Bought By The Billionaire

After long moments, the layers of silk, gauze and lace encasing me are pulled back and I emerge from my dim white tent, blinking a little in the sudden explosion of light. My Master eases me upright, turns me to face him, lifts me and carries me through to the bedroom, where he deposits me gently on the bed.

As he unknots his tie, stripping off his shirt, he smiles down at me. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t about to ravish you again just yet.”

“Of course not, Master. We’ll give it five minutes or so shall we?”

He chuckles as he lies down next to me, his head cradled in the crook of my neck. “Of course, yes. Foolish of me. Five minutes.”

His arms lock loosely around me. “I Love You, Elizabeth Haswell.”

“And I Love You too, Master.”

*****

“So where are we going?” I am excited. My Master, my new husband, has kept me in the dark as to where we will spend our honeymoon.

“You’ll see.” He sounds, and looks, smug, refusing to say another word on the subject. But, besides smug, he looks wonderful, wearing the plain white linen shirt and black jeans that suit him so well. The white of the shirt sets off his tan and the tightly fitting jeans enhance his…. figure.

I am demurely dressed in a white blouse, navy blue, knee length, skirt, and court shoes.

I try a different angle. “How long will we be away for?”

My billionaire Master has responsibilities and a heavy work schedule. I wonder if our ‘honeymoon’ is destined to be a long weekend only.

The car turns off the main highway. So, we are not going to the airport. Fantasies of sun-kissed beaches and blue seas fade away.

Instead, we follow narrow roads, away from the city entirely, up towards the mountains. After an hour or so, we turn in to a vast gateway, framed with intricate wrought iron rails and stone lions. A long drive curves ahead of us, set within close-clipped lawns. Beech, oak and chestnuts dot the landscape and, way down the hill; is that a lake?

“Oh, it’s lovely Richard? Is this the hotel where we’re staying?”

His smug-ometer is going off the scale. “It’s not a hotel. There’s just us.”

“Just us?”

towards our driver, whose grin I can see, even though the back of his head. “But apart

start to speak, but the house comes into view.

a small mansion, Georgian I think, and graciously designed. Tall windows frame a door set into a deep porch. Half a

have cost a fortune

And yes, of course I wanted us to be

Ross starts to unload our luggage. My Master steps out, walks around the car and opens my door, proffering his arm. “Would you like

It brings tears to my eyes, the words still too new for the shine to have worn

companion that beckons up a long, curved stairway. To my left, I

a house from

I simply stand

My Master has a

could I not like it Mas…. Richard?” I am conscious of Ross in the background. Whilst we are in public, my husband is

upstairs. “I chose a bedroom for us, overlooking the lake.” he says. “But we

huge bed takes centre stage in the room. Sunshine slants over red satin covers, scattered with white rose petals.

says my Master. “Let’s start with a toast shall we.” He pops the

We toast. “To us.”

“To us.”

nose. “I feel

resting on my waist, face tilted down to mine. “I wanted us to have a beautiful honeymoon. And

wickedly. “But there’s

way through a candy jar. Each sweetie seems better than the last. “What? What

want to unpack? Have a bath? Take a walk?” He is being polite, but there is

I thought we might find some other things to do? And besides, I want to show you

again and his mouth twitches as his blue, blue

be completely predictable. He’s not been fooled for a minute.

of humour crinkling his eyes, then, standing back,

an instruction, and I always obey

slip to one side, revealing what I am wearing beneath. As the blouse opens, displaying black leather and lace, chrome fittings and buckles, my