Bought By The Billionaire

... I pour icy champagne down the length of my Master’s back. He yelps, standing suddenly, bolt upright. I collapse into a fit of
giggles, making no resistance as my Master grabs me and spins me, bending me over the back of a chair, pulling my ass up and
out. Looking backward through a waterfall of my own long red hair, I catch a glimpse of his expression; laughing/stern. He tries to
maintain his poise and authority, but is having difficulty.
His hand sweeps down on my derriere, slapping hard against one cheek, making me gasp and jump. But my pussy flutters a
welcome.
“That, Elizabeth,” he says “Was very naughty. I am going to have to change my plans on what I had in mind for you today.”
“I’m sorry Master.” I splutter to stop myself from laughing. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Slap! The hand comes down on the other cheek, stinging. “I’m not going to stop this now,” he continues, “Until your rear end
matches your hair.”
Since my hair is brilliantly red, my butt is in for some hard attention. At the thought, my clit begins to pulse. How far will my
Master take this?
Slap! This time, the slap is followed by my Master repositioning me, forcing my ankles further apart with his shoe, bending me
further forward and pulling open my butt cheeks to fully expose my pink and swelling, pussy and clit.
Dropping to his knees behind me, my Master stretches me open with his fingers, licking out the inside of my pussy, sucking up
my flowing juices. I moan ecstatically as my inner muscle quiver and jump.
Then he stands and slaps again, first one, already glowing, cheek, then the other.
Twice more, he spanks, moving his hand to different areas of skin. Then he drops again, this time lapping his tongue over my
twitching clit. He whirls his tongue in circles, winding the swollen nub in spirals that, with each circuit, send electricity sparking
through my core.
Then again, he stands and slaps.
He develops a kind of rhythm, standing and kneeling, spanking and sucking, slapping and licking. Again, and again he repeats
this. My abused ass is glowing, my honeyed clit rhapsodic.
I am incandescent, afire, wailing my mounting arousal and my Master works his magic on me.

Abruptly, he breaks his rhythm.
Standing again, instead of spanking me, he unzips, pulling out his long, thick cock, and plunges deep inside my slick passage,
ramming home. His arms encircling me, he reaches for my clit and, over my screeches, starts tweaking and kneading, flicking
and rotating, all the while pumping me from behind.
It is an irresistible combination. Orgasm bubbles up inside me, winging its way through clit and cunt and heart. With a yell of
triumph, I squirm and writhe in my Master’s firm grasp as he continues slamming my molten cunt. Seconds later, I feel and hear
his climax also. He drives home into me, balls bouncing against me and hips grinding as he shudders me full of his hot cum.
With a grunt, he pulls out, standing up straight, and slaps me on the ass one last time. “Not bad for a first shot, eh Elizabeth?
The first of many I think, over the next few days.”
*****
Seating myself in the dining room, appetising smells drift through the room. “Something smells good.” I comment to the figure
standing next to me, then start in surprise. It is Ross, resplendent in a fully-fledged butler’s uniform and holding a silver tray with
soup tureen. He looks rather smart.
“Ross! I didn’t know you were a butler too. I thought you were just Richards’ driver.”
He winks sideways at me. “Don’t know all my secrets yet do you Mrs Haswell?” Then he leans in close to me for a moment,
speaking quietly. “About earlier Beth. Sorry if I caught you at an awkward moment. But I can take a hint as well as the next man.”
I try to look demure, sophisticated, but know that I am failing. Ross and I have been solid friends for some while, and he knows
me rather well. “That’s quite alright Ross. But it is our honeymoon after all.”
Richard glances over from the other side of the table. I do not believe he can have heard what was said, but I think he gathers
the gist well enough. He smiles, a glint of humour in his eyes, and turns his attention to removing the cork from a bottle of red.
“That’s my job, Mr Haswell.” protests Ross.
“I can handle a good bottle of wine as well as you can Ross. You serve the meal and then take the rest of the evening off. I think
you’ll find there are some very good pubs in the local village.”
Ross stays silent, but nods his head in acknowledgement, clearly ‘taking the hint’ for a second time.

The meal is wonderful. Beautifully cooked and skilfully presented, the portions are just enough to feel satisfied, without being
bloated. Although the dining table is huge - it would easily seat twenty - my Master and I sit together at one end, candlelit and
warmed by a glowing log fire. Contently cradling my wineglass, not feeling the need to speak, I am happy simply to sit, watching
my wonderful new husband.
“Thank you for my ‘wedding present’.” he smiles. “I’ll enjoy it more as we make use of it again later.” He winks at me, and a
familiar warm rush seeps through my thighs.
“And in fact,” he continues, “I have a wedding present for you too.”
“Oooh. What is it?”
My Master pushes an envelope towards me. I take it and look at it a bit blankly. I’d been expecting jewellery perhaps, or perfume.
“Well open it.” he says, exasperation in his voice.
Inside is a document. I read the top few lines. “Register of Title: Elizabeth Haswell née Kimberley....”
I read on. It is the ownership document for some property or other. I don’t understand what I’m looking at.
Perplexed, I look to my Master. “What is it?”
“Those are the title deeds for this house Elizabeth.”
My jaw actually drops. The house must be worth...... millions. Speechless, I just stare at him.
He continues, “As I have said to you before Elizabeth, I am older than you. Quite a lot older. I want you to be secure. It was
difficult before, to gift you property. There are all sorts of complications with tax and so forth. But now that we are married....” he
shrugs and smiles. “...those problems vanish.” He looks worried for a moment. “You do like the house, don’t you?”
Spluttering out my words, “Well yes, of course I do. It’s an amazing house. But, I thought, well, I just assumed, that you had
rented it for a couple of weeks, for our honeymoon.”
He shrugs again, spreading his hands in a ‘Well don’t blame me for your assumptions’ look. “Now you know....”
There is chuckling from the far end of the room. It is Ross, trying, and failing, to keep a straight face. His formal ‘buttling’
behaviour is gone. Instead he is almost doubled over, pointing at me and laughing. “Oh Beth. The look on your face....”

Clearly Ross was in on the joke.
“Richard. I don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ is inadequate.”
“And un-needed.” Replies my Master. “Thank you, for marrying me.”
He looks over his shoulder at Ross, head-pointing him to the door.
“I’ll be off then, shall I?” he says. “Good night Mr Haswell. Mrs Haswell. Have a pleasant evening. I’ll see you in the morning
when you’re ready for breakfast.”
Ross leaves, leaving my Master and I alone together.
“There’s more to the house Elizabeth. You’ve not seen it all yet.”
Mentally I trace my route through the house; upstairs, downstairs, out through the gardens.... What have I missed?
“Really? Where?”
“I didn’t want to show you until everyone had left for the night. Come with me...... um....” He glances at me, speculatively. “Are
you still wearing my ‘wedding present’?”
Oh yes.
Definitely.
Who knows when my Master might be wanting ‘marital benefits’ again?
“Yes Master. I am.”
“Good. Follow me.”