Bought By The Billionaire

Startled and abashed, I want to look anywhere but into his face.

“Do you realise Elizabeth,” he continues, “that this is where we first met? Time for a replay of those events I think.”

A cuff snaps around my wrist, and my arm is pulled upwards to the shower head, then locked into place.

My other arm follows, and I am bound naked to the showerhead, water still playing over my hair and face, breasts and stomach.

As I finally look at him, my Master is stripped down to his jeans, bare-chested and barefooted. “Francis left five minutes ago. You know, I was watching your performance there, for some while Elizabeth, and you didn’t even notice me. I must have been remiss in my attentions to you.”

He shrugs off the jeans. “I could fuck you brainless right where you are, but I think we can take a little longer over it. Do you like the cuffs? They’re new. I bought them as a present for you.”

The cuffs are bright, shiny and very secure. I could not now release my hands, firmly affixed above me, even if I wanted to. My pulse beginning to race, in anticipation of what is coming, I strain against the cuffs, using their restraint to stretch my belly flat, and raise my breasts, displaying myself to best effect for my Master.

“I have another present for you,” he says. And with that, he dangles small bejewelled clamps in front of me, giving me a good view of them before, one at a time, and slowly, attaching them to my nipples.

The attachment itself does not hurt. Quite the opposite, the mild nip as they gently take hold of my crinkled buds is stimulating. A frisson ripples through me, sending a fresh supply of hot juices running down my thighs, mixing with the still streaming waters of the shower. But my Master does not stop there.

Taking my chin in one hand, he directs my face towards my breasts, making sure that I see what he is going to do. My lips parted in anticipation of what I see is coming, ever so slowly, my Master squeezes on the left nipple clamp.

Pain

leasure surges through me. Squealing in agony/delight at the pain, my knees give under me and my weight drops onto my shackled wrists. My Master makes no attempt to support me. Instead, my legs splaying as my feet scrabble for purchase on the slippery shower floor, he releases my chin.

my clit between thumb and forefinger. Simultaneously he both pinches

scream. the pain sparkles through me, sending waves of arousal pulsating through my swollen cunt. Unable to stand, I hang from my wrists,

God. I can’t stand it. Please, Master.

of his torment, the biting of the clamps lessening bit by bit, until I

breathlessly, knowing that my Master can do what he wishes with me, I writhe in

over my breasts, moving in close, to target my tortured nipples. The sting of the water playing over my skin sends tingles skipping down through me again, further igniting my pussy.

he is heading, the sharp ping of the water over my skin moves down my belly, my loins and thighs, then directly upwards between my legs. My Master is in the shower with me, his erection pressed against my belly, as

aimed within, the spray moves

from the exquisite torment of the jet. Each needle of water caresses, nudges and torments

to his knees, my Master reaches inwards, parts already sensitive

and forth, alternating between cunt and clit, directing it over and into my clenching, twitching pussy. I stagger and totter, wailing and

overwhelming me as spasms pulsate through thighs, belly and cunt. I think I am gushing, but with the heat

me and taking some of my weight, relieving the strain on my wrists, but he does not cease his torture of my orgasmic

I scream “Redhead. Redhead. Stop, Master. Please

as I sag, limply, into him. Gasping and panting, utterly spent, I lean into his

moments, he whispers, close by my face. “And that is

not have the energy for more. Dripping and sated, I am content simply to rest against my Master, vaguely aware that, as yet, he has not yet climaxed himself, and not doubting that

for you, Elizabeth.” he says. “But you must tell me if you

love your gifts, Master. I’m sure I will