Romance: The Billionaires Collection (Watched By A Billionaire, Stranded With A Billionaire, Caught By A Billionaire, Billionaire Stepbrother) (7 page)

Soon we reach a bench, and he sits me down.

“
Now, Ashley, are you going to keep performing?”

His eyes seem conflicted. I'm not quite sure what he
wants me to say.

“
Yes, as long as Randall wants me to.”

I give him my honest answer, seeing no reason to stop.

“
And, tell me, why are you doing this. I understand
you've never done anything like this before. That you had some
trouble at work and agreed to this fairly easily.”

“
I guess so,” I say, feeling incredibly slutty. He's
right, I did agree to fuck in public very easily. I suppose that says
a lot about me. “How do you know about the work thing though?”

“
Randall is generous with the information if we
request it. Some of the men don't like to know anything about the
girl's past. Personally, I do. I like to know who I'm watching, why
they're there doing what they're doing. You struck a particular chord
with me.”

“
Well, yeah, I suppose I needed the money...I have a
silly dream.”

“
What dream?” he asks quickly, without any feigned
interest.

“
I was working in fashion before, on the media side.
But I've always wanted to design, to have my own studio, my own
label. All of this is going to help make that happen.”

Once more I see the conflict in his eyes. Something
tells me he'd rather I didn't perform again, that he's got a
possessive quality that, now he's had me, makes him not want anyone
else to as well.

But his words don't match the look on his face.

“
Then you need to keep performing,” he says. “We
should all do whatever it takes to reach our dreams. One day, I'll
hope to see your name on a clothing label.”

“
Thanks, Gray.”

“
Don't mention it. Now, I have business I need to
attend to. If you'll excuse me.”

He stands, takes my hand, and kisses it tenderly again.

Before disappearing into the haze of the setting sun.

Chapter Four

I spend much of the next few weeks on my back.

With a dick inside me.

Or a bunch of fingers and a tongue.

According to Randall, the clients are thoroughly
enjoying me, and I've become the latest favorite among the girls in
the show room. And with that tag comes more opportunity to make
money, with both my base rate and tips starting to climb.

It also, however, comes with some pressures.

It doesn't take long before everything starts to take
its toll. I work several nights per week, turning up as always,
getting prepared, stepping out to see a new guy, face half covered in
a mask, waiting to pleasure me for the satisfaction of the elite
crowd beyond the walls.

I get through several men, and repeat my original
performance with Brett on one occasion. However, as good as he and
the others are, it's never enough for me, not anymore. Not after
having Gray, seeing his face, even bonding with him a little bit in
the park.

Somehow, the entire thing begins to feel empty and
hollow, and I start to perform on autopilot, my genuine pleasure
fading and my need for faking my orgasms growing.

They're all good fucks, of course, but there's something
missing, and every time I walk through that door I begin to hope that
it's going to be Gray waiting on the other side.

But it never is. I can tell immediately, from the shape
of their bodies, the nuances of their anatomy, the size and taste of
their dick, that it's not the man I've started to yearn for. That
it's just another guy, getting paid for this, nothing but a high
price porn star like me.

Because, really, that's all I've become.

About two weeks after my experience with Gray, however,
I manage to find a new apartment. My parents – well, my mother, in
particular – seem sad to see me go. My father, still wrapped up in
his latest case, probably won't even notice.

“
I'll only be across the river, mom,” I tell my
mother, assuring her that I'll be close enough to visit all the time,
unlike when I lived in LA.

I lie, of course, to cover my tracks, telling her that
I'm starting a new job and that I've got enough money to put down a
deposit on an apartment. Being a mother, whose only real interest in
life is making sure that me and my father are happy, she offers to
pay the deposit for me, but I tell her I really don't need the help.

Of course, I've got the fifty grand now sitting in my
bank account, almost completely untouched, and plenty more just
waiting to add to the pile from my latest performances.

A quick calculation in my head and I realize that I'll
be a millionairess within a few months at this rate. The thought
makes my head spin and, still, none of it seems to have sunk in.

Yet, in the show room, I have begun to lose interest,
and outside of it I've started to plot my escape. I look for studios,
start stockpiling materials, and begin working on my designs.

With my days consumed by my creative mind, I hardly have
time to feel nervous anymore when I step inside the show room and
start chowing down on a dick. It all becomes second nature, almost
mundane, just another job for me to get done.

It's only a few weeks after I start that the requests
start coming in. Each time I go into the room for any performance,
the layout is slightly different. Different color schemes on the bed,
different scent in the air, different lighting above and different
music playing.

Yet still, those differences are subtle, and none of
them alter the sex in any way.

Gradually, however, my growing popularity among the
clients changes all of that. I know that on one night when Randall
asks me if I'm OK with a bit of BDSM. Having been tied up by a
boyfriend before, I say yes, thinking nothing of it.

When I'm dressed in leather lingerie and given a whip to
walk into the show room with, however, I know that this is another
level. And when I go inside and see the various implements set up on
the bed and the walls, I realize quickly that I'm going to be out of
my depth.

I'm tied, gagged, and fucked so hard it hurts that
night. I get my revenge with my own flagellation, whipping the guy
until he yelps in pain and marking his skin red. But the entire night
makes me think that enough might be enough. The stranger elements of
the sex world perhaps not for me.

When the next request comes in, asking me if I'll do
anal, I answer Randall with a firm 'no'.

“
Good,” he tells me. “You're better when you stick
to conventional sex, my dear. Let the others ruin their assholes!”

But still, turning down a request appears to be bad
form, and whichever group of clients was interested in such a show
turn embittered. Consequently, my tips begin to fall, and my ratings
flatline to the point where I lose my status at the top of the tree
and fall behind several other girls who are clearly not so worried
about keeping their anal virtue intact.

Most likely, they lost their virginity in that orifice a
long time ago.

Yet still, I find the entire thing more of a blessing
than a disappointment, and figure that I've already got enough money
to have me set up for a very long time. In my head, I'm already
considering the option of getting out as soon possible before I lose
myself completely.

It's over five weeks since I started when Randall comes
to me with another special request. This time, it involves a
threesome.

“
Which type?” I ask quickly, knowing that I'll
struggle to handle two guys at once and certainly wouldn't agree to
any double penetration.

Randall, however, puts me at ease.

“
One of the other girls and a guy. How do you feel
about being with another girl?”

I shrug my shoulders, thinking it's better than the
other requests I've had, and agree to do it.

That night, I spend half my time indulging in lesbian
antics that I'd never have expected to enjoy, but rather do. The
sound of the gorgeous red head moaning as I lick her out helps to
send my own libido into overdrive. Feeling the thrust of a dick,
penetrating me from behind, only heightens the entire experience.

She's delicate to the touch, better than most guys at
eating my pussy, her fingers delicate as they probe inside me. I suck
cock and have my cunt devoured at the same time, doubling my
pleasure. And when I walk out of the room that night, my lips still
tingling from the softness of the red head's skin and tongue, I
wonder if I'm not part lesbian myself.

And then the strong pang of desire for Gray hits me
again, and I realize that, no, I'm only fully interested in the male
form. The girls pussy, her tits, her soft flesh and skin was nothing
more than an experience that caught me up in the moment. But it's not
one I'd revisit on a regular basis.

Gray, though?

I'd revisit him anywhere, anytime.

Chapter Five

“
Tonight is orgy night.”

Randall is standing beside me in my dressing room,
filling me in on what I'm expected to do for the evening.

“
There will be ten of you. Five guys, five girls.
You've been with all of the guys before, so there won't be anything
unexpected. The girls will be new, all expect Britney from the other
night, the red head. She'll be there with you.”

“
OK...”

“
This is a clean orgy, as we term it. In other words,
the sex with be regular and conventional. So no BDSM elements, no
anal, nothing beyond regular sexual activity that you've performed so
well at in the last few weeks.”

I'm only half listening now. Orgy, regular sex, ten
people, got it.

In my head, however, I'm thinking that this might just
be my last night here. I have enough money to start up my label and
have a go at it, with plenty left in case things go wrong. And, if
so, I'll be more than happy to return to regular employment after
this.

It's my soul, more than anything, that's slowly being
ground into the dust. At first it was fine, and I even enjoyed it. It
was all new, so new and exciting that I never truly got what it was
doing to my insides.

Now, though, it's starting to take its toll.

I'm a porn star. I fuck for money in front of people.
Nothing but a sex doll on show.

It's not the way I want to live my life, and the longer
I do it, the worse it will get. Now is the time to escape and to cut
myself free for good.

Randall leaves me there, with my thoughts and nothing
else, as he goes and checks on the other girls. When the order comes
through the speaker in my room to make my way to the show room, I
step out and see other girls doing the same.

They're all stunning, curvy, perfect, and dressed like
me in nothing but lacy panties and bra. We all have different colors
– red, black, white, blue, and yellow – with my own lingerie the
standard, innocent white.

We share smiles as we walk together down the corridor,
but don't speak. Britney, the red head who's pussy made me briefly
question my own sexual orientation, comes toward me and lightly runs
her fingers over my ass.

“
I'll look forward to eating you again tonight sexy,”
she says in a husky voice that I wouldn't have expected from someone
who looks as pristine as she does.

I don't answer, but know that if there's one girl I'm
going to be with tonight, it will be her.

We step into the room, each of us smiling wide and
gracefully pacing in toward the five men standing in their underwear,
all lean and toned and tanned. In the room are several beds and
sofas, with cushions on the floor and various sexual toys lying
around.

It's a sex paradise, and I can almost feel the erotic
energy pulsing out of everyone, ready to get tangled into a web of
arms and legs and dicks and cunts.

For a moment we all stand, face to face, as if waiting
for a start gun to explode. And then, suddenly, without warning, one
of the guys steps forward toward a girl on the right.

At the other end of the line of girls, I quickly scan
the menu of men, each of whom I've fucked but none of whom I know at
all as people. It's a strange sensation, and I wonder who's going to
make a beeline for me first.

And then I see him.

He's taller than the others. More muscular, more manly.
His jaw extends below his mask, square and strong and wearing a
smile. He comes toward me, marching straight past another guy,
brushing him aside until his hands are snaking up my body.

“
Ashley,” whispers the voice of Gray, quiet enough
for only me to hear. “You'll only be with me tonight.”

I feel a huge surge rush through me, a mixture of desire
and relief. He's the one I want, the one I've been pining for, hoping
to see each time I step inside the show room.

And now, surrounded by bodies quickly being stripped of
their final garments, he's here, his hands snaking behind my back and
removing my bra, his lips sliding down my chest and settling on my
nipples.