Bought By The Billionaire - BDSM 18 novel Chapter 65

“Any questions before I go?” asks Will

“Just the one for now. Shouldn’t this all be going through City Hall and the planners? Rather than a private… um… conspiracy… they’ve not had any input to?”

Both men cough, exchanging Yeah… Right… glances.

My Master speaks carefully. “It will. But given that most of the paper-pushing bureaucrats in City Hall have never worked anywhere but behind a desk, it’s usually best to simply present them with a plan they can agree to. A plan put together by those at the sharp end of any consequences, but with the boxes already ticked and any possible repercussions already considered.”

Will slaps hands onto the table, pushing himself up out of his seat. “And on that note, I need to be going. I’ll see the pair of you later this week at the charity gala?”

“You will.” My Master slaps him on the shoulder. “Give my best to Grace.”

*****

After Will leaves, my plans and overlays pinned at the corners with a stapler, coffee mugs and a couple of files, I set to work with the notes Will brought me, plus the extras I made during our conversation. Francis supplies me with sheets of self-adhesive dots in various colours, pins and string, pads of sticky notes.

After some while, I realise I’m not alone. Instead of the tap-tap of the keyboard from my Master’s desk, warm air breathes behind my ear. Standing close behind me, he leans in. “Mind if I ask the significance of your various colours there?” He taps a fingertip onto my plan. “That’s Cop Central, obviously, but what’s this, for example?” He touches a finger to a green dot… “And this one?”

“Green marks major junctions where an officer in a vehicle could easily make his way either way. Either there’s a turning circle, or a layby. Or it could be a roundabout or a parking lot. Anywhere a squad car can hang.”

He arches brows. “And yellow?”

“That’s where an officer on a motorcycle could cut between highways but a squad car couldn’t. Red marks empty premises I’ve identified so far which already have all facilities installed…” I lay a fingernail on a purple dot… “And these are empty premises in suitable positions, but which would need major refurbishing or refit.”

“And this pin and string marked area?”

“First shot at an area that might be reached in under eight minutes by an officer based here at the shopping mall. Strictly provisional at the moment.”

He Hmmms, tracing over the plan with a fingertip. “D’you mind?” Without waiting for a reply, he pulls out a seat beside me, leaning in to look more closely. “There’s a couple of items missing you need to factor in.”

“Oh! Sorry, Mast…”

“No need to apologise. There’s no reason you would know. This road here…” He trails a fingertip across the plan… “… follows the line of the main sewers leading to the old outflows downriver. They’re a hundred years old and the lot’s being rebuilt once the new treatment plant comes online next year. That road will be out of action for at least two years. I’ll just get you the schematics.”

*****

I work on my plans. My Master sits beside me, reading through a file, occasionally scribbling some comment in the margin.

A tap on the door and Francis pokes her head around. “I’m just going for my lunch, Mr Haswell. Is there anything you need before I go?”

“No thank you, Francis. There’s a letter I need typing up, but it will wait until this afternoon. Enjoy your lunch.”

She smiles brightly, nods and the door clicks closed behind her.

“Beth?”

“No, I’m fine too.” I return to my reading…

… in line with the projected increase in local population, we envisage a need for a 5% increase in patrol officers over the next three years and 15% over the next ten…

At length, my Master sighs. “My Love, if you don’t stop doing that, I swear I will bend you forward over this table and fuck you until there’s a map of the City tattooed on your cheek.”

?

Whoops!

All unintentionally, my left hand on my file, my right hand has been stroking his thigh.

“In fact…” He slants me a look… “Elizabeth, stand up. Bend forward.”

I shoot a glance to the outer office. “Francis…”

The slide of leather…

The rasp of a zipper…

The rustle of fabric…

The pressure of my Master’s shaft mooring against my entrance…

The inward drive, stretching me as he pierces my slick passage…

Arching, I try to rise, but a hand slaps between my shoulder blades, pressing me down, then ravels into my hair, winding in, drawing tight. “No one said you could move.” Panting, I collapse flat once more. My cheek hard down, something is sticking to my face.

After a moment, the downward press on my spine relaxes and the hand slides up inside my pullover. Briefly, it cups a breast before tugging down the bra, then re-cupping.

The other hand releases my hair, slides south, then loops around my waist to work in and down toward my loins. Jamming its way between my body and the hard timber, the hand glides over my mound, then in, plucking at my clit, already slippery with my juices. My Master rolls my sensitised bud between the pads of finger and thumb, arousal sparkling back to my pussy, already palpitating, filled by his delicious erection, and now spilling hot and fragrant as he thrusts into me.

There’s nothing subtle about it. He rams home, spearing me, each stroke only ending as his balls swing against me. The slight roughness of his zipper rubs at my ass cheeks. The chill of his belt buckle slaps at the small of my back as he pumps me. The weight above me increases as he folds his body over mine. “Are you going to come for me, Elizabeth?”

It’s hard to get out the words through my gasps, rhythmic, matching his thrusts. “I think so, Master, yes.”

There's no think about it. Basic as this rough shafting might be, it feels deliciously forbidden.

It is, after all, an office, albeit my Master’s private space…

Pussy pumps and pulses, squeezing liquid honey to scald over my Master's thrusting shaft and to trickle down my thighs. Sweating, my face slithers forward with each stroke, back again as he withdraws. Something else slides under my cheek with a sort of squeezing sound. I'm not sure what.

Rinse and repeat…

The fingers on my nub quicken, flicking and plucking, then nipping. It's sharp and a bolt of pain skitters between clit and cunt. Yelping, I try to buck, but my Master's bulk sandwiches me against the table.