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.

through clit and cunt and heart. With a yell of triumph, I squirm and writhe in my Master’s firm grasp as he continues slamming my molten cunt. Seconds later, I feel and hear his climax also. He drives home into me, balls bouncing against me and hips grinding as he shudders me full

on the ass one last time. “Not bad for a first shot, eh Elizabeth? The first of many I think, over the next

*****

me, then start in surprise. It is Ross, resplendent in a fully-fledged butler’s uniform and holding a silver

a butler too. I thought you were just Richards’

“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 awkward moment. But I

to look demure, sophisticated, but know that I am failing. Ross and I have been solid friends for some while, and he knows me rather well. “That’s quite

glances over from the other side of the table. I do not believe he can have heard what was said, but I think he gathers the gist well

Mr Haswell.”

of wine as well as you can Ross. You serve the meal and then take the rest of the evening off. I think you’ll find there are some very good pubs in

silent, but nods his head 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 a glowing log fire. Contently cradling my wineglass, not feeling the need to speak, I am happy simply

we make use of it again later.” He winks at me, and a familiar warm rush

he continues, “I have

“Oooh. What is it?”

me. I take it and look at it a

it.” he says, exasperation in

document. I read the top few lines. “Register of Title: Elizabeth Haswell née

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

my

title deeds for this

be worth…… millions. Speechless, I just

before, to gift 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 worried for a moment.

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

a ‘Well don’t blame me for your assumptions’ look. “Now