Bought By The Billionaire

Chapter 19: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Nineteen

… tonight will be the ‘unwrapping’ of my Master’s birthday present.

Because my hair is foxy, I do not care for wearing red as a colour. Perhaps it is the colour of love, but for me, it clashes. Instead, I have chosen green, a sumptuous deep shade in satin and lace, that sets off my Celtic pale skin, and complements my hair.

So, I am wearing a moss green bodice, underwired to support my large, and otherwise slightly pendulous breasts, and to enhance my cleavage. It is made up at the front with ‘untie me’ laces. The matching panties are scanty, and also of the tie kind. Carefully I make up the panty side laces into a bow, of the sort that might easily be undone by, say, teeth. My stockings are of the lacy-topped, hold-up variety, revealing the smooth curve of my thighs, inviting entry within.

Over the whole, I am wearing a full-length sheer silk negligee, also green: almost, but not quite transparent, hinting at what lies beneath, without actually revealing it.

My bedroom is carefully laid out and I hope that my Master will be pleased. There are candles and strategically placed cuffs, ropes and silk scarfs. I have champagne waiting in an ice bucket, and something to eat; tiny, bite-sized smoked salmon sandwiches, followed by strawberries and cream.

The door buzzes. “Hello, Elizabeth. It’s me.” Stepping into the lounge, my Master stops in mid-stride as he sees me.

He stands there smiling, teeth showing white against his tan, the smile growing broader and more approving as he takes in my outfit. Dressed in his usual out-of-work casual white linen shirt and black jeans, he looks, as always, just amazing.

“Happy Birthday,” I say, hand on hip, posing a little for him.

“Indeed,” he says. “a very Happy Birthday for me. It’s looking promising so far.”

He steps forward and grabs me by the wrist, pulling me under the ceiling lights. “Come here. I want to look at you.” Then spinning me around by the shoulders, he stands back for a better view.

His blue, blue eyes are deep and the smile has been replaced by intensity. I can almost taste his lust, rising to match my own spiralling passion, and I revel in it. This man is my Master, and oddly, that gives me a kind of power over him. I will do anything he asks, and I know that in return, he will never ask of me anything I will not willingly give.

“Would you like something to drink?” I ask. “Something to eat?”

“A drink,” he replies. “Eating can wait a while. I have other appetites right now.”

He sits, sprawling slightly on the settee while I open the champagne, holding a steady gaze with his eyes while I pop the cork. As I serve him a glass, almost negligently he leans back, waving me to stand before him. “Turn around,” he commands as, head back, his eyes narrow almost to slits. He sips from the champagne flute as I revolve slowly for him. Then, realising he wants a performance from me, I start to run my hands over the silky fabric of the negligee, sliding my fingers over the curve of my hips and waist, under the line of my breasts, briefly cupping myself as my Master’s eyes follow my movements.

“Take it off,” he says. “I’d like to see the rest of my birthday present.” His eyes are amused, but sensual.

“Yes, Master,” I reply obediently, “But this is not all of your birthday present.”

The champagne glass pauses halfway to his lips as I say this, and I see that, under the line of his clothing, he has an erection. I wonder how well, and how long, I can play him; how hard I can make my Master, just by performing for him.

The green robe is held in place with three laces at neck, breast and waist level. I untie the lowest one, permitting the silk to fall to one side, revealing my stockinged leg. I bend the knee a little to allow a

good view. Untying the second ribbon, the silky fabric swishes back, showing my panties and revealing the ribbons to either side of my hips. Through his jeans, I see my Master’s erection swell and twitch.

Unlacing the final tie, I allow the robe to fall open but do not remove it, instead, caressing my breasts through the bodice. My Master watches in silence, sipping champagne as I un-cup each breast from the bodice, exposing my already crinkling nipples, their pink deepening to rose. I do not wish to remove the bodice itself. That is my Master’s privilege and as I fondle my breasts, one in each hand, tweaking and rolling my nipples, I imagine the moment to come when he will pull the laces free to take what is his.

Sliding one hand down my stomach, I insert fingers into and under the top of my panties, watching closely as my Master’s mesmerised eyes follow every move. With the other hand, I slip fingers in between my legs, noticing that the green silk there is already wet. My Master sees this too.

“Come closer.”

Compliantly, I approach him, standing close so that he can touch me as he wishes, smell my desire for him. Hands on my hips, he pulls me close and presses his face into my sex. His hot breathes through the silk as he nuzzles at me.

Abruptly he stands, pushing the negligee from my shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. “Elizabeth, you are absolutely ‘Fuck-me’ beautiful.” he mutters, then starts pulling at the laces of the bodice.

“Master,” I say. “You might want to see the rest of your birthday present before we go any further.”

He pauses with almost a sharp intake of breath. With a thrill, I see he is struggling for self-control, cock bulging through his black jeans. His breathing is growing heavier. “Go on then,” he says. “Show me the rest.”

“In the bedroom.” I hold out a hand, inviting him to the bedroom door.

He looks at me silently for a moment, his smile almost on his eyes only, his mouth showing his teeth lightly gritted, then steps to the door. Opening it, he passes, then walks in and sits on the bed, looking at the gift-wrapped, be-ribboned, package lying on the satin covers.

His eyes scan the package, the silk ties I have attached to bedposts. I did not want my room to be too obviously ‘furnished’ for what I have in mind, but the ceiling hook which normally takes my hanging basket chair served perfectly as I removed the chair from its chain and replaced it with cuffs.

I sit next to him, eye-pointing the package. “It’s for you, Master. I hope you like it.”

He leans forward, and with one hand around my head pulls the pins from my hair, allowing my tresses to fall free, then pulls me towards him. He kisses me, full and voluptuously, open-mouthed, before saying, “Whatever is in here, Elizabeth, yes, I am quite sure I am going to like it.” Then he pulls at the ribbons of the package and lifts the lid from the box.

He gazes in silence for a moment before pulling me to him again. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I wasn’t sure that you were ready for this. Thank you.”

From the box, he takes the flogger, red and black leather, soft and flexible. He tests it on the back of his hand, raising eyebrows at the sheerly erotic snap of the leather over his skin. Then he takes the paddle, again red and black leather, again testing it on himself. The nipple clamps he experimentally tries on his little finger.

The riding crop, he examines closely, tests on his own arm with a sharp ‘Thwack’ that sends a thrill through me, then says, “I think we’ll build up to that. “Time enough for everything...”

He shakes his head. “You’re fucking wonderful, Elizabeth. Let’s eat. I think it’s going to be a long night and I don’t want you flagging halfway through my Birthday Celebrations.”

Stretched out together on the bed, we nibble sandwiches and sip champagne. I make a show of dipping strawberries in cream, eating them slowy. Then I realise that my Master is no longer eating or drinking. Instead, he is watching me: a gleam in his eye that I have come to recognise. “Time to move on,” he says.

Rolling off the bed, he holds out a courteous hand for me, helping me to stand, then steers me bodily to where the cuffs dangle from the hook in the ceiling. Fastening my wrists above my head into the cuffs, he whispers into my ear “Excellent idea. Well done, Elizabeth. Now, wait there, don’t move.”

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