Bought By The Billionaire

… tonight will be the ‘unwrapping’ of my Master’s birthday present.

Because my hair is foxy, I do not care for wearing red as a colour. Perhaps it is the colour of love, but for me, it clashes. Instead, I have chosen green, a sumptuous deep shade in satin and lace, that sets off my Celtic pale skin, and complements my hair.

So, I am wearing a moss green bodice, underwired to support my large, and otherwise slightly pendulous breasts, and to enhance my cleavage. It is made up at the front with ‘untie me’ laces. The matching panties are scanty, and also of the tie kind. Carefully I make up the panty side laces into a bow, of the sort that might easily be undone by, say, teeth. My stockings are of the lacy-topped, hold-up variety, revealing the smooth curve of my thighs, inviting entry within.

Over the whole, I am wearing a full-length sheer silk negligee, also green: almost, but not quite transparent, hinting at what lies beneath, without actually revealing it.

My bedroom is carefully laid out and I hope that my Master will be pleased. There are candles and strategically placed cuffs, ropes and silk scarfs. I have champagne waiting in an ice bucket, and something to eat; tiny, bite-sized smoked salmon sandwiches, followed by strawberries and cream.

The door buzzes. “Hello, Elizabeth. It’s me.” Stepping into the lounge, my Master stops in mid-stride as he sees me.

He stands there smiling, teeth showing white against his tan, the smile growing broader and more approving as he takes in my outfit. Dressed in his usual out-of-work casual white linen shirt and black jeans, he looks, as always, just amazing.

“Happy Birthday,” I say, hand on hip, posing a little for him.

“Indeed,” he says. “a very Happy Birthday for me. It’s looking promising so far.”

He steps forward and grabs me by the wrist, pulling me under the ceiling lights. “Come here. I want to look at you.” Then spinning me around by the shoulders, he stands back for a better view.

taste his lust, rising to match my own spiralling passion, and I revel in it. This man is my Master, and oddly, that gives me a kind of

you like something to drink?” I ask. “Something

a while. I have other appetites right

glass, almost negligently he leans back, waving me to stand before him. “Turn around,” he commands as, head back, his eyes narrow almost to slits. He sips from the champagne flute as I revolve slowly for him. Then, realising he wants a performance from me, I start to run my hands over the silky fabric of the negligee, sliding my fingers

see the rest of my birthday present.” His

reply obediently, “But this is not

that, under the line of his clothing, he has an erection. I wonder how well, and how long, I can play him; how hard I can make my Master, just by performing

the silk to fall to one side, revealing my stockinged leg. I bend the knee a little to allow a good view. Untying the second ribbon, the silky fabric swishes back, showing

remove it, instead, caressing my breasts through the bodice. My Master watches in silence, sipping champagne as I un-cup each breast from the bodice, exposing my already crinkling nipples, their pink deepening to rose. I do not wish to remove the bodice itself. That is my Master’s privilege and as I fondle my breasts, one in each hand, tweaking and rolling my nipples,

eyes follow every move. With the other hand, I slip fingers in between my legs, noticing that the green silk there is

“Come closer.”

he can touch me as he wishes, smell my desire for him. Hands on my hips, he pulls me close and presses his face into my sex. His hot breathes through the silk as he

ground. “Elizabeth, you are absolutely ‘Fuck-me’ beautiful.” he mutters, then starts pulling at

I say. “You might want to see the rest of your birthday present before we

he is struggling for self-control, cock bulging through his black jeans. His breathing is growing heavier. “Go on then,”

out a hand, inviting him to