Billionaire Kink (3 page)

Chapter Four

I would never admit it openly, but I
had enjoyed my encounter with the mysterious billionaire and his lesbian nymph.
I had envisioned some sort of BDSM torture chamber equipped with chains, whips,
and a muscled Dom dressed in leather, but, thankfully, that had not happened. My
fears had been for naught. The strange sexual episode was a distant memory, as
I threw myself into work, interviewing nurses, hiring contractors, and
double-checking the permits for the clinic.

Something strange was happing, though.
Whenever I had a free moment, I found myself on my laptop, searching the Web
for images and information on Mr. James Gordon. I bookmarked several pages
regarding his company’s successful breast cancer drug,
Demetril
.
There had been a surge of media coverage when the medication had first hit the
market, resulting in several news conferences. Whenever I had a free moment, I
watched YouTube clips, mesmerized by the man in the tailored suit, with the
handsome and charming smile. His speeches were articulate, but far too short.

By the following week, I’d memorized
the names of Mr. Gordon’s top management team, including the board of directors
and his publicist. Why this would concern me was a mystery. I had scored a coup
by discovering that he had indeed been married, but divorced several years ago.
She was a New York socialite. She had recently remarried and given an interview
to
Town & Country Magazine
,
briefly mentioning her ex-husband and his breast cancer drug. She was an icy
blonde, thin as a rail, and now happily married to an Indian industrialist. Her
idea of a good time was designing swanky horse stables for her collection of
Arabians. Amenities included air-conditioning and a
hydromassage
pool for the animals.
Give me a break.

As the day drew near for my next
“meeting” with Mr. Gordon, I became increasingly anxious and excited about the
prospect of seeing him again. Would I always be blindfolded? Would I only have
sex with other women? A thousand questions raced through my mind, and I was so
distracted, that I forgot a lunch date with a friend. I called June and
apologized profusely. I had received the confirmation text in the afternoon
regarding the time I would be picked up, and I raced home from work, hurrying
to take a shower and get ready. Shortly after seven, I grabbed my purse and
headed for the elevator.

The chauffer was not the same as
before, but the location in Lake Bluff was. The house looked eerie in the dark,
the trees nearly overpowering. There were lights on in the driveway, and
several windows were illuminated. I stepped from the vehicle, as a rush of
tingles bounced around in my tummy. The kindly housekeeper waited by the front
door.

“Good evening, Ms. Fox.”

“Thanks. What’s your name, by the
way?”

“Margaret.”

A modest chandelier illuminated the
entranceway. The house was utterly quiet, just as before. I followed Margaret
up the curving staircase to the second floor. We were heading for the bedroom,
and with each passing step, my anticipation grew. What a difference tonight
was! The first meeting had been the icebreaker, and, now that I knew what to
expect, I could relax and let go of my fear.

She opened the door. “Mr. Gordon will
be with you shortly.”

“Thanks.”

The robe was folded on the bed. I
undressed quickly and put it on, heedless of the hidden camera. It was
thrilling knowing that I was being watched doing such mundane things. In the
bathroom, I used the facilities, and then stared at myself in the mirror while
washing my hands. I had fussed with my makeup earlier, carefully applying
mascara and eyeliner. I wiped away a few dark flakes that had fallen to my cheeks.
My hands trembled slightly. The adrenaline coursing through me had raised my
blood pressure, no doubt. When I returned to the bedroom, I wasn’t alone. Mr.
Gordon was waiting for me. This time he wore a pair of jeans and a gray silk
shirt.

“It’s good to see you again, Ms.
Fox.”

“T-thanks.” Awkward! How many times
had he watched that video? Did I even want to know? What did I look like? Could
you see cellulite? Did I look as sexy as I had felt? “Hum…can I ask you a
question?”

“Of course.” He smiled slightly.

“Will the…um…encounters always be the
same?”

“No.”

“They won’t?” That was slightly
worrying.

“I like variety, Ms. Fox.”

“Oh. Are the images grainy?”

“The equipment I use is professional
grade.”

My spirits plummeted. “Oh, great.” I
suddenly felt self-conscious.

“Are you worried about what you look
like?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait here.” He strode from the room,
the smell of his citrusy-woodsy cologne lingering pleasantly. Within a minute,
the door opened, and he returned carrying a laptop. “This is what you want to
see, isn’t it?”

He pressed a button and an image
appeared of a blindfolded woman on a bed. I don’t know what was more shocking,
the sight of my breasts, full and contoured, and looking far sexier than I ever
imagined, or the woman kissing my neck, her hands touching me, caressing my
skin.

“Oh…wow.”

The laptop suddenly snapped shut.
“You’ve nothing to worry about.” His look was veiled. “Are you comfortable? Do
you need anything?”

“Not to sound like I’m prying,
but…can’t you get porn off the Internet? Why do you do this?”

“That’s my business, Ms. Fox.”

The door opened, and two women
entered. Elizabeth was not one of them.
So
it’s a threesome tonight.
Mr. Gordon sat in the chair, not more than five
feet away, while I stood apprehensively and slightly confused.

The blonde held out her hand. “I’m
Cammy
.”

“Hi,
Cammy
.”

“Lola,” said the brunette.

I noticed Lola held a duffle bag.
What the hell is in there?
“Hi.”

Mr. Gordon nodded slightly, an
indication that the proceedings could now commence. Nervous bundles of energy
assailed me, dampening my pussy, which was strange. I sat on the bed, holding
my knees together, while the insides of my palms began to sweat.
Cammy
dropped her robe, revealing perky breasts and a strange
looking tattoo on her hip. Lola let her robe drop. Both women were stick-thin gorgeous.
I felt a twinge of envy, because I was a good ten pounds over where I wanted to
be. I glanced at Mr. Gordon, but his look was unaffected, as usual. He’d make
an excellent poker player.

Lola knelt on the bed. “Now there,
pussycat,” she purred. Her hands touched my shoulders. “Are you ready to play
our little game?”

I cleared my throat. “Sure.”

“Do you want us to go rough on her or
soft,” asked
Cammy
.

“It’s your call.”

“Don’t worry,” Lola said. “You’ll
like everything we do to you.”

My pulse had raced into overdrive. I
grasped the edges of the robe, holding the material together, trying to shield
myself. A woman was at each shoulder, and I felt closed in, as if two
leopardesses were about to pounce on me, and they were. My agitation seemed to
amuse Mr. Gordon. The tiniest hint of a smile shone in his eyes.
Bastard
.

Hands were on me. “She’s a pretty
girl,” murmured Lola.

“She sure is.”

The garment slid from my shoulders,
exposing my breasts, the nipples hardening instantly.
Cammy
pulled determinedly, taking away the only thing that had given me a sense of
security. I was naked in front of strangers…again.

“We need you to lay down,” said Lola.

I shifted on the bed, doing as they
asked. I glanced at the ceiling, noting its recessed lighting. Only the bed was
illuminated, with the dimmer on, lessening the stark quality of the light. I
closed my eyes, waiting for something to happen. Where was my blindfold when I
needed it? In a strange way, it had given me confidence. Something touched my
arm, feeling like the end of a brush. I lifted my head and saw that the women
held paintbrushes.
What the hell?

My body began to tingle and buzz wherever
they brushed me.
Cammy
stroked my arm, working her
way to my neck, while Lola ran the brush from my throat to my breasts, the
bristles tickling the deep valley of my cleavage. I shuddered from the
sensation, the silkiness of the effect stoking the beginnings of arousal. I had
no idea brushes felt so good. She dipped into my navel, sweeping it around and
around.
Cammy
touched my face, the soft, brush strokes
sliding gently over my cheeks, nose, and mouth. She teased my ears, sending
little chills down my spine.

“I think she likes this,” murmured
Lola.

Lola was heading south…fast. I was
trapped in the rapture of this particular technique, not wanting it to end. Her
brush drew nearer to my mound, the anticipation building inside of me, like the
rousing end of a piece of music played by an orchestra. Soft strokes landed on
my inner thighs, while
Cammy
skimmed the edges of a
nipple with her brush. She traced the curves of my breasts and then returned to
play around the nipples, which had become achy, stiff peaks. Not to be outdone,
Lola moved over my clit, the caress felt feather light, yet utterly
stimulating. My hands had curled into fists at my sides, my body humming with
sensual expectation.

The feel of the brush sliding up and
down my slit was indescribable. I shuddered, gasping for breath, and drowning
in this unique technique.
Cammy’s
brush was in my
belly button, teasing and turning in tight circles. Lola had me spreading my legs.
The feel of air in this region made me shiver, because I was dripping wet. She
outlined my pelvis, running the bristles to my inner thighs and back to my
clitoris, which felt like a huge, throbbing mass. She passed over my slit with
determined strokes.

“I’m going to need a new brush,” she
murmured.

I swallowed my embarrassment. I
couldn’t help how my body responded to this particular stimulation, but I
didn’t want it to stop.

“Maybe it’s time you show her
who’s
boss, Lola.”

“
Ooohh
…yeah.
She’s more than ready.”

I sat up, suddenly anxious. “What?”

“Lie down,” murmured Lola. “The fun’s
just beginning.”

Chapter Five

I’d caught a glimpse of Mr. Gordon,
sitting attentively in his chair, with his hands on his knees. Was that a bulge
in his pants? No. Or was it? Did he save his erection for when he was alone
with the videos? Did he have sexual problems? Was that why his wife had left
him? Or did he leave her? I suddenly had a million questions, and it was
irritating that I would probably never know the answers.

Lola dug in her bag, producing a
dildo. This hadn’t surprised me. It wasn’t particularly lengthy or outlandish
in color. It was a simple, flesh-toned, molded hunk of rubber, created to look
exactly like a man’s penis. What I hadn’t counted on was the strap-on that
suddenly appeared.
Who’s wearing that?

“Hand it over,” demanded
Cammy
. She attached the apparatus around her hips, the
black cock jutting out from her creamy skin. She held her newly acquired
appendage, smiling broadly. “I’m wearing the pants today.”

“It looks good on you,” said Lola.

She smacked my cheek lightly with the
rubber cock. I was stunned by this action. It hovered near my mouth. “That’s
right, honey. Open up.”
I have to suck a
piece of rubber? Ugh.
The rounded tip pressed to my lips, the smell of
plastic teasing me. “Open up for mommy.” I did so. “That’s it. Suck my cock.
Suck it hard.”

It was strange having something cold
and rubbery in my mouth, but, if this was what Mr. Gordon needed to get off,
then far be it from me to deny him. He was paying me a tremendous amount of
money for the privilege and the least I could do was
hold
up my end of the bargain. I closed my lips around the shaft and sucked. Lola
prodded my clit with the tip of her dildo. Then she slid it back and forth,
wetting it instantly. This felt even better than the brush, and it was an
effort not to moan. I hadn’t had sex in months. My love life was abysmal on a
good day, and this past year, especially so.

I really need to buy my own dildo
. “
Ooomm
…”

The moan tore from my throat, which
was stuffed with plastic cock. I gagged, as
Cammy
shoved the tool in further. I wasn’t all that fond of oral sex, hating to
perform it…usually…but the way this woman was forcing it on me, had a peculiar
effect. I choked on the length, gagging, as tears flooded my eyes. My nerve
endings all but screamed with arousal, which was something I had never
experienced before. Lola’s skill with the dildo was not to be underestimated.
The tool toyed with my hole, the head popping in and out, making wet, squishing
sounds. I knew Mr. Gordon had a direct view of my lower anatomy. He was probably
staring right at the spot where the dildo entered. Morbid curiosity had me
lifting my head, seeing him looking exactly where I suspected he was. He met my
gaze then; an austere look was in his eye.

“Come on, bitch. Eat my cock.”
Cammy
forced it into my mouth. “Yeah, that’s it. Suck it.”

Lola manipulated the dildo, while her
breath lingered over my mound. My body tensed with expectation. I tried to mask
the effect they had on me, but I failed, moaning helplessly. Her tongue began
to prod my clit, pushing the little nub back and forth. It was too much.

“Oh!
Omigod
!”
I gasped.

“Yeah,
Kittycat
.
You like it, don’t you?” asked Lola.

The stimulation my body endured had
me throbbing, gasping, and almost begging for release, as I hurtled closer to
the edge of oblivion. There was nothing I could do to stop it. Lola grasped the
flattened end of the dildo, pounding my slickened passage, while her tongue
laved my clit.

Just as the orgasm hit, I glanced at
Mr. Gordon, and, for a breathtaking moment, I felt utterly connected to him. “Oh,
God, no…” I groaned, throwing my head back and shuddering, while spasms wracked
my body. “
Ooohh
…” Lola withdrew the dildo slowly. I
gazed at the ceiling, my body quivering with the aftereffects of bliss. The
women gathered their possessions and left the room without another word. I
glanced at Mr. Gordon. “Is something wrong?” His expression revealed nothing.

He stood. “Get dressed. You’re
dismissed.”

“Are you firing me?”

His hand was on the doorknob. “No,
you’re not fired, Ms. Fox. Just get dressed and get out.” He left the room.

Ugh. That man
.

Later that night, after a hot bath, I
found myself on my laptop with the television on in the background. I replayed
Mr. Gordon’s greatest hits, the
Demetril
news
conference, the interview with CNN, and several brief snippets from things he
had said to reporters. The longer I listened, the more I enjoyed the timber of
his voice and the articulation of his words. I’d stumbled across photos of him
during his college years, looking young and handsome. That detached smile drew
me in; the mystery of his persona was utterly intriguing. I had extracted some
interesting tidbits from the things his ex-wife had said in interviews.

My husband is a private man.

We rarely vacation together…his schedule won’t allow it.

James prefers tasteful, understated things…

Married for ten years, they had never
had children. She knew what he looked like naked. She knew what it felt like to
be touched by him. There were pictures of them attending functions together, the
happy couple smiling, and his arm around her. Had he treated her with the same
cold indifference he bestowed upon me? Did he treat all women like this?
Why the hell do you care, Gretchen?

That night I dreamt about him…and the
night after. By the time the weekend had arrived, I found myself in my car and
parked within sight of the Lake Bluff house, watching…waiting…for what? I must
have sat there for three hours, staring at the red brick structure, wondering
if anyone was home. A lawn service arrived in the afternoon, and three
gardeners clambered out of the truck and began to mow the lawn. They operated a
noisy leaf blower afterwards in the driveway. Other than that deafening
intrusion, there were no visitors to the house that afternoon. I drove home
feeling empty and disappointed.

Work kept me busy, but the evenings
were entirely predictable. My laptop was now an extension of my body, always
near, and displaying a photo of Mr. Gordon. I counted the days until I saw him
again, thinking of what I might say, and what naughty things he would have me
do. He seemed to prefer watching lesbian situations, and I was finding those
enjoyable as well. The week could not go by fast enough. It was torture having
to wait until Friday night. I was ready a good hour before the driver picked me
up. I stared out the window of my apartment into a gray, urban sky, watching the
street below like a bird of prey. A flash of black had my attention, but my
spirits plummeted when I realized it wasn’t the car I was looking for. It would
be another twenty agonizing minutes before my phone buzzed.

By the time I arrived at the house, I
was a bundle of excited energy, my body buzzing at the thought of seeing Mr.
Gordon again. Margaret led me up the staircase, which really wasn’t necessary.
I knew where the room was. I stripped as soon as the door closed, throwing the
robe on. After using the bathroom, I sat on the bed and waited. To my
confusion, I waited a considerable amount of time, so long in fact, that
Margaret returned.

“Would you like a drink, Ms. Fox? I
have cheese and crackers.”

“Where’s Mr. Gordon?”

“He’s running late.”

My shoulders slumped. “Just water.
Thanks.”

“As you wish.”

I sat on the bed, kicking my leg up
and down, my excitement diminishing. It would be another hour before the door
opened, and, by that time, I had fallen asleep. A hand touched my shoulder,
waking me.

“What?” I stared at James Gordon’s
face. “Hi.”
Holy shit! He actually
touched me.

“I’m sorry about the wait.”

I sat up, brushing hair out of my
face. “Um…that’s all right.”

“Good. Then we can get started.”

He seemed a little tense tonight, a
touch on edge. I watched him carefully, noting the impeccable cut of his black
suit and the blueness of his tie. His attention was on the carpet. He avoided
looking at me directly, which was a little strange. I fully anticipated several
women to walk through the door, and when it finally swung open, I sucked back a
gasp. Tonight’s entertainment would not include females. Two tall, muscled men
stood in the room wearing nothing but towels around their waists.

Oh, my…oh…wow…

Mr. Gordon took his seat then,
staring at me blankly. “Take your robe off.”

I shivered, feeling self-conscious. I
let it drop, the silken material floating to my feet. I tried not to stare at
the men; their bulk and stature were intimidating. I focused on the bookshelf
across the room.
Smile for the camera
.
Say cheese
.

“Fuck her.”

The cold, impersonal tone in his
voice brought me up short. Was this going to be some sort of gang-rape
scenario? I glanced at Mr. Gordon to assess his demeanor, but his esoteric look
gave nothing away. He enjoyed having all the control, the smug bastard. The
men, who had dropped their towels, approached me. It was distressing seeing
their erections, which had basically sprung up out of nowhere. The lengthy
organs were hairless and hard, the rounded ends glistening slightly. Had they
primed themselves with a porno in the other room?
Good God!

“I’m not going to say it again. Fuck
her.”