Bound to the Billionaire

by Natalie Dae

  She knew she had a sexy bottom—Doms were always commenting on it—and she wiggled it, looking forward to his verdict.

  “You know you have an arse that was made for spanking, don’t you?” he said.

  A pleasurable glow spread through her body. What a compliment.

  “So I’ve been told, Sir,” she muttered.

  He chuckled.

  “I bet you have. I bet they can’t keep off you with their paddles and whips. Have you been paddled or whipped before?”

  “Both, Sir.”

  “Good. Properly, I hope. I won’t be sparing the rod on you, believe me.”

  She wanted to press her thighs together, to wriggle and tease her swelling clit. His words were sinful music to her ears.

  “When was the last time you were spanked, Erin?”

  “About a month or so ago.”

  “Too long. Can you take a good hard session?”

  “I think so, Sir.”

  “What’s your least favourite implement?”

  Argh, why did he have to ask that? She was strongly tempted to lie, but it was against her submissive principles, so she answered truthfully.

  “The cane, Sir.”

  “Oh dear. That’s unfortunate. Because it’s my favourite.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me, Sir.”

  “Cheeky. Literally. Very cheeky.”

  She squealed as he leant forward to pinch a generous portion of flesh.

  “I think you’re going to be wearing stripes rather often. I hope they’re in fashion.”

  “I don’t think they are, Sir.”

  “Well, that’s a pity. But they’re always in fashion around here, Erin, and you are going to be the most stylish submissive in the Solent.”

  He pulled the delicate length of chain out of the divide of her buttocks and replaced it with one finger, letting it travel down the cleft before spreading her cheeks for closer inspection.

  “I know you like a man’s cock up here,” he said. “You told me in your email. What do you like about it?”

  Erin breathed hard and fast now, her pussy gushing, her nether regions twitching with need.

  “I like the feeling of subjugation, Sir. I like the feeling of being used and dirty.”

  “Oh God, you’ll do,” he said, his voice cracking. He pushed his thumb against that tiny secret place, making her writhe. “You’ll do very nicely. Wait there. I think there’s something missing from your costume.”

  Erin heard him step away, then open a drawer. The suspense was agonising. What devilish excess did he have in mind? She could only await his pleasure.

  Chapter Three

  “Most of my kit is on the bedroom level,” he said, as if to himself, “but I had the presence of mind to put a few emergency supplies up here.”

  On his return, Erin was ordered to hold her bum cheeks wide open.

  The cold, glutinous drip of lube into her exposed crevice was not entirely unexpected but still, as ever, it made her jump a little.

  She whimpered when his finger, warm and coated with grease, made a determined push into her bottom. She knew to relax her muscles, she knew what she ought to be doing, but it was always such a shock and she clenched involuntarily.

  “No, Erin,” he said sternly. “I’ve bought this. I have a right to put anything I like up there. And believe me, you’ll be taking more than my finger.”

  All Erin could do was lie still and keep her cheeks spread while Sir’s invasive finger probed and wriggled inside her.

  “Oh, you can take it,” he whispered. “You’ll be on your knees stuffed with my cock so many times, Erin. But for now…”

  He pulled out his finger and the next thing Erin felt was the blunt, rubbery tip of what she knew must be a butt plug. She had worn them before, for lovers and for her own private pleasure, but nothing beat the exquisite humiliation of having it inserted by a man.

  She breathed hard through the familiar stages—the gentle screwing before the first push in, the stretch, the burn as its widest point invaded her, then the final seating. Sir patted her bottom once it was in and told her she was a good girl. She glowed.

  “You’ll be wearing this rather frequently, I think,” said Sir. “Usually in the evening, but I may ring the changes now and again, just for the sake of interest. Does it feel big? Are you used to being stretched by one of these?”

  “It’s quite big, Sir,” said Erin honestly. It wasn’t painful, but it was certainly an unforgettable presence.

  “Well, I won’t go overboard with it. I don’t want to overtax your muscles. But I do like the look of your bum like that. And it adds something to a spanking, when I know your plug is jiggling about inside your naughty bottom with each stroke. I think it gives a sub a special sense of their place, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Please fuck me now. Or do something to take the edge off this raging horn you’ve given me.

  “Speaking of spanking…”

  “Oh.” Erin couldn’t resist a little begging sigh and a widening of her thighs, as if inviting him to look at her pussy and play with it.

  He laughed.

  “You need to be fucked already? You’re an impatient little thing, aren’t you? I can keep the teasing up for hours, you know. You’ll find out.”

  What have I let myself in for?

  “I take a dim view of a sub trying to lead the scene, you know,” he said. “I was going to spank you with my hand, but I think you’ve convinced me you need something a bit stronger.”

  Please not the cane.

  For a moment, Erin thought she might have said the words out loud and she cringed. But it seemed she hadn’t, because Sir went back to his drawer without a word and returned with something that, judging by the feel of it when he laid it on her cheeks, was flat and wooden.

  “Let’s see how you take this,” he said. “Do you know what it is?”

  “A paddle, Sir.”

  “Correct. And that’s the word, isn’t it? Correct. Because that’s what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to administer correction. I have certain expectations during a spanking—I like my sub to count and I especially like her to thank me at the end. I give privilege points for particularly good expressions of gratitude.”

  “May I ask, Sir, what privilege points earn?”

  “Yes, you may. They earn you the right to ask for an orgasm. At all other times, that’s my privilege to give. But good behaviour pays you in pleasure. Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

  “You should be governor of the Bank of England.”

  He chuckled. “Who says I’m not?”

  True. I still don’t know who the hell you are or what you do, but here I am, plugged and spread and naked, waiting for you to paddle my arse.

  “Now,” he said, his tone no longer indulgent but brisk and businesslike. “Ten hard ones. Don’t forget to count.”

  The first crack of the paddle flattened her cheeks and sent an immediate and serious burn deep down into Erin’s tissues.

  “Oh God!” she yelled. “One, Sir.”

  Straight away, she had a rival for the cane up there in her most hated implements league. This paddle was heavy and jolted the plug inside her, creating wave upon wave of pain, like earthquake aftershocks.

  It took everything she had not to jump up and rub, but she was experienced and she knew where to find those inner reserves of fortitude that were necessary for a scene sometimes. She held the knowledge that it would end soon close to her heart and kept her body relaxed and her breath slow and deep.

  The strokes came slowly and heavily—if they’d been laid faster, she would certainly not have been able to endure them, but Sir gave her time to absorb and recover from each one before administering the next.

  She made it to ten, her nails having dug half-moons into her palms, her legs and thighs shaking, her bottom raging hot—but she felt victorious.

  “Well taken,” said Sir, sounding genuinely impressed. “I can
see you’re going to challenge my disciplinary skills. And now, when you have your breath back, I’d like to hear your words of thanks.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” she whispered feverishly. “Thank you for that.”

  She could say no more. She knew he wanted her to be explicit and detailed, so he knew how deeply she was humbled, but this was the part of submission she found the hardest. Never mind the pain, the bondage, the teasing, the loss of control—all of that was easy compared to the shame of having to speak it out loud.

  “Thank you for what?” he prompted, patting her with the paddle as if in warning.

  “For…for…paddling me.”

  “Yes?” He waited for more, but she shook her head.

  “Can’t,” she gasped.

  “Oh,” he said, not sounding at all disappointed. “There is something you aren’t top of the class at, then, is there? Miss Academic passes her spanking test but fails the viva. Well, I like to have something to work on. We’ll be concentrating on your speaking skills, I think.”

  Erin couldn’t stifle a groan.

  Sir cupped her burning cheeks, pressing his thumbs into the sore flesh.

  “You look irresistible like this,” he said.

  At last, at last, he slipped his hand between her thighs, pushed aside the sparkly triangle of thin cloth, and assessed her level of wetness beneath. Erin pushed herself down against his probing fingers, trying to rub her clit on them. He smacked her thighs and tutted.

  “Not yet. Let me look at this.”

  He crouched behind her. She could feel his breath wafting around her damp, tender inner thighs, then fanning her pussy.

  Put out your tongue.

  But he didn’t.

  He pushed her pussy lips wide apart and inspected the regions inside. One fingertip tapped against her clit.

  “This is very swollen,” he said. “You look as if you need a really hard fucking. Am I right?”

  “God, yes.” Her throat was so tight that her voice came all high-pitched and tense.

  “I don’t think I heard you right,” he said warningly. He gave her clit a little pinch, gently, but enough to send Erin into a tortured snake-writhe over the table.

  “Yes, Sir,” she panted.

  “Maybe you’ll get one,” he said. “But I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided. What shall I do with you? Hmm.”

  He was back at his drawer.

  What next? Handcuffs? Nipple clamps? Please let me come soon.

  For a wild moment, she thought the pressure at her vaginal opening was his cock, lubed and ready to have her, but she soon realised that it was a dildo—quite a large one. Was it as big as him, or was it bigger? How big was he? When would she know?

  He fed it slowly into her, every inch making her expand and work at accommodating its fat girth. It wasn’t quite all the way in before it started to press against the butt plug behind, the two toys working together to increase her feeling of intense pre-orgasmic pressure. Christ, she was going to burst with it. She needed to come so badly—surely he would take pity on her soon.

  “Since you need to be filled so badly, I thought I’d help you out,” he said. He held on to the tip of the dildo, rotated it and pushed simultaneously at the butt plug flange.

  Erin felt her self-control slipping away. Her body was full, working to blot out her mind with the force of the sensations. She was made of heat and sweat and she couldn’t stop trembling.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “Oh, I like to hear my submissive beg,” he said, enraptured. “You must bear that in mind. You must also remember that I am terribly cruel and love to draw out your agony. I’m not done yet. Stand up.”

  Erin wasn’t sure she could obey this latest command.

  Her toes felt numb and her head swam. She managed to peel her stomach and breasts off the cold marble, realising as she did so that she had completely forgotten how uncomfortable it was to bend over that table. She had been so fully focused on her arousal and her sore bottom that nothing else had registered for a while.

  “I’m taking you out for a little walk,” said Sir.

  He was holding a slim leather leash, which he clipped to the ring in her collar.

  “A walk?” Erin stared. Did he mean around the fortress? Or what did he mean?

  “How easy is it to walk, with your pussy and bum stuffed full of toys?” he asked conversationally. “Does it feel strange?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She took a few tottering steps, having to keep her legs wider than usual and her knees bent. Everything inside her shifted, causing a friction that only increased her unbearable arousal.

  “Perhaps it’s easier if you get down on your knees,” he suggested, but it was not really a suggestion and she knew it.

  She dropped to all fours. The pressure of the toys was even more intense, especially when he yanked her leash and she began to crawl forwards.

  She was halfway across the room, feeling every inch of the toys inside her, when Phillips came in to clear the table. She turned her face away from him, mortified, but Sir tugged harder on her leash and threatened to whip her if she didn’t buck up.

  They arrived at the spiral stairs.

  Erin expected that she would be allowed to stand up in order to go down to the bedroom, but Sir made her heart beat madly in her chest when he started to climb the steps upwards, to the roof.

  She couldn’t resist speaking.

  “We’re going outside?”

  He turned and looked down at her from his vantage point on the higher step.

  “I thought we had a rule.”

  “I know, I just…wasn’t expecting… I’m sorry, Sir.” She bowed her head.

  “You will be.”

  Oh God, she thought, crawling up the stone steps, grimacing at the hardness on her knees. Objectively, she knew that the only possible viewers of her shame would be any passing helicopters, of which there were very few. Unless a giant cruise liner happened along. Other than that, nobody could see the fortress roof from either shore.

  Having opened the door at the top of the stairs, Sir led Erin out into a garden area with a shrubbery laid in gravel and an ornamental fountain.

  “Only the hardiest plants survive out here,” he said. “What with all the salt. I wonder how hardy you are?”

  If that was a question, was she permitted to answer?

  “Too much salt is bad for your blood pressure,” she said.

  He yanked uncomfortably on the leash, pulling her collar tight.

  “Smart arse,” he said. “Kneel up.”

  She obeyed, wincing at the way the gravel dug into her skin, shifting to try to relieve the pressure. The toys inside her shifted too. She wanted to grind madly, swivel her hips until she came hard and fell forward, face in the pebbles.

  Sir reached down and began caressing her nipples, already hard in the stiff sea breeze that surrounded them.

  “Is that a helicopter?” he said, pretending to look up.

  Erin flinched.

  “Oh, no, my mistake. Just the noise of the hovercraft going by—they’re pretty similar.”

  Erin glared at him, her heartbeat slowing.

  “Somebody doesn’t share my sense of humour,” he sighed, pinching her nipples hard. “It’s going to be a long month, isn’t it? All right.”

  He unbuttoned his jeans as if it was the most natural postscript to the conversation in the world. Erin watched transfixed as he lowered them over his hips, then released his hard, firm cock from his boxer shorts.

  “Suck me off,” he commanded.

  He had an impressive erection and Erin was not averse to the idea. He smelt good as she lowered her head, the waft of expensive shower products lingering on his skin. She flicked out her tongue and began to trace delicate patterns on the underside of his shaft.

  “No, Erin, I didn’t ask for the fancy stuff. I just want my cock in your mouth.”

  Rookie mistake.

  Obediently, she filled her mouth with the smooth, roun
ded tip of Sir’s cock and sealed her lips around its girth.

  Inch by inch, she slid her head down until she was filled to the throat.

  Sir grunted with satisfaction and clutched a handful of her hair.

  “That’s what I like to see,” he said. “That’s what I paid for. A slut, sucking me on her knees in the open air. Oh yes.”

  As she sucked, he jerked himself into her, fucking her mouth until she struggled not to gag.

  She screwed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate on opening her throat, but the effort was intense and eventually he took pity on her.

  “Do you like my hammock?” he asked her, as she gasped and coughed, doubling over.

  A luxurious version, piled high with cushions and throws, was slung between two poles beyond the shrubbery.

  “It’s lovely, Sir,” wheezed Erin.

  “Good. Go and lie down in it. I think I want to fuck you now. I want to fuck that cunt that belongs to me.”

  Erin tried to rise, but he hissed, “Crawl,” and she made a slow and careful progress over the gravel to the longed-for area of smooth paving where the hammock lay.

  “I can see the plug up your bum,” he remarked casually. “How does it feel?”

  “Still full, Sir.”

  “Uncomfortable?”

  “A little.”

  “Good. Get in then.”

  Erin had never had much to do with hammocks before, though she’d always liked the idea of them. It took her a while to figure out the best way to climb in. Every possible way involved some awkwardness with the toys inside her and she had to hold the dildo in very tightly, clamping her pelvic floor for all she was worth.

  After much embarrassing and graceless manoeuvring, she managed to lie on her back on the cushions. It was wonderfully comfortable now that she was there, with nothing above her but the clean blue sky and some voyeuristic seagulls. She wanted to tell them to cover their eyes.

  This was definitely the weirdest experience of her life, she concluded. And she’d only been here a few hours. What on earth could the rest of the month bring?

  Sir approached her, having rid himself of the rest of his clothes.

  He had a tattoo around his right biceps, an attractive design of interlinking laurel leaves such as a Roman emperor might wear on his head. His chest was broad and his stomach washboard-tight. Somewhere in this gigantic folly of a building he had a gym, Erin thought.