Bought By The Billionaire

Chapter 21: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Twenty-One

My Master stands again and, holding the flogger by the cords, pushes the handle up inside me. “My juicy Elizabeth… Who would have thought you could be such a glutton for punishment?” Once more supporting me by the waist, he pumps inside me with the flogger handle, hard and rough, but it is slick with my surging juices and slides easily in and out.

Half delirious in tormented bliss, I squall and scream as I writhe in my Master’s grasp, the handle pounding inside me all the while. It is too much, too much and I can take no more.

“Redhead!” I yell. “Redhead. Redhead.” Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

He stops instantly, withdrawing the handle. Unclamping my nipples, he reaches up to uncuff my hands. My weight released, I stagger against the spreader bar hobbling my ankles, but he catches me and lifting me bodily, dumps me roughly on the bed.

With barely a pause in his stride, he grabs first one hand, fettering the wrist to the cuffs attached to the bed head, then the other, stretching my arms wide. Quickly he removes the spreader bar, shoves a pillow under my hips, and strips off his jeans.

Naked, his erection pulses huge, red and throbbing, erect against his taut stomach. “’Redhead,’ he says, “only counts for whips and flails. Now I’m going to finish you off properly. You’re going to be fucked so hard it pins your brains to the wall.”

Still quivering from the effect of the flail, inside and out, I lie bonelessly as he raises me by the hips, lifting my legs and rolling me back on myself, feet skywards. Spreading me wide at the knees, he gives himself a close-in view of my buttocks and my red and engorged pussy.

Grabbing me by the hair, he tugs my face forward. “Now watch,” he says roughly. “That’s it, eyes wide open. You want to be fucked? Let’s see.” And again he plunges the handle of the flail inside me, all the while pulling my face forward by my hair so that I can watch the red and black leather relentlessly

pumping in and out of my cunt. Gasping and moaning in time with the movement, I am helpless with pent-up lust and the desire to cum.

From his briefcase my Master produces an egg, which he switches to full power; then parting my lips wide, pushes it home inside me with two fingers. As the vibe pulses its erotic beat through my core, I buck helplessly against it, but he slaps my butt hard. “None of that,” he says. “You’re staying exactly where you are.”

Again from the briefcase he extracts two soft silk cords. Tying them first around my knees, then around the post of the headboard, he has me trussed tight and unable to move.

I am lying on my back, half curled around on myself, my legs rolled up and open, my knees and cunt splayed. Inside me, the egg continues its relentless work on my inner muscles. I am shaking so hard I can barely breathe, but now, having me tied helpless, my Master pauses again, slowing his pace.

“I hope these walls are soundproof,” he says. “because now, I’m really going to make you scream. I wanted you good and sensitive before giving you permission to cum, and perhaps then I won’t stop as quickly as I might.”

He looks down at my sex, red, swollen and dripping for him. Sliding a finger briefly inside, he withdraws it, wet and glistening, and deliberately as I watch, sucks it dry. “Lovely. Juicy as a ripe peach.”

Leaning forward, he teases my distended clit with a finger, flicking, circling and pinching. In rapture, I strain and moan, my moan turning to a howl as he settles his mouth around me, working me with his tongue. Orgasm builds fast inside me. My breathing is so fast I feel I might black out. My heart pounds, and I writhe uselessly against the bonds at wrist and knee. The egg inside, and the thrill of my Master’s tongue outside, merge into one huge, extended sensation. When he slaps me, I hear the sound, but the feeling is one with the sexual overload I am experiencing. Finally, my Master’s tongue moves into my pussy, probing within, then licking full length through my slit, and over my clit, again and again.

Explosively, I climax and, at some level, I know I am screaming ecstatically. Everything else stops as my world becomes the massive, brain-bending orgasm that is taking me. My Master is merciless, steadily working me with his tongue, teeth and lips, pulling me into him. Through my rapturous haze, I hear and feel his growling as he consumes me.

Finally, after an eternal moment, I can bear no more. “Redhead! Redhead!”

My Master does not immediately stop, instead drawing me out for another unbearable instant, before withdrawing and allowing me to collapse back, spent.

However, he has not finished. Unbelting and dropping his jeans, he kicks them to one side, his cock huge, already glistening at the tip. Kneeling between my legs, but still towering over me, he plunges inside, working to his own climax. His hips pound and twist, driving his shaft inside me.

This is not for me, but for him and I see his eyes tight shut, his face contorted almost into a grimace as he hammers his rhythm inside me. His breath is laboured and sweat pours down his chest, increasing his already heady male perfume.

Unbidden and unexpected, my barely subsided orgasm rises again, my body welcoming that of my Master within. My hips start to move to his tempo and I see his eyes open in surprise, meeting mine, as he realises what is happening. The grimace transforms into a smile like sunshine, before vanishing into the surge as orgasm takes him. My climax peaks with his, and I scream again in tune with his groans as he convulses and spasms, shooting his load into me.

Finally, he collapses on top of me, panting, falling between my still splayed knees onto my belly and breasts, his head resting against mine. He pants the words. “Ye gods. What a ride!”

I can think of nothing to say, and do less, still trussed as I am, so I just nod against his face, breathing heavily.

He raises himself, taking his weight on his arms, then leans forward to kiss me, not passionately now, but softly, barely brushing my lips with his, caressing my face with his hands. A smile curves his mouth. “I’d better get you out of there, hadn’t I.”

Releasing me from the ropes and unshackling me from the cuffs, he says, “Let’s enjoy the rest of it now. Champagne, smoked salmon and strawberries was it?”

“Yes, Master.”

Lying together on the bed, we nibble the sandwiches and clink glasses. “Master,” I say, thinking of the crop and paddle. “We didn’t use all of your presents.”

“Don’t worry, there will be plenty of opportunities for the rest. And Elizabeth….” he kisses me softly, lips brushing mine. “…. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Happy Birthday, Master.”

*****

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.”

“I’m on my way”.