In Service To The Billionaire

by Heather Chase

  As if anticipating this, Sand smiled, switching back to push-ups. “It would have seemed like that, wouldn’t it? Isn’t it grand that I found a morning flight on Sunday instead? I just love morning flights. Getting to wake-up and rush somewhere.”

  ‘Finding’ a morning flight, of course, really translated to ‘I paid my jet pilot to wait an extra twelve hours so I could fuck with my ex.’

  But that was okay. Sophia could deal.

  “Wonderful,” she said. “We’ll be having pork.”

  Of course, she knew Sand hated pork.

  “Oh, will you? That’s so odd. I already told Todd that lasagna was my favorite.”

  Sophia gritted her teeth. “Did. You. Now.”

  “Of course I did,” Sand smiled even wider, his triceps straining with his effort. “Won’t that be nice of you, making my dinner for me?”

  Sophia left the office furious.

  She knew she had hurt Sand. She knew that. She had no desire to hurt him again, or rub salt in the wounds. But the gall of him, to rub the situation in her face like this...it was so hurtful. Why would he want to go where she lived and make her whole life worse for her? To invade her personal space, and let her know exactly what she would be missing?

  She would killed to make dinner for him once upon a time. She would have adored dressing up in frilly lingerie and sucking his cock while he ate her lasagna.

  And now he would be coming over to where she felt most comfortable, and teasing her with what she...

  Teasing her with what she couldn’t have.

  Realization, warm and liquid, slipped around Sophia’s heart.

  This wasn’t about hurting her, she realized. This was about getting even. She was in his most private, personal space every day—he was most at home at the office. And he was even more at home in the office now, that she had teased him with the notion of having a proper domesticated slave to make him a home. And due to his principles—those stupid, stubborn values of his—he couldn’t get rid of Sophia by firing her.

  So instead, he was going to do to her what she did to him, every day.

  Sophia sighed, staring at the black sphere of his office. Realizing that didn’t make the dinner any easier, but at least...at least she understood him a little more.

  And so, for the rest of the day, it was sympathy and not spite that drove her work.

  Chapter 23

  The night of the dinner party arrived without incident.

  As always when Sand was going to be close to her, she picked her outfit deliberately.

  It had to be something that said, “I’m going to be married, and I’m happy about that. I don’t want to tease you, but I also need you to know that I’m not yours anymore.”

  But even despite all that, it was, she knew, still an outfit exclusively for Sand.

  She chose a tight brown sweater-dress, dark tights, and a cute pair of black ankle boots. The boots were, previous to knowing Sand, the most expensive pair of footwear she owned. The sweater-dress was hers, and had been for a while—a staple of parties where she wanted to look hot, desirable, and just a little slutty without being a tramp. Todd said he loved how it made her look.

  Outside, the sun was setting, and the streetlights were just starting to flicker on. It was a unseasonably warm night for the late fall.

  Elle arrived first, five minutes before seven. Sophia had invited her—not as someone to offer up to Sand to distract him (though the idea had crossed her mind more than once—both during the relationship and after)—but because Elle was such a wonderful conversationalist. There would be less chance of awkward silences with her around.

  “Hey,” said Elle, handing Sophia a small bottle of red wine. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  Taking the wine, Sophia smiled. “Of course. Thank you for coming. You're seriously helping me out a ton.”

  Elle nodded with understanding, clearly recognizing the awkwardness of the entire situation. She wore a cute violet summer dress, her long naked tanned legs on full display. Fashionable black pumps adorned her feet.

  Oh god, she was wearing violet. Violet was a color Sand loved on women.

  Already, she could see the wheels turning in Sand’s head—that Sophia had made Elle wear violet, and that Sophia had arranged this so that Sand would go after Elle and not Sophia. Or something—any number of horrible things that possibly could happen had been consuming Sophia’s mind, and would probably continue to do so until this entire mess was over.

  “You look great,” said Sophia, forcing a smile as she shut the door behind Elle and walked upstairs. “Your dress is super-cute.”

  It was, of course, an easy compliment to give. Even with a little bit of bruising still slightly visible along her arms, she looked beautiful. It was comfortable and easy for Sophia to rest her eyes on her friend's delicious form, and let them linger.

  A thought struck her—with all the uncertainty she had rising up in her love life, why hadn't she just snuck back to Elle's arms? More than a small part of her certainly wanted to.

  “Thanks,” Elle said with a shrug. “I just picked it up today.” She came in close, whispering, “Are you okay with all of this? I would be like, stressed beyond belief that Sand might say something.”

  Sophia, eyes wide, just nodded, trying to smile. “It’ll be okay. It will...it will be fine. Everything will be fine.”

  For her part, Elle looked supportive, giving Sophia a firm squeeze on her forearm.

  “Could you help Todd set the table?” Sophia asked her. “I’m afraid that he’s forgotten how.”

  “Of course.”

  Sophia watched as Elle walked back to go help Todd in the small dining area at the rear of the living room. Her rear certainly looked lovely in that little dress, the fabric clinging her body in all the right places...

  Stop it, girl! Sophia shook her head. You’re in enough trouble with just lusting after different men! There’s no call to include women in the mix.

  Sand arrived with very little fanfare at ten past seven. Sophia had almost expected tons of security—but there was just big, burly Dave, who stayed by the car. Sophia saw this all through the front window.

  Taking a long, deep breath, she opened the front door. “Welcome to our home.”

  Saying nothing, Sand simply dropped his coat into her arms and walked past her, stepping up the creaky steps to the apartment.

  “Hey, come on back and have a drink, man!” called Todd. “I think we’re just going to hang while everything gets ready.”

  “That sounds nice. I’d like a scotch,” said Sand, turning to Sophia and flitting his fingers. “Yes?”

  Sophia resisted the urge to curtsy and kneel and grovel and bow and rip his pants off and suck him off right in front of her fiancé.

  God, but just the fact that he was still casually giving her orders in front of Todd completely turned her on.

  Panties moistened now, she stepped into the kitchen and made him his drink, not daring to look over at him or Todd. When she exited the kitchen, drink in hand, everyone was talking. Todd, to his credit (or perhaps discredit), seemed to notice nothing, going on and on about how nuts it was to have a billionaire in his home.

  “Here you are,” she said quietly, handing Sand the drink.

  It took nearly everything she had not to add “sir” to the end of that.

  Panting, she slipped back through the door to the kitchen, resisting with all her might the urge to touch herself.

  She was with Todd, now. She was an engaged woman, engaged to Todd, and she was totally happy like that.

  While Sand, Elle, and Todd talked in the living room, Sophia fretted in the kitchen, trying to make all the last-minute preparations for the salad that she could think of—adding a bit more goat cheese, one or two more chopped figs.

  Everyone out there had slept with her. Were they talking about how much they wanted to fuck her? Would it be brought up as a competition, between them, all the different positions they had her in?

&
nbsp; Would Sand even know how to converse with Todd, being as he was so completely unable to operate in a society that wasn’t built on pure competition?

  She pushed it all out of her mind. Within ten minutes, somehow, she had dinner prepared (though of course she had been preparing all day).

  Finally, Sophia served dinner—lasagna, a small dinner salad, and wine.

  The dining table seated four—and so Sophia sat across from Elle, and adjacent to Sand and Todd. Depending on your perspective, either Sand or Todd could be seen as the one at the head of the table.

  The meal passed fairly quickly, without any real substantial conversation. Sand feigned interest—and Sophia could tell right away that he was mostly feigning—in Elle's dance studio. Every bite Sand took, though, he stared at Sophia.

  “This was delicious,” Todd announced, patting his belly after he finished. “Thank you, Sophia. A lovely meal. You really know how to make a place feel like home.”

  “Yes,” said Sand. “It certainly seems like she has a talent for it. I wish I could find someone as special as she is to you.”

  “Hey,” said Todd, an oblivious smile lighting up his slightly wine-drunk face. “Thanks, bud. I’m sure your lucky lady is out there waiting for you.”

  “I agree.” Sand took a long sip of his wine. “Perhaps she’s even closer than you think.”

  “Maybe she’s at this table!” Todd said with a laugh. “How about it, Elle?”

  Sophia’s eyes had raised up in constant alarm. “Todd!”

  “What? It’s all in good fun.”

  Elle was blushing furiously, her mouth clammed up entirely—Sophia had never seen such a sight before.

  “I, um, you know, I mean, gosh!” Elle managed.

  “This is a great time.” Todd leaned over and squeezed Sophia's thigh. “Could you get us a little more wine, babe?”

  She got up, enjoying following the request, but also slightly bothered by it.

  “Of course, dear.”

  Probably, she mused as she entered the kitchen, the request bothered her because it was right in front of Sand. There was a competition between the two in her head—one that wasn’t real, at all, because Todd wasn’t in on it. But Sand was. And no doubt, he had noticed Sophia’s meek acquiescence to Todd as well.

  She rummaged through the drawer next to the sink, looking for the nice pneumatic wine-opener. Behind her, she heard the kitchen door open.

  “Oh hi, hon. Could you grab the bottle of wine for me?”

  “No.”

  It wasn’t Todd. It was Sand, his voice thick with lust. Within moments, his hands were on her.

  He gripped her thighs, hands sliding up the lace of her stockings. She gasped, moaned, shuddering.

  “Please,” she said. “B-Boss...Mr. Sand...”

  She was so incredibly turned on. Her fiancé, right there in the other room! A scant doorway keeping him from seeing what Sand was doing!

  So many times—at work or at home—Sophia had fantasized about this. Even recently, even after Todd had come home. Dreaming of Sand returning to her, demanding that she pay him homage as his slave.

  And so her transformation was instant, after needing him so long at dinner, stealing glances at him, and yes—so fucking desperate to have his hands around her throat once more.

  God, she wanted to be punished. Used. Abused, for the sin of leaving him. Her guilt needed to be abated somehow.

  “Please what?”

  Hard fingertips stroked up past the edges of her stockings and onto the soft, smooth flesh of her thighs. They kept moving upward, toying with the lacy fabric of her teensy lace panties—the panties she knew now that she had worn only for him. He snapped them once, twice...and then pulled them down completely.

  Breathing hard, he slid his fingers up and down the velvety folds of her labia, stroking there. She knew without a doubt that he could feel her moistness. And then, suddenly, easily, his fingers were inside of her cunt.

  “Oh my god,” she moaned, pushing back into him.

  Her cunt was slippery wet and steaming hot. He pushed hard inside of her, thumb clamping down on her clit. Hot rockets of pleasure spiraled through her veins.

  “Please,” he growled. “What.”

  She turned and looked at him, such pleading in her big green eyes. “Please...use me.”

  He growled again, fingers exiting her pussy. A hot gasp left Sophia. He took her by the shoulders and pushed her to her knees, backing her forcibly against the door back to the dining area.

  Moaning loudly—easily loud enough for everyone in the next room to hear—her hands danced along his pants and belt, desperate to unleash the monster of his cock. Finally, the belt unlocked.

  And there it was. Just as big as she remembered. Just as hot. Oh fuck.

  “Punish me, Sir,” she breathed, looking up at it, her lips just centimeters away from its magnificent hard length. “Please?”

  Gripping the underside of her chin with his iron grip, his quickly-stiffening rod pushed through her mouth and fucked her mouth hard.

  He fucked her mouth just like she had always dreamed of having it fucked. He fucked her mouth, her face, her throat, like it was a cunt. Like all of her was little more than a collection of holes for him to use. She was nothing but an object as his cock pushed up and down her throat, choking her entirely. Her air supply completely cut off by cock. She didn’t care.

  Over and over again, her head banged against the door, rocking it back and forth. Lost in the heat of the moment, she let herself moan out.

  Of course her moans made no sense, really, but in her head, she was desperately crying out the same thing—“Master. Master! Master!”

  And the nastiest thing was—the part that turned her on the most—was that a deep, dark part of her wanted Todd to hear it. Wanted him, in fact, to know what she was really for.

  Groaning and then slamming his fist into the wall, Sand exploded down her throat. Instantly, hot jets of white cum filled up her stomach, clinging to her throat, spilling out of her mouth. He pulled out entirely and kept going—a veritable fire hose of cum sprayed all over her face.

  She came with him, unable to help herself in this, the absolute hottest act she had ever been a part of. Bliss overwhelmed her as she slid her mouth more and more eagerly up and down his shaft, needing him so bad.

  Then, pulling out from her mouth, he slapped her wet, sticky cheek—not gently, but not harshly either.

  “There,” he said. “Now you look like what you are, at least.”

  He zipped up his pants, ignoring her coughing and sputtering form.

  Sophia, moaning, crawled after him as he left through the door. His cum still trailing out of her mouth, dripping down to her breasts, her hands, even as she tried to swallow more and more of it.

  And then she saw the small smile on his face as he turned back from the front of the apartment—degraded, abused, used at his pleasure. His eyes moved up, and she saw him lock eyes with Todd, still so close to her.

  Oh no, Todd. She turned to see her fiancé. Horror lined his face. Anger. Despair. Confusion.

  Todd and Elle had, of course, heard the whole thing. Elle, inexplicably, looked stunned. Todd stormed out the front door, pushing past Sand, who followed him out the door. Sophia heard them exchange heated words outside—or actually, Todd yelling and Sand replying in his usual calm, booming fashion.

  Still swallowing Sand's warm gunk, wiping it down off from her face and dress, Sophia desperately wanted to talk to her friend, her fiancé. Even feeling the mind-numbing effects of her earth-shattering orgasm, she wanted to tell them she was fine.

  She wanted, more than anything, to tell them that this was what she had really wanted all along.

  Chapter 24

  It went without saying that Sophia did not sleep in the same bed as Todd that night. She offered to leave, to get a hotel or motel, to sleep on the couch. But no. He left and stayed at a friend's house, but not before he called her a whore, and a slut, and
so forth and so on, and Sophia didn't dispute any of it.

  Of course, she had a very specific rendition of the kind of slut and whore she was—Sand's—but she didn't want to rub his nose in it.

  She calmly told him that they weren't going to work out, after all. No matter what. And that, since he hadn't even paid her a full month's of rent, he had until the end of the month to move out.

  At dawn—after a sleepless night—she put on a pair of tight jeans and a brief violet sweater and took off in the car.

  Sand, that morning, was leaving to go to Miami on business, and probably to bang away the memory of his short-lived relationship with Sophia. Sophia knew that was how he handled stress. Sophia also knew where Sand’s jet took off from. He owned a private air strip on the edge of the city, surrounded by cornfields.

  It took her about forty-five minutes to get there, even in the absence of traffic on the Sunday morning.

  Using her access card from work, she was able to drive straight through the gate. She parked not far from the jet, waiting. The pilot sat on the stairs leading into the jet, watching her suspiciously. She didn't care.

  When Sand arrived at the runway thirty minutes later, right on time, a security escort following him in two black SUVs, she was there waiting. She leaned on top of the hood of her car, her arms crossed. Her body was a mixture of cool weariness from the night’s events and the rush of adrenaline at seeing him so close to her again.

  The security team rushed out of their vehicles, surrounding her and pointing loaded weapons at her. She was a little worried, but not really—if they wanted her dead, they would have done it already. Dave led the rush, holding his gun up.

  “Guys, come on,” she said, holding up her hands. “You know me, Dave.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he shrugged, coming close. “Sand’s orders. We have to search you.”

  She scoffed. “Really?”

  Another punishment, then.

  Dave's hands ran up and down her body, searching for weapons. Of course, she had none. Hurting Sand was the last thing she wanted in her life.

  He stepped out of the town car, a small smile on his face.