Bought By The Billionaire

Chapter 11: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Eleven

My Master slides a hand 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.

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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 my muffled cries escape.