Bought By The Billionaire

Chapter 2

He reaches back and pulls his tie from the hook. Quickly, he binds my wrists together, glancing briefly into my eyes as he does so, looking for a sort of permission. Then, pulling my arms up over my head, he attaches my bound wrists to the shower wall fitting. He stands back, c*****g his head, admiring his handiwork. I stand there, naked as the day I was born, stretched up and tied for the perusal of a complete stranger. I am growing warm and wet.

His eyes lock onto mine. "And now, milady, let's see how well washed you are."

Placing one hand on my breast, he starts kneading as his mouth lowers to the other, first to suckle, and then nibble the n****e. His tongue circles, flicking the n****e to hardness. When he seems to feel he has a satisfactory result, his mouth and that tantalising tongue, move to the other n****e, while his hand slides over my stomach, descending. I feel him outlining the curve of my waist, over my hip and belly. His fingers entwine themselves in my curls before slipping in between my thighs.

I can hardly contain myself. Wriggling, I hear his chuckle of approval as he feels how wet I am. His tongue circles the n****e, one finger mirroring the movement over my clit. Torn between the desire to stay still and just let it happen, or to grind my hips around his hand, I find myself simply trembling helplessly and my thighs growing wetter and wetter, and warmer and warmer, and my p***y juice beginning to flow.

He pauses, standing upright. He looks into my face again, running his hands up and over and down my trembling torso, breasts, and shoulders, gauging my reactions. His pupils are wide and dark, and I know that he likes what he finds. Very slowly and gently, he runs his hands back around my shoulders and into my hair, pulling my face to his. He kisses me very softly on the lips and then starts nibbling at an ear.

"Enjoying this, aren't we ..." he whispers. "Want to take things further?"

Do I want to? He's driving me wild. Tied up as I am, this stranger could do anything to me, but his slow, careful, caressing, and touching is arousing me far more than any straight shag could have. I am quivering with arousal, but I can't bring myself to reply. After all, he is still a stranger who has tied me up.

"Shy, eh?" he whispers again. "Let's see if we can fix that..."

With his head nestling into the curve of my neck and shoulder, he reaches behind me with one hand, firmly pulling my buttocks to him. I hear a clunk and then another, and I am puzzled.

"I thought I should play the gentleman," he says. "Time to take my shoes off." As it dawns on me, in my stupefied arousal, that he is still more or less fully clothed, his feet slide between mine, easing my legs apart. I stagger slightly, but his other arm takes my weight as I regain my balance.

"Now," he says. "Do I need to tie those ankles apart? Or do I get some cooperation?"

I still can't bring myself to speak. My trembling continues, and I am beginning to pant, my breath coming in short bursts and my colour rising. He knows exactly what he is doing to me.

"Still shy? We'd better sort it out then." He releases me slowly and stands up straight. "Don't move, Miss Silent," he says as he turns and walks out of the room.

For a minute or so I hear nothing, and then there is music, some kind of soft classical. It grows louder, and then he comes back into the bathroom carrying the roses I saw earlier and something else I can't make out. He has stripped off his shirt. His smoothly muscled torso bespeaks the kind of man who either has a very physical job or who works out, knowing that women don't go looking for overly muscled morons. In his bare feet and wearing just his black jeans, which are now bulging at the front; dark-haired, lambent eyed, and clearly with a purpose in mind, he is utterly, astonishingly, suggestive and inviting.

I could no more have said No than fly.

But I cannot quite bring myself to say Yes or, more appropriately; Please.

"I hope you like the music, Miss Silent," he says. "I think it's time we got some noise out of you. The music should cover it up in case anyone comes by." He brings the roses close to my face. "I did have other plans for this evening, but she stood me up. Would you like these? They are beautiful, aren't they? Do you like the scent?"

The scent is ravishing. What kind of woman stood this man up? I can't imagine. Delicately, slowly, he holds the roses for me to smell, and then, with only the very tips of the petals, he caresses my face with the flowers. The petals have small drops of water on them, and as he brushes my face and then moves down my neck, and over my breasts and stomach, the small cold droplets chill me and titillate at the same time. A moan escapes me, and I feel my p***y juices running below.

He smiles and raises his eyebrows. "Ahh ... so you can make noises. Let's see what else you can do."

Abruptly, he turns away, and quite carefully, places the roses in the basin. He produces the 'something' that I was unable to identify before – it's a spreader bar with leather ankle cuffs...

What kind of evening did he have planned before?

He looks at me and grins wickedly. "This might be even better than what I had planned," he says. He displays the bar to me. The cuffs look padded but strong. "She knew what to expect, but, well, I think you might be new to this... Hmmm? Still silent? Let's see what we can teach you."