Submission: Servicing the Billionaire Part 4 (A BDSM Erotic Romance)

Published by Adriana Rossi at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Adriana Rossi

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* * *

All rights reserved. This book or any portion
thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author or the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical
reviews.

* * *

She left work in a hurry so that she could go
home and read the rest of the contract. As soon as she had passed
the threshold of her apartment, she grabbed her laptop out of her
bag and powered it on. She printed the contract, which was a
whopping 68 pages, and made a cup of tea. Mary seized the freshly
printed paper and stapled them together, determined to get through
it all.

Soon, almost the entirety of the contract was
highlighted in yellow. What was ‘caning?’
Fisting?
Much of
the terminology was lost on her. She researched a bit online, her
eyes widening at the photos depicting various acts. She found out
enough to know that if she allowed Mr. White to do all the sexual
acts listed on the contract, she would soon be colored in black and
blue. Not all of it was horrible, though. The idea of being
handcuffed and tied to a stock, allowing Mr. White to take her in
any position he wanted, filled her body with warmth. But did she
really want to be on call for him, subject to his every whim? Mary
wasn’t sure.

In the morning, she dressed in modest
clothes. She gave a wry grin at the thought of how it would annoy
her demanding boss.

* * *

The restaurant Mr. White had chosen for lunch
was small and had an alarming amount of windows. It was the
afternoon and the sidewalk was awash in sunlight. Mary peered at
the restaurant’s interior under her sunglasses, wondering how on
earth they would get through lunch without Mr. White roasting to a
crisp.

As the hostess opened the doors for her, she
spotted him in a secluded area of the restaurant far away from the
windows. Looking outside, she noticed that it was quite dark; the
windows must have been tinted.

“I’m meeting someone—”

“Ms. Kramar,” she interjected. “Yes, right
this way.”

Mary followed the smartly dressed hostess.
Mr. White’s handsome face lifted from the menu and gave her a rare
smile. A pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses rested on the table, and his
fingers drummed happily on the wood. Her heart pounded as she took
her seat, returning the smile. He poured her a glass of
Chardonnay.

“I’m very happy to see you here, Miss
Kramar.”

Mary reached for her glass and took a sip of
wine. It was strange. Mr. White was often moody and sarcastic, but
the expression on his face was light. She could practically feel
the giddiness emanating from him the way he bounced in his
seat.

“Good to see you,” she said. She glanced
around before whispering in a low voice. “Isn’t a place like this
dangerous for your…condition?”

“I just found this place. Tinted windows that
block UV rays,” he sighed and stared longingly at the people
walking down the sidewalk.

She set the glass down. “I have some
questions about the contract?”

“Well, I thought the contract was quite
clear,” he said, adopting a business-like tone again.

The wine slipped down her throat as she
considered her question. She was almost afraid of the answer, but
had to ask. “What exactly do you want from me, Mr. White?” She
gestured to the contract. “Is this strictly a friends with benefits
thing or—are you looking for a relationship?”

To her relief, Mr.White didn’t laugh in
response to her question. He studied the table, suddenly
thoughtful. “What I envision for us is a dominant-submissive
relationship. You must understand; I crave control. To outsiders,
you would look like my date. I will take you to events, out to
dinner, whatever you like. I do not usually have exclusive
relationships with my subs.” He looked at her over his wine, his
eyes raking across her flesh. “But, in your case…Well, I won’t make
any promises,” his voice drifted as he took another gulp of wine,
savoring the taste as if her blood was rolling on his tongue.

Mary felt a little stab of disappointment.
She definitely didn’t want to share him with anyone else. Even the
thought of him drinking someone else’s blood filled her throat with
bile.

“I am a hard man to please, Mary,” he said,
sensing her thoughts.

“What will I be, then?”

He grinned with those impossibly white teeth.
“My obedient slave. I will provide you with a pager. I expect to be
called back immediately after being paged. I might even email you.
In any case, you are to obey my every command and serve my every
whim.

“However,” he said hurriedly. “This does
not
mean that your needs will be swept aside. That is why I
drafted a contract. We can talk about what’s acceptable for you and
what’s not.”

Mary didn’t know what to say.
A pager,
really? Who uses them anymore?

“Why don’t you just text me with a cell
phone? Pagers haven’t been used since the nineties.”

“A cell phone,” he considered doubtfully. “I
don’t like them.”

“For a successful business man, you’re a bit
behind the times,” she muttered under her breath.

Mr. White heard. “Did you just criticize me,
Miss Kramar?”

She flinched at the venom in his voice and
quailed under his furious gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

“You’re lucky we’re in a public place, or I
would flog you for such disrespect.”

A sudden thrill shot through her body at the
threat. Everything he was saying sounded fantastic, even the fact
that she would be utterly helpless under his control. She was
tangled in his sticky web, paralyzed by her attraction to him. She
just wanted him. “I don’t want people at work to judge me,” she
said, voicing her concern for the first time.

Their lunches finally arrived. Mr. White had
ordered for her—blackened chicken with squash ragout. How could he
have known that she loved this dish? He must have seen her bring it
in for lunch one day, and made a mental note about it in his head.
Evidently, Mr. White was far more observant than she ever gave him
credit for. To her horror, she felt tears threatening her eyes. It
was a thoughtful gesture that she would have never expected of her
boyfriends.
Mr. White is not your boyfriend.

“Mary,” he said when the waiter had gone.
“Who cares what anyone thinks?”

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident.
Mary did not catch a glimpse of her boss. She avoided everyone’s
eyes as if they knew what she had done. Butterflies fluttered in
her stomach as she thought about what she had agreed. In the end,
she had signed his contract, a strange feeling filling her gut as
she left the restaurant.

She was so distracted that she almost missed
an email from her boss.

From: Matthew White
([email protected])

To: Mary Kramar ([email protected])

Subject: Tonight

Slave,

Your presence will be required at my
apartment tonight. A car will be waiting for you after work to take
you shopping—your current wardrobe is unsuitable for my needs.
There is an envelope in your desk containing a credit card I have
provided for you. Also, you will be accompanying me on Thursday to
Houston.

That will be all for now.

Matthew White

CEO, White Group Inc.

Mary giggled nervously as she read the
email’s contents, but stifled the laugh quickly when she thought
what Mr. White’s reaction would be if he had seen her laughing. So,
she was going on the business trip with him. Mary’s heart was
filled with glee as she imagined a romantic getaway with her boss,
wining and dining with all the bigwigs. She typed back, thinking
that she might as well do the thing properly.

From: Mary Kramar
([email protected])

To: Matthew White
([email protected])

Subject: Re: Tonight

Master,

She faltered as she began the email. Exactly
what was she supposed to say? She fought to keep her lips set in a
firm line as giggles threatened to burst from her mouth.

Yes, Master.

Mary Kramar

Executive Assistant

She laughed again and sent the email, hoping
that it would be suitable. Mary glanced around nervously before she
filed the email in a special folder. It wouldn’t do if anyone
accidentally caught a glimpse of the email.

* * *

Later, she was riding the elevator to the
street with her coworkers. They made small talk, but Mary was
transfixed on the floor numbers they passed. She couldn’t believe
it when she saw a black town car parked in front of the building,
the driver recognizing her immediately.

“Miss Kramar,” he greeted her with a warm
smile as he opened the passenger door. Her coworkers ogled her as
she stepped inside; no doubt they were making their own conclusions
based on the paparazzi photo taken of Mr. White and her. Mary gave
them a smile and a little wave as the door shut.

She sat on something that made a noise, and
lifted herself to grab a white envelope. It was addressed to “My
Little Slave.” A piece of plastic slipped out of the envelope and
Mary caught it. The printed name on the credit card was her own,
but the account number must have been Mr. White’s. Excitement
flooding her stomach, Mary took the small sheaf of paper inside and
unfolded it.

Slave,

The driver will bring you to several places
where I have reserved a small collection of items to my liking for
you to browse through. I require my subs to wear a collar in my
presence at all times. The driver will take you to Tiffany’s, where
I have already ordered several custom made collars. They are
different styles for various occasions, but again, I expect you to
wear a collar at all times in my presence. It signifies my
ownership of you and will keep others at bay when we are out in
public. Failure to wear the collar will result in punishment.

I also would like you to purchase more
clothes for tonight and the nights to come. Please use the card at
your leisure.

- M.W.

By the time she had read and digested the
letter’s contents, the car had shuddered to a halt in front of
Tiffany’s. Trembling, she grabbed her purse and left the vehicle.
Mary had never even walked inside a Tiffany’s. She had avoided the
store based on the assumption she would never be able to afford
anything inside, so what was the point of torturing herself?

She hesitated as she pushed open the door.
There was a nagging feeling inside her that they would know at once
that she was a fraud—that she could not afford anything in the
store. Mary clutched the piece of plastic in her purse as if she
was afraid of losing it.

After gazing longingly at platinum earrings
with sapphires on display, Mary approached the front of the
counter.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, Mr. White ordered a few pieces of
jewelry for me?”

“Ah, yes.” The attendant seemed to disregard
Mary’s insecurity. She reached under the counter and produced three
black boxes.

Mary opened the first and almost closed it
immediately, blushing crimson. The first leather collar was studded
with hundreds of small, white gold spikes that were packed
together. It was definitely not something she would wear around the
office. The second was simpler, yet still beautiful. It had an
intricate design but it was not studded with jewels. She would most
likely wear that one to the office. The third—Mary gasped out loud.
It was made of three slim bands of metal that were encrusted with
thousands of small diamonds. It sparkled even in the dimly lit
store. Mary replaced it in the box carefully, and then paid for all
three.
God, he has great taste.

Her chauffeur brought her to a succession of
stores, where Mary pawed through a selection of dresses and skirts,
which ranged from highly inappropriate to dangerously sexy. Her
cheeks burned throughout the process as if they had been stained
with crimson. She entered Victoria’s Secret to find that Mr. White
had reserved a large amount of lingerie for her to browse
through—many of them were lacy thongs. Guilt bubbled in her throat
as she gave the cashier Mr. White’s credit card. Was she taking
advantage of him? He had written in the note to buy whatever she
wanted, and still Mary could not escape her feelings of guilt as
she racked up thousands on his card.

Fortunately, the shopping did not take too
many hours. Mr. White had carefully selected clothes that almost
seemed tailored to her body type. She did not have to try many of
them on; they all seemed to hug her body. She marveled at his
incredible good eye for fashion.
How in the world did he learn
how to pick clothes for women?
It only enhanced his mystery and
her attraction to him.