Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance)

by Dalia Daudelin

  “You’re not going to tell my wife about this, Taylor.”

  I smiled up at him, the brattiest look I could muster. I waited for him to look me right in the eye.

  “I don’t know, Eric. You know she always brings home sweets. What do you bring home?”

  He pushed my bra up. Gently, he rolled the nub between his soft fingers. I could feel it beginning to stiffen. And then he gave me a sidelong glance and pinched hard and twisted. My hips bucked involuntarily and he looked at me passively.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Could you repeat yourself?”

  “I said, ‘No, sir, I won’t tell Claire.’”

  “Good girl,” he said. He bent down and claimed the other nipple between his lips, tugging gently. I ran my fingers through his hair and he gave me a look that asked if I had forgotten myself, a game that we played quite regularly--he wants me to stay still, and I don’t give him what he wants. At least not right away.

  He draws my nipple deeper into his mouth and sucks hard. I tug his hair lightly, trying to provoke him, and it works. He stops and slaps my face, not as hard as the spanking. I smile at him.

  “I want to suck your big hard cock, sir.”

  He weighs this for a moment. Does he ignore that I made a request well beyond my station, or does he punish me for ostensibly trying to please him? In the end he reaches down and I can hear his fly unzipping. He drops his heavy, half hard cock onto my thigh.

  “Get off the bed and suck my cock,” he says. He knows what I did, knows I put him in this position on purpose, and he doesn’t like it one bit. I get on my knees and take him in my hands, feeling him getting harder by the moment. His cock is so close to my mouth that it radiates heat and I can almost taste it on my tongue. I purposefully hesitate there, almost fulfilling his demands.

  He responds as quick as a rattlesnake, taking a fistful of hair and pushing me onto his cock. I can feel him pressing into the back of my throat and I let him, suppressing the gag reflex as best I can. I groan softly at the feeling of his fingers tugging my hair, stimulating and powerful. He pulls me off his cock and I gasp for air.

  “More,” I pant.

  He puts it back in, deeper still; I can almost feel my throat spreading to accommodate his girth. I look up at him and see his face is unfocused, indistinct. The pleasure has hazed over his ‘alpha’ expression. I try to pull off, to test the boundaries, and his hand holds my head still. He rocks his hips back and his cock almost spills out of my mouth. I take a breath before he pushes back in. I can feel him pressing into my tongue and I lick his cock, or what I can of it. He moans his encouragement.

  “Good girl, Taylor.” He slides back out. “Let’s see how good you are.” He pushes in again, slowly. He goes deeper still, and my nose is pressed into his pubes. My throat burns just a bit, but the look on his face more than makes up for it. I moan to let him know I don’t mind. I’m glad I can be of service.

  He pulls out of my mouth and I pull my face into a frown.

  “Daddy,” I whine. He hates it when I call him that. He says that it makes him feel like a dirty old man, especially given our... liaisons. “Don’t stop.”

  He grabs me by the arm, jerking me to my feet. I rise as quick as I can before he pushes me back onto the bed. My panties come off easily. I can feel his fingers gently running along the outer lips of my pussy, the moistness almost feels like too much to bear.

  “Please, please, don’t. I want it.”

  He stops altogether. I could almost scream, but I know it won’t get anywhere. The game is about disobeying the rules, except when following them is the most important part of all, and I know this time I have to follow them to get what I want.

  I lay my head back and close my eyes. Surrender is the only option. I can feel him getting bolder now, more direct. His fingers slip in between my outer lips, rubbing and caressing without ever touching my clit, without ever dipping inside. I try to squirm my button into the way of his hand, but he expertly avoids it, over and over again.

  “What’s the magic word, young lady?” I moan in frustrated arousal.

  “Mm-please, sir.” It was the magic word. He presses his middle finger into me, as deep as it will go. At the same time, his thumb finds my clit and starts to tease it softly. I can’t deal with it for long, and I can feel the moan bubbling up in my throat.

  I tried to fight it, but then he presses his finger against my spot and I just can’t. The moan is loud and I hope to God it doesn’t get us caught--hell, caught by the neighbors. I try to squirm away, to get away from the intense feelings in my pussy, but I can’t. Eric presses down on my chest, holding me down, holding me still. And he takes the orgasm from me whether or not I like it.

  I can’t breathe. He’s taken his hand off my chest, but my chest, my breasts, the air, it all feels so heavy. I take a deep breath, and then another, but it all feels like gasping for air for a few seconds. When my vision focuses again, Eric is standing above me, cock in hand. It’s still as hard as it was, and I gasp for breath between words:

  “Please fuck me, sir.”

  He spreads my legs, putting my ankles on his powerful shoulders, and rubs the head of his cock against my opening. I make an effort not to moan. I know he’s waiting for me to make my move and I don’t want to give him what he wants.

  He presses almost in, the head of his cock spreading my pussy, and again he slides up and down before he pulls out completely again. He rubs against my outer lips, against my clit. I have to close my eyes and think about something else--I want him to put it in, and I know that the temptation to tell him I need it is going to be too strong any moment.

  He looks up at me again, a look of stern disapproval, but also determination. And then he reaches up to my throat and chokes me. It hurts for a moment, but then I feel okay with it as my brain panics and floods everything with feel-good chemicals, for a death that won’t come. Eric knows his limitations, but I grab at his hand anyways, to complete the image. With his free hand he rubs his cock against my pussy lips again, and I want it too much.

  “Please,” I wheeze through a tight-constricted throat. His hand loosens.

  “Please what? Be specific, Taylor.”

  “Fuck me.” I gasp between breaths. “Please put it in.”

  He looks down at me expectantly. I try to squirm my way out of following the rules of the game, but in the end I surrender once more.

  “... Sir.”

  He pulls my lips apart and presses his cock-head against my dripping pussy. For a second I think that he won’t put it in, but then he thrusts forward. I feel him spreading me, stretching my pussy out. I feel like it can’t stretch any more, like his cock is the perfect size, the biggest I can take. He looks at me, at my slutty expression, and he smiles.

  “You like my cock, don’t you?”

  He pulls out, thrusts back in.

  “Answer me, slut.”

  I moan in response, my head feeling too heavy to face forward so I let it loll to the side and roll to and fro as he pounds me.

  “Fuck me, sir, don’t stop please.”

  I barely manage the whole thing between ragged gasps for air, gasps Eric tries to cut short with his thrusting. He leans forward, inadvertently hitting even deeper inside me, and two of his fingers invade my mouth. I suck them, lick them, and he thrusts into me, faster and harder as a reward when I show my enthusiasm for his body. I let my tongue roll between his fingers, and then he pulls them out of my mouth. He wipes them on my tits, and I can’t explain why but it feels deliciously slutty.

  “You want me to cum inside you, don’t you, you whore?”

  I nod vigorously.

  “That wouldn’t be very smart, now, would it? You know you’re not on the pill. I’d knock you up, you know that? Slut?”

  I moan out loud. He pushes into me hard to punctuate the last few words and for a moment I have trouble forming the words in my mouth.

  “I won’t tell!” I’m almost crying at this point, rolling thro
ugh orgasms. “Please just knock me up. Please!”

  He smiles again, that predatory smile. He speeds up. I wonder if he’s close, if he’ll give me what I want. He grunts with every thrust, pushing himself as hard as he can into my waiting cunt.

  “Cum inside me, baby. Please.”

  He pounds into me. Again. And then he groans, loud and low, and I can feel his balls twitch, and I know what is coming. A spurt of hot white cum fills me up, a second fills me to the brim, and then a third presses his cum into all the nooks and crannies of my pussy. I feel the warmth of it, and I wonder if I just got knocked up.

  He pulls out of me, stands up. I try to sit up, but I find myself too tired to manage. Instead I wave at him, come down to me. He leans over and I kiss him hard on the lips.

  “It feels so good.”

  He smiles, this time the boyish looking embarrassment that so often crosses his face when he’s not in the bedroom. When he’s not fucking me like an animal. He looks down at me sadly.

  “We really shouldn’t do this, you know.”

  I smiled. I kissed him again, grabbed him and pulled. He fell down next to me with a grunt. The bed bounced beneath him and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Don’t be silly, Eric.” He doesn’t fight my kisses. “You know I’d be terribly upset without you.”

  He kisses me this time, a back-and-forth that goes on for minutes. He reaches across me and spanks my ass again. The sting goes up my spine, sending a shiver back down. I smile at him.

  “Are you saying that you’d like another round, sir?”

  He swats me again for my tone. I knew he would. He practically had to.

  “Your youth is going to be the death of me.” He chuckles. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

  Nanny Becomes a Bitch

  Spanked By Her Boss

  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.

  “You’re not going to tell my wife about this, Taylor.”

  I smiled up at him, the brattiest look I could muster. I waited for him to look me right in the eye.

  “I don’t know, Eric. You know she always brings home sweets. What do you bring home?”

  He pushed my bra up. Gently, he rolled the nub between his soft fingers. I could feel it beginning to stiffen. And then he gave me a sidelong glance and pinched hard and twisted. My hips bucked involuntarily and he looked at me passively.

  “I’m sorry
, I didn’t hear you. Could you repeat yourself?”

  “I said, ‘No, sir, I won’t tell Claire.’”

  “Good girl,” he said. He bent down and claimed the other nipple between his lips, tugging gently. I ran my fingers through his hair and he gave me a look that asked if I had forgotten myself, a game that we played quite regularly--he wants me to stay still, and I don’t give him what he wants. At least not right away.

  He draws my nipple deeper into his mouth and sucks hard. I tug his hair lightly, trying to provoke him, and it works. He stops and slaps my face, not as hard as the spanking. I smile at him.

  “I want to suck your big hard cock, sir.”

  He weighs this for a moment. Does he ignore that I made a request well beyond my station, or does he punish me for ostensibly trying to please him? In the end he reaches down and I can hear his fly unzipping. He drops his heavy, half hard cock onto my thigh.

  “Get off the bed and suck my cock,” he says. He knows what I did, knows I put him in this position on purpose, and he doesn’t like it one bit. I get on my knees and take him in my hands, feeling him getting harder by the moment. His cock is so close to my mouth that it radiates heat and I can almost taste it on my tongue. I purposefully hesitate there, almost fulfilling his demands.

  He responds as quick as a rattlesnake, taking a fistful of hair and pushing me onto his cock. I can feel him pressing into the back of my throat and I let him, suppressing the gag reflex as best I can. I groan softly at the feeling of his fingers tugging my hair, stimulating and powerful. He pulls me off his cock and I gasp for air.

  “More,” I pant.

  He puts it back in, deeper still; I can almost feel my throat spreading to accommodate his girth. I look up at him and see his face is unfocused, indistinct. The pleasure has hazed over his ‘alpha’ expression. I try to pull off, to test the boundaries, and his hand holds my head still. He rocks his hips back and his cock almost spills out of my mouth. I take a breath before he pushes back in. I can feel him pressing into my tongue and I lick his cock, or what I can of it. He moans his encouragement.