The Billionaire's Student: A BBW, Alpha Billionaire Romance (4 page)

Even though I could see him clearly in the mirrored surface, it still shocked me to the core when the flat of his hand landed with a sting on a bare ass cheek. I couldn’t contain the yelp that tore from me. Red spots bloomed on my face as evidence of my humiliation.

I saw his arm arc back again, and I tensed as the next blow landed on the other cheek, the sound of the smack echoing loudly in the home office. Two separate spots on my ass stung, and as more slaps landed, harder and faster, they spread into one big area that burned. Silent tears coursed down my cheeks, and my breath hitched in my chest.

His eyes remained riveted on the flaming skin of my ass, as if they were caressing the flesh he was igniting. I started to wriggle, whimpering softly. I couldn’t help it as the heat radiated through my cheeks.

“Mr. Weatherton!”

My speaking seemed to bring him out of his trance, and I could see him standing behind me, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his arm stopped in mid-air. He brought it down slowly, though his eyes continued to roam over my red bottom. Turning his head, he caught me staring at him through the mirror in the display cases, and I shivered at the intensity of his gaze.

“Mr. Weatherton?”

I gritted my teeth as his arm came down. I expected another blow to land but instead, he ran his hands over my swollen and tender flesh. I swallowed, my breath caught in my throat, as he let go, his hand brushing almost lovingly across my heated skin when he stepped back.

“You may stand,” he instructed as he moved around the desk toward his chair.

I struggled to pull up my panties and hose over my stinging bottom. My heart still raced, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

“One more thing, Ms. Darling.”

He held up a hand, and I realized with a start that it must’ve been the one he spanked me with because the palm was red.

“Get rid of the pantyhose and buy some better underwear.”

I flushed at the command.

“If you must wear hose, use stockings that stay up on their own or wear garters. Your panties should be something more befitting a mature woman and not a school girl’s white cotton.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

I don’t know why I said it, why I thanked him, but it seemed to please him. He dismissed me with a motion of his hand.

I hurried from the room to find Harold waiting for me on the other side of the door. Surely he hadn’t been there the whole time? Hadn’t heard my humiliation? His passive face showed no indication he was aware of what had transpired in his boss’ office. He showed me to the door, and I headed for Mandy’s car, both eager and reluctant to leave.

When I sat in the driver’s seat, I winced at the pain of my ass making contact with the vinyl. I squirmed the entire way back to the dorm, unable to find a position to relieve the heat. When I made it back to the room, Mandy wasn’t there. I dropped her car keys onto her desk, threw my purse onto my bed and went into the bathroom.

A full length mirror hung on the back of the bathroom door, which I locked on both sides, ours and the room we shared it with. Hiking up my dress, I slipped down my hose and panties, kicking them off, and stared at my red, raw bottom in the mirror.

“Fuck,” I gasped as my eyes roamed over the reflection of punished ass in the mirror. The skin was red and inflamed, and my pussy clenched in response. I was so turned on and confused as to why the spanking had excited me so. My pussy was slick with arousal, and the need within me grew.

I unlocked the adjacent door and then grabbed my hose and panties and exited the bathroom. Tossing them onto a pile of dirty clothes, I climbed into bed. As I settled onto the mattress and covered myself up with a blanket, I slid my hand between my thighs.

My fingers slipped between the swollen, wet lips of my pussy, separating them. I closed my eyes and remembered the look on his face, the force of his blows. Touching myself, the heat from my cheeks spread between my legs as I saw him in my mind, the arc of his arm, and the sound of his palm smacking against my ass.

Breathing in panted gasps, I rubbed myself, replaying in my mind how the spanking felt. Keeping my thumb on my clit, I pushed two fingers in and out of the slippery wetness. I fingered myself, my pussy so wet with arousal that I could hear squishing noises.

I relived every smack on my flesh, the way his eyes caressed my ass, the sensation of his cock pressed against me as I played with myself. My pussy throbbed, aching with the need for release. I didn’t stop until I made myself come, pushing my excitement over the edge by pressing my abused cheeks against the cool sheet and the mattress beneath it. The orgasm was so powerful, I clenched my teeth together to keep from screaming as it rushed through me. The waves crashed through my entire body leaving me trembling and weak.

I lay there for a few moments, my mind continuing to replay the punishment. If that was Mr. Weatherton’s idea of a consequence, what would a reward be?

4
.

Even in my dreams, I couldn't get away from what had happened the day before. I woke up with a tender ass and an ache between my legs that just wouldn't go away. Mandy was still in our room when I woke up, so I couldn't do anything to relieve the throbbing between my legs that a night of dreaming about Jace Weatherton and his powerful hands had wrought.

I didn't understand my body's reaction to the consequence he had chosen. I wasn't completely inexperienced when it came to sex, but I'd never before felt the desire to be spanked. Now that it had actually happened, it was all that I could think of.

I found it difficult to concentrate during my classes and more than once caught myself remembering my experience from the day before. It was a relief for the day of classes to finally end. As I was passing through the commons on the way to my dorm room, one of the RAs called out to me.

“Katie Darling!”

I stopped in my tracks and turned back to the half door which she was leaning over that separated the commons area from the little office where the RAs held court during the open hours. I was surprised she knew who I was enough to recognize me when I walked past, but I guessed that it was her job to know or at least be able to recognize the students that lived in that particular dorm.

“Yes?”

She gestured to a man in gray overalls who was leaning against a chair across from the commons office.

“That guy’s been waiting for you for a little while.”

“Who is he?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Beats me.”

I walked over to the man, who straightened up as I approached.

“I'm Katie Darling. You wanted to speak with me?”

He nodded.

“Yes ma’am. Mr. Weatherton sent me to check on what's wrong with your car.”

My heart did a little flip in my chest at the mention of his name.

“Mr. Weatherton sent you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Why would he bother to send someone to look at my car?

“Um, I need to go get my car keys. I will be right back.”

I ran out of the commons and up the stairs to my room to grab my keys. I still didn't understand why the state of my car would interest Jace Weatherton, but who was I to question it if it meant getting my car fixed? While I was in my room, I also grabbed my laptop. I could work on my English Lit paper in the commons while I waited.

When I got back, I handed over my keys and then settled onto one of the floral patterned overstuffed couches to work and wait. I somehow managed to stay focused enough over the loud noises of the television and the laughing and talking of boisterous students to finish half of my paper before the mechanic returned.

“It was just a bad battery. I've replaced it, so you're good to go.”

“Thank you,” I said as I took the proffered keys. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.  Mr. Weatherton takes care of his employees.”

Of course he did. What other reason could he possibly care if my car ran? He just wanted to make sure I could get to work if I took the job.

I gathered up all of my stuff and once again climbed the stairs to my room. I'd only been there for a few minutes when the intercom buzzed.

“Katie?”

“Yes?”

“There's a package for you.”

“Okay, I will be right down.”

Now, why couldn't they have told me that before I came back upstairs?

When I reached the half door of the commons office, the RA handed me a Manila envelope.

“You seem to be Ms. Popular today! Sorry, it wasn't delivered until right after you left. I'd swear the guy was wearing a butler’s outfit.”

Harold.  It had to be.  The contract that Mr. Weatherton had mentioned was probably in the envelope.  I slid the papers out of the envelope as I climbed the stairs to my dorm room.  It seemed to be a normal contract for employment…until I reached a paragraph near the end.

The phrases “attend to any and all of Mr. Weatherton’s personal needs” and “agree to face any consequences that Mr. Weatherton deems appropriate for any failure on your part to perform your duties to the satisfaction of Mr. Weatherton” caused my heart to skip a beat. I'd already seen what type of consequences Mr. Weatherton enjoyed. Did he use that type of punishment for all of his employees or had I been the exception?

Mandy had returned to the room while I was downstairs retrieving the package. I said a quick hello and walked to my side of the room and hopped onto the bed to give the contract a more thorough read. On my quick perusal coming up the stairs I had apparently skipped over the section discussing my pay. My eyes practically bugged out when I read the amount listed for weekly pay for personal expenses.

“Holy hell!”

“Hell is the last place I'd consider to be holy.”

Mandy leaned against the end of the floor to ceiling desk and dresser unit that separated our sides of the room.  Usually, Mandy was a fairly decent roommate, but she was a bit religious and got offended easily from swear words and anything she considered sacrilegious.

“Sorry,” I replied with a sheepish look on my face. “I guess the shock got the better of me.”

“Shock about what? And how did the interview go yesterday? I didn't get a chance to ask.”

“I got offered a job.  This is the contract.”

I held up the papers.

“That's great! Is it going to pay enough for you to stay in school?”

I hadn't told Mandy all of the details of the possible job.  She didn't know that one of the components of the deal was that it paid my tuition.

“That's what I was commenting on. The weekly pay amount is much more than I expected. And yes, it's enough for me to stay in school.”

I wasn't going to mention that I would no longer be living in the dorm. I was afraid that just the pay amount would be enough to make her ask questions. Luckily enough, she didn't.

“That's awesome. I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks, Mandy.”

She returned to her side of the room and left me to my thoughts. What did “any and all personal needs” mean? Was I reading too much into that phrase, or did it mean more than just fetching his coffee? And would I receive a spanking akin to the one from yesterday every time I messed up, or did Mr. Weatherton have other punishments floating around in his devious mind?

I knew I had a decision to make. Could I live with myself if those phrases meant something more than what was expected from your average personal assistant and I took the job? Would I survive if I didn't?

In my heart I knew I was willing to do almost anything to finish college. I kept telling myself that if for some reason “personal needs” extended to matters of a sexual nature it wouldn't be the same as prostituting myself. After all, Mr. Weatherton was just one man, not many. With my stomach fluttering like it had butterflies, I grabbed a pen and walked over to Mandy's side of the room.

“Can you witness this for me?”

“Sure!”

I scrawled my signature and the date on the lines provided and handed the last page to Mandy for her to do the same. As I sealed it into the provided return envelope, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I'd just bitten off way more than I could chew.

5
.

The last month of school flew by in a blur of late night studying, library trips, and working out with Harold my move into the Weatherton mansion. I didn't have much to take with me. Most of my meager personal belongings left by my parents were in storage. After I took my last exam, I finished packing up my dorm room and checked out at the Commons, leaving my room key with the RA in the office.

Bright sun shone down on me as I lugged the last bag to my beat up car. I got into my car and spared one last glance at the building housing the dorm that I would not return to. Starting the engine, I pulled out of the lot and headed off to an uncertain future.

Butterflies swarmed in my stomach when I pulled up to the gate of Weatherton’s large mansion and hit the intercom button. I heard a whirring sound and looked up to see a camera I had not noticed on my previous visit perched on the corner gate post. I heard a loud click, and the gate slid open in front of me. 

I drove through it and proceeded up the winding drive, admiring the lush trees and colorful flowers as I made my way to the employee garage that Harold had instructed me to use which was situated on the side of the house.

I grabbed a bag containing clothes, slung it over my shoulder, and headed toward the servant’s entrance set into the side of the house. Harold, who must've been watching my approach, opened the door before I could knock on it.

“Miss Darling,” he nodded his head in greeting. “If you will follow me, I will show you to your room.”

He led me through a large kitchen filled with shiny, chrome appliances and a cook busily preparing the next meal. An enticing aroma of savory spices filled the air from pots bubbling on the stove. I expected him to take the set of stairs just off the kitchen leading up to what I suspected were the servants quarters, but instead, he lead me toward the front of the house. On the way, we passed a dark oak door with a shiny brass keyhole.

“What’s that?” I asked Harold, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“That is Master Weatherton’s private rec room. Most of the time, he keeps it locked, but if there’s ever an occasion where you happen to discover it’s not, mind your own business and stay out. It’s off limits without an expressed invitation from Mr. Weatherton.”

Well, okay then. I couldn’t help but look back at the door to the mysterious room as we continued toward the front of the house. What could be so private about a rec room that it required a lock?

Harold led me up the grand staircase at the front of the house, the dark wood railing gleaming in the light of the fancy crystal chandelier hanging in the foyer. My feet sank into the lush beige carpeted risers as I climbed the stairs. At the top of the landing, we turned right, and Harold stopped at the second door.

The second floor was as fancy as the first with glossy wood, ornate mirrors, and expensive works of art. Just the sale of one painting would likely pay for my entire college education, not to mention several years, if not decades, of my living expenses.

“This is your room, Miss Darling,” Harold said as he opened the gleaming door and entered the room. “You have your own private bath, so you will not have to share with any guests.”

I stared in wonder at the hot pink and black walls. While the colors seemed a bit out of place in the opulent mansion, the fancy furniture and décor added the touch of sophistication and class found throughout the rest of the large house. A white, four poster king-size bed stood against the far wall. Gauzy white material draped across the top frame of the bed to create a dreamy canopy.

A small seating area, which included two over stuffed white chairs and a chaise lounge, surrounded a large, bay window. The window itself had a seat built into it, with fluffy pillows lining the cushion. Against the wall next to the door that I assumed led to the bathroom sat a vanity with an ornate mirror and a cushioned stool. A dresser, chest of drawers, and a couple of bookcases topped off the furniture found in the room.

I honestly felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. I’d never seen such a fancy room. And it was mine! Well, at least for the rest of my college career unless Mr. Weatherton fired me.

I jumped when Harold spoke. I’d gotten so lost in my exploration of the room that I’d forgotten he was there.

“Mr. Weatherton had it decorated based on the preferences you indicated on the questionnaire you completed for Carrington Acquisitions. If something is not of your liking, you can report it to me, and I will check into having it changed.”

“It’s wonderful!” I exclaimed. I couldn’t believe Mr. Weatherton had gone to the trouble of decorating the room to my tastes. Well, he’d hired someone to do the work, but at least he put enough thought into it to make it happen.

“You will find all the linens you require in the closet in the bathroom. The maids will take care of cleaning your room and washing your linens, but you are expected to make your own bed. They will also launder your clothing.

“They pick up laundry on Monday and Thursday, so if you need clothing washed, be sure it is in the proper receptacle on those days. If anything requires special care, you will need to inform Mary. She’s the head maid.”

Holy cow! The maids were going to clean my room and do my laundry? This place just kept getting better and better.

“Great! Thanks.”

“Mr. Weatherton will expect you to dine with him when he’s on the premises and you’re not in class. Breakfast is at 7, lunch at 12, and dinner at 5. Do not be late.”

A flash of heat rolled through me at his words. Even though it had been weeks, I still vividly remembered the consequences of being late to my interview with Mr. Weatherton. What I hadn’t yet decided was if I wanted a repeat of the punishment.

I hadn’t been able to get the memory of that day out of my head, and it ran on an endless loop in my brain most of the times that I played with myself when I got so aroused I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“If he’s not in residence, you may eat in the kitchen with the staff or in your room. However, if you choose to eat in your room, you are responsible for cleaning up your dishes.”

I nodded to show my understanding.

“I will have Stephen, the chauffeur, bring up the rest of your belongings. Feel free to make the room your own. After all, it will be your home for the foreseeable future. If you have any further questions, you can find me, or you can ask any of the staff.”

“Thank you, Harold.”

“Mr. Weatherton expects you to begin attendance of meals starting with dinner tonight. Meals are always casual unless you are instructed otherwise. The dining room is the large room right beside the kitchen. You may use the time between now and then to get settled and become more familiar with the house. The only places off limits are Mr. Weatherton’s private quarters, office, and rec room, and the staffs’ quarters.”

With the last of the instructions conveyed, Harold turned on his heel and marched stiffly out of the room. While he had never been anything but polite in my dealings with him, Harold always remained distant and formal. He was a bit of a stuffed shirt. I wondered if he ever smiled.

I bounded through the door to check out my own personal bathroom. No more sharing with a roommate and two other students whose room connected with our own. No more having to deal with other peoples’ clothing or wet towels left in the floor or clogged toilets because someone didn’t know how to flush. And no more cold showers! Our suite mates had not been the most courteous and tended to spend forever in the shower, using up all the hot water.

When I entered the room, my jaw dropped. The bathroom was bigger than my dorm room had been! In fact, the bathroom was bigger than my old bedroom at my parents’ house. I felt tears well up in my eyes at the thought of my parents and furiously blinked them away. For days, I’d be okay, and then the weirdest thing would bring the loss rushing back.

I took a deep breath and gazed around the room. I couldn’t stop the squeal of delight when my eyes landed on the tub. It was sunk into the floor and had jets built into the sides. My tub was a whirlpool! It took all my will power not to strip right then and there and jump into the sunken jacuzzi.

The bathroom floor appeared to be marble, and the vanity counter matched it. A large shower, also marble, sat in the corner, and it looked big enough to hold several people, not that I ever wanted to have that much company when I showered. Upon closer inspection, I realized it had nozzles on the sides and a control panel to adjust the type of spray and the temperature. I could have my own personal spa day without ever leaving my bathroom!

A knocking on my bedroom door interrupted my exploration, and I bounced out of the bathroom to answer it. I opened it to find a tall, bald older man standing behind a cart that resembled the luggage carts you always saw on television when rich people checked into posh hotels. My meager belongings sat forlornly on the bottom on the bottom of the gleaming brass carrier.

“Here’s all of the bags and boxes I found in your car, Miss Darling.”

“Thank you, Stephen. I appreciate it.”

I opened the door wider to allow him room to push in the cart.

“My pleasure, Miss.”

Stephen wore the black and white suit usually associated with the driver of a fancy car. From what I’d seen, Mr. Weatherton very much liked to keep up appearances. Harold looked the very picture of a posh butler, Stephen wore what was expected of a chauffeur, and the cook had worn a plain grey dress with a white apron. I hadn’t seen any of the maids yet, but I imagined when I finally did see one, she’d be dressed in a maid’s uniform. The question was, just how formal would the uniform be? Considering what I’d seen, I expected the formal black and white frock.

Honestly, the formality surprised me. Even though Mr. Weatherton was insanely rich, he was young, so I expected a more laid back attitude toward the staff instead of the starchiness associated with old money. I’d done a bit of research, so I knew that Jace Weatherton had made billions on tech inventions, but before he’d struck it rich, he’d been as poor as I was.

Stephen unloaded my belongings and bowed slightly before wheeling the cart out of my room. “Welcome to your new home,” he said as he maneuvered the carrier through the door. “I hope you enjoy it here.”

“Thank you.”

I started unpacking and contemplating what I’d wear for dinner. Unfortunately, nothing I owned measured up. Even though Harold had said that dress for meals was casual, I had a feeling that Jace Weatherton’s idea of casual was much different than mine.