In Service To The Billionaire (6 page)

She expected to have to wait a day or two—but she got a response verifying her acceptance within thirty minutes as she idly stroked her hot cunt, licking her lips at Sand's profile, reading through the packet of his rules (his
orders
, she now considered them), and losing herself in a dozen little fantasies.

Quickly, she set about to writing a profile . She used the same sign-in as she did in the chatrooms, subvixen, and the same profile as well. For her profile picture, she put up a photo with her wearing nylons and her highest pair of heels, showing off the tight, luscious curve of her legs beneath the tight cloth of one of her clubbing dresses.

She got up, typing her own message in response to his profile:

ExecStud,

I love the profile. I have to tell you, I’m all you want and more.

I read things like what you have there, and I can’t help but want to obey and give you everything you need.

I know you must get hundreds and hundreds of requests all the time from girls on this site, their pussies dripping with the need for your incredible cock.

How can I prove to you that I’m the real deal?

- subvixen

And then for the rest of the night she studied his orders in the packet and fingered her hot pussy until she fell asleep, dreaming up all the ways that he would command her to prove her worth.

Chapter 8

Waking up the next morning—bright and early at 5 AM on Friday—she expected to be tired. She expected, really, to have her original disdain of the job returned, and that all the interest that had built up the night before would have evaporated like so much smoke.

But no. She woke up, in fact, gripping her pillow tight, her fingers on top of her luscious mound, her consciousness switching on in fact to her moaning out, “Oh Masterr...oh Master...” again and again.

So, yes—she was going to follow through with the plan. Make him want her—online and at work—and then cash in on the build-up of his desire.

It felt so
empowering
to have a plan.

To that end, she hopped into the shower and quickly prepared herself—within an hour, the hot young twenty-two year-old was dressed as sexy as she dared.

She wore a tight white blouse, which she felt was sort of a staple in hot office fantasies. If at any time that felt too daring, she had a neutral (if also rather tight) black sweater to pull over her ample breasts. Smoky dark stockings lined her long legs, the lovely shape of which were advertised doubly by her sharp tight gray skirt, the hem ending right above her knee. Her high-heeled shoes provided a modest lift—three inches—enough to show off without overtly advertising.

Wrapped in a bun behind her head, her dark-hair was still starkly professional—and yet she knew (from reading naughty stories and seeing plenty of naughty pictures) that a bun in the mind of a sex-hungry man was little more than an opportunity to watch a girl’s hair fall down her back at his behest.

Arriving at the office at six-fifteen after another morning bus ride, she was happy and congenial to everyone she met. She was surprised to see so many—more than half the staff—already there so early. All of them, perhaps, were hoping to get noticed by Mr. Sand like she was.

Of course, probably they didn’t want the same kind of attention as Sophia.

“My my,” said Julie, arranged in a bright blue dress, when she saw Sophia. “Someone’s come prepared.”

“I thought I would try and be a little more professional—and follow the rules a bit closely today.”

Julie smiled. “That’s a good attitude to have. He’s ready for his morning coffee, I think.”

“Yes,” said Sophia. “I know.”

All that studying last night wasn't for nothing, after all.

Quickly, she made and then delivered the coffee, her heels snapping on the cool tiles inside of Sand’s office.

He barely looked up as she approached, buried inside of some mound of paperwork.

“Here’s your coffee, Sir.”

She breathed out the word “Sir,” and intentionally capitalized it in her head. She wanted him to feel the respect flowing out of her for him. She needed him to know, one way or the other, how badly she desired his thick hard cock up inside of her cunt, giving her direction, telling her how to feel.

To have a real dom, a real live dom, right there in front of her—it took all her strength not to fall on her knees and beg for him to choke her hot slut throat with his cock.

“Thank you,” he said, still not looking up.

She waited for a few seconds—as the rules instructed—and then began to walk away, just slightly exaggerating her natural strut to give a hot, enticing sway to her ass.

When she stopped at the door, she turned her head just slightly to see if he had been watching her. She thought she could explain it, if he caught her, by saying she thought she heard him say something.

Sure enough, his eyes were glued firmly on her ass. She caught him.

He noticed her catching him—and didn’t seem to care at all. His eyes met hers, challenging her briefly. A hot, satisfied smile briefly crossed her lips and she slipped back out into the office.

There was lots of work to do. Data to file, paperwork to hand out, mail to rearrange, that sort of thing. Some emails and phone calls went directly to Sand on his private number, but his public address and number went directly to her desk. A large part of her job to screen the mail and calls directed to him from those who didn't have his private number and decide who was actually important enough to bother her boss. If they weren’t important enough, then she would put them on hold indefinitely. Eventually, they would hang up.

If someone went through this process three times, then they would be upgraded to being put on a to-call list for Mr. Sand, which was hundreds of people long. Someone would rise from the bottom to the top of a given list within six-to-eight weeks, most of the time.

It seemed a cruel way to handle business, but it wasn't Sophia's place to question. And she didn't want to give Sand the wrong idea about the kind of girl she was—the kind that would question his dominance.

Oh no, she couldn't even hint at that.

The atmosphere in the office, generally speaking, was still congenial as it had been the day before, but Sophia had noticed a serious feeling of stress leaking beneath the surface.

In her work, she found that everyone’s placement inside of the office—aside from Julie, who had to be at the front for reception—was determined by how important Sand thought they were to him. This was an ever-shifting arrangement, she had learned, such that every Monday that a person came in and saw their name plate on their desk in the same place, they breathed a sigh of relief (or possibly frustration, when they had to go search around for their new desk).

It was her job, she found out, to rearrange people should Sand desire.

“How’s it going, dear?”

Sophia looked up from the pile of paperwork in front of her to see Julie’s bright, smiling face. Sophia attempted her own smile.

“It’s going all right. I’m just still trying to measure up, you know?”

“Oh,” Julie waved a hand. “I wouldn't worry so much about that.”

“Are you kidding?” Sophia laughed. “He already thinks I'm unqualified after the bumbly mess I acted like yesterday, and now it's all regaining ground.” She paused. “Right?”

Julie shrugged. “I suppose that's
possible
...but I don't think it's very likely.”

“Why not?”

“My dear,” said Julie. “All those rules you read for him, and you haven’t realized it yet?”

“Realized it? Realized what?”

Julie leaned forward on the desk. “Do you think that you would be hired for this moment for even one fraction of a second if you were even slightly unqualified? Do you think I’m bad at my job, in selecting you as someone to be interviewed? Do you think he wouldn’t have reviewed your file before you were even called?”

Sophia didn’t know what to say to that.

“I know he’s harsh, dear. I make no excuses for him. But...” Julie leaned against Sophia's desk for a moment. “...he does get results. He expects those results from everyone around him, that’s all. He views humans as templates, that’s all. And if every template followed his method, then everyone would be a success.”

“That’s how he sees us?”

Julie shrugged. “That’s how he sees everything. He’s a very...unique individual.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Sophia to consider.

At twelve-thirty, it was time for another cup of coffee—and for Sophia to deliver the batch of paperwork that she had accumulated for him to review and sign.

This time, as she walked in, his eyes were all over her. It was as if he was expecting her.

“You upgraded a bit, didn’t you?”

She could sense that he was trying to compliment her. And—knowing that he was such a dom—she didn’t feel as offended as she would have otherwise.

“Yes, Sir. I thought being in your presence required a bit more...style than I had previously shown.” She tried to make her voice soft, agreeable. “Please, do let me apologize for not having it right the first time. I hope this outfit is more agreeable, Sir?”

His hands came over the cup, his fingertips just barely glancing against hers. It was enough. She let out a hot breath and turned away.

“That will do for now,” he said.

“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate you noticing my attempt, Sir.”

She started walking back to the door, but Sand continued—so Sophia paused.

“At least until your first paycheck comes through. I expect a certain level of tailoring quality for your clothing.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, continuing to the door.

She rushed to the bathroom. Once safely inside a stall, she slipped her left hand into her mouth, tongue sliding hard against her fingertips wanting to suckle down any bits of his body’s imprint on her.

Her right hand climbed up into her panties. There was no restraining her passion. Her panties—flimsy and lace—moved aside quickly, and she found her entrance. Any part of him at all—any thought of him, any residual feeling of him that could be pushed inside of her body was.

“Oh my god,” she moaned.

Her fingers slid in and out of her entrance. Bliss spread through her body like a fast-acting fever. There was so much need inside of her—such vicious, terrible, insatiable need for his control and approval!

“Mister Sand...” she breathed out, her face pressing against the bathroom door. “Mister Sand...Mister Sand...
Master
Sand...”

It didn't matter that she was at work. It only mattered that she was obeying, that he was thinking more of her, that she was earning his approval and making him watch her and notice her and want her...

Biting down on her lips, she came. Hot squeaks and soft mews pushed out from her mouth as she struggled to keep quiet in the bathroom.

Taking a few moments, she gathered her thoughts and herself. Then she stepped back out into the office once more.

Chapter 9

That night, after a long and satisfying day of work doing everything she could to help Sand, she came home and saw a response to her message to him.

She was terrified to use the office computer to respond or even check her account—if he saw her on the site at all (and there was no reason to think that he wasn’t watching, looming inside of his enormous, opaque office), then he would surely be able to piece it all together.

subvixen,

The real deal must provide a proof of purchase. You can hardly expect me to entertain offers without knowing what I’m getting, yes?

Send me a picture.

Send me a few.

Grinning wickedly, Sophia slid back into the couch, sliding her hands up and down her body. This was just what she wanted to happen. Of
course
she wanted him to see her body. She just didn't want him to know it was her...not yet.

So, she couldn’t show him her face, of course—but she could show him all sorts of other things.

After an enthusiastic finger-fucking session to finish off Friday night, dreaming of all the hot things Sand would do to her, she planned to spend all day Saturday planning and dressing.

Distantly, she felt glad that had never stopped taking her birth control. Once every few months, it would deliver an outrageous mood swing or two, but this sort of opportunity made it all worth it.

She wanted to feel him unhindered by anything. His naked cock, pulsing hard in her hot cunt. Oh yes.

Waking up at about ten in the morning Saturday, she started judging and preparing a possible outfit.

With frustration, she saw the bag for her wedding dress deep in the back of her closet as she searched. That was embarrassing, now.

At one point, Sophia had everything almost nearly planned for the wedding. They had a place—Grove Park on the East End—and a day, and were narrowing down on a caterer and had invitations picked out and save-the-dates sent.

No longer, of course. The dress still seemed like the biggest muck-up of all. Her mother had helped her to pay for it—and Sophia could still return it and get most of the payment back—but she just hadn’t been able to, yet. Another part of her life that waited for Todd.

Sighing, she put a few extra sweaters on top of the bag so she wouldn’t look at it, and went back to work on preparing outfits for Sand.

She faced a momentary happy interruption around one in the afternoon, when the car shop called her to tell her that her vehicle was finally ready to pick up. The shop was, thankfully, just a short walk away. The cost—more than a thousand dollars—made Sophia’s heart beat rapidly, but with the pay coming in from the new job, she felt confident she could pay it all off on next month’s credit bill.

That was freeing—knowing she didn’t have to stress about payments. Any slight dissatisfaction with the job’s responsibilities and long hours eroded even more. Her growing sexual enjoyment was quickly supplemented with practical enjoyment.

Back home, she resumed work on her outfits for the photos. It wasn't until late in the afternoon—past five o'clock, in fact—that she was really satisfied.