Dominated by the Billionaire: The Boxed Set (4 page)

'Thank you, I'm fine.'

'I suppose you're right, my love, the morning is no time for libations. I hope you don't mind if I partake. I'm afraid I never learned to resist the call. Now, I take it from your look of surprise and wonder that Robert neglected to tell you why he sent you to my humble workshop? No? Well, he always was one for discretion. Not, I might add, an undesirable quality when dealing with someone in my profession.'

Pam shook her head, confused. 'I'm sorry to be rude, but could you please explain why I've been sent here? This cloak and dagger stuff is all a little much for me.'

Bertie smiled warmly, pouring himself a large glass of wine. 'Of course, my precious, of course. I apologize for the ramblings of an old drunkard. Well, as you can see I am an artist. My canvas is the human body. I create very specific works for a very specific audience,
mon cheri
, of which our mutual friend Mr Foster is one of the most ardent and devoted members.' He moved around the room like a ship under sail, spilling his drink over the glossy wood floor each time he turned in a new direction.

'Specific works?' Pam didn't like the sound of where this was going.

'Oh yes, my dear, yes indeed. I create clothing to cater to all manner of tastes, you see, and the good Mr Foster has extremely exacting requirements. As you'll see I'm able to secrete a number of interesting features into outfits you could comfortably wear on the street without drawing unwanted attention.' Bertie drained his glass and made to pour another. 'Would you like to see the outfit I've made for you?'

'You've made something for me? But what about my size?'

'Don't fret, my dear Miss Rose, it's all been taken care of. Mr Foster, along with his more profitable talents, has an excellent eye for sizing. I always tell him he should have been a tailor, though I suppose he took the more lucrative path, more's the pity. Come along, my delightful
amuse bouche.
Allow me to introduce you to my latest creation.'

Bertie wobbled across the room as if pulled by the tide, steadying himself against tables as he moved. Eventually he reached a slim tailor's dummy at the back of the room and theatrically whipped off the sheet covering it.

Pam didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. The mannequin was dressed in... well, it was just a suit. It was a nice suit, certainly, and clearly of a quality finer than anything she'd ever worn, but it barely warranted Bertie's dramatic flourish.

'It's... nice,' she said, carefully. From Bertie's expression it was clear he expected a stronger reaction.

'Nice?
Nice?
My dear, this is my
Mona Lisa
. This is my
David.
This... this is beautiful! Look, try it on and then tell me it's just
nice.
'

Pam looked awkwardly at the floor as Bertie pulled the suit from the mannequin, muttering under his breath. '
Nice! I'll show you nice, damned slip of a girl.'

It was only when the outfit began to slide from the mannequin that Pam understood Bertie's reaction. Beneath the simple, plain exterior of the suit were things she didn't recognize The skirt seemed to be fitted with some sort of attachment, and the collar of the jacket seemed as if it was hiding something that ran down the lapel. This clearly was no ordinary suit.

'What's that? The thing on the skirt?'

Bertie grinned devilishly. 'Try it on and you'll see, my dear.'

As he prepared the outfit for her Pam stripped unselfconsciously. Bertie, she guessed by his manner, was gay, and she felt completely comfortable exposing herself in front of him.

'My my, he does have a good eye, doesn't he?' Bertie watched her closely as she undressed. 'I can see why he likes you.'

Pam didn't have a clue what he meant. She knew she was nothing special in any way. She was attractive in a plain, ordinary way, but she certainly didn't turn any heads as she walked into a room. Bertie, though, along with Foster himself, seemed to see something in her she failed to see herself. What it was she couldn't guess.

She turned to the outfit laid out before her, and as soon as she lifted the skirt she knew what it was.

'Yes, you'll want to remove your panties before trying it on, my love. I'm afraid you might find the fabric a little constrictive otherwise.'

Attached to the waist of the skirt, hidden from view, was a thin belt. At the front of the skirt the belt connected to a rubber strap that reached down a few inches, at the end of which hung a slim, black shaft several inches long.

It was a dildo.

Bertie's tone suddenly turned stern and professional. 'Mr Foster's instructions are that you wear this at all times during your workday. You must not remove it without Mr Foster's permission. At his request you will display yourself to him. I've arranged for a number of similar items in various styles to be delivered to your home address. You'll see that there's also a second attachment should Mr Foster wish to add a little something for your rear end, but that will be at my client's discretion.'

Bertie watched as Pam slipped carefully into the skirt, hesitating when the black, smooth dildo touched her. 'You'll grow accustomed to it, my precious, don't worry. As you can see it has been designed to remain comfortable for extended use.'

She saw he was right. Rather than a simple tube the dildo was narrow and flatter than the one she had at home, narrowing at the center of the shaft to fit comfortably inside without chafing her as she walked. It took her five minutes to work up the courage to slip it inside her - with the help of a tube of lubricant Bertie provided - but when she did she realized it didn't hurt at all. In fact, she was surprised to realize it felt good. Incredible, even.

'Why don't you take it for a spin?', suggested Bertie, taking her by the hand and leading her slowly around the room. The moment she took her first step her legs quivered beneath her, and it was only Bertie's surprisingly firm grip that kept her from tumbling to the ground. It felt like she was being fucked with every slightest movement. The shaft slid in and out of her with each step, moving inside her like a live animal. She found herself gasping after a short walk around the room. Her nipples stood to attention and her skin was covered in goosebumps.

'Good, isn't it? I must admit I have more than one pair of trousers with an attached butt plug. It does so help pass a dreary day. Now, let's see what else we have.'

Bertie handed her a stack of neatly folded white blouses boasting similar features. A circle of fabric had been cut out of each at the nipples, and into the back were woven thick strings that crossed from the middle of the back down to the waist. Bertie explained that these strings allowed Mr Foster to cinch in her waist if he so pleased, and again he reeled off the instruction that she was to always wear them to work.

'Now we come to the jacket,' he said, smiling at her bizarre appearance, her pert pink nipples poking from her blouse while she wriggled around, enjoying the feeling of the dildo deep inside her. 'You'll notice, I'm sure, an additional thickness around the collar leading down to the lapel. This houses your leash. Mr Foster may wish to lead you, and while I believe it's not usually his thing I took the liberty of adding the function.'

Pam slipped the jacket over her shoulders and buttoned it up. Like the skirt and shirt it fit like a second skin, better than anything she'd ever worn. She couldn't explain the feelings rushing through her, but she knew she didn't want them to stop. The way she was treated like a pet, given stern instructions and told Mr Foster may choose to punish her sent a thrill of excitement crashing through her body. With each new instruction a jolt of electricity hit her, and already she felt her juices drip down her inner thighs.

Pam didn't know what had come over her. It was as if her encounter in the elevator just days earlier had unleashed some subservient creature, a part of her personality that had forever remained hidden and was now allowed to run free. She felt liberated. Free from choice; from the pressure to make any kind of decision. Her whole life she'd been weighed down by the burden of responsibility. Caring for her junky brother, getting ahead at work, scrimping and saving to pay the rent. Now, dressed as Foster's pet, she felt all of that pressure float away. She was lighter than air.

Bertie presented the bill, an even $5,000, and Pam realized she hadn't brought her purse. Apart from the money in the envelope she had nothing to pay for a cab, no way to get back uptown. She asked Bertie if she could keep hold of $10.

'I'm afraid not, precious. Mr Foster's instructions were quite clear. He'd like you to walk back to the office and meet him there at 1PM. I'd hurry, if I were you. You have only 30 minutes and I take it Mr Foster does not appreciate tardiness. I'll bid you
adieu,
Miss Rose, and I hope to meet again in the future.'

With that he swept out of the room, humming to himself as if she'd already left.
30 minutes? The office is 15 blocks from here! How can I walk that far with this thing between my legs?

Chapter Three

Pam stumbled down the stairs, bracing herself against the wall as she moved slowly, her legs quivering beneath her. The dildo slipping inside her with each step felt like it was growing, pulsating stronger each second it was inside her.

She fumbled clumsily with the catch in the dim light for a moment before the door swung open, almost falling out onto the street as she pulled the door closed behind her. She made the mistake of crouching down against the door to rest, and as she lowered herself to the ground the shaft slid deep inside her, filling her all the way to its base. Pam gasped, mercifully hidden from the sidewalk in the shadow of the alcove, and her vision blurred as she felt her climax arrive. Her soaked pussy clenched tight around the firm shaft and convulsed, shifting it ever deeper inside her.

Minutes past before she felt able to stand. She tried to bring her panting under control but it was no use. Her tender depths were on fire, shocked by the slightest movement.

Come on, Pam, get it together. 25 minutes to get back to the office!

Steeling herself, Pam forced her expression into something approaching normalcy. She fought to relax her body, shaking her arms to loosen up. Still her pussy cried out but she knew she had no choice but to walk. She couldn't disappoint Mr Foster. Who knew what he'd do if she returned late?

The cool air on the street brought her back to her senses, flowing through her and invigorating her like a cold shower. The breeze climbed up her skirt, chilling the juices running down her thighs. It invaded her, slipping beneath her jacket and playing on her firm, exposed nipples. She couldn't believe she felt this way out in public, standing just feet away from the yellow cabs and bike couriers sailing by.

Pam turned north out onto Mulberry, walking slowly as she grew more accustomed to the object filling her. She walked past a pair of old men playing chess on an upturned milk crate out front of the dry cleaner, and to her surprise she felt a thrill as they paid her no attention.

I could be coming right now and they wouldn't have a clue!
The thought thrilled her, and she found herself enjoying the walk. People passing by didn't give her a second look. Mothers with children, students walking out of the vintage store, workmen laying pylons around a cracked paving slab. None of them knew what was slipping inside her as she walked by.
Why have I never done this before?

Pam realized as she walked that she'd never felt so sexual. All her life she'd thought of her sexuality as something that lived apart from the rest of her; something that should only be brought out at the right moment, and always in private. Now, though, as she stumbled slowly north towards Union Square, she knew that her sexual self was at her very core. It was
right
that it live alongside her, out in the open. She may not look like a catwalk model, but she
deserved
to live just as openly as a sexual creature.

She also knew that one man owned that part of her, and that she must return to him now.

The people changed as she walked north. Bohemian fashions gave way to sober suits as she reached Broadway, as she cut across the diagonal up to Madison Square Park and Fifth Avenue. She noticed the men looking at her, appraising her as she walked by in her beautiful new suit. One man smiled as she passed, a man more attractive than any she'd dared speak to before. She ignored him, enjoying the secret between her thighs and the fact that he'd never get to enjoy her. She knew she was exuding sexiness like she never had before. She sensed that the men she passed saw through her old shell as it fell away from her with every step.