Bought By The Billionaire novel Chapter 32

Startled and abashed, I want to look anywhere but into his face.

“Do you realise Elizabeth,” he continues, “that this is where we first met? Time for a replay of those events I think.”

A cuff snaps around my wrist, and my arm is pulled upwards to the shower head, then locked into place.

My other arm follows, and I am bound naked to the showerhead, water still playing over my hair and face, breasts and stomach.

As I finally look at him, my Master is stripped down to his jeans, bare-chested and barefooted. “Francis left five minutes ago. You know, I was watching your performance there, for some while Elizabeth, and you didn’t even notice me. I must have been remiss in my attentions to you.”

He shrugs off the jeans. “I could fuck you brainless right where you are, but I think we can take a little longer over it. Do you like the cuffs? They’re new. I bought them as a present for you.”

The cuffs are bright, shiny and very secure. I could not now release my hands, firmly affixed above me, even if I wanted to. My pulse beginning to race, in anticipation of what is coming, I strain against the cuffs, using their restraint to stretch my belly flat, and raise my breasts, displaying myself to best effect for my Master.

“I have another present for you,” he says. And with that, he dangles small bejewelled clamps in front of me, giving me a good view of them before, one at a time, and slowly, attaching them to my nipples.

The attachment itself does not hurt. Quite the opposite, the mild nip as they gently take hold of my crinkled buds is stimulating. A frisson ripples through me, sending a fresh supply of hot juices running down my thighs, mixing with the still streaming waters of the shower. But my Master does not stop there.

Taking my chin in one hand, he directs my face towards my breasts, making sure that I see what he is going to do. My lips parted in anticipation of what I see is coming, ever so slowly, my Master squeezes on the left nipple clamp.

Pain

leasure surges through me. Squealing in agony/delight at the pain, my knees give under me and my weight drops onto my shackled wrists. My Master makes no attempt to support me. Instead, my legs splaying as my feet scrabble for purchase on the slippery shower floor, he releases my chin.

With the now free hand, he reaches south, gripping my clit between thumb and forefinger. Simultaneously he both pinches my clit below and squeezes on the other nipple clamp above.

This time, I really scream. the pain sparkles through me, sending waves of arousal pulsating through my swollen cunt. Unable to stand, I hang from my wrists, jerking and heaving as my Master alternately nips at raw nipples and my throbbing bud.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. I can’t stand it. Please, Master. Please stop.”

He does not cease immediately. Instead, he gradually reduces the speed and intensity of his torment, the biting of the clamps lessening bit by bit, until I finally regain control of my legs, and manage to stand up again.

Utterly helpless, panting breathlessly, knowing that my Master can do what he wishes with me, I writhe in sensual expectancy, of what is to come.

Taking down the showerhead, still spraying water, he aims it over my breasts, moving in close, to target my tortured nipples. The sting of the water playing over my skin sends tingles skipping down through me again, further igniting my pussy. Directing the pressure of the water against each of the clamps in turn, making them jingle and jump, my Master sends vibrating fire spinning through me.

Moving slowly down, so that I have a clear idea of where he is heading, the sharp ping of the water over my skin moves down my belly, my loins and thighs, then directly upwards between my legs. My Master is in the shower with me, his erection pressed against my belly, as he forces my feet apart with his, holding my body against the wall so that, arms pinned over my head, I cannot move at all, except to quiver and tremble in anticipation.

The shower head aimed within, the spray moves directly onto my swollen clit.

The sensation is incredible, inescapable. No amount of wriggling or writhing takes my tormented clit away from the exquisite torment of the jet. Each needle of water caresses, nudges and torments my pulsating bud.

Moving the jet further inwards, the steaming hot water spurts against my pussy. Dropping to his knees, my Master reaches inwards, parts already sensitive lips and directs the water over and in.