In Service To The Billionaire (8 page)

Curiously, he wasn’t in his office when she went to drop off his coffee. Not having encountered this before, she had to double-check the packet stashed in her work bag to find out the proper procedure—leave the coffee there, and wait for him to return. Make sure it stayed hot.

To busy herself, she stayed on top of the mass of paperwork that had accumulated already—even though it was before seven in the morning.

Eight o’clock swung around and Sand still hadn’t shown.

Julie walked over to her then, temporarily relieved, it seemed, from the swamp of phone calls.

“Mr. Sand won’t be in today,” said Julie. “He’s had a sudden spat of meetings with politicians around town. There was a fire at one of his factories. That's why everyone is so frantic.”

“Oh, god.” Sophia put a hand to her mouth. “Why didn’t he call me?”

“Because he called me. You’re very good, dear. And very...” Julie looked her up and down. “...very dedicated. But I know the people to call in this sort of situation. You don’t, yet. But don’t worry, I’ll walk you through what I did later. All right?”

Sophia nodded.

The rest of the day, her mind was in a funk. All of this build, all of this desire, so ready to burst out from her—now completely unresolved. She found herself looking at the same account transfer report for over an hour, reading it six times without taking in any of the information.

Outside, it started to rain—and then it started to pour.

Oh good, thought Sophia. I needed a metaphor to really complete this day.

By around three, she resolved to push herself out of the bad mood. She buried herself in work, wanting to make sure that when Sand came back on Monday, there would be nothing hanging over his head that he couldn’t handle.

She could, at least, still be a good employee, even if she would rather be a good slave.

Thinking that way, the work past quickly. The midnight tresses of her long hair kissed the desk as she hunched over for hours without getting up. After it got in the way one too many times, she put it up in an impromptu bun, little strands still dangling around her sharp cheekbones.

Continuing her work, her brain narrowed. Noises from the outside faded in and out without really touching her brain.

“Leaving, dear?”

“What?”

A bit startled, Sophia looked up from her desk. Julie was looking down at her.

“It’s past seven, dear.”

“Oh.” Sophia shook her head slightly, rubbing her eyes.

Outside, the sun had gone down. Everyone had left.

“Oh, my. Okay. Yes. Sorry. I’ll be on my way.”

Julie flashed her a bright smile. “Want any company?”

“No...no, that’s all right,” said Sophia. “I’ll be along shortly.”

For several more minutes, she lost herself in work. When she heard shuffling from across the office, she thought it was Julie again, and started to prepare herself to leave, a bit embarrassed at having been caught doing so much work still.

But it wasn’t Julie at all.

It was him. It was Sand. His tight, handsome form was framed by a dark tan trench coat which he was carefully peeling off—completely drenched from the rain outside. Underneath, he looked as sharp and distinguished as ever. His face, though, was haggard and tired, with a day’s build-up of  blond beardy growth.

“Oh good, you’re here,” he said, carefully handing her his dripping coat as she stood up to greet him. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had. Brinker and Boyd are going nuts out there.”

She emoted as much as she could. “I’m so sorry to hear it.”

“I just came to drop off some paperwork and maybe knock out an hour or two of work.” He stopped, stroking his head. “You can go home, of course. You’re here late already, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir. I thought that, with you unable to be here today, I would take care of some extra duties so that your load would be slightly lighter when you came back.”

“Ah, good. Good work.”

He gave her a curt little nod. Her entire body swelled with pride from the slight praise—and her breasts swelled forward, nearly spilling out of her tiny dress.

Without a doubt, he noticed that. “Do you have a...” he trailed off, watching her fingers as she dangled with her tight necklace.

For a few seconds, the only interaction they shared was through her expansive bust—her showing off and him taking it in. Her green eyes glittered with lust, letting him know that she knew he was looking, and she wanted him to do it more.

He coughed, finally. “Do you have time to make me a cup of coffee before you leave?”

“Of
course
, Sir. I’m
so
happy to do that for you.”

For the first time, he seemed to notice the eagerness in her voice. Her heart thumped as he looked her over once more, very slowly. She straightened her back and pushed back a stray strand of glossy dark hair, allowing him to get a better look. Smiling small, he stepped into his office.

In a few minutes, she had followed him into his office with his coffee in hand. Trying to make her strut as obvious as possible, her green eyes fixated on his position. She placed one foot right in front of the other—deliberate and hot. She had been watching models on runways for reference. He watched her the entire time as she approached, appearing to enjoy the show. His eyes devoured her form.

Bending over at the waist, she delivered his coffee in what had become her usual way, with her breasts on full display. The bronzed roundness of them so incredibly advertised by the tight, clingy fabric of her dress.

“Here you are,
Sir.
” She made love to the word as it slipped out from her mouth again.

He tilted his head. “You’re wearing...violet.”

“Yes, Sir. I thought it was a color that complimented me well. I thought it looked...rather proper.”

He leaned back in his chair. “It does. You look...very good, girl.”

Her breath was hot, shuddery. A low, needy whimper filled her throat—she struggled to keep in her—and failed. God, she wanted to drop to her knees so bad! He was so strong, so in control. She wanted to give up all of herself to him. Everything that she was, right under his thumb.

And his wording, fuck. The closeness there of “good” and “girl”...so very close to calling her what she burned to be called.

He seemed happy to wait, though. Watching her. Drinking in her beautiful, dolled-up image.

“Thank you, Sir.” She breathed at last, her tits expanding as she stood back up. “I-I will...I will go and take care of the rest of the work for Monday.”

Trembling, she began to strut back to the door of the office.

“Stop,” he said.

She stopped, obedient as ever. It gave her such a thrill to do what he said.

“Turn around.”

She did, her heartbeat increasing. The specificity of the order—that he told her nothing more than to turn around—was cause for another thrill. On top of that was the thrill of the question—had he figured it out?

“Approach me.”

She began to walk forward.

“Not like that. Strut, like you were.”

Her mouth moved for a moment as the surprised flooded over her. Oh god. Oh god, was this really happening?

She did as he ordered, strutting toward him with one foot deliberately placed in front of the other, her hips swaying seductively.

When she was halfway there, he held up his hand again. “Strike a pose.”

She put her leg out, jutting her hips to showcase her ass, so perfectly visible behind the thin layer of her skirt.

“Let your hair down.”

Obediently again, she removed the pin from her hair. It fell down in waves, framing her face. She shook it out sexily, staring down heat on him with her emerald eyes.

“You need to be saying ‘Yes Sir,’ when I give you a command, girl.”

“Yes Sir,” she said weakly, her throat so dry.

“What was that?” His handsome face, so stern and unforgiving, began to form the fraction of a frown.

“Yes Sir,” she said, louder. “You’re right, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

He shifted, leaning forward in his chair. “Get on your knees.”

“Yes, Sir,” she moaned, quickly obeying. She stared up at him, holding her arms up underneath her big tits in teensy, tiny dress.

Sophia was gleefully aware of how little fabric there was between her dripping-wet pussy and his hands. His cock.

He beckoned with two fingers. “Crawl toward me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Doing exactly as ordered, she crawled toward him, moving around his enormous desk.

“Present yourself.”

She sat back up on her knees, slipping off her sweater. Her hot club dress was his to see now. She liked that—it was his anyway. The fabric had ridden up her thighs, and it was a scant few millimeters before she was displaying her pussy to him. She bit her plush lower lip, admiring with pleasure the square line of his jaw, the bulging muscles of his chest and arms.

“Anything you say, Sir. I...
must obey
.”

“Oh...” he leaned back, an air of surprise around his face. “Is that so?”

“I must dress hot. I must love domestication. I must obey.”

A smile slipped up over his face.

“You know, I had my suspicions...and I’m glad they were correct. You want to be my sub, is that right? My sub vixen?”

Feeling naughty, Sophia felt a little presentation was in order. She made her voice hot and breathy and soft. “It is hardly a choice. You’re sooo strong, Sir. I’m just a weak, hot mess of a girl. I
must
dress hot. I
must
obey,” she repeated.

“Come here,” he beckoned her.

His handsome, dark eyes stared down at her while she pushed his legs apart. Strong fingers slid under her chin and then around her jaw, pushing down to her slender neck, and led her lips up to his.

And finally, they kissed.

Her lips, on his, pushing into his. His grip tightened around her hair, craning her head back. Strong legs closed around her form, trapping her body beneath his completely. His tongue slipped into her mouth and Sophia’s pussy exploded with hot, wet need. She needed him inside of her so fucking bad.

His tongue pushed against hers and then curled up behind her teeth, pulling her in even more. Soft and sweet, her hands pushed up his thighs and found his growing bulge. Her moan echoed inside of their sweltering hot kiss.

He was huge. He was fucking huge. Sophia needed that cock in her right away. Moaning in his mouth, desperate, she half-tugged, half-rubbed it through the fabric of his expensive pants.

But then, Sand pulled away. Sophia, breathless, stared up at him with desperate need, pushing back up to kiss him once more, her tits pressed hard against on leg.

“Stop,” he said. “Not here. Gather your things and meet me at my car. You’ll follow me home.”

Sophia did her best to hide her disappointment.

She knew, in the end, that she must obey.

“Yes, Sir.”

Chapter 11

She followed him home—he wouldn’t allow her to be in her car.

At first, this insulted her, but she resolved not to let it.

In a certain fashion, in fact, it all made sense. Sand didn’t know her, not really. What if she was insane? What if she was clingy or shitty to him? Then he would be stuck with having to give her a ride or waiting for a taxi that she might not even be willing to take.

The only way to convince him of the purity of her intentions was to go along with everything he said.

And this worked out anyway, as doing every last little thing he said was exactly what Sophia wanted.

He lived in Class Towers, an enormous living complex that boasted homes to the city’s richest people—of whom Sand was, of course, at the very tip-top.

She followed his car into the garage through a series of three tall, imposing metal gates and she—not having the proper identification—was stopped by guards at each gate. It was only due to Sand that she was able to make it inside at all.

Parking next to him, she marveled at the opulence of the garage. It was air-conditioned, with tile floors and ornate light-fixtures hanging down from the ceiling. High definition video-cameras were posted on every pillar and wall.

When she exited her car, Sand was there—and slipped a strong hand around her waist. Pulling her into himself, he kissed her firmly, and all her worries and thoughts dissipated. When he pulled away, she slid her hand across his handsome face, admiring all the strong, noble features there, the crooked lines of his nose. She had to bite her lip to keep from pouncing into his arms.

“I appreciate you waiting like you have,” he said. “And coming here. I like to keep certain aspects of my life separate from others, you understand.”

She nodded fervently. “Yes, Sir.”

He smiled, rubbing his thumb along her cheek and then her lip. Moaning, she pushed her face against his touch, wanting to feel it harder, deeper.

“When I first met you, I thought you were rather willful.”

Kissing his thumb, sliding one plush lip over his nail, she said, “When I first met you, I didn’t realize you were the kind of man who deserved to break my will.”

His grip around her waist slid down and became tight around her ass. Her breath caught—he gripped so hard! His hands, so large and strong, could control her motion entirely. The thought made her pussy pulse with heat.

“So,” he said. “It’s not just anybody that gets to have you?”

Her hair shifted sexily as she shook her head. “Only the really, incredibly, alarmingly sexy and dominant types.”

He smiled. “And being rich doesn't hurt, I suppose?”

Uncertainty swelled in her for a moment—this seemed like a test. The best response, she decided quickly, was just to tell him the truth. “I suppose it's nice, yes. But to tell you the truth, I wouldn't care if you lived in the back of an alley, so long as you dominated me.”

Leaning in, he kissed her—long and sweet. His hands pushed through the long hot tangle of her dark hair. Her breasts, so full and heavy, crushed against his muscled chest.

“Good answer,” he said.

Taking her by the hand, he led her to the elevator. As they waited inside, the elevator slowly ticking up room by room, he slipped his hand under the skirt of her dress. With two fingers, he pressed hard against her thin panties. Juices from the hot, wet folds of her pussy dripped down onto his fingers.