Bought By The Billionaire

I spend the rest of the week in a dreamy haze. After a couple of days in bed, I feel fine and am bored rigid. Against my Master’s
protests, I return to work.
But I am thinking hard.
I know my Master loves me. I can see it in his face, and he is showing it by his actions if not his words.
I continue my work with the Thornton deal, familiarizing myself with as much of it as I can. Jaye and Alex Thornton both seem to
like me, and my Master, ‘Richard’ at these meetings, always brings me along, saying that my presence makes the negotiations
go more smoothly.
My sun is shining, and my skies are blue.
Turning the key in the lock, I click open the door to my Master’s apartment and walk in, calling as I enter. “Hi, it’s only me....”
Then I freeze at the tableau I see before me.
My Master is there, in the lounge and Adele, his ‘ex’, is with him. She is wearing a very short scarlet dress with deeply plunging
neckline. Her long dark hair is swinging loosely around her and she is pressed up close to my Master, arms around his neck,
kissing him.
As I stand there, gaping, she turns her face to me, almost sneering, a sneer that turns to triumph as she sees me.
My Master calls out. “Elizabeth....” but I turn and run, sick to the pit of my stomach, trying to keep back the tears until I can cry in
private. Taking the lift down to the lobby, I keep my face down as I make for the door. The phone rings in my pocket, but I ignore
it.
A minute later there is the bing of a text arriving, and then another. I ignore both, instead hailing a taxi to take me to my own
apartment.
Slamming the door closed behind me, I finally allow myself to collapse into tears, letting the sobs rack me as I grieve. How could
he have done that to me? I trusted him. He even encouraged me to live with him. And then to have her there....
My phone rings again. Checking the screen, it is Richard calling me, and this time I decide to answer.
“Elizabeth. We have to talk. That wasn’t what....”
I decide that I don’t want to hear it, and I hang up.

Miserably, I wonder what to do with myself and settle for pouring myself a drink, a large drink. It will make me tipsy, but that’s
probably not a bad idea right now. I gulp it down, pour myself another and then, cradling the glass, I stand by the window, staring
out over the cityscape far below, feeling wretched. The tears have stopped flowing and for some time I stand there; just stand.
The intercom buzzes. “Elizabeth. It’s Richard. Let me in.”
I do not answer. I don’t want to talk to him.
“Elizabeth. Open this door. We need to talk.”
I don’t reply.
“Elizabeth. I know you’re in there. The concierge told me you are here. Now let me in.”
Still, I say nothing.
For a moment there is silence and then, with a crash, the door bursts open as my Master kicks it in.
Startled, I jump backwards, pressing myself against the wall. He strides into the room, looking volcanically angry.
I wave a finger at the door, lock broken and wood splintered. “The door....”
“I own this building. It’s my fucking door. I’ll replace it.” he snarls. Striding over, he jabs a finger towards me. “I know you’re upset,
Elizabeth, but there are some things you don’t do, and one of them is to hang up on me.”
He snatches the glass from my hand and puts it on the coffee table. Seizing me by the shoulders, he pushes me against the
wall. Never have I seen him like this before. This is a side of my Master I did not even suspect existed. Still holding me by the
shoulders, he shakes me.
“Don’t you ever do that again! If you have something to say, then say it. But do not put the phone down on me. Do we
understand each other?”
He continues. “I’m sorry you saw what you did, but I told you weeks ago that Adele is out of my life....”
“You were kissing her......”
“No. She was kissing me. There’s a difference. And if you had stayed another ten seconds, you would have seen me push her
off, and order her out of my apartment.”

Dumbly, I nod. And bizarrely, I realise that, apart from owing an apology to my Master for my bad manners, I am not frightened of
him, even in this mood. Although my breathing is rapid, it is not from fear. As he pushes me against the wall, my panties are
getting wet.
“Do you have anything more that you would like to ask?” he says. “Or can I take it that you’re going to behave like a normal
human being now?” Then he pauses, looks at me closely, tilting his head, and chuckles. “I don’t believe it! You’re getting off on
this aren’t you?”
I nod, looking down, embarrassed, but he lifts up my chin with a finger. “I thought I’d scared you for a minute there, but you’re
panting, and you’ve got eyes like saucers. Well, you don’t get away with it that easily, Madam.”
He releases my shoulders but instead curls the fingers of both hands into the buttons of my blouse and tugs it open. Buttons pop
in all directions and fabric rips as he pulls the remains of the garment off me.
I start to protest. “My clothes....”
He interrupts. “Fuck the clothes. It’s one of the perks of being rich, Elizabeth. I can easily pay for more.” And with that he unzips
my skirt, ripping it open the rest of the way, dropping what’s left to the floor to join the shredded remains of my blouse, leaving
me only in black lace bra and panties.
I gasp, and my pussy is flooding.
With one hand he pulls at the front of my bra, and the fastenings simply pop open under this mistreatment. My breasts swing free
as he rips it from me, and his free hand grabs a nipple, pinching hard. I yelp, but he continues, looking me in the eye. “Girls with
bad manners get punished for it. Now....” He pauses reflectively, looking down at my panties and hooking them around the top
with a finger. “Do we think these are needed now?” He slips a finger into my crotch, feeling at the fabric. “Nope. Useless. As I
suspected. Sopping wet. So they can go.” And he tears the fragile fabric, ripping the panties off me.
“Now, Madam. Down you go. No, not onto your knees. I want your butt up where I can get at it.” He pushes me down, bending
over double, hands on the floor to support myself, almost touching my toes. “You can spread those too.” He pushes my ankles
apart with his feet.
“Now...” and he slaps a butt-cheek hard with one hand. “Repeat after me. ‘I will not be rude to my Master.’”
I giggle. “I will not be rude to my Master.”
He slaps again, the other cheek. It stings and I yelp.

He continues. “My Master does not lie to me.”
I sober up at this, at what he is telling me. “My Master does not lie to me.”
Slap. My pussy is streaming, and hot liquid runs down inside my thighs.
“My Master will punish me if I am rude to him.” Slap.
“My Master will punish me if I am rude to him.”
Slap. This time, the slap is not on the cheeks of my butt, but on my engorging pussy and I squeal. My Master takes no notice.
“My Master is going to fuck my brains out as a punishment.”
I start to wriggle, trying both escape from and embrace the sting of my butt cheeks and the hot glow in my pussy. “My Master is
going to fuck my brains out as a punishment.”
Slap. “I am still being bad by being so wet, that my Master’s cock is going to float inside me...”
I try to repeat, but am overcome with a fit of giggles and my arms give way at the elbow.
Slap. “Did I say you could move?”
“I’m sorry Master. I can’t keep my balance.” Slap.
“You may support yourself on the coffee table.”
Obediently I move to place my hands on the coffee table, supporting myself more firmly as my Master seizes me by the hips, and
arranges my ass and my dripping cunt to his satisfaction.
Slap.
It really smarts now. The slaps are hard, and getting harder, but my pussy lips are hot and engorged, juices dripping freely.
Abruptly, he reaches around in front of me, pinching my clit between two fingers. It is too much and I start to yell....
At that moment, the intercom buzzes. “Hey, Beth. You okay up there? A neighbour said there was some noise.” My Master falls
still and silent...