Bound for Him: (A Billionaire BDSM Boxed Set - 9 Stories) the Bacchanalia Collection

by Juniper Leigh

  “Fiona,” he said, turning his sparkling eyes on me, “go into the dressing room and relieve yourself of your gown. I will send Rousseau in to assist you.” I gave a nod of my head and moved to one of the doors at the far end of the room. The other would lead to a lavish marble bath, but this one led into a walk-in closet that was the size of my old apartment. I was surrounded by racks of Michael’s suits, and I stood in front of a large, stand-up mirror, examining myself in the red, satin gown.

  After a moment Rousseau, the matron of the household and the manager of the lascivious Bacchanal Club, stepped in and set to work, undoing the long line of small silk buttons down the back of the dress. “Not coming down to work in the main hall tonight, I see,” she remarked coolly.

  “I suppose not,” I confirmed, lifting my arms so that she could slide the dress down over my breasts and hips. I stepped gingerly out of it, left in a strapless bra and black lace panties. “Just have to do what the boss tells me.”

  “Indeed,” she said, her lips pursed with displeasure. I had become something of a club favorite. No doubt Madame Rousseau was concerned about keeping her guests happy. Well, it was just too bad. They’d have to do without.

  “Shall I rejoin the party?” I asked, and Rousseau gave a shake of her head as she came forward and, with two forceful fingers, slid my panties down over the ample curve of my backside.

  “Everything must come off.”

  *

  When I stepped back out into the bedroom, our three guests had also completely disrobed. But Michael had not. He sat in his tux in the far corner of the room, leaning back into the chair with one leg stretched out in front of him. He locked his gaze on me, allowing his eyes to rove over the curves of my body while his friends were all stroking themselves to stiffness, and I salivated at the sight of those gorgeous erections.

  Michael was the grand conductor of this orchestra and he took in a deep breath to begin the first movement. “On your knees,” he said, and I dropped down obediently as the members of his three-man band came forward.

  Donovan stood directly in front of me, smiling down at me, his cock in his fist. I didn’t hesitate to take the head of him into my mouth, running my tongue over it in quick little circles before pressing myself forward and taking him deep into the back of my throat. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling him filling up my mouth, before leaning back, coming up for air. Then, as I set my head to bobbing back and forth, I reached up and took Rick’s cock in one hand and Eric’s in the other and began to jerk them off. Never had I felt so capable and powerful as I did when the moans of those three men were sent up to the vaulted ceilings. I was the vessel of their pleasure; I was the object of their lust. I allowed Donovan’s cock to pop out of my mouth and I turned my lips to Rick. His dick was beautiful, long and black, and I couldn’t take nearly as much of it into my throat as I could Donovan’s. So I focused my attention on the pulsing pink head, sucking intently, and flicking my tongue over the top of it. Lastly, I sucked Eric off, using one of my hands to aid me as I went to town on his girthy member.

  Donovan dropped to his knees behind me as I filled my mouth with Eric and used my left hand on Rick. Donovan used one hand to knead my breasts, gently tweaking a nipple between his thumb and index finger so that I moaned gently around Eric’s cock. His other hand brushed the hyper sensitive skin between my legs. Freshly waxed and bare, I could feel a shift in the wind. So when he slipped a finger between the pink lips of my vulva and began to rub my engorged clitoris, I shuddered involuntarily.

  I moved my head back and for, back and forth, with greater rapidity on Eric’s cock, until Rick pulled away and knelt beside Donovan. Rick bent forward and took the nipple of my right breast into his mouth and sucked gently. As Donovan rubbed my click, Rick reached around and began to tentatively, gently, finger my asshole. After squeezing a dollop of lubricant onto his hand he rubbed it up and down my slit before sliding one finger into my pink, puckered anus, probing gently. I relaxed and welcomed him, weeks of training with anal plugs paying off.

  Donovan picked up the pace on my clit until I became so distracted that Eric’s cock popped out of my mouth. I tossed my head back and moaned, totally giving myself over to the sensations I was experiencing.

  “Lay down on your back, Fiona,” Michaels voice came to me through the fog of pleasure, and I did as he commanded. I lay down on the pristine white carpeting with my knees in the air, my thighs spread.

  “No, no,” Michael said then, and I opened my eyes, lifting my head to peer up at him. “Lay down on top of Eric.”

  Eric had positioned himself out on the bed, his thick cock standing at attention. He curled his fingers around it and held it in place.

  “Sit on it,” Michael said, and Eric sat up to assist me. With my back to Eric, I spread the cheeks of my ass, and pressed the tip of his penis against my lubricated asshole, granting him slow access. I used gravity and the weight of my body to push his remarkably thick member into my ass; I moaned as I settled down onto his lap, even as he brought his hands up to squeeze my aching breasts.

  “Now lay down,” Michael said to us, and we did, my legs spreading open as I leaned against Eric. Rick knelt down between our legs and I felt the full force of his tongue against my throbbing clit. His ministrations made me tremor, the movement of my hips slightly constricted by Eric’s presence in my tight little asshole.

  Donovan came around to kneel on the mattress by my head, and I reached out to jerk him off while I focused on the feeling of Ricks tongue lapping at my pussy.

  “Fill ‘er up, boys,” Michael said, and Donovan came forward, forcing his cock between my lips even as Rick plunged the full length of himself into my dripping wet cunt. I was on my back, one cock in my ass, one in my pussy and a third in my mouth, all three men thrusting and aching for their own release.

  I was completely sublimated into a series of sensations, my ego superseded entirely by what my body was feeling. I steadied myself as best I could with my hands, but was otherwise completely in the control of the thrusting men that occupied my every orifice. My breasts bounced as they pounded into me, their grunts filling the room with a beautiful cacophony of desire.

  “Stop,” came Michael’s voice. “Pull out.” The three men did as they were told, and I tumbled off of Eric and onto the bed as the men moved to stand aside.

  “Fiona, get on your hands and knees and face away from me.” I moved to obey and saw that Michael had his cock out and was stroking himself as he watched me. I smiled and got on my hands and knees, pressing my face to the mattress and opening myself up to him so that he could see all of my sex.

  “Reach up,” he commanded, “and spread the lips of your pussy so that I can see inside of you.” I did what he said, the air cool against my exposed opening. I heard him rise and approach, heard the other men continue to stroke themselves as they watched me, slick with lubricant and my juices. Michael came up behind me and plunged two fingers deep into my cunt. I sighed, delighting in his touch. No one knew how to get me hot like he did. I felt him stimulate my G-spot, felt my climax beginning to rise.

  “Whose is this?” He whispered, probing me with his fingers. “Whose pussy is this?”

  “Yours,” I moaned, pressing back into his fingers.

  “That’s right.” He pulled his hand away, but before I could protest his absence, I felt him plow his cock into me, deep and fast. I cried out and gripped the fabric of the bedspread. He put his hands on my hips and used them to force me brutally back onto his cock so that our skin slapped together. He fucked me hard, with an urgency I’d never felt before, the shudder of his orgasm taking us both by surprise. He shot his spunk deep inside of me and bent forward so that his mouth was mere inches away from my ear. “Mine,” he growled, before pulling out of me.

  “Finish her off, boys,” he said, and stalked out of the room. My eyes watched him go even as Donovan climbed underneath me and collected me to his chest so that my breasts were pressed against him, one knee
on either side of his hips. He then slid his cock into my cunt, lubricated by Michael’s hot come, and began to move his hips slowly, in and out, in and out. He paused to allow Eric to slide himself once more into my ass, for Rick to press his turgid member into my mouth. I was filled up again, a slave to sensation, but all I could think about was Michael and how utterly he had possessed me. I felt more full when only he was inside me.

  Eric smacked my ass as he fucked it; Rick reached out to tangle his fingers in my hair; Donovan sucked at the flesh of my neck as he pressed himself deeper and deeper into my pussy. “You’re a dirty little fucktoy, aren’t you?” Eric moaned. “A very dirty girl.”

  I thought of Michael, and how viciously he’d fucked me. And it was the thought of him fucking me, more than anything else, that began to draw me close to the edge of my release.

  “Dirty little fucktoy,” Eric kept repeating even as he gripped the soft flesh of my backside, tensed, and released his come into my ass. He panted for a few moments and drew out, reclining on the bed next to us as Rick, Donovan and I kept going. Rick withdrew himself from my mouth, then, and moved around to mount me, sliding into my ass. He was so big that I threw my head back and wailed, and the sound of my cries inspired Rick and Donovan to increase their movement speed. They fucked me with a fury, and I moaned with parted lips, sending my noises to echo against the walls of the bedroom. I wondered if Michael was in the next room; I wondered if he could hear me. And I wondered if he knew that I was thinking only of him, even as his friends fucked my ass, fucked my pussy.

  Rick picked me up bodily and drew me off of Donovan’s cock, turning to lay down on the bed with me on top of him, my back to his chest. Donovan rose to his feet, his member glistening with my juices, Michael’s jizz and his own precome, before mounting me again. He reached down between us to finger my clit, and I allowed my head to loll back against Rick’s shoulder.

  They fucked me until the only thing I knew in the world was the sensation between my legs; they fucked me until I was raw feeling.

  I could barely stand how overwhelmed I was by it all, and my climax tensed and grew, like a balloon that was so filled all it could do was pop. “I’m gonna come,” I moaned, my brow furrowed. And I orgasmed with a powerful force that evoked a desperate cry from deep in my gut. The tremors shook my body, the muscles of my cunt contracting around Donovan’s cock, even as I clamped down the muscles of my sphincter around Rick.

  That was all it took to bring them through to completion as well and they grunted and released into me. And when they both pulled out, I was so full of the hot, sticky fluid that it spilled out of me, down my aching slit and onto the bedspread.

  I was so exhausted by the experience that I drifted almost immediately to sleep, warm and sated.

  And some pointing the middle of the night, Michael climbed into bed beside me and drew me into his arms. I sighed contentedly and turned toward him, snuggling close.

  “I love you,” I thought I heard him murmur. But it could have all just been a dream…

  Part Two: Worth Billions

  When I woke up the next morning, Michael had vanished and I wasn’t even certain I’d felt him in the bed beside me at all – perhaps it had been my mind playing tricks on me. I had to be careful: I couldn’t let myself fall for this man. He possessed the potential to totally destroy me, and I was enjoying living a life of luxury for the first time in my life.

  Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I tugged on a pink satin robe and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, shuffling toward the kitchen as I attempted to comb my fingers through my knotted hair. Michael sat at the marble island, perched on a stool with the morning paper in his hand, and an iPad on the counter in front of him. I smiled at the sight of him in his plaid flannel pajama pants, his rich, mahogany hair all askew. “Good morning,” I murmured, moving directly to the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup. “Did you sleep here last night?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed, rising to his feet and dropping the newspaper down onto the counter. “I wanted to make sure you were ok after… everything.”

  “Of course I am,” I said, stirring milk and sugar into the coffee, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Four different men fucked you last night,” he said, rather coldly I thought. I fetched a tray of freshly cut melon from the refrigerator and pretended to be distracted by the business of sitting down to breakfast. “You had your every orifice used, like some…” I froze and shot a glare his way.

  “Whore?” I finished for him.

  He didn’t say anything, just stood very still, his eyes wide and wild and locked on me. “Well, isn’t that what I am?” I went on, putting a few pieces of melon onto a small plate and bringing it, and my coffee, to the kitchen table. “I mean, you pay me to be here.”

  “I pay you to work at the club,” he protested.

  “Please, Michael,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, ok, so I serve some drinks. But what is it that you really pay me for? The last time I had a shift at the club, you put me in a cage and I sucked you off through the bars.”

  “That isn’t what I’m paying you for,” he said. “You don’t have to do any of that. All you have to do is show up for your shift.”

  “Right,” I said, unconvinced. “And anyway, I don’t see what you’re getting so touchy about. You asked me to – how did you put it? – entertain your friends.” I took a bite of melon and turned my gaze away, agitated.

  I heard him sigh and he came around the island to join me at the kitchen table. “You’re right,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sorry. I know. I did ask.”

  “So then what is your problem?”

  He gave a slow shake of his head and helped himself to a sip of my coffee. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know.”

  I looked up at him then and his gorgeous cognac-colored eyes were locked on me. I felt my heart skip a beat as he reached forward to brush an errant lock of hair out of my eyes. “Fiona,” he began, but the rest of his words caught in the back of his throat.

  A knock at the door startled me out of our intimate little bubble, and I jumped up to see who it was because I didn’t know what else to do with my body in that moment.

  When I threw open the front door, Donovan Dane smiled down at me, freshly showered and clean-shaven, sporting a green sweater and slacks. He and Michael were similarly colored, but Donovan had a speckle of salt and pepper at his temples and sported a goatee. And in his hand: a bouquet of long-stemmed roses.

  “Good morning, Fiona,” He said, and handed me the bouquet. I smiled, and pressed my face into the soft rose petals, inhaling deeply of their sweet aroma.

  “Donovan,” I said. “Thank you, they’re so beautiful. Won’t you come in?” I suddenly found myself wishing I’d bothered to shower and dress. I must have looked a fright. “Michael and I were just having coffee,” I said as we rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Can I offer you some?”

  “Donovan.” Michael looked somewhat surprised, and perhaps more than a little put out, in his pajamas as he was, with a five o’clock shadow along the line of his jaw.

  “Coffee would be lovely, thank you,” Donovan confirmed, even as he stepped toward Michael to shake his hand. I put the roses in a vase and poured my guest a cup of coffee.

  “What are you doing here, mate?” Michael asked. I hugged my robe tight around my torso and handed the cup of coffee to Donovan.

  “I, ah,” he glanced between Michael and me and grinned, looking abashed. “I’m sorry, I think I may have misunderstood the nature of your relationship.” I saw Michael eye the roses and look at me; I remained silent.

  “Nonsense, Don,” Michael said. “Fiona and I have a purely professional relationship.” And at that, my heart sank into the pit of my stomach and all I could do was nod.

  “Yes,” I said flatly, “Professional.” But this seemed to turn a light on behind Donovan’s eyes. He set his coffee cup atop the counter, and fell into an easy lean against one of the kitchen stools.


  “Well, in that case,” Donovan said, allowing his gaze to rove over me from top to bottom, “I just came here to see if you would accompany me to the club tonight.”

  I blinked owlishly. “You mean, as a guest?”

  Donovan chuckled; Michael pursed his lips and sighed pointedly through his nose.

  “Yes,” Donovan confirmed. “As a guest.”

  “I… well, I’m supposed to work.”

  “Michael won’t mind,” Donovan turned to involve my erstwhile lover in the conversation. Now, I suppose, just my boss. “You don’t mind, do you, Mikey?”

  Michael smiled, thin-lipped, and said, “No, of course not.” He tucked the newspaper under his arm and padded on bare feet toward the hall. “If you two will excuse me,” he looked at me pointedly then. “You can have the night off to join us as a guest of the club.” And he turned on his heel and vanished, back to his own rooms.

  *

  I was looking forward to being a guest, having the opportunity to explore it behind the anonymity of a mask and a proper gown. I would get to be the viewer instead of the viewed, and could show off a little bit in front of Cora, Rousseau and Emma. I’d wear my favorite dress, the black Dolce and Gabbana with the low, low back.

  I took a long, luxurious bath in the middle of the afternoon, shirking my editing duties on my book of poetry in favor of languishing in the warm, bubbly water with my legs spread and open to the intense jets of water. I sighed, relishing the feeling of the water pressure against my clit and allowed my eyes to come to a close. I thought of the handsome Donovan Dane and the feel of him inside of me, I thought of him kissing the tender flesh of my neck, his strong hands kneading my breasts.

  And then he became Michael. “Whose is this?” I heard his voice say in my mind, even as the vision of him slipped his fingers into me. “Whose pussy is this?”