The Billionaire’s Sex Toy
Catherine DeVore
Copyright 2012 Catherine DeVore
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I stared at the ornate doorbell, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. As I tried to muster up the courage to press the button, my ingenious idea seemed far, far more idiotic than it had when I’d woken up in bed this morning. I sighed, my finger hovering in midair mere inches from the doorbell. I should give this up, I thought, resigned. Go home, pour myself some wine, throw a real nice pity party...
As I was about to turn around and admit defeat, the door swung open. “Mr. Black is awaiting you,” a solemn man said, his arm tucked behind his back.
“He—what?” I stammered. “I didn’t even actually—”
“We have been interviewing young women all day,” the man said.
Is he an actual, real-life butler? I wondered, amazed. Oh my god. His tone was neutral, but I sensed that he was rolling his eyes inwardly. “Appointment or not, I presume you are here regarding the job opening. Mr. Black would like to speak with you.”
I stepped into the mansion, my eyes growing wide as saucers as I took in the foyer. It was like something out of a movie. The house was basically a smaller Versailles on the outside, so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but if even just the front room was this incredible—
“Is that a real Blake?” I squeaked as we walked past a spectacular and dark painting of a woman being tormented by a demon.
“Of course,” the butler said, sounding affronted that it had even occurred to me to ask. “Mr. Black is an avid appreciator of fine art. His collection is one of the finest private collections in the world.”
I gawked my way up the stairs and down the hall, hardly able to take in the lavishness of the house. It was one thing to know how that a person is rich, but for a struggling young lady like myself, the word “billionaire” hadn’t really meant anything concrete to me. Seeing this house made it real.
“Mr. Black’s chambers,” the butler said, ushering me inside. The room looked to be an office, just as well-appointed as the rest of the house. The butler, who didn’t follow me in, shut the door softly behind me. I walked slowly into the room, jumping only slightly when a low voice spoke to me out of a dark corner.
“I am Carter Black,” said a man that I hadn’t immediately noticed. I gaped even more as he stepped forward: Mr. Black was not only rich, he was gorgeous. His suit had obviously been made just for him. His dark, slicked-back hair was both sophisticated and modern, not a strand out of place. His eyes were completely arresting. As I dumbly reached out a hand, he raised one inquisitive eyebrow. “And you are...?”
“Oh! I’m Cerise. Cerise Rousseau.” I was astonished when Mr. Black kissed my hand rather than shake it.
“I presume you’re here based on certain—rumors about me,” he said, his voice like velvet over steel. I could tell that if I said the wrong thing, I’d be out of here, and fast.
“Yes, and no,” I said cautiously.
He barked a short, hard laugh. “Some of them are true.” Mr. Black circled me like a lion. I felt like I was about to be eaten. “I am a difficult man to work with, Miss Rousseau. I don’t like to be questioned. I don’t like to repeat myself. I am used to getting what I want. I can be—eccentric. As my personal assistant, your responsibility is to ensure that I get what I want at all times. Can you do that?”
“Y-yes, sir,” I stammered, my face flushing beet-red. It sounded like a tall order, but I really needed the job. I was facing eviction in the next week if I didn’t get some cash.
“Why didn’t you submit your application with the rest of the group?” he asked coolly. “Or at all?”
“I—I had a job during the application period,” I said, feeling about as awkward as I ever had in my life. “There was a misunderstanding, and...” I trailed off, staring at my feet. This was easily the worst interview of all time.
“Really,” he said, sounding uninterested. “Very well, you will start tomorrow. I’ll send a suitable wardrobe to your apartment by then.” I flushed as he gave my best interview outfit a look that I might have reserved for rotting garbage. “Give your address to Charles and a car will pick you up in the morning.”
####
“Ms. Rousseau!” an angry voice echoed down the hall. I cringed, certain I’d messed up yet again. Mr. Black’s preferences were nearly impossible to keep straight, no matter how hard I tried.
My new heels clicked on the marble floor as I rushed into his office. “Yes, sir?” I asked meekly.
“Where is my coffee?” he growled, his handsome face twisted into an expression of extreme irritation.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I blurted, my face flushing. That was something I definitely should have remembered.
“That’s the fourth mistake you’ve made this week,” Mr. Black said angrily, clearly not ready to let me off the hook. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Get your coffee right away,” I said desperately. “And apologize again.”
“I don’t think that will be enough this time,” he said curtly, his face like a thundercloud. He rose to his feet, glowering at me. “I am tired of your incompetence!”
“Oh, please, don’t fire me!” I cried. “I’ll do anything!” I dropped to my knees in front of him, my hands clasped. “Please, I really need this job!” As I looked up at him, my eyes brimming with tears, I saw with a shock that his neatly-pressed slacks were bulging out at the crotch. Without thinking about it, I rested my face against his thigh, smelling the scent of his expensive cologne.
Mr. Black stared down at me for a moment, breathing hard, then his fingers were scrabbling at his zipper. I whimpered as his cock sprang free, my pussy growing wet as I took my first look at the thick, veiny shaft and swollen, purple head.
“You must do as I say!” Mr. Black shouted, slapping my face lightly with his dick, first one cheek, then the other. I felt sticky precum smear across my skin. “Beg for forgiveness!”
“I’m so sorry,” I cried, a bit surprised at how much I was enjoying being utterly repentant. I had developed love-hate feelings with Mr. Black in the two weeks I’d been working for him—love for that face and that ridiculous body, and hate for his awful attitude. Something about this situation created the perfect fusion of the two. My pussy was nearly dripping. “I’m so sorry, I’ll do better next time—”
As I pleaded, Mr. Black cut me short by sliding that fat cock into my mouth. “Yes, you will,” he snarled, his fingers grabbing my hair. I struggled not to gag as his lengthy shaft slid down my throat. Even as the tears in my eyes spilled over my lids and trickled down my cheeks, I felt my panties soak through with arousal. I moaned desperately as Mr. Black fucked my face roughly. With his free hand, he grabbed the collar of my expensive silk blouse, which he had, of course, paid for, and wrenched it open. Buttons flew across the floor as my lace-clad breasts spilled out.
“Take that off,” he ordered, his hips bucking rhythmically. I awkwardly reached behind my back and unhooked the gorgeous black bra, my tits bouncing out as Mr. Black continued to use my mouth. I felt almost animalistic as I knelt with my thighs spread wide and tits bared, my boss’s cock plunging down my throat. I’d never been more aroused.
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From the looks of it, Mr. Black hadn’t, either. His lips were slightly parted, and small groans escaped him as he used me just as he liked. With his hand hard on the back of my head, I couldn’t have moved away if I’d wanted to. I didn’t. The salty taste of his cum spread across my tongue as his cock dribbled thick white fluid. His thrusts sped up, and I struggled to stretch my jaw wide enough for that his thick shaft.
Mr. Black groaned desperately, pulling his cock out of my mouth and jerking it in his tight fist towards me. Hot, thick ropes of cum spurted over my face and tits as he orgasmed. I smiled with smug satisfaction, licking at a droplet of semen that had landed on my lips. Mr. Black stood stock-still for a long moment, then adjusted himself, zipping his pants up again.
“Get out of here,” he said stiffly. “Clean yourself up, then send Charles to me.” He turned his back to me.
I was confused, and, frankly, a little hurt. Here I was, all hot and bothered after being totally dominated, slathered in my sexy boss’s semen, having given what I thought was a stellar blowjob, and that’s the thanks I got? Frowning, I gathered the remains of my blouse together and headed off to the bathroom to wipe down. Fortunately, there was a closet of extra clothing for me in the upstairs hall. I changed and sent Charles in to Mr. Black’s office, brainstorming how to get him to let loose like that again.
Imagine my dismay when I could barely get him to look at me for the rest of the week. He didn’t even say anything when I intentionally put one too many sugar cubes in his coffee, although I could tell from his moue of disgust that he noticed. I purposefully left my buttons unbuttoned low, hiked my skirts up, anything I could think of. I’d pretty much given up by Friday afternoon, but my hopes were rekindled when Mr. Black slunk out of his office and sat at the chair in front of my desk.
“Ms. Rousseau. Cerise. We need to talk,” he said seriously. “What I did the other day—that was totally unacceptable. I don’t believe it’s a good idea for you to work here anymore.”
“No!” I cried, dismayed.
“It’s all my fault, of course. I’m granting you a severance check that should more than make up for my... breach of decorum.” He handed me a check. My eyes nearly bulged out of my skull when I saw the amount, but I steeled myself.
“I don’t want your money,” I said bravely, tearing the check in half. “Unless I’m working for it, that is. I want to do what we did again.”
“Pardon?” he said, his voice like a glacier. “You must be mistaken. I—”
“I really, really liked it,” I whispered, flushing. “You taking over like that.”
He sat stone-silent for a long minute. “If that’s true...” Mr. Black said slowly. “If that’s true, would you care to accompany me for dinner this evening?”
“Mr. Black!” I exclaimed, leaping to my feet. “I would love to. Am I un-fired?”
“We’ll see,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “And call me Carter.”
When I got home, I tore through my closets searching for something nice enough to wear on a date with a man like Carter Black. I’d thrown everything I owned onto the floor in a fit of panic and was on the verge of tears when my doorbell rang. It was a deliveryman with a garment bag and several boxes of what appeared to be accessories. I signed for the packages, then whisked them inside.
The garment bag had a note on the front: Cerise, I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of procuring you an outfit for tonight. Consider this my apology. -C.G. I gasped as I unzipped the garment bag. Out slid the most elegant dress I’d ever seen. It was floor-length, and the perfect shade of wine-red. I could tell by the weight and the shine of the fabric that it was top quality—not that I knew anything about silk, of course. It fit me like a glove. I didn’t know how he did it—he’d never taken my measurements for either my work clothes or for this, but the dress fit like it had been made just for me. The other boxes included a spectacular (if precariously tall) pair of black pumps, earrings and a necklace that I was sure couldn’t be real diamonds, and—
I gasped, nearly dropping the last box. My hands shaking a little, I pulled out a black lace teddy and a thong that was barely more than a string. “Carter, you naughty boy,” I murmured, setting them aside. There were two more things in the box, obscured by tissue paper. My face had turned about 50 shades of red by the time I had them both unwrapped.
The first item was a pair of nipple clamps. They were small, and when I tested them on my fingers, I could tell they wouldn’t pinch too hard. Still, they would be juuuuust barely visible through my new dress, if one was looking—and in a dress like that, people would be looking. The second item was an egg-shaped vibrator with no controls or switches on it. There was another note in the box: Make sure to wear these, too. -C.G.
I groaned, my face in my hands. What had I gotten myself into? And yet, I was lying to myself if I didn’t admit that I was turned on, too. I looked at the clock and swore under my breath. I only had a half hour to get ready! No time to agonize, I had to get this show on the road.
Standing in front of the mirror, I admired my appearance even as I squirmed. I looked stunning, with my dark curls tumbling loose over my shoulder, glittering jewelry at my throat and ears, and that stunning dress clinging to my slim form. I felt debauched, a secret ache resonating through my nipples and my pussy that just wouldn’t quit. As I squirmed, wishing Mr. Black—Carter—were here now to bend me over and put me out of my misery, but that would come soon enough.
Right on time, a gorgeous limo pulled up out front of my apartment. I stepped carefully down the stairs to the sidewalk, trying not to go head-over-heels in these shoes. The driver opened the door for me. I was surprised and a little disappointed to see that Carter wasn’t in the car. “Mr. Black will meet you at the restaurant,” the driver said as I climbed in.
Right as I settled on to the luxurious leather seat, the egg in my pussy erupted with vibrations. The sensation went through me like a thunderbolt. My whole body tensed and I gasped aloud, squeezing my thighs together, as I struggled not to lose composure. The driver raised an eyebrow slightly, but said nothing as the limo pulled away from the curb. I bit my lip, my eyes closing slightly as my pussy tightened around the buzzing egg. Right when I thought I might lose control, the vibrations stopped just as abruptly as they had begun.
So this is how the game is going to go, I thought, collapsing against the seat. How am I going to keep a straight face at dinner when Carter could turn that thing on at any moment? I was nervous, and I ached with need. The lace panties Carter had gotten me were already soaked through.
We pulled up in front of the most gorgeous building I’d ever seen. The driver ushered me out of the limo, but left me to walk into the restaurant myself. Feeling awkward, I approached the maître d’. “May I help you?” she asked, eyeing me.
“I’m with Carter Black,” I said, then sucked in my breath sharply as the egg pulsed with vibrations for one brief moment. The maître d’ looked at me oddly but escorted me to a gorgeous dining room full of people wearing clothes and eating food that I could never hope to afford in my life. In the center of the room sat Carter with a sublimely smug look on his face and two glasses of champagne.
“Do you like my gifts?” he asked as I sat down. A small whimper escaped my lips as the egg blazed to life inside me. My nipples throbbed from the clips as pleasure coursed through my body. I trembled, struggling to keep my expression neutral.
“I love them,” I said, my voice shaking only a little.
Carter laughed. He seemed different, somehow—more open, more comfortable. I wondered how long he’d been repressing this side of his personality. I liked this new Carter.
“I can’t wait to get you home,” he said in a low voice. “I’m going to tear that dress off of you.”
I could hardly pay attention to the dinner itself, which I’m pretty sure cost more than I make in a month. The focus of my entire universe narrowed to a pinpoint on Carter as I tried to anticipate whe
n he would activate the egg. He tormented me with it, turning it on for just long enough to make me shake but not climax. I was definitely getting strange looks from the surrounding tables.
When I made a quick trip to the restroom, hoping for a brief reprieve, I could see why: I looked wild, almost like an animal. My face was flushed, and my eyes were wide. No wonder Carter couldn’t stop staring at me like a predator.
Dinner seemed to take an eternity, but finally it was time to leave. The limo picked us up at the door. The second we were in the car, Carter was on me. The vibrator burst on, and I moaned like a bitch in heat, grateful for the relative privacy of the car. I molded my body against Carter’s, as his teeth nipped into the tender skin of my neck. The nipple clamps ached even more as my breasts crushed against him, but I wanted more of that feeling.
When we arrived back at the mansion, Carter whisked me off my feet and carried me inside. He headed to a wing that I’d never been in before, ignoring Charles and the maids we passed. I gasped as we arrived at our destination: Carter had an entire room that was full of whips, crosses, and all over sorts of sex toys and equipment. He set me on my feet next to an X-shaped wood structure.
“Ass to me,” he ordered, spinning me. Gripping my wrists in a firm hand, Carter buckled first the left, then the right to the tops of the X. “This is called a St. Andrew’s cross,” he said conversationally. He buckled my ankles in too, forcing my legs apart. With one sure move, Carter tore the gorgeous dress straight down the back, leaving me in nothing but lace and diamonds. I could hear him tinkering with some things behind me but dared not turn my head. It sounded like he was undressing.
I cried out as he reached around, wrenching the top of the teddy aside and clipping weights to the ends of the clamps on my nipples. Delicious pain surged through them all over again as they were pulled down by the heavy weights. My face pressed against the wood as I sagged, overcome with need.
Carter pulled the lace panties down around my upper thighs. “Did you enjoy being paraded around with your cunt stuffed full and your nipples hard?” he asked, reaching a finger into my dripping pussy. He tugged the egg out and tossed it aside.
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