fond of you, and I really, really lust for you. I hope that is enough for you, for now at least?”

Again, I nod. Yes, it is enough for me...

... for now.

“Good!” He rises and stretches. “And now, I think, let’s have that celebration for your new home. Dinner out, I think, yes?”

“Mmm. Yes, lovely.”

*****

The following day, while walking home from the office, I decide to do a little window-shopping; I still need a few things to furnish my apartment. I am staring through the shop window of one of the plusher furniture stores when, in the reflection, I see behind me a figure I recognise - Mack Kane, ex-head of the procurement department. He is glaring at me from across the street. I always found him unappealing, something about him making my skin crawl, but now he looks positively toxic.

As I spin to face him, he turns his back, walking quickly from view around a corner. A shudder runs through me. Is it a coincidence? Or am I being followed by this man who lost his highly paid job as a result of my discovery of his theft from the company?

Perhaps my imagination is running riot. Nonetheless, I go inside the store to lose myself in the crowds. I exit a few minutes later through a different door. If Mack is following me, I do not want him to know where I live. Should I mention this to Richard?

No, I decide, not without being a bit more certain of what is happening. For now, I will simply be alert. If Mack is following me, I will soon find out.

Over the next few days, I do not see him again and I conclude that I have an over-vivid imagination. No doubt he just happened to be in that street. Putting it from my mind, I focus on my work, my training, and my wonderful Master.

Francis buzzes me. “Hi, Beth. Can you come up, please? Mr Haswell would like a word.”

Up on the tenth floor, my Master makes me welcome in his office. “Hello, Elizabeth. I just wanted a quick chat. Coffee?”

“Thanks, yes, I’d love one.”

He rings through a request to Francis then returns his attention to me. “I have a meeting tomorrow. A very important meeting with potential clients who, if we can get the deal, will be worth a great deal of money to the company.”

“Okay.” I nod attentively.

What does this have to do with me?

“I would like you to sit in on the meeting.”

Oh!

“You have already proved that you have an eye for detail with your work in the procurement section. It may have been an unpleasant little episode, but it saved the company a lot of money. Tomorrow, I want you to sit in as secretary to the meeting and take the minutes.”

He leans forward. “Elizabeth, I want you to bring in that talent for detail again. Take notes of what is said - proposals, agreements, suggestions, whatever there is. However, I also want you to watch the people - body language, expressions. Do they seem comfortable with the discussion? Does anyone look unhappy with the agreement? That sort of thing.” He takes my hand in his. “Are you with me on that? Happy with it?”

I nod. “Yes, it sounds fine to me. What...?”

I do not get to finish my question. At that moment, we hear raised voices in the outer office; Francis’ and some other female voice I don’t recognise. The office door slams open, almost bouncing back on its hinges, and a woman strides in, her face like fury. She should be rather attractive, beautiful even, with immaculate makeup, expensive designer clothes, and sleek dark hair. However, her enraged expression spoils her beauty.

Francis follows her in, gesturing apologetically at my Master.

The stranger snaps, “Richard! This fucking woman of yours tried to tell me I can’t come in.” Then, registering me, she halts mid-stride, raising one eyebrow.

My Master stands, not looking pleased. “Adele, it is Francis’s job to ensure that I am not disturbed when I am in a meeting.”

Her lip curls. “Yes, I can see what kind of meeting you are having. Who’s this then? Your latest little trollop?”

My Master takes a deep breath, then speaks in measured tones, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “If it were any of your business, Adele, I might answer that. But it isn’t. The last time we met, if you recall, you stood me up. At the time, I took it as an informal way of you finally saying goodbye. I still do. Now, please leave. Feel free to call me this evening, if you think we have something to discuss. Right now, I would like to return to my discussions here.”

She stands frozen for a moment, her head back, and wearing that arrogant ugly lip curl, then turns her gaze to me. “I wouldn’t hope for too much, dear.” She spits the words. “You’re not the first. You won’t be the last.” She spins and marches out, followed by Francis.

My Master waits a few seconds then follows them out. I hear him speaking. “Francis, check with reception that she’s left the building, would you? Then cancel her entry codes. I don’t want any repeat of this.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Haswell. I tried to stop her bursting in like that, but she wouldn’t have it. You know what she’s like...”

“Yes, I remember well, just what she is like. Don’t worry about it, Francis. It’s not your fault. Just make sure that she can’t simply march in like that again.”

He comes back into the office and sits down next to me again. “My apologies, Elizabeth. That wasn’t fair on you. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s all right. It wasn’t your fault. Was she... Were the two of you...” My tongue ties.

How do I ask this?

“Yes, we were... But not now, or ever again. The last time I saw her was the night you and I met, when you decided to take an impromptu shower in my bathroom if you recall...” He grins, and my tension subsides a little.

While it was happening, I did not have time to be upset by Adele’s outburst. It was over too quickly, but now the meaning of her words is beginning to sink in. I am beginning to feel a little sick.

My Master sees this in my face. “Elizabeth, you mustn’t be upset by this. I do not want you upset by this.”

I nod and gulp but can think of nothing to say.

He grips me by my arm and tilts my face up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I know that you want more than I am offering, but I will make you no promises I do not believe I can keep. For now, you must accept that. But...” His grip on my arm tightens, almost hurting me. “But... she is part of my past. That night you and I first met, I was taking one last shot at making it work with her, God knows why.”

He releases me, and standing, sweeps his hair back with both hands, staring at the ceiling. “Anyway, whatever the reason, I tried. You just got a taste of her personality. And she was never really any different, even when I thought there might be something real between us. The reality is that she is manipulative, scheming, and really not very pleasant to know. I was simply besotted with her physical beauty. Whereas you, Elizabeth...” His smile returns as he looks at me. “... You are as sweet as Spring, and I will do my best to honour every promise I make you, because I know that you will do the same. Are you all right, Elizabeth?”

Biting my lip, I reply, “Yes, I am. Thank you, Master.”

“Good, let’s get back to work, and then later perhaps, we should continue celebrating your new apartment, eh?”

“Oh, yes, Master.” I laugh.

“You can wear that rather attractive green bodice you have. It goes with your hair beautifully.”

“Yes, Master.”

*****

But that evening, on my way home, I become aware of being shadowed again. Trying not to show that I know I am being followed, I pause again by shop windows, trying to pick out my stalker in the reflection, but he always slips out of sight before I spy him. Mack again?

Unnerved once more, I cut through the crowds to lose myself before continuing home. I decide that I must tell my Master what is happening.

*****

The green bodice my Master likes was chosen for him. I try to select clothes I think he will enjoy. Carefully I fit it into place, supporting my large breasts, but with the laces dangling free.

Matching side-laced panties and black lace stockings are, I think, all else that is needed. Possibly, I will not be wearing them for very long...

My Master strides into the apartment just as I finish preparing myself for him. Clearly, he is in the mood for action as, with no preliminaries, he pushes me flat back against the wall. “Stand there. I want to look at you.” Then, moving back for a better view, he says, “Lift your chin. I want to see your face properly.”

Obediently, I comply, tilting my face a little, to allow my Master to see my profile.

He seems pleased with the effect. “Do you have any champagne here?”

“Yes, Master. Shall I fetch it?”

“Yes, with glasses and ice.”

When I return, he is seated on the settee, sprawling a little, arms raised, hands clasped behind his head. His eyes follow me as I pour the wine and offer him a glass.

“Just put it on the table for now then come here. Stand in front of me.”

Again, I obey, placing myself before him, his face level with my hips.

“Closer. I want to be able to smell you.”

I move closer, my panties now almost brushing his face. He leans forward, one hand caressing my hip and thigh as he inhales deeply. “You smell wonderful, Elizabeth, but then you always do.” He leans back again onto the settee. “Now, play with yourself.”

I hesitate, a little unsure of what he is asking.

“I said, play with yourself. Finger yourself. Play with your clit. Fuck yourself. I want to watch you arouse yourself. Then, when you’re good and wet, I’m going to fuck you.”

Sliding fingers down the front of my panties, I rub, weaving through red curls so that my Master can see the movement through the green silk. His head tilts and his eyes are dark, his pupils wide as he watches. I allow a few foxy hairs to escape the lace of the panties, rosy against the white of my thighs.

My Master is not exactly smiling, but his teeth show a little, white against his tan as I see his breathing deepening. “I don’t think we need those, do we?” he says, and one-handed, he teases apart the side laces of the panties, discarding them.

“Unlace the top of your bodice. I want to see your breasts.”

Slowly, I pull the laces of the bodice open, allowing my heavy breasts to swing free from their confinement.

“Now, closer. Then start fucking yourself again.”

I stand close to him, as he leans farther back into the settee and says, “Closer. I want to see everything.”

I try to move closer, but cannot as my knees chafe against the couch.

“Closer,” he says. “Kneel up. Straddle me.”

Kneeling up, my legs parted astride my Master, he supports me with his hands on my hips, steadying me. “Now,” he commands. “Play with yourself. I want to see you dripping.”

This will not be difficult. The act of opening myself, so close to my Master’s face that I can feel the heat of his breath on my loins, is already arousing me and my pussy is moistly warm.

Slipping fingers between my legs, I start to play with my clit, pulling the hood back with one hand and rubbing it with the other. Working at my nub, it grows hard under my fingers. A couple of fingers in my pussy for a moment give me a little juice to lubricate myself, making my clit more slippery and easier to work.

“Put your hands on my shoulders. Support yourself,” my Master demands.

Taking one hand from my hips, he parts my lips, leaning in close to suckle at me. His tongue lapping at my bud is electric, and I moan, struggling to remain still in my awkward position balanced over him.

“I did not give you permission to move,” he says, withdrawing from me for a moment then returning to his work, nibbling at me, chewing lightly at my labia, and working my clit with his tongue.

My breath is shuddering now, and my balance is precarious.

“Take your hands from my shoulders. Support yourself against the back of the couch.”

My Master slides down now directly under me, my pussy open for his inspection. Looking up, he peruses my folds like a gourmet, tasting and licking, flicking at my clit with his tongue, working circles around it, and nibbling with his teeth.

I am very wet now, my breath ragged and broken. Pussy juices trickle and my Master licks them away. He tongues my entrance, probing, first lightly, and then more deeply. His face presses close to me, drinking my depths as I judder and squirm, fighting the impulse to buck my hips. With my face flushing, sweat trickles down between my breasts.

Through my growing euphoria, I hear something - a buzz. A vibe? Where did he get it from? His pocket? I have no time to wonder as, abruptly, my Master pins me by one thigh, arm wrapped tightly around my leg. In the same moment, he applies the vibe to my clit, sending waves of electric stimulation shooting through me. I squeal in shock, convulsing reflexively as he circles my clit with the vibe, first probing into the root, then skimming the tip, now sensitized and swollen. Juices gush from my throbbing cunt, and an unbearable tension builds in waves, as my Master works mercilessly at my tender button.

My orgasm rises quickly, engulfing me in spasm after spasm of pleasure. At some level I am aware that my Master is no longer working my clit, but has buried himself in my pussy, drinking from me as I cum, his mouth locked over me, his tongue penetrating, prolonging my climax as I shudder and scream.

Barely does my orgasm subside when he pushes me away and down onto the floor. Standing, he towers over me, stripping off his shirt and pants. As they drop in a heap beside me, he says, “On your hands and knees, Elizabeth. Ass up. I want to see you.”

Submissively, I obey, dropping down to rest on my elbows, my head well down so that my naked buttocks are presented for my Master.

“Good girl. Now stay there.” He strides to his briefcase and extracts a red and black leather paddle. I recognise it; I bought it for him as a birthday present[1].

He walks around me, stroking me with the paddle, skimming my hair with it, sliding it over my spine. Lightly, he taps a bare buttock with it, and I quiver in anticipation.

“You like that, eh?” He taps the other buttock, harder this time, making me yelp. “Be quiet,” he commands. “Tonight, I think I’m going to test your limits a little. You remember your safe word?”

“Yes, Master. Redhead.”

“Good. Let’s see how far you want to ride...”

A tingle runs down my spine. I have barely come down from the waves of one orgasm, but already I feel my body’s response to my Master. Biting my lip, nonetheless, my pussy juices flow, trickling down my thighs.

“I can see that, Elizabeth. I know you’re enjoying this. Now... a question for you. I can either fuck you from behind or face-fuck you. Which is it to be?”

“I don’t mind, Master. You choose.”

With a thwack! that makes me gasp, the paddle slaps across my rear. “Wrong answer, Elizabeth. Now, do I shove my cock up your cunt or do I push it down your throat?”

My ass is smarting. “My mouth, Master. My mouth.”

Thwack! The paddle lands again, but this time harder and I yelp.

“Your mouth? What about your mouth?”

“Shove your cock in my mouth, Master. Face-fuck me.”

The paddle drops to the ground beside me, and this time instead, I feel my Master’s hand slap across my butt, hard this time, really hard. I yell in pain, but my Master is not fooled because my throbbing pussy gushes.

“I still think you’re enjoying this, Elizabeth.” His hand rams hard inside me, three fingers pumping in and out. “Ask nicely. If you want me to face-fuck you, ask nicely and tell me what you want me to do.”

“Please, Master. Let me suck you off. Let me make you cum.”

“And then?” Thwack! The hand slaps this time, not my buttocks, but my aching and streaming cunt. This time it really hurts, and I almost rise, jolted off my elbows by the pain. But as I start to rise, my Master grabs me by the hair, pinning my head low again. “Did I tell you to move?”

Gasping, I say, “No, Master.”

With his hand pressing my head to the carpet, my Master kneels between my splayed legs, forcing my knees a little farther apart with his and opening my pussy wider with his fingers. His erection presses against my smarting lips, then thrusts inwards.

I am slick and slippery. There is no resistance as he pumps into me, hard, meeting my inner walls. Although my elbows are still on the ground and my back arched to present my open pussy, he pulls my head back and up by my long red hair, making it difficult to breathe as I gasp and pant.

“Be quiet!” And still pumping me, he slaps my butt in time with his rhythm, first one side, then the other.

I am close to as much as I can stand. “Redhead!” I yell. “Redhead! Please, Master. No more.”

Instantly he withdraws from me and stands. “On your knees, Elizabeth.” And as I kneel up to him, he forces his finger between my lips. “Open!” he commands.

His cock is hugely erect and dripping with my juices as he presses into my mouth. As I wrap my lips and tongue around him, I know that it will not be long. Already I taste the honey salt of his pre-cum, and as I steady myself with one hand on his thigh, I feel the tension and the quiver of his build-up to climax.

I bind my lips tightly around my Master’s shaft, feeling the strain and the pulse of his pre-climax building at the base as I massage his balls with my free hand. Slipping my tongue around the head and into the sensitive slit, I gag as suddenly, he thrusts deep, pinning me by my hair as he shudders and groans into climax, spurting into me.

I cough and splutter as his cum fills my mouth, catching me at the back of my throat. Deep in orgasm though he is, my Master feels that I am choking and pulls free, shooting instead over my face and into my hair.

As his climax ebbs, I look up to see him with his eyes tightly shut, his face still locked in a grimace.

Relaxing, he opens his eyes, looking down at my cum-spattered face. “You’re beautiful, Elizabeth,” he says. Then wiping his cum from my face, he adds, “A little disheveled, but beautiful.”

He offers me a hand, helping me stand. I stagger, my sore bottom making me a little stiff.

“Are you all right, Elizabeth?”

“Yes, Master, I’m fine, really.” In fact, I am better than fine. I feel wonderful.

I am not going to spoil the moment. I will tell my Master about Mack Kane tomorrow.

The Story Continues in ‘The Master’s Sin’

Or

Buy ‘Bought by The Billionaire - Box Set Two’

Or

Buy The Complete Series in One Volume

‘Billionaire Beginnings’

‘

About the Author

Award-Winning author Simone Leigh is English, but lives in Spain with Him and her collection of rag-tag rescue dogs and cats.

Here, she divides her time between renovating her beautiful Casa Rurale (heavy emphasis on the Rurale), swimming naked in her pool and writing red-hot romance and thrillers.

Her steamy thriller series, ‘The Master’s Child’, was the winner of the 2019 'Page Reaper' Readers' Choice Awards in the BDSM & Ménage Categories. Part One of the series, ‘Target’, was winner of the Reader-Voted #BestBook from the 'Inks and Scratches' Summer Splash Book Awards.

Simone is assured by one internet troll that she is ‘Beyond Redemption’.

More From Simone Leigh

Want to Read Where It All Started?

Free Download

Buying the Virgin - Box Set One

She Auctioned Herself and Her Virginity

The penniless Charlotte dreams of a bright future, but with nothing to sell but herself and her virginity, she chooses to auction both to the highest bidder.

What will happen when her owner takes her away?

Claim Buying The Virgin Box Set One

Mastering the Virgin - Box Set One

FREE DOWNLOAD

You’ve read ‘Buying the Virgin’?

Told from Charlotte’s point of view?

Now read ‘Mastering the Virgin’, where James and Michael get their say.

The Boys are Back in Town....

Two Friends, One Virgin, One Week

It was all supposed to be about sex – a bit of fun.

No one mentioned Love...

A BDSM, Ménage Erotic Romance

Claim Mastering the Virgin Box Set One

‘Winter Wedding’ – ‘The Lover’s Children’ Part One

FREE DOWNLOAD

Kirstie and Ryan

They love each other...

They’ve waited for this.

They’ve worked for this

It’s their day...

What could go wrong?

A Steamy Winter Wedding Tale of Romance and Friendship

With A Feel-Good HEA

Claim ‘Winter Wedding’

Target - The Master’s Child - Part One

FREE DOWNLOAD

Life Is Good

Charlotte is expecting her Master’s baby.

Beth is pregnant by Richard, and now Michael’s ‘Second Wife’.

The Triad and the Couple are drawing ever closer. James has an ‘understanding’ with Klempner – He will stay away and allow Mitch to live her own life.

Life is close to perfect...

What could possibly go wrong?

Winner of the Reader-Voted #BestBook

In the 'Inks and Scratches' Summer Splash Book Awards

A BDSM Ménage Erotic Thriller

Claim Target’

Free Audiobook

‘Friends’

‘Mastering the Virgin’ Part One

The Boys are Back in Town....

James is a Dom. Michael loves women.

When the two become unlikely friends, they form a team, working the clubs and enjoying a carefree bachelor existence.

Until, one day, James is offered an unusual opportunity: to Buy a Virgin...

The First Part in a Tale of BDSM, Ménage Erotic Romance.

Her Master’s Wedding

Charlotte’s Search - Part One

FREE DOWNLOAD

When you Marry Two Men What Happens Next?

As Charlotte’s wedding day approaches, will her marriage to one of her Masters affect her relationship with the other?

Has her old enemy forgotten her? And will the past return to reveal its secrets?

A BDSM Ménage Romance and Thriller

CLAIM Her Master’s Wedding

Suggested Reading Order For the ‘Buying the Virgin’ Story

The story of ‘Buying the Virgin’ started out as a simple little story of a week of auction erotica frolics told from the point of view of Charlotte ‘The Virgin’, with James, her purchaser and Master, and his friend Michael. This was five episodes making up what is now ‘Buying the Virgin’ Box Set One

The tale has however, grown in the telling: with ‘Buying the Virgin’ (BTV), ‘Mastering the Virgin’ (MTV), new characters introduced in ‘Kirstie’s Tale’ and ‘Charlotte’s Search’ and it has absorbed ‘Bought by the Billionaire’ whole. And now we have ‘The Master’s Child’.

Understandably enough, I am receiving an increasing number of requests for a suggested reading order for the books.

So, I’ve put together a guide in this blog post It’s by no means set in stone. Much of BTV and MTV can be read interchangeably, but for those of you who are perhaps new to the story or who have encountered it half-way through, perhaps with a free download of ‘Triad’ or similar, here’s a suggested reading order for you.

Free Resource

‘Buying the Virgin’ Timeline Infographic

‘Buying the Virgin’ started out as a bit of fun erotica. My original intention was to write a series of five short stories that would give readers a 30 minute ‘helping’ of erotica over a cup of coffee.

But the story has grown in the telling to include ‘Buying the Virgin’, ‘Mastering the Virgin’, Charlotte’s search and More

We’re heading toward million words and still going strong.

So, for those of you who would like to check in what order to read the books, I have an infographic for you. I update it regularly, and at some point, when I get my ‘tech-head’ screwed on, I’ll produce an improved version with the book links built in.

Hope it helps 😊

Visit Simone Leigh’s Website

simone-leigh.com

Romantic, Intelligent, Erotic Fiction

Contact Me

Simone Leigh

If you would like to get in contact, with comments, questions, reviews or even requests for the kinds of stories you would like to read in the future, I’d love to hear from you.

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Also By Simone Leigh

Mastering the Virgin

Part 1 - Friends

Part 2 – Partners

Part 3 – Allies

Part 4 – Comrades

Part 5 – Rivals

Part 6 – Lovers

Part 7 – Masters

Part 8 – Dominants

Part 9 – Suitors

Part 10 – Penitents

Part 11 – Confidants

Part 12 - Champions

Part 13 – Triad

Part 14 – Alphas

Part 15 – Guardians

Part 16 – Hunters

Part 17 – Saviours

Part 18 – Family

Mastering the Virgin – Box Set One (Books 1 -4)

Mastering the Virgin – Box Set Two (Books 5 – 8)

Mastering the Virgin – Box Set Three (Books 9 – 12)

Mastering the Virgin Box Set 4 (Books 13 – 15)

Mastering the Virgin Box Set 5 (Books 16 – 18)

‘Mastering Charlotte’ – The Complete ‘Mastering the Virgin’ (Books 1 – 18)

Mastering The Virgin – Audiobooks

Part 1 – Friends (Free Download)

Part 2 – Partners

Part 3 – Allies

Part 4 – Comrades

Part 5 – Rivals

Part 6 – Lovers

Part 7 - Masters

Part 8 – Dominants

Part 9 - Suitors

Box Set One – Parts 1-4

Box Set Two – Parts 5 - 8

Charlotte’s Search

Part One – Her Master’s Wedding

Part Two – Her Lovers’ Touch

Part Three – The Sin of the Parent

Part Four – The Daughter’s Manumission

Part Five – The Father’s Betrayal

Part Six – The Shadow of Obsession

Part Seven - The Loss of Innocence

Part Eight – Her Mother’s Love

Part Nine – Her Enemy’s Promise

Charlotte’s Search – Box Set One (Books 1 – 3)

Charlotte’s Search Box Set Two (Books 4 – 6)

Charlotte’s Search Box Set Three (Books 7 – 9)

Charlotte’s Search – The Complete Story (Books 1-9)

The Master’s Child

Part 1 – Target (Free Download)

Part 2 – Ransom

Part 3 – Hostage

Part 4 – Kirstie’s Christmas

Part 5 – Predator

Part 6 – Prey

Part 7 – Fatale

Part 8 - Vitale

Part 9 – Natale

The Master’s Child – Box Set

Box Set One – Parts One to Three (Free Download)

Box Set Two – Parts Four to Six

Box Set Three – Parts Seven to Nine

The Lover’s Children

Part 1 – Winter Wedding (Free Download)

Part 2 - The Idylls of March

Part 3 – April’s Tears

Part 4 – Solstice

Part 5 – Summer’s Inferno

Part 6 – Autumn’s Fury

The Lover’s Children – Box Set

The Lover’s Children – Box Set One

The Lover’s Children – Box Set Two

The Lover’s Children – Complete Series Box Set

Bought by the Billionaire

Prequel - Beth

Book 1 - The Master’s Maid (Free Download)

Book 2 - The Master's Contract (Free Download)

Book 3 - The Master's Courtesan

Book 4 - The Master's Desires

Book 5 - The Master's Fantasies

Book 6 - The Master's Obsession

Stand-Alone Story – The Master’s Birthday (Free Download)

Book 7 - The Master's Sin

Book 8 – The Master’s Heart

Book 9 The Master’s Rage

Book 10 – The Master’s Revenge

Book 11 - The Master’s Wife

Book 12 – The Master’s Wife’s Birthday

Bought by the Billionaire Box Set

Bought by the Billionaire. Box Set One. Books 1-6 (Free Download)

Bought by the Billionaire. Box Set Two. Books 7-10

Buying the Virgin

Book 1 - The Virgin - Auctioned (Free Download)

Book 2 - The Virgin - Sold

Book 3 - The Virgin - No More

Book 4 - The Virgin – Unleashed

Book 5 – The Virgin – Fulfilled

Book 6 – The Virgin’s Holiday

Book 7 – The Virgin’s Christmas (Free Download)

Book 8 – The Virgin’s Valentines

Book 9 - The Virgin’s Master

Book 10 - The Virgin’s Lover

Book 11 – The Virgin’s Fantasies

Book 12 – The Virgin’s Choices

Book 13 – The Virgin’s Summer – Part One (Free Download)

Book 14 – The Virgin’s Summer – Part Two

Book 15 - The Virgin’s Summer – Part Three

Book 16 - The Virgin’s Summer – Part Four

Book 17 – The Virgin and the Masters – Part One (Free Download)

Book 18 – The Virgin and the Masters – Part Two

Book 19– The Virgin and the Masters – Part Three

Book 20 – The Virgin and the Masters – Part Four

Book 21 – The Virgin and the Masters – Part Five

Book 22 – The Virgin and the Masters – Part Six

Book 23 – The Virgin’s Wedding

Book 24 – The Virgin’s Real Christmas

Buying the Virgin Box Set

Buying the Virgin, Box Set Books 1-5

Buying the Virgin, Box Set Two Books 6 - 12

Buying the Virgin, Box Set Three, Books 13 – 16 ‘The Virgin’s Summer’

Buying the Virgin, Box Set Four, Books 17 – 22 ‘The Virgin and the Masters’

‘Buying Charlotte’ – The Complete ‘Buying the Virgin’ Books 1 - 24

Kirstie’s Tale

Part 1 - A Dream of White Horses

Part 2 – An Illusion of Happiness

Part 3 – The Gathering of Storm Clouds

Part 4 – A Conspiracy of Ravens

Kirstie’s Tale – The Box Set

Submissive to Her Master

Book 1 - Enslaved (Free Download)

Book 2 – Enthralled

Book 3 – Entranced

Book 4 – Enticed

Submissive to Her Master Box Set

Submissive to her Master Box Set Books 1-4

Call of the Wild

Book 1 - Freedom (Free Download)

Book 2 - Thralldom

Book 3 - Retribution

Book 4 – Revelation

Book 5 – Redemption

Call of the Wild Box Set

Call of the Wild – The Box Set

Tales of Blood and Darkness

Red as Blood (Free Download)

White as Bone

Black as Sleep (Coming Soon)

Standalone

Hearts of Fire. Poems of Love, Romance and Erotica

Shieldmaiden

Viking (FREE Download)

Love by the Waters

[1] See ‘The Master’s Birthday’ – Free Download from simone-leigh.com

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