Sucker for Her Curves (A Billionaire, BBW Extreme Seduction Story)

by Christa Wick

Straining forward, Alt kissed at her cheek, the brush of his lips making her turn her mouth toward his. He slid his hand up to knot in her hair as his tongue swept against hers.

  “Come in,” she begged when he broke the kiss.

  “Not yet.”

  Reaching along the side of the tub, he grabbed another damn water bottle. Daisy pouted but he insisted she allow him to feed the water to her, her mouth wrapped around the bottle, her chin and neck straining and his fingers continuing to fuck in and out of her pussy.

  Even that was erotic, heat sizzling across every nerve ending in her body.

  She pushed back against his fingers, gripping, squeezing, then chased forward after the water as it started to dribble down her chin. Around her, the surface of the bath became more and more opaque as milky white tendrils spread out from her body.

  With the bottle empty, Alt curled his hand along the underside of her chin, forcing her to keep it lifted as his thrusts inside her grew harder, more demanding. Her eyes rolled upward and harsh grunts built inside her mouth. Alt was intentionally keeping her at the edge, the extreme contortion of her position taking just enough edge off the hard need throbbing inside her pussy that she couldn’t come, could only mewl and whimper and whine for him to finally deliver her release.

  “Please,” she ground out. She was powerless to get out of the tub and walk away until he decided to be more reasonable. Trying to leave would be like excising a limb.

  “Join me,” she whispered.

  “You know the terms,” he taunted with a lick against her ear.

  Damn him.! That had been the one point Daisy had actually negotiated with him on despite the sensual heat searing her brain. His contract demanded no condoms, no morning after pills, no termination if she conceived. She didn’t want to be a med-school mommy, was already risking her degree by taking two weeks off and trusting that he would deliver on his promise to ensure she wasn’t cut from the program — or to heavily compensate her beyond patent royalties if she was.

  They had compromised at her signing the contract and him withholding his glorious cock — until she begged for it on his terms or he caved to hers. Beyond that, he could do anything he wanted to her body so long as it caused no physical injury.

  Tears streamed down Daisy’s face, her milk glands clogging at the same time so that her breasts swelled even larger.

  Alt pulled back, his hands gripping the side of the tub instead of her body. He huffed, his face contorting into a scowl.

  Even that was sexy and it made Daisy want to cry harder.

  She slapped at the tub’s drain release. Alt flipped it back up then stood and stepped into the water, his muscular ass perched on the edge. He crooked a finger, ordering her closer and to lift her torso up. When she complied, he grabbed her breasts and settled them around his fat erection. Gently, he rubbed at her swollen flesh, the index and middle finger of each hand forming a V and stroking a firm line that ran from the center top curve of each breast down to the end of her nipples, milk expressing at the end of each stroke.

  The ache in her breasts subsided, but not the throb between her legs. Her pussy knotted violently around itself, screaming at Daisy to accept his bare cock inside her.

  “Here,” he said, pushing his cock toward her mouth.

  She latched on, still crying, emotions seesawing as he stroked tenderly, his eyes sparkling as he watched her lips slowly moving up and down his shaft.

  As much as her body filled the air with its scent, she could smell him, too, smell the chemicals his body was releasing from the injections he took.

  “Stop,” he ordered, face contorting as he denied his own climax.

  Pushing Daisy toward the center of the tub, he slid into the water until he was covered up to his broad shoulders. Coaxing her into position, he had Daisy straddle him, her plump labia draping over his cock, her sensitive clit rubbing against his shaft. He grabbed both breasts, pushed them together, pulled one nipple into his mouth and began to suck as he squeezed.

  His tugging had Daisy riding the surface of his cock, rubbing hard and fast, never lifting to let him in. One breast flooded his mouth with her milk as the other streamed onto his shoulder. Her arms lifted, her palms slamming against the wall as her hips began to buck. Her moans echoed off the marble tiles as Alt’s groans vibrated around her areola.

  Damn, damn, damn, she wanted him in her, wanted the fat crown of cock stroking just inside the gate of her pussy as his hands had done earlier, wanted to be up there against the ceiling again and looking down on them fucking, their actions raw, uncompromised by what was acceptable or respectable.

  Seeing it all so clearly, she threw her head back and came.

  Chapter Six

  Leaving Daisy after a soft, lingering kiss so she could wash off in the shower, Alt vaguely mentioned that he had a few preparations to make, including ordering a meal for them. Daisy, he instructed, should try to nap in the interim.

  And hydrate.

  The constant need for fluids was definitely one of the downsides to Pharmalten’s injections, she mused, towel drying her hair and trying hard not to look in the mirror as she did so.

  She couldn’t escape looking. The first two times she had started lactating, inspecting her flesh had been like viewing a train wreck, not realizing the headless corpse being examined was one’s own body. She felt freakish, like her body was her enemy.

  Now she understood she wasn’t a freak. Unexpectedly kinky, yes. But not a freak. The pheromones the company had manufactured were simply awakening dormant abilities that had insured mankind’s survival through reproduction and pair bonding during pre-historic times then faded in a failed attempt to prevent overpopulation.

  Letting her damp hair fall down her back, Daisy slid a hand beneath each breast and lifted. Her nipples weren’t leaking at the moment, not after all the milk that had streamed out of her in the bath, but the nipple size had increased and darkened. The areolar glands were more pronounced than when she had started the clinical trial. Those glands were secreting, their clear oily substance faintly aromatic, leaving her famished when she had first detected the smell.

  That, too, was part of Pharmalten’s blueprint for pair bonding.

  Touching the breasts was starting to affect Daisy. She gently lowered them and slid her arms through the oversized robe she had worn earlier.

  Leaving the master bath, she found Alt in the doorway that separated his bedroom from the hall, black silk pajama pants hiding his lower body while the fiery blue gaze threw smoke signals at Daisy.

  Looking at his face, her milk ducts began to swell.

  She wouldn’t be able to survive two weeks of this, she realized. Not without medical intervention. The instant she was in his presence, her mind turned immediately to fucking him for hours.

  Alt took two steps backward, his long stride placing him with his back against the corridor’s opposite wall. He swept his left arm out, gesturing in the direction he wanted Daisy to go.

  “You need sustenance, dear lady.”

  She closed her eyes, smiling. He didn’t call her “dear lady” with any sarcastic undertone. It was delightfully old-fashioned, out-of-time and the opposite of his appearance and his position as a leading researcher.

  “Daisy,” he prodded softly, the deep timbre of his voice lifting her eyelids and setting her feet in motion.

  Passing him in the hall, she could see a door ahead slightly cracked, the glow of candlelight evident. She hadn’t realized until that moment how dark the rest of the penthouse had become.

  He must have pulled all the shades while she showered and dried off.

  She pushed lightly at the door then froze as it swung inward. A small gasp escaped the narrow part of her lips. It wasn’t the sumptuous meal laid out with candles all around it that shocked the sound from her. It wasn’t the oversized black vinyl cushion against the wall.

  It was the hardware.

  A medical tray that belonged in the labs downstairs was covered wi
th a black velvet rectangle. On top of that were jeweled clamps; various cuffs, including a pair attached to some kind of telescoping bar; a riding crop; a paddle; a club with leather tails; and a vibrating wand with half a dozen attachments, some her mind couldn’t sort out.

  Like the one with three different protrusions!

  “What,” she snarked. “No ball gag?”

  Despite her attempt at humor, she didn’t find the scene funny. She’d never been tied up before, but she had given Alt blanket consent to anything that didn’t injure or impregnate her.

  “Maybe I’ll have the medical device group design a ball gag you can drink through,” Alt mused, his hand against her back to steer her into the room.

  It wasn’t impossible for her to say “no,” to revoke her consent. Of course, she’d get nothing beyond the ten thousand dollars he had deposited in her account. No more trial payments, no use of her biological information in the patents, nothing.

  “You remember section 25, paragraph c?” Alt asked with a teasing voice.

  “Corvidae,” she responded.

  Stupid and blind, undoubtedly, but it hadn’t penetrated her dense skull at the time that she was coming up with a safe word for this kind of play.

  “And paragraph d?”

  She frowned. That had referenced the termination of contract clause, the ten thousand already received her “liquidated” damages and agreement not to sue and not to disclose.

  “Yes,” she answered softly.

  “Back against the wall,” he ordered. “I assume you know where I mean.”

  She nodded. The elevated, bed-like vinyl cushion had a nest of pillows gathered at the center of where it met the wall. A foot out in both directions, two rings had been attached to the wall.

  Heart feeling as ready to explode as her swollen breasts, she walked to the bed and put one knee on it in preparation of crawling up to the pillows.

  “Strip first.”

  She shrugged the robe off and looked around for someplace to put it.

  Oh, dear! Her immediate tunnel vision upon entering the room had spared her from seeing some of the objects hiding in the dungeon’s shadows, their placement just outside the glow of the candlelight.

  She walked over to one such object, draped the robe over its front protrusion and ran a hand along what she could only think of as its seat.

  A rocking horse?

  She tilted it forward, saw the slide of a dildo up through one of the holes in the seat. Snatching her hand away, she must have hit a button because the damn thing started vibrating.

  Startled, she jerked backward.

  And collided with Alt’s broad chest.

  Placing one hand on her shoulder, he stopped Daisy’s retreat. His other hand slid down her spine, between the split of her butt cheeks and forward to the mouth of her pussy.

  “I had these shipped from my home after seeing your lab results.”

  “From your castle,” she murmured.

  “From its dungeon,” he answered with a soft nip of her ear. “They arrived a few days ago and I’ve been busy preparing for you ever since.”

  Daisy tried to turn, wanted to look in his eyes and measure the truth of his claims. Alt held her immobile, his grip on her shoulder tight and his fingers thick inside her, his chest pushing against her back.

  She still didn’t get that part of his claim—about how they were each vulnerable to one another but not to other people. She knew she was vulnerable to him. His presence turned her thoughts fuzzy, short circuiting the intelligent part of her brain.

  But Alt seemed perfectly in control.

  “Did you notice how all the technicians giving the injections are male?” he asked, nuzzling her ear as his fingers, their tips slick with her juices, slid up to tease the tight, nervous star of her ass.

  “No,” she admitted. “I just noticed that I only ever saw women receiving the shots.”

  “There are some twenty-seven genetic classes within the experiment that factor into who will be attracted to whom. From there, it can be customized, the injection serum modified with a donor’s DNA.”

  This time she forced herself to turn and look at him. He didn’t try to stop her, just readjusted his hands so that one curled around her hip while the other softly stroked at a nipple.

  “You put your DNA in me?”

  “Are you referencing the injections in the lab or out there on my living room floor?” he asked with a stern voice, one imperious brow lifting to remind Daisy she was in his domain.

  “The injections.”

  She panted the syllables out, anger flaring inside her. She knew that none of what he was saying he had done was beyond the scope of the trial warnings and its consent forms.

  “Yes, I customized your injections with my DNA,” Alt admitted then tapped his own forearm. “And my injections with your DNA.”

  “You’re crazy,” she whispered.

  He gave an admonishing pinch of her nipple.

  “Is it crazy to want to take away one of the biggest causes of strife in the world — unfulfilled sexual desires, lack of intimacy?” he asked. “Is it crazy to want to reverse the divorce rate, to eliminate it?”

  “Oh!” Her head bobbed with sarcasm and she tried to wiggle out of his grip. “You’re saying you want to marry me?”

  His mouth pursed with a sudden wistfulness.

  “That would be problematic,” Alt answered and turned away, his gaze no longer meeting hers or caressing any part of her body. “If you are done with the melodrama, we still have work to do.”

  “No,” she answered, sliding her robe on, viciously tying the sash and folding her arms across her aching breasts. “You just admitted you don’t want anything to do with me beyond the trial, you don’t seem affected at all. So, before anything else happens, I need to know this can be reversed in me.”

  “If the injection rounds aren’t completed, it will fade on its own,” he answered, walking over to the spread of food and plucking a chocolate covered strawberry from a basket. He took a bite, slowly chewing as he turned to look at Daisy again. “After the initial twelve injections, boosters are required every few years to maintain the conditions, but we have developed a reversion therapy. I suppose, if you don’t enjoy sharing my bed, you can be our first clinical trial patient for that.”

  Sharing his bed? Was he talking long term?

  He’d just said marriage was problematic.

  “Do you have a wife?” she blurted, the thought occurring to her for the first time.

  After too long a pause, he answered, “No.”

  “A fiancée?”

  Alt took another bite of the strawberry, face turning down with regret.

  A wave of dizziness rolled through Daisy. Her knees went weak then started to buckle.

  Alt jumped up, catching her before she could hit the ground.

  “You must eat,” Alt admonished, scooping her voluptuous body up into his strong arms and turning toward the oversized vinyl cushion. “It’s imperative that you keep your calorie intake high during therapy, otherwise you’ll dehydrate and your sugar will drop.”

  Daisy cuffed his ear.

  “That wasn’t why I started to fall and you know it! Now put me down.”

  Ignoring her protests, Alt carried her out of his recently furnished dungeon and back to the master bedroom, where he placed her on the bed.

  “Stay,” he ordered and turned.

  “Screw you!” she answered hotly, all the hours of constant pleasurable tingling sensations burned away as anger turned to rage.

  “You will stay there because you have nothing to wear but a robe,” he chided, stopping in the doorway. “And screwing me is exactly what you could be doing if you didn’t insist on being so emotional.”

  He turned down the hall, his steps carrying him in the same direction as his playroom.

  Stunned, Daisy collapsed against the pillows.

  He was admonishing her for being emotional? Seriously? Wasn’t that what his e
ntire experiment was about — emotions?

  It was about love—or so he had claimed.

  How could he suggest anything less?

  Chapter Seven

  Daisy woke to a tray alongside the king-size bed. There were cheeses and smoked meats, crackers, olives, succulent cherry tomatoes and more.

  In an ice bucket, bottles of water had been left to chill, the ice all melted.

  Yawning, she had no idea how long she had slept beyond it being long enough for the ice to turn to water. Her stomach insisted it had been an eternity.

  Sitting up, she nibbled at a piece of cheese as she cracked the seal on one of the waters.

  She drank several mouthfuls then put the bottle aside and layered a cracker with some meat, cheese and one of the cherry tomatoes then popped the entire construction into her mouth.

  She had to leave—without surrendering to her pharmaceutically-induced, out-of-control biology before she made it to the safety of the elevator.

  Alt was engaged to be married!

  Was this woman in love with him? Had he tried using his fiancée as a test subject? Did he love her? Did he plan an entire harem of concubines—Daisy just one of them unless she took the reversal therapy?

  After finishing off half a dozen more layered crackers and two of the water bottles, Daisy went in search of her clothes.

  She had a fuzzy memory of shedding most or all of the clothes in the living room. Tightening the sash on the robe she had fallen asleep in, she padded quietly down the hall in almost total darkness.

  Reaching the living room, there was just enough light coming through the open drapes from the city’s constant dome of illumination for her to see Alt asleep on his couch, a light throw blanket covering him from the hips down to his toes. Bent at the elbow, one arm was behind his head. The other was along his side, his hand centered over his lower stomach.

  Asleep, with the soft, bluish halo of light illuminating his face, he didn’t look like the kind of cold, clinical bastard who would cheat on his fiancée and turn Daisy’s life upside down like she was a lab rat or monkey.