Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance)

by Dalia Daudelin

  His hot breath is on my face. I close my eyes tight, not wanting to look up at the scary man attacking me. “Please don't take your anger out on me!” I cry. But instead of hurting me, he presses his face against mine. Chuck kisses me, hard. I'm too stunned to react at first, but once I realize what's happening I try pushing him away. It's no use with my arms pinned. His beard scratching my face and his tongue traces my lips.

  “Chuck-” I try to say, turning my head, but he doesn't relent. The sound of my protests is muffled under his lips and facial hair. His large, warm hand slips between my thighs and up the bottom of the towel. It gently rubs my damp skin, bringing the nerves to electrifying life.

  Slowly, his fingers work their way up until he finally presses them against my mound, and that's when I stop struggling. After denying myself an orgasm all day, I shudder into his mouth and melt.

  I was just daydreaming about him while masturbating, anyway. So I give in. I give in completely. I push my tongue into his mouth and kiss him with the same ferocity he's using on me. Once I stop struggling, he lets go of my arms, and I wrap them around his neck, pulling him in closer.

  He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his body. His head falls into my neck, and he sucks on it. It's going to leave a bruise. I don't care. I love how it feels, and I love it even more when he bites my neck. I give him a small moan to encourage him, and he bites harder.

  I wiggle my body to rub my naked pussy against his jeans. The towel finally falls away, leaving my naked and damp body pressed up against the cool wall. One of his hands paws my left breast. I gasp into his ear as he tweaks my nipple.

  Chuck carries me over to the bed easily, his big arms cradling my body like something precious. My face burns hot red, and my nipples are tingling with excitement.

  This strong man lays me down on the bed and spreads my legs before diving right into the best oral sex I have ever had. His tongue explores every fold that I have, probing my depths and really working to pleasure me. It laps up my juices as they flow freely, and then nuzzles against my clitoris. Moving quickly, he lashes at my most sensitive spot with vigor. He's taking his anger out on me, but that's okay, I'll let him.

  His arms go beneath my legs, propping them up on his big shoulders. Chuck slips a finger into my depth. He sighs and his shoulders relax. I gasp and my back arches. “Chuck,” I sigh as my fingers grasp at the rough motel bedsheets below me. “Don't stop, that feels so good.”

  Chuck wiggles his long finger inside of me, sending butterfly flutters throughout my body. He looks up at me. “Cum for me,” he says. “Relax. Let it happen. Cum for me.”

  Oh, his voice sounds so nice. I melt into it, and then I cum. Chuck inserts a second finger, and I cum again, wave after wave of orgasm pounding through me, gentle at first but then stormy and powerful until I'm screaming and writhing against the bed.

  Before I can even recover from the orgasms, Chuck is pulling me down to the edge of the bed and parting my legs even wider. My knees spread around his torso before pulling him in closer. His pants are pushed down his thighs in a flash, and there's his cock. It's not comically large like I imagined, but it's still huge. And rock hard.

  When he places it against my clit, I realize how hot it is, too. The warmth makes me throb with desire yet again. The first orgasms haven't yet faded, but I'm writhing against his skin, wanting more of him. “I want you inside of me,” I coo. “Please.”

  He places his cock at my entrance, and slowly pushes it past the tight threshold. “Ha,” I pant. Oh, it hurts. I haven't had sex in a long time, and I am tight. He winces and pushes himself in farther, gritting his teeth.

  Finally, his balls are resting against my ass. Before pulling out, he bends down and cups my right breast, taking the nipple into his hot mouth. His tongue swirls around the swollen nub.

  He slowly pulls himself out of my depths, and then pushes himself back in. Now that he's wetter, it's going more easily and it's starting to feel good. With each thrust, my breasts jiggle from the movement.

  I pinch my nipple and look down at Chuck's cock buried in my cunt. I wrap my legs around him even tighter now, and make sure I make my pussy twitch for him. It's a trick I picked up with my last boyfriend, and Chuck seems to appreciate it too.

  A bead of sweat drips down his neck and down his shirt. He seems to comically large compared to me, but his muscles bulge with each motion, in and out of me.

  His cock is starting to swell within me, and I know what's to come. I start to panic, worried he'll cum in me, but that danger turns me on too. I decide to let him do whatever he wants to do. If he wants to cum in me, then that's hot as hell and I'll let him. Right now, I'd let him do anything at all to me.

  Chuck grips my sides, his fingers digging into my skin. He bites his lower lip and grunts, fucking me harder. My own orgasm is coming up on me faster than I expected. Before he cums, I'm already shivering beneath him with multiple orgasms rushing through me.

  And then he cums, and my own orgasms become insane, spectacular. His jizz is hot and electrifying and I feel my whole body, every nerve ending, burning and twitching. “Oh fuck! Oh gaaaaah!” I cry, gripping at the bedsheets to try and stop myself from trashing around. Chuck keeps fucking me until every last drop of his cum is deep inside of me.

  He pulls out and, as if it were the most natural thing for me to do, I fall to my knees and I take his now soft cock into my mouth. I clean up my juices and start to fellate him.

  “Not sure if I'll be able to get hard again, darlin',” Chuck says, chuckling. Still, I make sure he's at least cleaned up. I'm still horny as hell.

  “Come on, now, stand up.” He helps me to my feet and hands me my towel. “You gonna get dressed now?”

  My nakedness suddenly feels awkward, especially since he's mostly clothed. Wrapping the towel around my body, I scurry to the bathroom and finish my shower, cleaning myself up and ignoring it when my clit twitches.

  When I come back out of the bathroom, Chuck is already asleep on his bed, on top of the covers and dressed only in his boxers. God damn, he has a tight ass.

  I consider, for a second, going to sleep with him. I decide against it. I don't know if he wants to be cutesy with me, and I don't want to be clingy. Maybe he just wanted to have sex to relieve some stress.

  I fall asleep to the feeling of my heart twisting every time I remind myself not to get attached to a man who probably wants nothing to do with me.

  THREE

  BOOM.

  Another loud sound, but this time it's worse. So much worse.

  I jolt up out of my bed, first looking at the clock on the table and then realizing the room is way brighter than it should be for 3 am. Bright red.

  I run to the window, where Chuck already is, his mouth open wide but his body slack. I look down. There's fire everywhere.

  “What happened?”

  He whirls around and runs out the door. I follow him, barefoot, trying to keep up with his huge strides. I'm confused and still tired.

  “Fuck!” He screams. His hands come up to his head. I look down at the cement, and see a piece of glass that looks a lot like his headlight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  His motorcycle is on fire. Exploded, actually, and it's in pieces all over the lot. A few of the cars have been damaged, and other people staying in the motel are milling out of their rooms now, scared of the sight. A few kids are crying.

  Chuck turns around and gives me the most bone-chilling look. “I need to borrow your phone, Abigail.”

  “I have to go find it.” I run back to the room, pushing past the other confused people. I grab my cell phone from under my pillow and take it to Chuck. He thanks me and walks to the edge of the parking lot as the sound of sirens grows in the distance.

  A few minutes later, Chuck hands me my phone. “I have someone bringing me a new bike. We'll need to deal with the police and then wait for Derrick.”

  “Who's Derrick?” I ask. My hands are shaking, so I grip my pajama pants tight. It does
n't help.

  “He's the leader of the Sons of Sin.”

  “The bike gang?” I ask, pointing a meek finger at the patch on his leather vest.

  He nods but says nothing, the grim look on his face scaring me. It's almost similar to how he looked last night before he slammed me up against the wall, but something tells me I won't be relieving that stress for him this time.

  I help Chuck collect the pieces of his bike, and then I talk to the police about what happened. A woman a few rooms down from us offers me some pills to help me calm down, but I refuse and head back up to the room to get some more sleep. Before I drift off to sleep, I see that I have a missed call from Dad. I'll have to call him back when I get up.

  “Abigail, they'll be here soon.”

  Chuck is shaking my shoulder gently. The light coming in from the window is dim and red, telling me it's sunset. My stomach growls and my hair's a mess. “What?”

  “Derrick and his girl will be here soon. They want to meet you, so you probably want to change.” Chuck's hand lingers on my shoulder for a few seconds too long. For a while there I though he might have just used me to relieve some stress, but maybe he likes me after all.

  Chuck leaves the room to wait for Derrick outside, giving me some privacy to dress and pull a brush through my hair. It's usually straight, but it's unruly since I didn't brush it after my shower last night. I stop brushing my hair and look at myself in the mirror, touching two fingers to my lips.

  Am I going to let myself get caught up in a crush with an older man? Especially one in a bike gang like this? I don't know. Maybe I don't have a choice, but I like to think I do. My lips tingle and my stomach flips when I think about his scratchy beard pressed against my face and his hands spreading my thighs.

  I just about finish up brushing my hair when I hear the sound of two loud motorcycles pulling up. I check out the window, looking down at the man and woman driving up to Chuck. They both stop and step off their bikes. The woman is as tall as Chuck, with long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. Her body is absolutely rocking, with tits bigger than anyone's hand could hold.

  The guy is thinner than Chuck, but about the same height as him. His hair is jet black and shiny. Chuck points up to the room, and Derrick follows his finger to the window where I'm standing. He sees me watching them and flashes me a devilish smile. I duck back behind the curtain, taking a deep breath to prepare myself.

  What if Derrick's mean? What if he yells at me, or blames me for what happened? I don't even understand why Chuck's bike was attacked like that. What does Chuck do that caused him to have such a bad enemy?

  I step out the door and head back to Chuck's side. He smiles at me weakly. “This is Abigail. I'm helping her get to California.”

  Derrick looks me up and down, his eyes sticking to my tits and to my short skirt. “Interesting,” he says. “Bet you never met a girl like that in jail, huh Chuck?”

  Jail? Chuck rolls his eyes and turns me toward the woman with long blonde hair. Damn, she's even more beautiful up close. “This is Cari, Derrick's girlfriend of the week.”

  Cari scowls, flashing Chuck a dirty look. “I'm his fiance, actually. We're getting married next month.” The ring on her finger sports a huge diamond. I wonder if Derrick stole the ring, or if he got the money to buy it legitimately?

  “So, what are we going to do about this problem?” Derrick asks, crossing his arms against his chest. Even though he's practically scrawny next to Chuck, he still is obviously the boss, the kind of man that no one questions. He's the kind of man a girl like me fears.

  “I am going to ring Chico's fucking neck, that's what.”

  “You're damn right you are.” Derrick throws something to Chuck, then turns to me. “You know how to use a gun, sweetheart?” Derrick asks, looking down his long nose at me. He's holding a small black pistol out to me.

  “Well, my Dad's a registered Republican, but I-”

  “Good enough.” He shoves the gun into my hand. My mouth falls open and I look to Chuck for a reprieve from this insanity, but he's busy inspecting the bike that Cari rode in on. “Get on the back of that bike with your boyfriend, we need your help.” He turns and grabs Cari's hand, leaving me wondering whether or not I'll be alive long enough to call my Dad back and ask him to book me a plane ticket straight back home.

  Spanked for Disobedience

  The Nanny's Booty

  Dalia Daudelin

  This afternoon, when I arrived, Barney’s parents were pretty clear on one thing. Barney had been asking to see the new horror film. The title hardly bears repeating, but it left very little to the imagination.

  I have never been mad about horror as a genre, personally, but Barney is absolutely fascinated by the stuff. And unlike so many kids, he’s really voracious, practically willing to watch anything as long as it gets his adrenaline up.

  So what was the first thing I did? I took him to see it. Bought him a big basket of popcorn, too. The soda was a given, of course. Honestly, they probably shouldn’t have been so picky about the whole thing, then I probably wouldn’t have gone. It was hardly worth the effort overall, the movie was boring and even Barney was not especially wowed.

  I emptied my pockets before we went to take the dogs out for their walk, except for the keys to the house and my can of mace. The neighborhood is certainly nice enough, but my safety is a serious concern, as is Barney’s.

  Hell, as is Gunther’s, and he’s just a dog. It was sunny out, and I silently jabbed at the weatherman, who’d predicted light rain throughout the day.

  I got dinner in the kid, dinner in the dog, and got Barney into bed. He had finally graduated to sleeping with the door closed and that meant I had some ‘me’ time. I turned on the television and had a seat, watching as a TV chef demonstrated cooking some hoity-toity dish that made a lot more sense when she explained it than when she did it on screen.

  I suspected that trying to replicated either part of the exercise would demonstrate that both parts of the TV explanation were simpler than actually cooking it.

  I let the TV run while I got up, stretched my legs by walking around the house. I brewed myself a cup of coffee and sat back down to watch the backlog of shows I’d missed since last time they called me over to watch the boy. I had more than one show I watched only so that I had something to do when I was waiting for Eric or Claire to let me go home. Tonight was Eric’s night, though, and that meant I wasn’t going home right away.

  I can’t tell you why he’s interested. Claire seems like a nice enough woman, though to hear Eric tell it a fair bit of that is a front. She’s good looking. I can’t imagine that half of what he tells me is true--how little she wants sex, and how disinterested she is when it happens. I’ve been playing with her husband for six months now, since just after my 18th birthday, and if she thinks he’s not a tiger in the sack then she’s been missing something.

  The door shuts and I can hear footsteps in the foyer, the heavy steps of a man. I snuggle into my blanket and wait for him to come in.

  “Hey, Taylor, I see you guys went to the cinema?” Shit. Did I leave the ticket stubs on the table? I don’t want to get him mad at me. Christ!

  “Taylor,” he calls, in his most disapproving tone, “You know we asked you not to take Barney to see this. It gives him nightmares!”

  I got up and sauntered into the foyer, looking at him through my bangs. Trying to create a sex-pot image to get his mind off it as soon as possible.

  “C’mon, Eric. It’s not a big deal. He’s a tough kid, and he wanted to.” He gave me a disapproving frown, but one that said that he was about to let the issue go. “He’ll be fine.”

  Eric walked up to me, tie loose, and he pushed me gently backwards into the door-frame, then pressed his body against mine.

  “You may be right about that, Taylor,” he said. The stern note in his voice suggested that he was about to add a ‘but.’ “Does that mean you get to be disobedient?”

  His face was an inch from mine,
and I could smell the cologne he wore faintly. I looked into his eyes. I pursed my lips. He stepped back away from me.

  “Taylor, I want you to go bend over the back of the couch.”

  I did as I was told. He walked over slowly, confidently. He pulled up my skirt, revealing my panties. I’d worn the lacy ones just for him, and he made a sound of approval. He rubbed my ass cheeks gently. And then he slapped them. I yelped, and he slapped them again.

  “Now, are you going to be a bad girl again?”

  “I don’t know, maybe I will.” I was almost glad I was facing away from him, so he couldn’t see the grin on my face. Talking back was enough, I didn’t need him to know how pleased I was with myself for it.

  Another slap rained down on my ass, and I yelped again, and I moaned out my pleasure. Another slap. Then he turned me around, kissed me on the lips.

  “Come on, Taylor. I need to show you what they do to bad girls where I’m from.” I purred and followed him to the bedroom. If I tried, I could almost imagine Claire lying on this same bed, sleeping beside a husband she hardly suspected at all.

  He pushed me down onto the bed, pressing with his full weight. For a moment I felt almost afraid, cowed into submission, but then the old stubbornness rose in my chest and I pushed up against him. I rolled half out of his grasp, almost planted a kiss on his lips, before he got control of me again. Pinned my shoulders, flipped me over onto my stomach. He held me down by the back of my neck with one hand.

  I scrambled to get my knees under me, but that presented my ass in a way I just hadn’t considered. Thwok! He swatted me hard and I gasped. My knees slipped and before I could get them under me again he struck again, with the full force of his arm.

  “Bad girl!” he said. I purred and didn’t fight. I wanted to roll back over, present myself to him, but I thought that he might take that as disobedience. It might earn me another swat, but obedience could be a fun game, too.

  He turned me over again, back onto my back, and he expertly undid the buttons in my blouse, one by one with the quiet skill of a tailor finishing a seam.