An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance
Part One of the
Bought by the Billionaire Series
Author: Simone Leigh
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, mechanical, electronic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the author
The Master’s Maid
It’s hot: stuffy and hot. I load my cloths and sprays into the trolley then push the trolley along the corridor to the next room. It’s an expensive hotel and normally the air is fine but the air con isn't working properly and so my daily job of room cleaning is very uncomfortable today. I take the lift to my next room, the Penthouse, and unlock the door. It is a stunning room, bright and sunny and when I cleaned it through the day before, smelling pleasantly of the occupant, a mixture of expensive after shave and musky male scent. The scent lingered, in stark contrast to my own air of clammy, sweat odour.
I consider the owner of the after shave for a moment as I open the window to let sunshine and fresh air in. I saw him leaving a few minutes ago, so I know I am clear to go into the room. He was dressed "smart casual", an expensive jacket with loose linen shirt in the heat, but tight black jeans cut to flatter his noticeably male physique. He strode down the corridor with a bunch of beautiful red roses, a briefcase and a gleam in his eyes. Despite the briefcase, he did not look like a man with work on his mind.
The room is clean and tidy and needs almost no work. In the office, i empty a paper bin by the desk and dust the desktop. I make up the bed in the room I can access. Some of the rooms are locked. I am supposed to do everything, all the work, every time. Vacuum the carpet, clean the bathroom, dust all the surfaces, wipe the windows but the room is so clean already I think I can skimp. I decide it is good enough and go to check the bathroom.
Again it is immaculate. Why am I doing this? I am hot, sticky and tired and working for minimum wage on a job I only took a few days ago to help me through my university studies. Already I hate the work, but I need the money.
The shower looks so inviting. Temptation wins. I kick off my shoes and quickly unbutton my tight cut blouse. I immediately feel better as cool air washes over my sweaty, glistening breasts. Unhooking my low cut black bra, I drop it on the blouse, then unclip my hair. It is far too warm to wear my hair loose, but now, freed, it cascades, red and silky, to my waist. Wriggling out of my short skirt takes only a moment and my moist and sticky panties follow. I turn on the shower and step into the beautiful tiled enclosure.
The water feels wonderful on my skin and hair, coursing over my arms, breasts and belly, taking heat, sweat and fatigue with it. I stand stretching luxuriously in the warm stream, needles of water massaging me.
There is a click and I heard the sound of a key in the lock. I freeze. Here I am, stark naked, in the shower of one of the hotel guests. Has he brought his date back to the room? Oh God! What is his girlfriend going to say when she finds a naked woman in her boyfriend's shower?
Frantically I turn off the water and reach for a towel, wrapping it around my naked torso to dry off as quickly as possible.
Oh God! Oh God. Oh God…... Please don’t let him come in here.
The bathroom door clicks open and the guy walks in. He has his back to me but everything about him says "Pissed Off". Has something gone wrong with his date? Still with his back to me he almost rips off his jacket, hanging it up by the dressing gowns. I can see him fiddling in irritation with his tie as he slides it from around his collar and then hangs it with the jacket. He takes a couple of steps towards the mirror which has misted over from the warm shower.
He pauses, apparently noticing the steam and the misting for the first time, and starts wiping the mirror with one hand. As the view clears, in the reflection he sees me standing behind him, be-towelled in his shower stall. He starts, then whips around, looking first, furious and perhaps a bit scared, but then relaxing as he registers my complete harmlessness.
I stammer "I'm sorry. I was so hot. I'll go now...."
"Oh no need to be so fast" he says, grinning. "Finish your shower. Is there er, anything you would like to tell me?"
"Please don't tell anyone. I'll lose my job"
He smiles. "Is that right? Yes, I suppose it wouldn't look good would it. Maid caught using guest facilities". He steps forward, still smiling. He really is very attractive, deep blue eyes against tanned skin, and tall. "Are you going to make it worth my while not to tell anyone?"
One finger hooks itself around the top of my towel. He tilts his head to one side as he moves still closer and his other hand takes a curl of my long, wet hair, twiddling it around a finger. “Beautiful hair you have there.” he says.
"I have to get back to work" I stammer. "I have other rooms to do"
"I'll tell the manager I had some extra cleaning for you to do - there's no hurry. I'm sure the hotel would expect you to - service - the guests first…."
The finger tugs, ever so gently at my towel. It parts, then slides down to the floor.
His eyes, meeting mine, smile as they follow the downwards path of the towel. I vaguely clutch at the damp cloth, but my heart isn't in it and the towel continues its journey south.
"I think you owe me something" he says and the towel finger wanders downwards between my breasts. I feel I ought to be frightened, but instead, my pulse is beginning to race.
He reaches back and pulls the tie from the rack. Quickly he binds my wrists together, glancing briefly up into my eyes as he does so, for a sort of permission, and then pulling up my arms over my head, attaches my bound wrists to the shower wall fitting. He stands back and cocks his head, admiring his handiwork. I stand there, naked as the day I was born, stretched up and tied for the perusal of a complete stranger. I am growing warm and wet.
His eyes lock to mine. "And now Milady, let's see how well washed you are.
Placing one hand on a breast, he starts kneading as his mouth lowers to the other, first to suckle, then nibble the nipple. His tongue circles, flicking the nipple to hardness. When he seems to feel he has a satisfactory result, his mouth and that tantalising tongue move to the other nipple, while a hand slides over my stomach, descending. I feel him outlining the curve of my waist, over my hip and belly. His fingers entwine themselves in my curls before slipping in between my thighs.
I can hardly contain myself. Wriggling, I hear his chuckle of approval as he feels how wet I am. His tongue circles the nipple, one finger mirroring the movement over my clit. Torn between the desire to stay still and just let it happen, or to grind my hips around his hand, I find myself simply trembling helplessly and my thighs growing wetter and wetter, and warmer and warmer, pussy juice beginning to flow.
He pauses and stands up. He looks into my face again, running his hands up and over and down my trembling torso, breasts and shoulders, gauging my reactions. His pupils wide and dark, I know that he likes what he finds. Very slowly and gently he runs his hands back around my shoulders and into my hair, pulling my face to his. He kisses me, very softly on this lips then starts nibbling at an ear.
"Enjoying this aren't we…" he whispers. "Want to take things further?"
Do I want to? It is driving me wild. Tied up as I am, this stranger could do anything to me, but his slow careful caressing and touching is arousing me far more than any "straight shag" could have. I am quivering with arousal. But I can't bring myself to reply. After all, he is still a stranger who has tied me up.
"Shy eh?" he whispers again. "Let's see if we can fix that…"
His head nestling into the curve of my neck and shoulder, he reaches behind me with one hand, firmly pulling my buttocks to him. I feel-hear a clunk and then another. I am puzzled.
"I thought I should play the gentleman" he says. "Time to take my shoes off." As it dawns on me, in my stupefied arousal, that he is still more or less fully clothed, his feet slide between mine, easing my legs apart. I stagger slightly, but his other arm takes my weight as I regain my balance.
"Now" he says. "Do I need to tie those ankles apart? Or do I get some co-operation?"
I still can’t bring myself to speak. My trembling continues and I am beginning to pant, my breath coming in short bursts and my colour rising. He knows exactly what he is doing to me.
"Still shy? We'd better sort it out then." He releases me, slowly and stands up straight. "Don't move Miss Silent" he says, turns and walks out of the room.
For a minute or so I hear nothing, then there is there is music; some kind of soft classical. It grows louder and then he comes back into the bathroom, carrying the roses I saw earlier, and something else I can’t make out. He has stripped off his shirt. His smoothly muscled torso bespeaks the kind of man who either has a very physical job or who works out, knowing that women don't go looking for over-muscled morons. In his bare feet and wearing just the black jeans, now bulging at the front, dark haired, lambent eyed and clearly with a purpose in mind, he is utterly, astonishingly, suggestive and inviting. I could no more said "No" than fly. But I cannot quite bring myself to say "Yes" or, more appropriately "Please".
"I hope you like the music Miss Silent." he says. "I think it's time we got some noise out of you. The music should cover it up in case anyone comes by". He brings the roses close to my face. "I did have other plans for this evening, but she stood me up. Would you like these? They are beautiful aren't they? Do you like the scent?"
The scent is ravishing. What kind of woman stood this man up? I can’t imagine. Delicately, slowly, he holds the roses for me to smell and then, with only the very tips of the petals, caresses my face with the flowers. The petals have small drops of water on them, and as he brushes my face and then moves down my neck, over my breasts and stomach, the small cold droplets chill me and titillate at the same time. A moan escapes me and I feel my pussy juices running below.
He smiles and raises his eyebrows. "Ahh…. So you can make noises. Let's see what else you can do"
Abruptly he turns away and, quite carefully, places the roses in the basin. He produces the "something" that I was not able to identify before; it is a spreader bar with leather ankles cuffs - what kind of evening had he had planned before?
He looks at me and grins wickedly. "This might be even better than what I had planned" he says. He displays the bar to me. The cuffs look padded but strong. "She knew what to expect, but, well, I think you might be new to this…. mmm???...... Still silent? Let's see what we can teach you."
I am panting uncontrollably now. He kneels down and straps in first one ankle, and then the other. My feet are held firmly apart. My hands are tied securely above me and my legs are spread.
He stands up and stands back, looking me up and down, just standing there, arms folded, head titled. Just looking.
"You are really beautiful you know. With a figure like that and your hair…. What are you doing in a job like this?"
He comes close to me, almost, but not quite touching. I can smell him, warm and spicy and I can feel his breath on me. I am longing for him inside me.
Carefully, and touching no other part of me, he reaches for and rubs my left nipple. The steam of my shower has cleared now and so I am cooling off. Under the influence of chill and arousal, my nipples were hard, crinkling with stimulation. He tweaks the nipple, smiles and nods, ‘Hmmming’ to himself.
He releases the nipple. Still touching no other part of me, he reaches down between my spread and dripping thighs. "You do like this don't you." Carefully - oh so carefully - he touches my clit and delicately rubs.
This time there is no escaping it. I moan uncontrollably and gush. My knees give way, but this time he does not support me and my weight drops onto my tied wrists. I stagger more or less upright, hobbled by my cuffed ankles. As soon as I am upright again, he repeats it, this time rubbing my clit a little harder.
I gasp and cry out as my knees buckle again. "Good thing I put on that music" he says, as I pull myself upright again. "Don't want anyone outside hearing you yelp like that. But it's nice to know that you can make a noise" He pulls quickly at my clit this time and then massages it for a moment. This time he holds me by the waist as my legs give way. "Don't want you hurting yourself in your enthusiasm" he whispers into my ear. "Tell me. What would you like to happen next?"
I am almost beyond reason. "I want…. I want…." I can't get the words out. I can't bring myself to speak them. His fingers make lazy circles around my clit and I gush again. I am frantic for something inside my pussy, but nothing is forthcoming.
"What do you want? You have to tell me" He now holds me very tight, supporting my weight - my God but he’s strong. My legs are like string but he takes my weight without effort.
"You have to tell me" he repeats. His fingers continue flicking and kneading my clit. I am about to come and I feel myself reaching the plateau.
And he stops.
Still holding me by the waist, he takes his hand away. "You have to tell me what you want, before it goes any further. I won't let you come until you tell me what you want me to do"
His hand slips between my thighs again and quickly, ever so briefly, his fingers stroke across my pussy. The lips, swollen, engorged and sodden, pulse as one finger strokes between them and then withdraws.
I am almost frantic with lust. "Let me cum. Let me cum." I say.
"What do you want me to do?" His breath by my face is like a promise.
"I…... I…... I want…..."
"You have to say it…." He kneads my clit quickly between two fingers, sending electric desire pulsing up through me. "You have to say it" he repeats. "You don't get it without saying it"
I surrender "I want you inside me". If I were tied and supported I would collapse entirely. "I want you inside me"
He doesn't move. "That's better" he whispers to my ear. "You have to do better than that if you want to cum, but I can give you a little more now…" He slides a finger inside me, his thumb over my clit and begins to work me. My climax, which had subsided a little, begins to build again immediately. He feels it. "Oh no" he chuckles. "Oh no. It doesn't work like that." His fingers withdraw. "What do you say?"
My mind blanks for a moment. Is he serious? What do I say? But my tormented clit and my aching pussy brook no argument. "Please" I mumble.
"That's better." His finger brush over my pussy lips "But "Please what?""
I gasp and moan, writhing in my restraints and his grasp. "Please make me cum. Please fuck me. Please. Please fuck me"
"Now we've got there". He kisses me full on the mouth, makes sure I am standing up and then pushes two fingers up inside me hard. I feel them almost scrape against me inside, against my G-spot. I cry out but he has already withdrawn and is down on his knees, his face to my thighs. From my rather awkward position, I look down to see him looking back up at me, at my face. As he looks, his hands are working, parting curls to reach my pussy lips. He leans forward, and for one delicious moment, I feel his tongue curl around my clit.
This time there is nothing half-hearted or restrained about my reaction. I scream, just in time to feel him pull my thighs fully apart and his tongue lick up from the back of my cunt, through and over my pussy lips.
And he stops. I hang, my weight on my wrists, making incoherent gasps and wishing there was something I could say.
He pulls away and stands smiling at me. Standing there in my shackles and my own sweat and juices. "This won't do you know." he says. And he turns and walks out again.
I can't believe it. I finally put together a sentence. "You can't do this to me! You can't leave me like this"
His voice drifts through from the lounge. "Well you needn't think I'm going to tongue-fuck you in that condition"
The sound level of the music goes up. And up again. And I wait.
He comes back in, again carrying something, which he puts on a shelf. I strain to see what it is - a wash bag? - and he goes immediately out again.
A moment later he is back, and he puts something else in his pocket.
"I turned the music up again" he says. "I think that when I get you properly Mastered, you're going to be quite the little screamer. We'll keep it private shall we…"
That grin again. He stands for a moment, seeming to be savouring the situation. Then stepping forward again, "Just to keep you on the boil" he says, holding me around the waist again and pushing one, two, then four fingers up inside me. Again I writhe and pulse on the brink of orgasm as he finger-fucks me once, twice, thrice, and then stops.
Padding over in his bare feet to the shelf he pops something in his pocket and then opens the "washbag" - it is a washbag - and takes out a razor and a can of foam. "I like the taste of pussy" he says, "But not a mouthful of seaweed." He kneels in front of me again and aims the can over my crotch.
I recoil, trying to back into the shower stall. "No!" I say. "No. you can't do that."
"Really ‘No’?" he asks, pausing. "If you say No to this, then it's No to everything" He parts my pussy lips and takes a lingering lick over my clit, flicking me with the tip of his tongue. My resolution crumbles.
"Perhaps I can help with your decision". He reached into his pocket and pulls out the ‘something’; a moment and I heard a low buzz, then a high buzz. "Just something to keep you occupied." he says and pushes the egg up inside me. He does it slowly, sliding it along my engorged lips and up past my aching pussy muscles so that I feel every inch of movement.
Then, with the egg buzzing inside me, he sprays the foam and sets to, shaving away my curls. He takes his time, and he is careful, but he is thorough. A few minutes later my crotch is as naked as the rest of me. "I don't like the taste of soap," he says "and you are getting a bit sweaty". He reaches for the shower head, turning it on full but cool. He aims the fine needles of water over my breasts, concentrating on the nipples. I squirm and squeal. The water is just cool enough to make me react without chilling me.
"S'cuse me" he says, reaches up inside me with a couple of fingers, and pops out the egg, still buzzing. He negligently tosses it onto a towel and then, turning the shower head upside down, sprays squarely up into me, over my pussy and my clit with the water. Water, lather and pussy juice ran down my legs as I struggle and squeal against the intensity of it all.
The sheer scale of the stimulation is beyond bearing. I scream, trying to escape the intense pleasure/pain/over-stimulation of the needle jets. I am about to cum uncontrollably.
And he stops again.
By now I am almost delirious with the desire to cum and I sag in my bonds, head bowed.
"You said that you still have some work to do?" he says. “More rooms to clean?”
"What?" I raise my head to look at him. Is he really suggesting……?
"You do have work to do. We don't want you getting into trouble with your Boss do we. I’ve met Mr Chambers and he’s not really a very nice man." He reaches above me and starts undoing the tie. "I think you should go and do your work, and then I can finish you off later." The tie comes loose and he starts dressing me, slipping my arms through my bra straps and clipping me up at the back.
I stare unbelievingly. "You can't be serious. After all that you want to just break off and I'm supposed to…."
He interrupts. "Get dressed, and come back later. That way you won't lose your job, and I'll know that you really do want me to fuck you……". He smiles as he buttons up my blouse. "Now here's your skirt. Pop that on - No you don't need those" He takes my panties away from me and tosses them into a corner. "Lift your feet one at a time" I step into my skirt unresisting as he pulls it up and zips me up. "And before you go," - he retrieves the egg and slips it, buzzing quietly, up inside me. "I'll expect to find that still there when you come back. You just practice gripping it so it doesn't slip out - that would just be embarrassing wouldn't it". He roughly towels my hair dry and gives me a brush.
He pushes me out and towards the door. As he propels me into the corridor, brush in hand and buzzer within, he whispers "What's your name?"
"Elizabeth" I reply.
"I'll see you later Elizabeth" he says.
The Story Continues in "The Master's Contract"
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