Bought By The Billionaire

Chapter 31: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Thirty-One

I am tired of studying. Although I have exams next week and need to revise, my brain and eyes are tired. I can feel myself growing stale almost by the minute.

My Master is sitting opposite me, working, legs crossed at the ankle, examining papers and accounts, making occasional notes in the margin. Bored with reading about economics, budgets, surplus and deficits, financial accounting versus cost accounting, and..... I decide it is time for a change of tone. Plucking a grape from the bunch on the table next to me, I toss it at my Master. It bounces off his file, and down onto the settee beside him. This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Over his glasses, he gazes expressionlessly at me for a moment, picks up the grape, pops it in his mouth, and returns to his note making.

Piqued at such a non-response, I pluck and toss another grape. This time it lands on his lap. Once again, he levels a look at me and pops it in his mouth. "I thought you were supposed to be working?” he says. “Studying hard for your exams?”

"Well yes, but I'm tired. I need a break."

"You need a break, so I have to be disturbed while I am trying to work?"

"You've been at it for hours too. Don't you want a rest as well?"

"I need to get this done for the meeting with the Thorntons tomorrow."

“You'll perform better at the meeting if you're rested.”

“Later Elizabeth. Right now, I must finish this.” And he returns to his reading.

I wait for a minute, then toss a third grape at him. This time he, somehow, catches it one-handedly in mid-air, apparently without even looking at it.

As he puts it in his mouth he says, "If you keep this up, I’ll put you over my knee and spank your ass red.”

At his words, my panties suddenly become moist with heat. With a take a sharp intake of breath, I now know what kind of break I’m looking for.

Deciding that grapes as a tactic are passé, I wheel out the big guns.

Silently, stretching back in my chair like a cat, I start to trace the outline of my breasts, trailing fingers over my contours, waiting for my Master to notice. Irritatingly, he appears to be unaware of what I am doing.

Vexed, I hitch up my skirt a little and part my knees, displaying rather more thigh, and revealing a slight view of my panties. This time, my Master notices the movements and glances up briefly, before, doing a double-take, he looks up properly, staring, as I return to playing with my breasts.

Cupping myself through my blouse, I have my Master’s attention. No longer looking at his files, his eyes instead follow my fingers as they draw circles around the outline of my nipples whereas they harden, they begin to display through the fabric. My nipples, responding, pucker up under the attention they are receiving, displaying hard little nubs through the silky material.

My questing fingers trail down between breasts, stomach and thighs, ever lower towards the hem of my skirt. Slipping under and in, they trace a line along the inside of my thighs to the green silk of my panties.

My Master watches transfixed, his work abandoned beside him. Sitting with arms folded, legs outstretched, he watches my performance, his black jeans beginning to bulge noticeably, and my own panties becoming ever damper.

Enjoying this feeling of erotic power over my Master, I continue, running fingers over and around my sex and clit, massaging myself through the sheer fabric, all the while, watching my Master’s reactions. His eyes are level, pupils wide and dark. For a moment, they meet mine, before eye-pointing downwards, indicating that I should continue.

Sliding inside the panties, I play with my clit, gently tormenting my warming bud, allowing the contour of my moving fingers to be outlined through the silk, as a dark wet stain spreads across the fabric. My Master’s head tilts a little as he watches this, before saying “Get rid of them.”

“Master?”

“Your panties. Get rid of them.”

Obediently, I rise, slide out of the garment and start to sit again.”

“No, not there.” My Master points to the other end of the settee on which he is sitting. “There, Madam, if you would. If you insist on flaunting yourself, I’ll have a good view, thank you.”

Arranging myself on the end of the couch, I raise a leg, allowing my Master to see everything that is his. It is not entirely coincidental, that now I am in this position, it will be very easy for my Master to lean forward to reach me. I am hoping it will be with his tongue.

However, he shows no sign of doing this yet. Instead, he has swung around, watching me in silence. Adjusting my position to ensure that he has the best possible view, I face him, thighs akimbo, fully displayed.

My blouse seems also surplus to need, so slowly, I undo each button, letting the garment fall open, before sliding it from my shoulders and letting it fall away. My green lacy bra goes the same way. Unclipping it, I allow my large, pendulous breasts to swing free, nipples now hard, rosy and crinkled with arousal.

Cupping a breast, and licking my fingers, I tease at the nipple, hardening it further. Plucking and rolling it, I ensure that my Master can see what I am doing at all times, his view uninterrupted. His eyes indicate I should give the other breast similar attention, so changing around, I lift and caress the other breast, again tormenting the nipple into taut attention.

Now, naked except for my skirt, I want to draw my Master into some action.

I want to be fucked.

Running fingers over my thighs, stroking inwards, slipping through red curls to neatly trimmed pussy lips, I open myself up, parting moist and swelling folds to reveal my dripping core.

The bulge in my Master’s jeans is unmistakable now. As I dip fingers into my wet pussy, slipping them rhythmically in and out, a sheen of sweat develops on his forehead.

I am also perspiring heavily, droplets hovering between my breasts, as my heart begins to race. Finger fucking myself, I keep my thumb pressed against my pulsing clit.

Oh, God, Master. Please. I want you to do this.

His self-control fails and my Master almost launches himself towards me, ready to bury his face in my sex, when…

Bbbbbbzzzzzzz. The door intercom….

My Master and I speak simultaneously.

“Fuck!”

“Oh fuck!”

A voice comes over the tannoy. “Hello, Richard. It’s Francis. I have those figures you requested, and a file from Jaye Thornton with the marketing projections.”

My Master’s eyes roll heavenwards, then fasten on mine in apology. He kisses me briefly, then head- points me towards the bathroom. Quickly, I gather up my clothes and my dignity, before vanishing inside.

Assuming that Francis will only be a minute or so, at first I wait, artfully arranging myself to wait for my Master. When he comes in, I want him to find me ready for him.

After five minutes or so, there is no sign of his arriving, so I listen at the door, then peek through. He is in deep conversation with Francis, and the two look as though they will be engaged for some time.

I like Francis, very much. She is the very soul of kindness and courtesy, but right now…. aaarrrgghhh….

Huffing in disappointment, I know that it is my own fault. My Master did, after all, say he needed to work. I will have to wait.

It is easy for my head to be philosophical, but my still twitching pussy does not agree. Finally, deciding that I need to cool off, I set the shower running and stand underneath, rinsing away passion induced perspiration, and the scent of my own arousal.

It does not help. Water washing over my face, I stand, eyes closed, trying to give myself a little relief, my fingers working at the unfinished task they started. Playing with my red curls, I move further and within, dreaming of my Master about to bury himself in me, my clit responding with sweet fire through my belly.

Working myself harder, hoping that the sound of the running water will cover my own stifled moans, sheer desire courses through me. I want my Master, but he cannot come to me, so I work myself, erotic

desperation sending electric pulses through my aching pussy.

My hand is seized and pulled away from me.

“That, my Lady, is my privilege.” says my Master’s voice.