Bought By The Billionaire

I am tired of studying. Although I have exams next week and need to revise, my brain and eyes are tired. I can feel myself growing stale almost by the minute.

My Master is sitting opposite me, working, legs crossed at the ankle, examining papers and accounts, making occasional notes in the margin. Bored with reading about economics, budgets, surplus and deficits, financial accounting versus cost accounting, and..... I decide it is time for a change of tone. Plucking a grape from the bunch on the table next to me, I toss it at my Master. It bounces off his file, and down onto the settee beside him.

Over his glasses, he gazes expressionlessly at me for a moment, picks up the grape, pops it in his mouth, and returns to his note making.

Piqued at such a non-response, I pluck and toss another grape. This time it lands on his lap. Once again, he levels a look at me and pops it in his mouth. "I thought you were supposed to be working?” he says. “Studying hard for your exams?”

"Well yes, but I'm tired. I need a break."

"You need a break, so I have to be disturbed while I am trying to work?"

"You've been at it for hours too. Don't you want a rest as well?"

"I need to get this done for the meeting with the Thorntons tomorrow."

“You'll perform better at the meeting if you're rested.”

“Later Elizabeth. Right now, I must finish this.” And he returns to his reading.

I wait for a minute, then toss a third grape at him. This time he, somehow, catches it one-handedly in mid-air, apparently without even looking at it.

As he puts it in his mouth he says, "If you keep this up, I’ll put you over my knee and spank your ass red.”

At his words, my panties suddenly become moist with heat. With a take a sharp intake of breath, I now know what kind of break I’m looking for.

that grapes as a tactic are passé, I wheel out the

stretching back in my chair like a cat, I start to trace the outline of my breasts, trailing fingers over my contours, waiting for my Master to notice. Irritatingly, he appears to be unaware of what I am

and revealing a slight view of my panties. This time,

looking at his files, his eyes instead follow my fingers as they draw circles around the outline of my nipples whereas they harden, they begin to display through the fabric. My nipples, responding, pucker up under the attention they are receiving,

fingers trail down between breasts, stomach and thighs, ever lower towards the hem of my skirt. Slipping under and in, they trace a line along the inside of my thighs

transfixed, his work abandoned beside him. Sitting with arms folded, legs outstretched, he watches my performance,

and around my sex and clit, massaging myself through the sheer fabric, all the while, watching my Master’s reactions. His eyes are level, pupils wide and dark. For

panties, I play with my clit, gently tormenting my warming bud, allowing the contour of my moving fingers to be outlined through the silk, as a dark wet stain spreads across the fabric. My Master’s head tilts a

“Master?”

panties. Get rid

rise, slide out of the garment and start to

points to the other end of the settee on which he is sitting. “There, Madam, if you

everything that is his. It is not entirely coincidental, that now I am in this position, it will be very easy for my Master to lean forward to reach me. I am hoping it

shows no sign of doing this yet. Instead, he has swung around, watching me in silence. Adjusting my position to

letting the garment fall open, before sliding it from my shoulders and letting it fall away. My green lacy bra goes the same way. Unclipping it, I allow my large, pendulous breasts to swing free, nipples now hard, rosy and crinkled with

further. Plucking and rolling it, I ensure that my Master can see what I am doing at all times, his view uninterrupted. His eyes indicate I should give the other breast similar attention, so changing around, I lift and caress the other

for my skirt, I want to draw my Master

to

red curls to neatly trimmed pussy lips, I open myself up, parting moist and swelling folds to reveal my dripping

bulge in my Master’s jeans is unmistakable now. As I dip fingers into my wet pussy, slipping them rhythmically in and out, a sheen of sweat develops on

perspiring heavily, droplets hovering between my breasts, as my heart begins to race. Finger fucking myself, I keep my thumb pressed against my

God, Master. Please. I

launches himself towards me, ready to bury