The Billionaire's Lesson

The Billionaire's Lesson

By

Anya Adonis

Copyright
©
2012
Anya Adonis

All Rights Reserved

All Romance ebooks Edition

***

Bill

One of my most formative memories took place in my
Dad's office on the top floor of a posh highrise he owned. I don't
remember if it was the one in Chicago or New York.... The location, I
guess, isn't important.

Anyways, I'd just turned eighteen and was meeting
with him in regards to the financial feasibility of buying a car. He,
as he always did, made me research the topic, prepare supporting
materials and report my findings to him in a professional manner.

He took in my information without a word. His
smooth, wrinkled face blank of expression. I remember desperately
trying to determine if he'd arched his eyebrows, even a little bit,
at my final conclusion.

Dad let out a stern sigh and prefaced his remarks
in his usual fashion. “Son, with you having grown up wealthy,
I've always been concerned you don't grasp how desperate people are
for money; how they'll do anything for more – ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Impatient at
hearing the same old spiel, I rudely cut him off.

My Dad frowned at me and his face grew red. “So
you're asking me for a favor and you dare, no, have the gall to be
ungrateful, before I even consent?”

“Well, it's my money, Dad. You're in control
of it now, but you won't be forever.”

“You're assuming more than you know. You
know, if you're deemed unable or incompetent or, hell, if you piss me
off... you won't receive a nickel.” He paused to laugh bitterly
at my shocked gasp. “In fact, that would make you the first man
to bear the name William Worth, since your great-grandfather, to be
poor.”

I'd always taken for granted at twenty-one I'd be
rich. No mention had ever been made of it being up to my Dad. “I-I'm
sorry. Forget the whole thing.”

He knitted his fingers together, tsk-ed, and
said,“You know I won't, Bill. Not unless you earn back my
respect. Like I always tell you, 'don't give anything away for
nothing.' Your inheritance is expected to be valued at one point two
billion dollars. It's of grave importance you learn to appreciate the
power of such fortune.” His eyes narrowed and he glared at me.

I avoided his stare and looked down at the plush
Berber rug under my feet. “What do I have to do.” My
Dad's punishments, though not cruel were generally of the unusual
nature.

“Hmmm.” He stroked his chin
dramatically. “I'd really like to make sure you appreciate the
message I've tried to instill in you. I suppose, it's been a little
much for me to expect you'd simply understand the concept without a
demonstration.... Patty,” he said, speaking into the intercom
on his desk.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have the new hire, Roberta, report to me at
once.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I think you'll like Roberta, she's young, a
little older than you at nineteen and very cute.” He placed his
hand to the side of his mouth, and whispered, “I wouldn't
bother trying to take her out if I were you, she's a good girl or so
I'm told.”

The door buzzed open and in walked a timid
brunette in an old, blue dress. I judged by how threadbare it was
around its hems it may have been the only outfit she owned. It was
too bad too, in the right clothes with her brown hair styled and
makeup done, she'd have been a total knockout.

She stood in front of my Dad's desk, arms not just
crossed, wound tight around her torso, head bowed, tremors shaking
through her long, skinny legs. “You, uh, called, Mr. Worth?”
She asked, so softly I could barely hear her.

“SPEAK UP, when you address me,” Dad
roared.

“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice too
high, too shrill.

His brow creased. “Dear lord, you're a mess,
child.”

“Sorry....” Her whole body quivered
and she looked longingly at the stylish chair next to where I sat.
With great difficulty, I caught her eye and motioned for her to take
a seat.

She rested the weight of her arm on the armrest,
and Dad said, “I wouldn't do that if I were you. He's not the
one who writes your check.” Roberta resumed her earlier pose.
“Now uncross your arms, puff out your chest and hold your head
up high. If you're going to make it in the business world you must
exude confidence.”

She, of course, did as she was told. Her erect
stance a mockery of professionalism as her long, nylon-ed legs
wobbled, her red face purple-ed and her eyes misted.

Dad didn't betray his delight with a grin, but I,
having spent so much of my life decoding his cryptic expressions,
detected in his slightly arched eyebrows his pleasure. He left her
hanging like that for a time, and said, “Very good, Roberta,
you may sit down now.”

She exhaled deeply and confused creases weaved
their way across her forehead. I imagine, she was wondering what
she'd done wrong and expected she was unaware of her role as a pawn.

I would've liked to tell her sorry, run my fingers
through her hair and tell her everything would be alright –
anything to make her smile, to wipe the kicked puppy dog look from
her face.

Dad assumed a canned fatherly tone, and said, “It
was very difficult, I imagine, for you to get your job here.”
He pulled out a personnel file, smacked it down on his desk and after
leafing through it for a few seconds, he said, “First real job,
too.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Satisfy my curiosity will you? What
circumstances have compelled you to join the workforce?”

“My Mother was a seamstress, but since she's
taken ill she wasn't able to keep the business going. I took a
secretarial course and got a job here.”

“The pay is barely enough, isn't it?”

“We manage.”

He tutted and gave her a hurt look. “Don't
lie to me, Roberta.”

She let out an almost exasperated sigh.

She might just have a little spirit in her,
underneath her shy exterior.

“
The pay...
it's barely enough,”she said, and the little fight in her
seemed to fade.

“
But better
than anywhere else though?”

“
Yes.”

“
You
appreciate that, at least?”

“
I do.”

“
Good.”
Dad's face broke into a sickening grin. He didn't smile much and when
he did, well, it wasn't generally a good thing. My nerves wound up
tight, anxious of what he'd say next.

He placed his hands on
his desk and weaved them together, absentmindedly twiddling his
thumbs. “I would like to help, give you a raise and perhaps
some other consolations.” He let her ruminate on this for a
moment before frowning at her. “Unfortunately, your performance
has been barely adequate. It would be difficult to justify the extra
expenditure to your supervisor, particularly when others are more
deserving.”

She was bad at hiding
her emotions. It was hard for me to watch as she crumpled in her
seat.. I wondered if she had any inkling, as I did, that he was
leveraging her, breaking her down, getting her cornered and
desperate,

“
However.”
His eyes gleamed and he stared at her perky breasts, clearly
contained in a white bra as the sad state of her dress' fabric was
nearly transparent from wear. “Were you to assist me in a
personal matter, I might be able to justify an increase in pay. Would
you be interested?”

A lump formed in
my throat and I swallowed it back hard.
Where is he going
with this?

She smiled cautiously.
“Yes sir, I would.”

“
Excellent.
Now understand, due to the sensitive nature of this matter, you will
need to sign a nondisclosure waiver.” He reached into his desk
and quickly scribbled out a few notes on a form he removed. Passing
the paper to her, he pointed to a signature line, and said, “Sign
here, dear.”

I'd had enough. She was
signing her soul to the devil whether she knew it or not. “Dad
– ”

“
Not now.”
He waved his hand dismissively at me and shot me a warning look.

She signed, dated the
agreement and asked, “Okay, what now?”

“
I need you
to do one more thing, to show me you're the right person for the
task. Stand up please.”

Roberta, still weak in
the legs, pushed herself to her feet, her hands clenched to the
armrests for support.

“
Now, lift
your dress up to your waist.”

She looked at him with
disbelief. “What did you say... sir?”

“
Lift your
dress to your waist,” he said, enunciating each syllable with
great emphasis as though she was slow.

“
I-I –
”

“
I'm going
to put a number down on a piece of paper; if you simply show me your
panties, I will write you a check for that sum, regardless of whether
you do anything more.” He picked up a spiral notebook and with
his finest solid gold pen wrote down a sum. He motioned for her to
stand beside him and showed her the amount. “Is that agreeable?
You're just showing us your underwear after all. I expect we're not
the first men to have seen them.”

Her face burned bright
red and she bit her lip. “Okay.” She slowly reached down
to the bottom of her dress and began to pull it up.

“
No, no. Do
that over there.” He gestured to the side of his desk. “Junior
won't be able to see.”

The lump in my throat
grew even tighter as I watched her staring in our direction blankly.
It was like her soul was being extracted before my eyes.

“
Now, lift
up.”

A visible shiver shook
through her and she pulled the fabric to her waist. She went to push
it back down immediately after, but Dad snapped, “You aren't
getting paid for a mere panty flash, keep your dress up until I tell
you otherwise.”

Uncomfortably, she
shifted her weight from foot to foot. God, it must have been so
awkward for her given she wore white granny panties and a pair of
busted, tan garters that barely held her knee-high nylons in place.

“
Turn
around. I want to see your derriere.”

Obediently, she pivoted
around with a shuffle of her feet. Even in her saggy underwear, I
could tell she had what one would describe as a heart-shaped butt;
round at the bottom and tapering to her thin waist in an elegant
curve.

“
Come
closer.” She went to drop the cloth down again, but Dad wagged
his index finger back and forth, and said, “Ah-ah. Keep it up.”

He examined the front
of her underpants, pushed his fingertip into her mound and chuckled.
“My, my, you're enjoying this. You're absolutely wet to the
touch.”

Dad continued to molest
her through the thin cotton fabric of her panties and an unfiltered
groan left her lips. Her chin tilted back and she squeezed her eyes
shut.

I have to admit, I felt
angry with her, as if she'd betrayed me somehow. Not only was she
proving him right, she was enjoying herself.

Shortly thereafter, her
noises turned into breathless sighs. Dad asked, “Roberta
remember that number I wrote down?”

She nodded her head and
looked at him through inquisitive eyes.

“
Let's say
we put a one in front of it. Would you be willing to strip naked and
let Junior spank you?”

“
Yes,”
she said, without a moment's hesitation.

He patted her on the
rear affectionately as she turned and removed her clothes. “Good
girl.”

Her pale flesh exposed,
a wry little smile played across her face at our aroused attention.
The bashful girl of earlier was replaced by a woman, newly aware of
her sexual charms. She placed her palms on the front of Dad's desk
and assumed the position. “How's this?”

“
Perfect,”
he said, and looked over at me. “Billy-boy, you do this and you
regain my respect.”

So you see. My
punishment was to punish someone else, someone poorer, more
desperate. A masterstroke from my Dad in proving his point, I guess.

I stood up, at first,
to storm out of the room, to leave my inheritance behind me, to yell.
But here's the thing, on standing, I realized I'd become painfully
erect. The wind in my sails died and my cheeks burnt hot with
humiliation.

“
Come on.
This will only take a few minutes of your time, and then you can go
and do whatever it is you do,” he said with a shrug of his
shoulders.

I glared at him in
displeasure and stepped behind Roberta. My dick throbbed and pulsed
at the sight of her voluptuous bottom and her petite, naked figure.
She seemed too delicate, too fragile to be able to take the abuse I
was charged to give her.