In Service To The Billionaire

by Heather Chase

  “Stop,” he said. “Not here. Gather your things and meet me at my car. You’ll follow me home.”

  Sophia did her best to hide her disappointment.

  She knew, in the end, that she must obey.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Chapter 11

  She followed him home—he wouldn’t allow her to be in her car.

  At first, this insulted her, but she resolved not to let it.

  In a certain fashion, in fact, it all made sense. Sand didn’t know her, not really. What if she was insane? What if she was clingy or shitty to him? Then he would be stuck with having to give her a ride or waiting for a taxi that she might not even be willing to take.

  The only way to convince him of the purity of her intentions was to go along with everything he said.

  And this worked out anyway, as doing every last little thing he said was exactly what Sophia wanted.

  He lived in Class Towers, an enormous living complex that boasted homes to the city’s richest people—of whom Sand was, of course, at the very tip-top.

  She followed his car into the garage through a series of three tall, imposing metal gates and she—not having the proper identification—was stopped by guards at each gate. It was only due to Sand that she was able to make it inside at all.

  Parking next to him, she marveled at the opulence of the garage. It was air-conditioned, with tile floors and ornate light-fixtures hanging down from the ceiling. High definition video-cameras were posted on every pillar and wall.

  When she exited her car, Sand was there—and slipped a strong hand around her waist. Pulling her into himself, he kissed her firmly, and all her worries and thoughts dissipated. When he pulled away, she slid her hand across his handsome face, admiring all the strong, noble features there, the crooked lines of his nose. She had to bite her lip to keep from pouncing into his arms.

  “I appreciate you waiting like you have,” he said. “And coming here. I like to keep certain aspects of my life separate from others, you understand.”

  She nodded fervently. “Yes, Sir.”

  He smiled, rubbing his thumb along her cheek and then her lip. Moaning, she pushed her face against his touch, wanting to feel it harder, deeper.

  “When I first met you, I thought you were rather willful.”

  Kissing his thumb, sliding one plush lip over his nail, she said, “When I first met you, I didn’t realize you were the kind of man who deserved to break my will.”

  His grip around her waist slid down and became tight around her ass. Her breath caught—he gripped so hard! His hands, so large and strong, could control her motion entirely. The thought made her pussy pulse with heat.

  “So,” he said. “It’s not just anybody that gets to have you?”

  Her hair shifted sexily as she shook her head. “Only the really, incredibly, alarmingly sexy and dominant types.”

  He smiled. “And being rich doesn't hurt, I suppose?”

  Uncertainty swelled in her for a moment—this seemed like a test. The best response, she decided quickly, was just to tell him the truth. “I suppose it's nice, yes. But to tell you the truth, I wouldn't care if you lived in the back of an alley, so long as you dominated me.”

  Leaning in, he kissed her—long and sweet. His hands pushed through the long hot tangle of her dark hair. Her breasts, so full and heavy, crushed against his muscled chest.

  “Good answer,” he said.

  Taking her by the hand, he led her to the elevator. As they waited inside, the elevator slowly ticking up room by room, he slipped his hand under the skirt of her dress. With two fingers, he pressed hard against her thin panties. Juices from the hot, wet folds of her pussy dripped down onto his fingers.

  Sophia moaned with need, clutching his suit tightly. “Right here, please?” she begged him. “Fuck me right here?”

  His fingers entered her entirely. She could see the need on his face—and hoped she saw the same on hers.

  “A good girl waits,” he said, pushing harder and deeper up onto her pussy. “A good girl...obeys.”

  She nodded, panting and moaning even more. “A good girl obeys, Sir.”

  As frustrating as it was to wait, she couldn’t believe how much it turned her on to do so, knowing she was obeying. All her fantasies, all her desires coming true right now! Her breaths felt like they were too slow and too fast, both, shuddering with every exit and not coming nearly fast enough to keep her head from spinning.

  Her lips fell against his boulder-like bicep, kissing there softly while he nonchalantly continued to finger-fuck her.

  There was a security camera in the elevator. She realized that everything he did to her was monitored.

  Screw it. She didn't care. Let them watch. All she cared about was her Sir's cock getting hard and ready to slide up inside of her hot sub body.

  As the doors opened to his enormous condo, a part of her mind not drowning in seas of lust managed to wonder at the vast gap in their respective wealth. Everything about Sand’s living situation seemed like the opposite of Sophia’s.

  She lived in a tiny two-bedroom duplex apartment on the bad side of town that was maybe seven hundred square feet.

  He, on the other hand, lived on the top floor of an illustriously built complex, owning a three-story 50,000 square foot condo all to himself.

  His floors were wood-paneled.

  She was lucky to have anything on the floor at all outside of carpet that was strangely flea-infested during the summer, despite never owning a pet.

  His entryway was the size of her entire apartment, and her bathroom would have fit inside of the marble fountain right in the middle of his entryway.

  As much as she didn't want to make a big deal about his wealth...it was increasingly hard not to. And with her first exposure to all of it heightened with Sand's strong fingers pressing hard up inside of her needy, sopping-wet pussy, every bit of opulent richness made an even more indelible impact on her brain.

  With a smile and a kiss, he slipped his hand out of her, gesturing for her to follow him past the entryway into a large, two-story living area with a sunken-in seating area. Enormous windows made up the wall, giving a premium view of the lights of the city.

  She noticed that the space was all strangely barren of technology—until she watched him touch a few wood panels on the wall, and realized that those and some other panels on the floor and ceiling could flip around or rise up or sink down to reveal a speaker, or a panel, or a television, and so on.

  She watched him open one such panel—inside were a series of boxes, each with their own key. He unlocked one such box—small, the size of a handbag—and walked with it over to a large leather couch. He set the box down on the stand, and then took off his coat, throwing it a good ten feet onto the other side of the couch.

  “So,” he said finally, sitting down on the couch and crossing his legs. “You want to be my slave, yes?”

  She nodded, standing in front of the couch, her dark hair shuffling past her shoulders. “Yes, Sir. Very much, Sir.”

  “Come here, then, like a good slave.”

  Just almost she took a step forward—but then she noticed the expectant gleam in his eye. She wasn’t supposed to come forward—she was supposed to come forward “like a good slave.”

  She got down on her hands and knees and began to crawl forward, staring up at him the whole time. Her sexy, beautiful hair splayed out down her back and side. Her hot ass displayed so prominently.

  You own this, her crawl said. You own me.

  Anxiety and doubt struck at her, but they were trying to scale a tall, tall wall of arousal. Fighting those negative feelings off, she ended her crawl by slipping into his legs like a cat, purring and sliding her body up one strong leg.

  Her breasts pushed around his knee and she slid up, staying on her knees.

  “Was that acceptable, Sir?” she asked. “If not, I am happy to crawl for you again.” She shrugged, raising an eyebrow and licking her lips. “Or do anything else.�
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  One dainty, needy hand slid around his crotch, taking hold of his cock once more. Just as she had wanted and hoped, he was hard as a rock. He put a hand through the thick mass of hair, admiring her beautiful face, her cleavage.

  “No, that was very good.”

  His gaze followed hers on his cock, and they both watched his clear bulge stiffen and extend in his pants underneath her grip.

  “Please,” she said. “May I stroke you?”

  “Yes.”

  Eagerly, Sophia pulled his pants down around his ankles, and then off entirely. He didn’t seem to care that they were being wrinkled, so neither did she. He probably had ten thousand pairs of pants being maintained by ten thousand different maids in this titanically large place.

  His cock, enormous, stood at full attention in front of her. The tallness of it, the thickness, the clear pride of every hot meaty molecule—Sophia knew in an instant that her life was complete, seeing such a beautiful instrument. It was as arrogant, strong, handsome as the rest of him was.

  “Oh,” she moaned softly. “It’s perfect.”

  Her hand slipped warmly around the base of the big shaft, the tips of her fingers not even able to meet her thumb. She cooed with awe when, as a response to the attendant nature of her sudden and sensuous stroking, a spurt of hot pre-cum shot up and slid down over her hand and the shaft.

  Leaning forward, she licked it off her thumb—taking care not to touch his shaft with her mouth. He hadn’t allowed her to taste his cock yet, after all.

  He tasted wonderful—so strong and manly. Just like his scent. She wanted to gobble down every bit of it that she could. But she had to wait. She needed his order. Her hand continued to glide up and down his meaty length as she purred and cooed at every little vibration his cock produced.

  “Fuck,” he said, putting a hand through her thick hair. “You’re good at that.”

  She smiled, licking her lips. “Thank you, Sir.”

  Almost, just almost, she had called him “Master.” Every part of her moaned to do so. But she had to earn it, first. She had to be commanded to—just like for anything else, now.

  “With how good you are at that...it makes me want to ask you...”

  Her breath caught—he was going to ask her to swallow his cock.

  Oh, yes. Oh, fuck yes.

  But...no. He took a breath, grabbing the box he had set on the stand next to the couch. He toyed with its gleaming wooden surface for a moment.

  “I have...” he paused, gathering himself.

  Sophia’s heart raced. He seemed almost nervous! God, she had never seen him like that...and she had certainly not expected to find such vulnerability such a turn-on.

  It was because it was just for her, she realized. He didn't get like this often. Maybe not at all.

  “I have a collar I’ve been saving,” he finished finally.

  Cautiously, he opened the box. Sophia saw it—a pure gold band, three diamond studs in the front of it.

  Sophia put her free hand to her mouth. “Oh my god!”

  In her startled joy, she had stopped stroking him as obediently as before.

  Turning away, he swore, closing the box.

  “I’m sorry. That was...that was too much. I—”

  Sophia, her attention divided a thousand different ways, noticed at last that she had stopped stroking him. She rectified immediately, picking up her attentions once more.

  She begged him, “Put it on me, oh my god, please!”

  He looked genuinely surprised.“W-what?”

  Her stroking of his cock sped up desperately, needing so bad to convey her desire.

  “Collar me, sir,” she cried breathily. “Oh my god, please put that collar on me!”

  With a warm, deep smile, he opened the box again. One of his strong hands came down around her thick volume of hair, wrapping it upward. The other slipped the collar around her neck. It made a satisfying, loud, clicking noise.

  “Perfect,” he said, stroking her cheek.

  Her other hand came up to help her first as she stroked him. Both hands twisting gently, stroking eagerly. Holding him, attending him, serving him, pleasuring him—and now collared by him.

  Her pussy felt like it would vibrate her legs right off of her body. Oh god, she had a collar! She had a collar, and she was owned. Owned! There was no clearer indication than the collar. Its surface, gold and gleaming, was such a hot, reassuring weight around her neck.

  “Thank you, Sir. Please...please, how would you like me to show you my appreciation for my collar?”

  “Suck me,” he ordered. “Suck my dick, slave.”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, Master.”

  She ventured the word—he did not deny the title.

  Her life felt complete.

  Wanting to savor the moment, she leaned in and kissed his shaft slowly, lovingly. She started at the base, near his heavy balls, and slowly worked upward. And just when she was near the head, she kissed back downward again.

  He tugged at her hair. “No more teasing. Suck.”

  She nodded happily, dragging her soft, pink tongue up his long meaty length with obvious pleasure.

  Leaning forward at last, at long last, Sophia slid her lips around the head of his cock. A hot, triumphant thrill sped through her beautiful body.

  His cock moved inside of her, spurting even more precum into her mouth, down her throat. She loved every bit of it. The hot shaft pushed in past her lips and easily crossed the space of her mouth—and very quickly he was entering her throat.

  Good. She wanted him there. She wanted him to fuck her mouth, fuck her throat. She wanted him to use her.

  He was so fucking big, though! Bobbing forward and back, her tongue twisting around his terrific mass, she took as much of it as she possibly could.

  For the longest time, close to half an hour—she continued in this fashion. Lazily sucking her Master's cock, her jeweled collar dipping as she dipped. Staring up at him with loving, happy eyes and knowing without a doubt that she was following his orders to the tee. He clearly enjoyed her actions, deep groans vibrating through his muscular chest, his hips gyrating forward as she pushed her mouth down further.

  But then, just as she felt like she was really getting somewhere—approaching some incredible zen-like truth, he stopped her. Tugging her back by the hair, he stood up, his cock lazily slapping against her juice-covered chin.

  “I want to fuck you,” he said.

  Her eyes widened desperately. “Yes, please!”

  He picked her up all the way by her hair. It hurt, but not as much as it hurt to see him with such a massive hard-on not being pleased her eager slave-fuck body. Casually, he tossed her into the couch. Like she was nothing, he did this. Just like he had tossed the coat—effortlessly.

  He was. So. Strong!

  Quickly, he took off the rest of his clothes. Chiseled, Olympian, his body stood over her, proud and taut. His cock presided over her prostrate form like some ancient god on top of a perfect mountain.

  He moved forward, getting on the couch with her. Almost viciously, he attacked her clothes and ripped her dress off her body. Within seconds, the violet fabric was on the floor in tatters. Then, moments later, the same for her lingerie. The only thing she had on when he was done were her stockings, her boots, and her collar.

  His collar.

  The meaty, thick tip of his cock hovered right in front of her entrance. His hands moved up and down her soft, tight body, resting on her tits. She loved the feel of his strong grip squeezing and playing with her breasts.

  But still, he did not enter her. His face was deep in thought. She could see already the new request—the new order—forming in his mind, measuring whether she would obey.

  “Please,” she said. “Anything. I'll do anything.”

  His handsome face was furious with lust. “I want to fuck you from behind, and I want to spank you while I do.”

  She nodded eagerly, again. “Yes, please! I'm all yours. All yours!�
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  He flipped her around on the couch, hands rough on her tits and hips. One hand slapped down on her ass. Not too hard. Just hard enough for her to feel his strength. Then, with furious suddenness, he thrust inside of her forcefully.

  “Oh god,” she moaned hotly. “Oh fuck, yes! Yes! Oh my god!”

  He drove into her again and again, his long, firm length filling her totally. His enormity was perfectly sheathed by her tight, wet pussy. Each hot new thrust was joined with a hard smack on her tight ass, making her pussy squeeze that much more. His other hand dug into the flesh of her ass, and his biceps and triceps throbbed with every second the hot grip continued.

  The strength he displayed as he spanked her just made her all the more clearly his, clearly subject to his power. And more than that, every thrust, every spank drove her further into the couch, burying her in the soft leather. His weight was so forceful on top of her.

  With every hot new thrust of his meat pushing up hard inside of her folds, then, she was even more solidly under his control. She belonged to him, totally. Her life owned by him in totality. She loved it. Oh god, she loved it so much!

  “You’re gonna make me cummm,” she moaned raggedly. “Oh god, oh god, you’re gonna make me cumm sooo hard...”

  Turning and watching his perfect muscles tighten up, she could see the same was true for him—he was going to cum soon. His thrusts picked up in intensity, his arms straightening out and pushing her down into the cool leather of the couch even more.

  “Cum for me,” he growled, spasming wildly inside of her. “Cum for me now!”

  Bliss washed over her body, carried by the tidal lengths of his amazing cum filling her up. Every part of his length pushed hard up against her g-spot as rapture swept through her beautiful, submissive body.

  For some indefinite period of time—it was impossible to say how long—her thoughts were exiled. All sensations flowed into her through his strong, hard grip on her hips, pulling her tight soft body close to his. His hot, perfect cum sat inside of her, so warm and sexy.

  “That was perfect,” he said, bringing his head down next to hers. “You’re perfect.”

  He held her tight, then, possessively. His chin on top of her head, drawing her in tight.