Her Billionaire's Erotic Rules (#2 The Mansion): Erotica (Erotic Sex Stories)

by Cavalli, Anjah

  Her Billionaire’s Erotic Rules – (#2 The Mansion)

  The driver showed up promptly at 7:00 p.m. on Friday, having made a courtesy call 15 minutes prior to his arrival. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, a silver limo glided to a halt in front of my apartment building. Due to the length of the limo, the driver had to double-park behind a row of parked cars. Fortunately, I was watching for him and ran out with my overnight bag containing a change of clothes and other personal items. I could see some of my neighbors grilling on their balconies and playing with their kids on the front lawn - stopping to stare as the driver opened the back door for me. I was thankful that they couldn’t see me laughing at their dumbfounded expressions behind the tinted glass as we whisked away.

  I sunk back into the plush, leather seat and took in the luxurious surroundings: the muted lighting, the wood paneling on the doors, the flashing lights and LEDs from various electronic gizmos. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of leather. The absolute silence was comforting; there was no engine rumble and no exterior noise from traffic. I felt like I was in a state of commercially-induced nirvana, calm and clear-headed.

  Since the meeting with T. G., the days had been filled with anticipation and mounting excitement. It was like a switch had been turned on and I couldn’t turn it off if I’d wanted to. I felt alive. My life had meaning, purpose and all obstacles had been removed. I was afraid that when Friday finally arrived, I would be told that there had been a change of plans and that I should return to my department and my dreary existence. But the plan hadn’t changed and now I was racing at full throttle toward my destiny.

  The driver lowered the tinted glass between us to inform me that it would be a 45-minute drive and that I was to help myself to the bar, the TV or the sound system. “Mr. Herron did ask that you listen to a recorded message he left you. Whenever, you’re ready, just pick up the telephone and press the red light. I’ll get back to the road now. Buzz if you need anything, Miss.” With that, the glass rose and I was again in my own private world.

  I started to reach for the phone, but then thought, Wait a minute - I think I will help myself to the bar and proceeded to do so. There was a tempting assortment of bottled drinks, but when I saw the lemon and lime wedges that someone had gone to the trouble to prepare, I decided to have a gin and tonic. Leaning back and taking a sip, I slipped on the headset and pushed the flashing light. Now I was ready.

  “Hello, Rachel. T. G. here. I hope you’ve given some thought to what we talked about the other day.” (Yeah, like I’ve thought about anything else!) “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better and I think it’ll be fun…and educational, as they say. Enjoy the ride.”

  My heart was racing and I think that I actually swooned. At any rate, I reclined on my side, kicked my legs up on the seat and got comfortable. I sipped at my drink and played the recording again, feeling the same shiver surge through my body as I had the first time. I looked up at the clouds passing by outside the window.

  Sometimes fairy tales come true, I thought.

  I’d had time since the interview to second-guess myself and the situation. I could imagine what some might say if I’d told them about T. G.’s offer or, certainly, the sex, so I didn’t share anything with anyone. Was I being used, or exploited? Was I little better than a whore, prostituting myself for a shot at the big time?

  Well, I didn’t feel like a whore. I felt like someone who had just graduated from college with thousands of dollars in student loan debt, who was job hunting in one of the most competitive career fields during one of the worst recessions in history and who was holding down two jobs – one of which paid nothing – and barely covering my bills. If the odds are stacked against you, then any advantage you can acquire helps. I was certain that if T. G. desired a courtesan, he could afford the very best. He saw something else in me. It was sexual, for sure and maybe he got an extra thrill by having an inappropriate relationship with a subordinate, but maybe, just maybe, it was me. The person I am, or something he saw in me. And if that meant becoming his little sex toy until he was bored with me, then fine; as long as it was mutually beneficial.

  I slugged down the rest of the gin and tonic and decided to have another. I searched the satellite stations and settled on some smooth, jazzy kind of torch song. The woman’s voice, the spare piano and string section made for a languid, sensual mood. I slipped my shoes off, closed my eyes and thought of the possibilities which lay ahead.

  Okay, I conceded, maybe I was just a bit whorish, after all.

  After driving through a heavily wooded area and down a private road which ended at a barricade, manned with uniformed guards, we were greeted with a panoramic view of “the house,” a huge, rambling mansion surrounded by a lush, green landscape. Beyond the residence, I could see horses gathered in a pasture. There was a helicopter parked on a helipad on one side of the residence, its blades twirling lazily in the breeze.

  It was exactly how I’d pictured a billionaire would live.

  A female staff member greeted me at the door. “Mr. Herron and his guests are on the patio. Follow me, please.” We walked through a large sitting room and a living room dominated by a grand piano. Artwork and tapestries hung on the walls and display cases with photographs caught my eye. I could have spent hours poring over the decorations and furnishings, but then we arrived at a pair of glass doors. My guide opened the doors and I walked onto the sunlit patio. T. G. and an older man and a young woman were seated at a round glass table. T. G. rose and greeted me with a hug.

  “Rachel, I’m so glad you’re here.” He gave me a light kiss on the neck and a shiver ran down my spine. “Let me introduce you to everybody. This is my old friend – I’m sorry, my friend, Neville and his friend Simone.” Neville looked to be in his fifties, with a large belly that caught on the table when he rose to shake my hand.

  “That’s right, don’t be calling me your ‘old’ friend, mate. Pleased to meet ya, Rachel,” he said in a thick Australian accent, while vigorously shaking my hand. “Heard a lot about ya, most of it good, yeah.” His eyes squinted and a big smile stretched across his face. “And this is my fellow traveler, Simone. This is her first time in the States, ain’t it, doll?” Simone stood and leaned forward to shake my hand. She was beautiful, with caramel colored skin and long, frizzy hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “That’s a beautiful dress,” I said. It was a floral pattern with a low-cut top and straps. The flowers were large, tropical fauna, scarlet and violet; very exotic, like Simone herself. I couldn’t help noticing the way her breasts swayed as we shook hands.

  “Thank you. And you look nice, too. Very comfortable.” Her voice had a slight lilt to it, an accent that I couldn’t quite place. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” The sun was nearing the tree line, and shadows from the trees and a distant barn spilled across the grass. I nodded.

  A young man in a black polo shirt and khakis appeared as I sat down. “Would you like something to drink, ma’am?” I looked around and saw that T. G. and Neville were drinking beer. Simone had what appeared to be a daiquiri in front of her.

  I decided on a beer. T. G. said, “Now, don’t feel obliged to drink this Australian swill they call beer just because we are.” I laughed and repeated my order and a long, elegant glass appeared, with just a minimum of foam on top. He resumed his place with other servers gathered at a long table bedecked with serving trays. T. G. leaned over and told me he’d join me whenever I cared to get something to eat.

  “Good girl,” Neville exclaimed. We all clinked glas
ses and sipped our drinks. For the next ten minutes, Neville kept up a steady flow of jokes and wise cracks and it was easy to see why T. G. enjoyed his company. He, too, was a successful businessman, beginning as a music promoter. In the course of his tales, it seemed that he’d dabbled in just about everything. As enjoyable as his company was, though, I couldn’t help but think that I preferred T. G.’s quiet reserve to the raucous repartee of the Aussie.

  “I met Simone during a photo shoot for one of our ad campaigns. Couldn’t let her go without plying my charm. Be damned if it didn’t work! I mean, look at her face. Those cheekbones! Of course, what really sold me was her posing in a swimsuit. Those breasts! Come on, Simone. Show them what I’m talking about.”

  Simone looked down demurely, smiling. Looking up, her eyes flashed and she asked, “Would you really like to see them? I’m tipsy enough, you know.” We all laughed and encouraged her to show us. She stood up and walked over to T. G. She undid the dress straps and bent forward, her round, dark breasts spilling out into her hands. We made admiring sounds and she stepped over to give me a closer look. “Go ahead and touch them, Rachel. They are 100% real. Go on.”

  I felt a little awkward, but we were all getting loose and I didn’t want to put a damper on the fun. I placed my hands under her breasts and squeezed them slightly, like examining produce. They were soft yet heavier than I expected. “They’re very nice,” I said. “I’m jealous.” Which was partly true, as I’m somewhat bereft in that area.

  “That’s lovely,” Neville said wistfully, his face resting on his hand, enjoying the vision before him.

  T. G. cleared his throat and looked at me. “I happen to think that your breasts are perfect.” Simone gathered her boobies, nestled them back in her dress and walked to her seat. “And she has what may be the world’s most perfectly shaped ass.”

  I blushed. “Do tell!” Neville exclaimed. “That’s a bold statement. Well, come on, darling, let’s all have a look. Put up or shut up.” I didn’t know how to react to this. Simone clapped her hands and said, “Yes, yes, show us your perfect ass, Rachel!”

  I stood and took a gulp of my beer. I was feeling the effect of the beer and the gin and tonics, but I also found the naughtiness of our little gathering intoxicating as well. I was wearing jeans that fit me like a second skin, topped with a checked cotton blouse. I turned with my back to them and bent slightly, shaking my tail feather provocatively. They clapped and hooted, and their response helped buoy my ego somewhat. I sat down.

  “Oy, that’s not fair, Rachel,” Neville protested. “Simone bared her tits and you’ve only showed us your pants. Come on now, fair’s fair!”

  “He’s got a point, Rachel,” T. G. chided. “Go on; show them your bare backside.”

  “Maybe later,” I blushed. “I’m not drunk enough yet.” Moans of disappointment greeted my decision, but I held firm. I glanced at T. G. and saw that he was no longer smiling. In fact, there was an unmistakable expression of annoyance. He stood up and suggested that everyone get something to eat. “We’ll need to fortify our bodies for the night ahead. Rachel, would you like to see the stable? I’d like to show it to you before it gets too dark.”

  “Sure,” I responded. I wanted to diffuse any tension between us by being completely agreeable. He led me to a golf cart and off we went to the stable as the sun crept behind the trees.

  “Do you like horses?” he asked, as we walked through the stable. We went into a tack room where saddles lined the walls. He poured some green pellets from a jar into his hand.

  “Actually, I’m scared to death of them,” I admitted. “The last time I rode one, it took off full speed and almost threw me. I haven’t been on a horse since.”

  We walked the length of the stable and stopped in front of one horse. It lowered its head and T. G. stroked it, holding the green pellets up to its mouth. “That’s completely understandable. This is Sheba. She was an ornery one when I first got her. Didn’t think she’d ever come around, but now she’s my favorite. It just took a little more work and discipline than the others did.”

  He turned and looked at me, smiling. “You remind me of her a bit. You’re headstrong, independent and draw a line at what you will and won’t do. And I respect that.” His expression changed and the smile disappeared. “But I thought I made it clear that there are things that I need from you, Rachel. You’re here because I like you and think that you’re worthy of my helping you to succeed. All I ask is that for a short while that you show your complete appreciation for this opportunity. I don’t want you to think about what other people will think or whether or not you find my directives compatible with your sense of propriety. I want you to respond without thinking, without second-guessing, like a soldier whose commander has given an order. You don’t question, you execute.”

  I looked down at the ground. His words, although not spoken sharply, penetrated my being. He was not being cruel, but I felt unworthy. He put his hand on my shoulder.

  “I will respect you more if you are able to let go of your ego and comply with what I want. That shows me that I can count on you and that you trust and respect me. If not, then we can end it now and go our own two ways with no hard feelings. I mean that.”

  I almost cried. I felt so badly. What did I think that I was his new girlfriend and that we were courting? I knew that I had a role to play in this relationship and now that he had clarified what that role was, I was more than willing to put aside my qualms and submit to his authority. I would trust him to treat me fairly even if his commands might prove challenging to the values that I had forged thus far. I decided that those values would hereby be suspended and I was placing my trust and obedience in his hands.

  “I am sorry, T. G,” I said, trying to control the unsteadiness in my voice. Still looking down at the straw and the dirt, I continued. “I showed you disrespect, and I apologize. I respect you so much. Thank you for making things clearer to me. If you give me another chance, I will not disappoint you. I will make you glad that you chose me.” A tear rolled down my cheek.

  His hand held my chin and lifted my face toward his. “Apology accepted, Rachel. Everything is forgiven and forgotten.” He kissed the trail of the tear and then pressed his lips gently against mine. We embraced, kissing harder. He squeezed my ass and lifted me up, pressing and grinding our groins together. I could feel his hardness between my legs.

  He put me down. “Well, if we can’t get you on a horse, we’ll do the next best thing. Come on.” He took my hand and led me back to the tack room. He picked up a sawhorse near the wall and set it in the center of the room. He tossed a saddle over the sawhorse and slapped it. “This should do. Take your clothes off, Rachel.”

  He stood watching as I undressed. I dropped my clothes onto the straw littering the floor. I stood before him, naked. He reached back under a counter and tossed me a pair of cowboy boots. “Put those on,” he smiled. They were a little big. I was able to curl my toes in them. “And this,” he said, sailing a cowboy hat my way as if it were a Frisbee. I put it on and it slid down to my glasses.

  “Do you like my new look?” I asked, and struck a pose. We laughed and he motioned me over to the sawhorse. I shuffled over to him and he picked me up and placed me on my back on the saddle. He kissed and sucked on my breasts, then kissed my belly, and finally put his head between my legs, licking my already damp pussy. I tried not to move too much, afraid that I’d fall off the saddle, but he held my ass cheeks, pressing me against his mouth and managed to keep me balanced at the same time. I came within minutes.

  “Turn over and put your feet in the stirrups,” he whispered throatily. He helped me execute the move and surprisingly, I was able to reach the stirrups. I’m only five feet tall; perhaps it was a child’s saddle? He approached the head of the sawhorse and undid his belt and dropped his slacks. His erection waved in front of my face. He pulled my head closer and entered my mouth. After the pleasuring he’d given me, I was eager to give him pleasure in return. I engulfed as
much of him as I could in this position. He bent and brought my hands up on the sawhorse, holding them both by the wrists. He gently moved in and out of my mouth while uncoiling a rope hanging off the sawhorse. I watched as he spun the rope tightly around my wrists, lashing them to the sawhorse. I hadn’t expected this, but I had resolved not to question anything.

  He pulled out of my mouth, saying, “And now I shall tame the headstrong filly. Scoot up a little.” He walked behind me and I felt his thighs grazing mine as we now shared the saddle. His hard cock penetrated my pussy lips and began urgently drilling in and out. I leaned forward and raised my ass a bit to better accommodate him and match his rhythm. I tried moving my arms to lean more weight on my elbows, but the rope held them firm. Instead of panicking from my helplessness, I relaxed. He was controlling my body now and all I needed to do was to allow myself to be fucked, over and over, in and out, with no changing of position or angle, just submitting to his cock.

  I rested my forehead on the sawhorse, panting as I took his thrusts. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back, causing my body to tense and my vaginal muscles to clench his penis even tighter. He knocked the hat off and I felt something being pulled over my head. Leather straps fluttered against my face and I saw a glint of metal. He was putting a bridle over my face. I didn’t know what to think, but I had no time to react. My mouth opened as the metal bit wedged in between my teeth. He took the pressure off it, allowing my head to droop, but then he delivered a smart slap on my buttocks and pulled back on the reins and my head shot back up. Again and again he slapped my ass, using a brushstroke movement, palm and then backhand, back and forth. He didn’t do it hard, just enough to sting and the sensation added to the growing surge of emotion welling up within me. Saliva ran down the corners of my mouth and my juices pooled under me in the saddle, making a wet, squishing sound as we bucked and fucked.