Bought By The Billionaire
Chapter 39: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Thirty-Nine
… 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.
up inside me, winging its way through clit and cunt and heart. With a yell of triumph, I squirm and writhe in my Master’s firm grasp as he continues
last time. “Not bad for a first
*****
comment to the figure standing next to me, then start in surprise.
know you were a butler too. I thought
for a moment, speaking quietly. “About
failing. Ross and I have been solid friends for some while, and he knows me rather well. “That’s quite
but I think he gathers the gist well enough. He smiles, a glint of humour in his eyes, and turns his attention to removing the
job, Mr Haswell.”
of wine as well as you can Ross. You serve the meal and then take the rest of
acknowledgement, clearly ‘taking the
cooked and skilfully presented, the portions are 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
make use of it again later.” He winks at me, and a familiar
have a wedding
“Oooh. What is it?”
and look at it a bit blankly.
it.” he says, exasperation in
I read the top few
is the ownership document for some property or other.
look to my Master. “What
title deeds
drops. The house must be worth…… millions. Speechless,
Quite a lot older. I want you to be secure. It was difficult before, to gift you property. There are all sorts of complications with tax and so forth. But now that we are married….” he
But, I thought, well, I just assumed,
again, spreading his hands in a ‘Well don’t blame