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?”

cook and clean for us. Ross insisted on being one of them.” He tips his head towards our driver, whose grin I can

but the house comes into view.

door set into a deep porch. Half

must have cost a fortune to hire

Richard. It’s beautiful. I love it. And yes, of course I wanted us

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

to my eyes, the words still too new for the shine to

a companion that beckons up a long, curved stairway. To my left, I see a sunlit drawing room. To my right is a dining room, laid out for dinner with candelabras and fresh flowers on a long

is a house

I simply

you like it?” My Master has a worried tinge to his

Whilst we are in public, my husband is ‘Richard’. In private,

me upstairs. “I chose a bedroom for us, overlooking the lake.” he says. “But we can always change it, if

views are to die for. A huge bed takes centre stage in the room. Sunshine slants over red satin covers, scattered with white rose petals. An ice bucket sits

shall we.” He pops the cork, and pours two glasses.

We toast. “To us.”

“To us.”

sniffing at the bubbles up my nose. “I feel as

his glass carefully to one side and stands before me, hands resting on my waist, face tilted down to mine. “I wanted us to have a beautiful

grins wickedly. “But there’s

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

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

honeymoon. I thought we might find some other things to do? And besides, I want

again and his mouth twitches as his blue,

He’s not been fooled for a minute. “Why don’t you

a glint of humour crinkling his eyes, then, standing back, arms

is an instruction, and I always obey

to unbutton the blouse, allowing the slinky fabric to slip to one side, revealing what I am wearing beneath. As the blouse opens, displaying black leather and lace, chrome fittings and buckles, my Master’s head tilts to one side, eyes widening