Bought By The Billionaire

Chapter 5: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Five

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. © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

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.”