Hypnotized by the Billionaire (2 page)

“Don’t get too forward,” he warned, slapping my hand away. “You’ll do what I command when I deem you ready. Now, take off that blouse, it’s quite unappealing really. You could do so much better with that body.”

I blushed. My body was not something I took particular pride in, being small-breasted and not particularly reed-thin like some of the girls in the office. I was never one to show myself off in cute summer dresses or low-cut tops, but now I felt my body warm as I slipped the blouse off over my head, leaving me in my pencil skirt, heels, and grey bra. As I shifted in my clothes, I realized my panties were damp with arousal already. I stood there in my cubicle letting the yellow glow of the light cast itself over my body as Donovan let his eyes wander over my shoulders and down to my bra.

“Better,” he said brusquely. Without warning, he took hold of my wrist again, and this time propelled me forward towards the door, out towards the atrium.

We were halfway down a long flight of steps when he stopped mid-stride, causing me to stop as well. He looked at me, an expert eye running over my body as though he were contemplating the best way to use me.

“You want to take your bra off,” he commanded. Obediently, I felt my fingers fly to the clasps that held it together and quickly worked to undo it. As I let the straps slip over my bare shoulder, I could see him harden. My nipples were small and pink, pale in the dark light of the atrium’s tall stairway. I had never been particularly fond of my body, but my breasts were, even I had to admit, beautiful with their small swell and erect nipples. I’d fuck me, I thought somewhere in my mind. It was difficult to think clearly -- every thought I had was dominated with the idea that I wanted to do whatever Donovan suggested.

“Lydia, you have exquisite breasts. They’re perfect for flogging. Don’t you agree?” Even though his last sentence was a question, it sounded almost like a command, and I felt my head nodding in agreement. It was funny, dimly I could think back to conversations Cass and I had experienced in which I had bemoaned the way the media and Hollywood were so enamoured with the sexualization of brutal violence against women. I hated the idea of movies that spent two and a half hours stripping women and treating them in the most inhumane way, cutting off body parts and whipping them naked while they were chained up like animals or locked in cages. It filled me with rage and on more than one occasion I’d spent an entire lunch hour ranting with Cass about the way torture was turning into downright porn, and how people kept spending money on it anyway, kept wanting more of it, needing it amped up every time so that there was more whipping, more cries of pain, more women begging for someone to fuck them if only to make the flogging stop as they were covered in their own blood, strung up and trussed. Before it made me angry. but now, Donovan’s smooth voice and the heady scent of him filled my head and instead of feeling repulsed, I felt myself growing wet.

“Whip my exquisite breasts,” I moaned. I could hear my voice echo in a hushed reverberation throughout the atrium’s tall chamber.

“That’s right,” Donovan said and he strode closer to my body, his hands cupping each breast, not whipping them but warming them with his hands, until suddenly without warning he twisted my sensitive nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, encouraging a cry of shock to part from my lips. I gripped the banister tightly, letting my heels grind into the floor in an effort to stay still. Arching my back, I kept my balance as he twisted them one way, then the other. The tingling pain shot through my body like needles, silvery like tiny bolts of lightning traveling through my veins.

I didn’t notice until I felt his hand sliding up my thigh, but Donovan had let one hand drop from my breast and had let it creep up under my pencil skirt, tightening the grey fabric around my ass and thighs. I’d always liked pencil skirts because they accentuated my curves in the right way rather than the wrong way, which is what most slacks did. The more pencil skirts I could own the better I felt, and now as Donovan’s fingers glided up my thighs underneath the skirt, I was happier than ever that I’d found a fashion that, in addition to actually making me look cute, also felt amazingly taut when an extra hand was thrust underneath it.

“Well, you’re definitely ready -- readier than most of them are by this point in the evening. It would seem you’re sluttier than some of your colleagues.”

“I’m definitely sluttier than my colleague,” I breathed. His fingers explored further, pushing through the wetness of my folds, diving deeper into my cunt as I braced my body against the slick banister.

Donovan clicked his tongue. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’d hate to have the evening rush by in a haze for you.” He pulled out a silver pocket-watch from the breast-pocket of his suit jacket and glanced at it with a terse expression. “We’re going to be late to the club if we don’t hurry things up here. I’d hate for you to miss what I’ve got planned.”

I whimpered as his free hand still pushed and kneaded my pussy as he looked at his watch then slid it back into his pocket. Gently he slid his fingers out and offered one to me, lifting it to my lips.

“Taste yourself. Tell me what a dirty slut you are.”

I let his finger slide into my mouth and ran my tongue over the juice-covered digit with a surprising feeling of delight. I sucked on it, cleaning it thoroughly and swallowing the feral taste of myself down my throat with a wicked smile.

“I’m quite a dirty slut,” I agreed.

“You’re ready to go to the club, aren’t you, pet?”

I nodded, shifting my body to be closer to his as he once again began striding down the stairs. Behind him his musk trailed like smoke, enveloping me and carrying me along almost as though it were a net, ensnaring me, binding myself to him, willing me to obey his every command, and making me want to do it. I felt as if I were floating as I following him across the cafeteria and out the big double doors to where an elegant antique Rolls-Royce awaited, black, sleek, and shining underneath the street lights. Fuck, he wasn’t kidding. I knew how much those cars could cost. Even more, though, I knew he had to be loaded because he wasn’t even the one driving. As he ushered me into the car, he followed me into the back seat and shut the door, then simply snapped a finger, to which the driver gave a nod and obeyed, driving us off into the night.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Donovan said with a tilt of his head as I stared at the interior of the car, marveling at its pristine leather and the indisputable scent that indicated it was the real deal. I sank into the seat, letting my body revel in the feel of sitting in a real Rolls, but even more, feeling excitement fill me at the touch of Donovan’s hand again sliding up my thigh. “You’ll find many more surprises, much better ones than this old thing, once we get to Trance. That’s the club I own, pet,” he added when a look of confusion crossed my face for a moment.

Trance. The name was unmistakable. It was the name of the fetish club Cass hadn’t stopped talking about for weeks. And now, I was being taken there myself. Donovan’s fingers hunted past my panties to my wet aching pussy. “We’ll get there soon enough.”

3

When we pulled up to Trance, I could hear the music pounding from outside the building. It didn’t look like what I imagined a fetish club would look like, but then, I hadn’t ever been to one myself, so I supposed that I shouldn’t be surprised that it didn’t look like the Gothic dungeon I had envisioned. It was a simple building, all brick, with two tall double doors made of solid old wood, like the doors to an ancient cathedral. I let out a little gasp as Donovan slid his fingers out from my body and leaned to open the door.

“We’ll be back later, Liam,” he said softly to the driver. “Just wait around as usual. We may be a while.”

The driver -- Liam -- nodded in affirmation. “Of course, Sir. It’s my pleasure.” For a moment I wondered -- hadn’t I met Liam somewhere before? As I stole a glance at him, I could swear he had once worked in my building. Hadn’t he been a coder? Yet now he was a chauffeur, and one dressed to the nines at that. I wondered what Donovan had done to convince him to make a sudden career change. If Liam had been involved in his own incident as well. But I didn’t have time to think about it any more as Donovan exited the Rolls and then offered a hand to me, which I took as he pulled me from the car. My heels clicked smartly on the cobblestone out in front of the club. This was definitely an expensive part of town in which to own anything, let alone a business establishment.

“You must be...really, really rich,” I said, once again surveying first the sleek car, then the club with its elegant cursive sign which read
Trance: A Members Only Establishment
.

“Only a billionaire,” Donovan said with a low chuckle. I raised an eyebrow, but he wasn’t joking. “But don’t let that muddle your head overmuch, pet. You want to go inside and be paraded like the little slut you are,” he said. I moved a hand towards his cock and felt that it was hard.

“Parade me,” I echoed. Warmth rushed through my veins and I let it envelop my body as I followed him to the great double doors.

“This doesn’t look like a club,” I murmured.

“Other fetish clubs are a bit crude for my taste. It’s a sign of class not to be too obvious with yourself when you’re like me, you see. Now, in with you.” He gave me a little pull on my wrists and then we were inside, the solid doors shutting firmly behind us.

Once inside, it felt as though the entire club had been pumped full of Donovan’s same signature scent. It was heady and full of the scent of leather, rich tobacco smoke, and lust, and it coiled around me like a serpent in the thick pulsing air. Donovan’s hands were firm as he led me through a throng of people their bodies brushing against mine, their skin touching my skin, their heat making me hot and wet with desire as I was led further up and further in. As we moved through the crowd, people dressed in expensive black lace and leather made way for Donovan, as though they all knew him. I supposed that they did, if he was truly the owner like he claimed to be. Some gave short nods of familiarity and respect. Some simply made way, deferring and letting him pass with me in tow.

All of them looked at me too, inspecting me, judging me as I passed by them. I realized then that of course they were staring -- I was still shirtless, and had been since Donovan had instructed me to unclasp my bra. A flush swept through me and I felt my nipples tingle as I brushed past a wiry woman who was bound to a wall, her arms high above her head, and her hazel eyes met mine, a wicked smile appearing on her red lips.

“Lucky Miss,” I heard her say as I passed. But before I had a chance to turn my head back to look at her, Donovan tugged me further into the crowd. It felt as though the darkly lit club would extend for miles, but soon we ducked into a further back room, which was still packed with people, though I was not the only one topless and bare. Out of one corner of my eye, I thought I saw a familiar face, a flash of familiar pink hair, but everything was darkened and loud, and my mind felt as though it were swimming hard against an invisible current.

Donovan’s weight shifted as he moved to push me against a stone wall, his chest hard against my nipples, and my legs felt weak.

“Raise your arms above your head,” he instructed in my ear. His breath was hot and a slight stubble on his chin grazed my skin.

I obeyed. From somewhere on the wall, he produced a set of cuffs, which he wrapped first around one wrist, then the other, leaving me trussed up and bared for the crowd, and immobile. If I’d thought of leaving before, now it was not an option. I tilted my head back so that I touched the cold stone behind me and let out a soft moan as Donovan’s hand grazed my collarbone, working his fingertip down around one breast, then the other, circling them in turn. He turned, then, and tapped a thin shoulder in the throng of people.

The woman turned. What had seemed a familiar face seen only in a brief flash before was now confirmed.

“Cass,” he instructed. “Lydia desires to be used. Use her.” He stepped back. Cass ducked her head in kurt understanding, then worked her way towards me, brushing past several men who stood close, watching the incident. I could feel myself growing wet with arousal as she positioned her body in front of mine, locking her arms around my neck. “Use her and ready her for me. Fuck her. She’s requested it,” added Donovan in Cass’s ear from where he stood behind her, lifting a strand of hair away from where it was tucked behind one ear to whisper the last instructions to her. Again she nodded, a smirk crossing her face.

“Use me,” I echoed, aching for her touch, my hips pivoting and thrusting towards her body without my instruction. She pushed her weight against me, her bony body putting pressure on mine, and her hands behind my neck pulling my hair as she ground herself against me, driving me against the stone wall. Her breath was hot and smelled like sweet cloves, dusky and full of delight.

Her hands unwound from behind my head, tracing down my breasts, down my side and to my hips, where she deftly unfastened my pencil skirt, letting it inch down my body with a slow tight pulling move until it lay on the floor and the only things I was left with were my panties, soaked and darkened with my desire, and my heels which were raised slightly as my arms were pulled tight above my head. Methodically, Cass slipped my panties off too, letting them fall to the floor in a soft little pile, and her long fingers worked to slide inside me. Her mouth was on my neck, sucking and moving in time as she thrust her hand in and out of me, pumping harder, and then the other hand was back tugging my hair and head back. Inside I felt a fierce quivering, a burning need for release, but I knew somewhere in my mind that I mustn’t give in to it. Not yet. Donovan would not be pleased. Cass was using me to ready my body for Donovan. I was not to come yet.