Bought By The Billionaire

… I pour icy champagne down the length of my Master’s back. He yelps, standing suddenly, bolt upright. I collapse into a fit of giggles, making no resistance as my Master grabs me and spins me, bending me over the back of a chair, pulling my ass up and out. Looking backward through a waterfall of my own long red hair, I catch a glimpse of his expression; laughing/stern. He tries to maintain his poise and authority, but is having difficulty.

His hand sweeps down on my derriere, slapping hard against one cheek, making me gasp and jump. But my pussy flutters a welcome.

“That, Elizabeth,” he says “Was very naughty. I am going to have to change my plans on what I had in mind for you today.”

“I’m sorry Master.” I splutter to stop myself from laughing. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Slap! The hand comes down on the other cheek, stinging. “I’m not going to stop this now,” he continues, “Until your rear end matches your hair.”

Since my hair is brilliantly red, my butt is in for some hard attention. At the thought, my clit begins to pulse. How far will my Master take this?

Slap! This time, the slap is followed by my Master repositioning me, forcing my ankles further apart with his shoe, bending me further forward and pulling open my butt cheeks to fully expose my pink and swelling, pussy and clit.

Dropping to his knees behind me, my Master stretches me open with his fingers, licking out the inside of my pussy, sucking up my flowing juices. I moan ecstatically as my inner muscle quiver and jump.

Then he stands and slaps again, first one, already glowing, cheek, then the other.

Twice more, he spanks, moving his hand to different areas of skin. Then he drops again, this time lapping his tongue over my twitching clit. He whirls his tongue in circles, winding the swollen nub in spirals that, with each circuit, send electricity sparking through my core.

Then again, he stands and slaps.

He develops a kind of rhythm, standing and kneeling, spanking and sucking, slapping and licking. Again, and again he repeats this. My abused ass is glowing, my honeyed clit rhapsodic.

I am incandescent, afire, wailing my mounting arousal and my Master works his magic on me.

Abruptly, he breaks his rhythm.

Standing again, instead of spanking me, he unzips, pulling out his long, thick cock, and plunges deep inside my slick passage, ramming home. His arms encircling me, he reaches for my clit and, over my screeches, starts tweaking and kneading, flicking and rotating, all the while pumping me from behind.

as he continues slamming my molten cunt. Seconds later, I feel and hear his climax

up straight, and slaps me on the ass one last time. “Not bad for a first shot, eh Elizabeth? The

*****

smells good.” I comment to the figure standing next to me, then start in

butler too. I thought

me. “Don’t know all my secrets yet do you Mrs Haswell?” Then he leans in close to me for a moment, speaking quietly. “About earlier Beth. Sorry if I caught you at an

Ross and I have been solid friends for some while, and he knows me rather well. “That’s quite alright Ross.

gathers the gist well enough. He smiles, a glint of humour in his eyes, and turns his attention to removing the cork

Mr Haswell.”

then take the rest of the evening off. I think you’ll

in acknowledgement, clearly

just enough to feel satisfied, without being bloated. Although the dining table is huge - it would easily seat twenty - my Master and I sit together at one end, candlelit and warmed by

use of it

he continues, “I have a wedding

“Oooh. What is it?”

envelope towards me. I take it and look at it a bit blankly. I’d been expecting

he says, exasperation in his

the top few lines.

read on. It is the ownership document for some property or other. I don’t

look to my Master.

the title deeds for

The house must be worth…… millions. Speechless, I just

you property. There are all sorts of complications with tax and so forth. But now that we are married….” he shrugs and smiles. “…those problems vanish.” He looks

I do. It’s an amazing house. But, I thought,

a ‘Well don’t blame me for