ALPHA MEN EROTICA BUNDLE (4 BOOKS COLLECTION): Adult Taboo Romance Erotic Sex Story (Billionaire Dominant, Kinky Fetish and Disobedient Submissive Book 2)

by Rachel Myers-Holmes

  Copyright 2015 Erotica Taboo

  Published by the Hardcore Erotica Stories Co. (U.K)

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  First Hardcore Erotica Stories Printing March 2015

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Interior design and typesetting by Erotica Taboo

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  Everyone has a little Taboo. What’s Yours?

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure inventions of fiction.

  THE CAFE

  Lizelle was just simply amazing. Sitting here looking at the cream leaf swirl in my black coffee, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around what it was about her I was so taken to. Well I know ‘What I am taken to’. But that wasn’t quite it. There was something else about her that I just couldn’t put my finger on. When I was around her it puzzled me. Yet the answer seemed so obvious I could taste it, but just couldn’t figure out what flavour it was, or what it had done to me.

  She was beautiful, not that it wasn’t palpable I’ve been with countless of women, some who could even be considered much more beautiful than Lizelle like Zoey. Only, Lizelle’s beauty was not as practical. Lizelle had the type of beauty that could sneak up on a man. You could know her for years and think of her as a typical girl, pretty girl maybe. But you’d never notice how stunning and heart stopping she was until one day you glance at her and you’re transfixed on the woman she is.

  I hadn’t known her for years but I felt like I did, that’s exactly the way it happened to me the day I noticed her. She looked young and vibrant, 23 or 24 maybe, like a young woman going places but, one who planned on having a good time getting there. She had posses the innocence of a 3rd grade teacher; it was going to be my job to find out how innocent she really was. I had learned how deceiving the looks of a woman could be a long time ago. She had been sitting in Raymar’s Café, tucked in a corner with her head in a book, a novel I had suspected. One of those typical, Mill and Boons novel or whatever the name was that women loved. It didn’t turn me on, or off. She had glanced up from her book, not at me but pass me. And it had felt like she saw right through me; it blew me away. Her eyes were a cliché honey brown, the type of eyes you didn’t see a black woman with quite often. Contacts I had thought, but that’s the first thing she clarified when I asserted myself and tried to speak to her.

  “No I’m not wearing contacts, and no I won’t give you my number”

  She had said when I approached her, before I could even open my mouth and ask her what it is she was reading. Bitchy, I thought to myself with an inward grin. I always loved those women most, because I knew somewhere under that entire facade was the type I needed.

  Lizelle had been sitting behind a high island type counter, facing the back of the café, with the glass window display behind her exhibiting the busy afternoon traffic and the large sign Raymar’s Café in blocked red and blue Algerian letters above her head; she was in her own world. I watched her, her hair flowing over her shoulders, she had good hair, and it swayed ending in sharp strands above her nipples. I could see them straining against the feather like fabric of her cashmere black V-neck sweater. She looked like a poem waiting to be written. I’d notice everything I could about her top half, everything. Her slender hands and long fingers, with a navy blue polish on short natural nails, I never understood women and polishing their nails, it was pointless to me really. I even noticed the dimple nested in her left cheek, I hadn’t found that type of facial feature attractive before but on her it only made her face softer but striking. I watched her with such fascination, her beautiful eyes peering down into her novel over a petite nose, a wide smile with full shapely delicious looking lips. I wondered if her pussy lips were as plumped and tasty looking. ‘Pull your fucking self together Cole’ I thought to myself, cleared my throat, took a deep breath and relaxed my dick so I could approach her. I was not going to only imagine those pussy lips they were going to be mine, period.

  “I’m going to turn around and when I turn back around your response will be a more pleasant one” I had replied

  She had laughed, laughed wholeheartedly from the pit of her stomach. I stood there, allowed her to fuck up and waited, stared, rather I glared, not in anger but in sheer amusement, she was going to regret that, and learn never to do it. When she had realized I was neither embarrassed nor laughing with her, she had taken the time to notice the intensity and severity in my eyes, she’d coughed quietly and calmed down, as if embarrassed at a poor joke she’d told, afraid even. I smiled then, if she was afraid she made no attempt to notify the people around us, a stupid but smart choice. I then casually ran my fingers through her hair, on this stool she was almost my height of 6’4. I ran both hands through her hair now, she didn’t stop me. I brushed all the hair from her face tucking the strands behind her ears, she was trembling in fear, not a lot but I could tell by the way her fingers gripped her book in her lap firmly. Digging my tentacles into her roots, I yanked her head back so her chin perched upwards discreetly. A stranger looking on would have probably thought I was her lover about to kiss her, unaware of the headache she would have by now. I watched her pupils dilate, Yes, I had her.

  I had been right about her from then, she didn’t know it yet but she was going to be mine, entirely.

  I had let go and simply grinned, took her pen up and her book from her hand, and wrote my number on the overleaf of the last sheet in the bottom left-hand corner. Mr. DaCosta I had signed it, she would have to earn a first name by acknowledging we would be involved on more than a friendly pleasantries basis. I didn’t ask for hers, just gave her mine then I turned around and left. I knew she would be calling, not soon but calling all the same, I gave her something to think about, something I knew she wanted, after all I saw it in her eyes.

  The last thing I noticed was her book, Poetry.

  ***

  I had always heard people say artists are always beautifully insane, and the tattered and torn hearts created the best holistic works of art. That included writers, I wondered if Lizelle was a writer, and what could she have possibly gone through to be tattered and torn. I wanted to know what inspired her, what she loved, what ignited her passion. Since meeting her I could not stop thinking about her. Images of her tied to my four poster bed invaded my mind on my way home. I thought of her full lips wrapped around a ball gag and her beautiful eyes looking up at me dilated and desperate. I would make her beg for me in the beginning, beg to be taken and owned, I was going to make her into the perfect submissive, I would own her. Going closer to her I had gotten to see a little more of her. Her legs were endlessly crossed and tucked beneath the counter I could appraise the silk that was her skin and its amber tone. Her plaid skirt was short enough to now expose her mid thigh. Thighs I imagined being between. I thought about the knobs of her nipples and wondered how dark her areole would be. I thought about how her lips would taste. I thought about how long she could hold her breath if I should force my dick down her throat.

  I was definitely calling Abegale tonight.

  Abegale was my on and off sub, alternating between two different lives. I was fine with that. I had not wanted a full time sub, I loved sex but my job had hindered most of it and the experiences that came with relationships. Our arrangement worked just perfect for me. She understood the nature of my job and its demand of my time; after all she was my secretary before CEO p
romoted her to assistant human resources manager. I had not been involved with her until after her promotion. I was a strict dominant, on my subs and also on myself. To never mix business with pleasure was one of my self-governing rules.

  She had been too peculiar for me to be attracted to her then, her obvious attraction to me had been sad, border -lining pathetic I liked women submissive not desperate. It was not a situation where she was unattractive, by God she was, she was petite and I was into taller women, but she had insist that 5’4 was enough of a woman for me. I had hoped she understood she would have to make up for her height with something other than a loud mouth.

  She had withdrawn after an incident that exposed her to my lifestyle by mistake. I was out of town, and she had not accompanied me on my trip as per usual. I had needed information from a disk at home and needed her to get it for me. She had been to my house before but never long enough to snoop or pry, and always on a professional level. I trusted that she would have gotten what she needed and left. I gave her instructions, directions and told her where in my desk to find my spare key. Three hours after my instructions she called me in an odd tone but given that she was always strange I had not noticed. After I returned her advances had stopped, I noticed that. She began to wear looser fitting clothes and less make up, obviously not wanting my attention anymore.

  I had called her into my office one day and told her to see me before she took her usual twelve o’ clock lunch break. At 12:07 Abegale came into my office looking almost terrified, then I knew. The way she looked at me had aroused a part of me, the sadistic part, but I was not entirely a sadist, it simply got my cock hard.

  “Why were you in my bondage room Abegale?”

  Is all I asked, with a face that had never been denied the truth from women. She had caved after two minutes of forever silence. Almost on the brink of tears she explained she had to rush to get me the info I needed on time and had not gotten to use the restroom. She had only been searching for a bathroom and opened the door to my life. I had to explain to her the intricacies of most of the restraints as some of them could be passed off as torture equipment. And who would want to know their boss was a psychopath who probably killed people in his own home. At first she did not believe me, it was obvious, but curiosity I think got the best of her and she went and did her home work. The following day, she’d been back to her usual figure hugging clothes, obviously somewhat comfortable. She had asked me to have lunch with her; I agreed but told her I was having lunch in my office. Lunch wasn’t breaking the rules. Over lunch she casually asked her questions confident that I wasn’t ashamed of my fetish, just a private man. At first I had denied to explain to her what pleasure I got from it, what pleasure my subs got from it, and how exactly were some things possible, but I decided to show her. And not let her in too far, she was my secretary and that meant business. I stood placing my take out on the desk and asked her to do the same.

  “Ok, do you trust me?” I asked genuinely though it was protocol for me to know I wasn’t forcing her or making her uncomfortable.

  “Yes Mr. DaCosta of course I do” I grinned, she was giddy.

  “This will never happen again do you understand?” She nodded. “I do not mix my business life with my personal life; if you do not remain professional I will have to fire you, understood?” another nod.

  Taking a deep breath praying I don’t regret what I was about to do; I crossed the distance between us and stood so close to her I could see the top of her pretty little head. She tried to look up at me but I quickly yanked her ponytail with one hand and covered her eyes with the other.

  “Don’t you dear fucking look at me again” I hissed into her ear. I removed my hand. With my lips so close to hers I explained slowly.

  “I am a dom, Ms. Bell I go by many names, tops, dominator, master when mixing d/s, that is domination and submission, with master slave relations I prefer to be called Sir by my subs. My job as a dom, is to ensure my sub is pleased, at my leisure and preference of course. I use my little room you invaded to my advantage, it comes equipped with toys of all sorts that I like to play with, my sub a willing woman is the best toy of all inside those wall.”

  By now my finger tip was playing with the zipper on her seemed polyester gray pants, I undid it undid her button and proceeded to rub her pussy through her sheer panties. Impressive, I like a woman who knows how to wrap it up and present it. She was already drenching through the thin material. Rubbing her clit with my index finger I continued slowly.

  “I know just how to please, tease, punish and discipline. Why does it have to be so technical and strict you ask?” She didn’t ask aloud, I doubt she was even really listening, hearing but not listening, by the look on her face. “How would it be fun if I made all the rules? My life is simple actually, I get what I want when I want it, and you get what you want when I say so. Why would any woman want that you ask? I would have to show you Abegale” By now I was rubbing her clit much faster and harder with all four fingers as she was grinding against my palm, a soft moan escaped her and I was tempted to gag her, taking my handkerchief from my pocket

  “Open”

  I stuffed it into her mouth and held her closely by the neck, increasing my pace, by the time her eyes shot open on the edge of an orgasm I stopped abruptly. I removed the handkerchief and took my moisten finger pushing it into her mouth, and she sucked. At first I saw confusion, then anger, then understanding. She now understood what it was like for women I took.

  “Wow” she had said in a low voice, the lowest I’ve ever heard her, “Just... Wow”

  “Of course that is not all there is to it, there’s much more but I’m sure you’ve read that and know what it includes, I am in control always, I’m good at what I do and I enjoy it very much. You ok?”

  “I’m just great Sir” she blushed at the word Sir, both of us knowing I appreciate the word in a way more than she meant. Putting herself together and wiping the tiny beads of sweat that had began to shape on her upper lip, she packed up her lunch and left with a shy smile. I had relaxed and went back to work. I wasn’t as aroused as I could have been; had I been I would’ve been much crueller than to leave her wanting more. She had asked to leave work an hour early that day, I had more than understood and let her off two hours early.

  Abegale had called Adam her best friend for seven years and boyfriend for one, and told him she needed his help at home immediately as she wasn’t feeling well. He had gotten home to a naked and horny Abegale in bed under the covers pretending to be ill. They had made love for three hours, and she had her first orgasm from penetration thinking about me instead.

  Our agreement allowed her to have her vanilla husband and her family, and I could have my silence and all the sex I wanted without having to answer to her. She was a sub in every scene of the word, substitute, but she was not a sub in the word submissive. She had been eager in the beginning, when her curiosity had gotten the better of her, but I was tired of training a new submissive, I did not have the patience it took. I had to put up with her running whenever she was not restrained, so she had always had to be firmly restrained to avoid the excess gyrating. But by now she was easily able to turn her submission on at my beck and call.

  It had been a while since we spoke; she had just lost the baby fat. At twenty-nine pushing thirty she looked great. Marriage had done her well after knowing her husband for ten years. But he just couldn’t get her off like I could. She had told me about her attempt to introduce Adam to her secret life style but he had turned the other cheek as if she had disrespected him. He shunned the idea in disgust; she then knew she would need me for as long as she could have me.

  I called her.

  “Abegale.” Is all I said and the faint hello I had gotten initially transformed, as if she were in front of my very eyes; I could hear her smiling. Clearing her throat she replied.

  “Yes Sir? I am alone” in the most passive tone humanly possible.

  “Be here by six o’ clock.” I hung up


  By 5:55 Abegale was at my door knocking. She knew I did not tolerate tardiness, personally or business wise. I let her in and she kissed me passionately. She definitely looked great. She wore an army green trench coat and her hair high on her head in a bun. She was a little darker than most girls I got involved with, a caramel colour that didn’t bruise as easily as I would like it to. She had a harder time adjusting to my slaps, she got much harder slaps. The black and white gym bag over her shoulder informed me she was naked beneath her coat, already I was feeling an erection. She had hurried passed and into my play room. I took my time before going in, in my socks and underpants only. I did not feel like having her strip me herself tonight, I needed to be buried deep inside her soon; Lizelle’s legs were dancing for me now.

  I shut the door behind me, and her relaxed form went rigid. She had been waiting in the corner furthest from the bed and closest towards the doorjamb to the extended bathroom. I knew she liked it best. I had had to drill lower eyeholes for bolts for her, like I said I preferred taller women, and they usually wore heels. Abegale was normally barefooted. She was now as well, only wearing a black lace thong that lacked fabric in the crotch area, her collar and her hair in a ponytail. She looked so small in my big room. There were no windows; I had redecorated my loft as soon as I bought it to suit my needs. I had installed padding and much heavier wood. This room was sound proof, it suited Abegale’s type fine she was a screamer. This room was the largest of the three, the master bedroom that always made me chuckle it was way too coincidental. It was painted in a navy blue that was so dark in poor lighting could easily be mistaken to be black. But this room had impeccable lighting, bulbs were installed into sockets in the high roof, they lined and illuminated along all four walls and eight made a square in the centre of the room. I had not wanted to have a strictly bondage bed so I had altered my bed myself. Installing a railing above that went all the way around four ceremoniously carved posts. A mirror was affixed above the bed, perfect vision. With royal blue satin sheets it almost looked like a regal lovers' room. I also had a small chest of draws, a padded bench and a comfortable chair in the room but the metal full body bondage harness stood out the most.