The Billionaire’s Desire: Owned By Him

“My boss would not allow me to rest! He’s a monster”, Zara proclaimed to her best friend sitting beside her on her bed frame.

“Why? What does he want?” came Isla’s reply.

“He uses me like a toy, and when he’s done, he dumps his salty climax in my mouth” she said.

Isla squinted her eyes, struggling to grasp. Her suspicion battled her naive innocence.

“He fucked me 3 times in one night. My vagina still bleeds from his cactus. I fear I might be pregnant” she sighed. She looked helpless. She stretched her legs in the bed, now laying down.

Isla was charged with a subtle rage.

“He raped you?” she asked

“No” Zara smirked. “It was rough but somehow exactly what I needed. It felt out of the blue but I enjoyed it” she said.

“Cause he has an almighty golden penis?”

Zara smiled naughtily. “Yes” she said.

“A golden penis that destabilizes your brain. I belong to him, to his loins”. She pulled over the duvet and closed her eyes.

Isla stood there, lost in a gauzy bewilderment. It appeared her friend had lost her senses. What was this boss of hers and the powerful spell he had cast on her? She desperately was intrigued. Had he truly the golden penis or perhaps Zara had taken one of those silly pills she called dolls. “Whew”! she sighed as she too, began to imagine what possessed of Him. She smiled. Her smile had a taint of the inapt.

— - -

a few days ago

Nat Wolfe, a billionaire CEO and heir to the Wolfe group of companies stood by his office window, at the penthouse view, overlooking the sprawling city.  Tall buildings and skyscrapers spread out tempting to glaze the slate white sky of Manhattan.

A knock came on the door. “Come in” he casually said. Nat was chocolate skinned, muscular and bald head with round eyes that were seductive. He was medium height. His dark lips spoke of a thousand Cuban cigars hosted in his mouth.

He glanced at her as she shut the door. Paula, his Personal Assistant was tall, skinny and blond haired with blue eyes that pierced in her gazes. Despite her height, she looked very palatable, one could tell, especially in sensually vigorous moments.

“Giving me attitude again?” he said as she frowned and folded her arms.

“Come on”, he motioned for her to come closer to him which she did. He raised her up the table and began kissing her neck, spreading her legs gently. She pushed him back.

“Stop!” she said but he continued.

“Just stop!” she pushed him again.

“You pervert” her frown was more vile now.

“Are you okay, sexy?” he asked in a low, teasing voice.

“I’m not your sex toy. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t you be missing this daddy dick” he said proudly.

She handed him a letter. As he opened it, she cut in.

“I’m resigning”

Nat was stunned into silence.

“Apparently, I can’t keep up with your fanatics anymore. I need to retain my dignity”.

“Dignity?” he replied with a furrowed brow. “What does a whore know about dignity?”

She slapped him. Hard with the speed of impulsive rage. He patted his cheek and smiled his sly smile.

“I’m done with the charade” she continued. “I’m leaving your sorry ass. Don’t ever call me”.

She walked away.

“200,000 US dollars, the house in the Bahamas; and here in New York, the fancy clothes and jewelries you put on and the Maybach. Pick your poison bitch, which do I come for first”.

She laughed, loudly. But there was, in her laughter, a trail of hurt and a tarnished impetus.

“You’re such a piece of ass”! she said.

Then, as if being invigorated by a bold epiphany, she continued.

“Well, if you must know, I’d be returning everything. I thought it much at first till I learned how much of a loser you are. Goodbye lunatic”.

She whispered to his ears and walked away. Her pointed heels rhythmically cracking the tiled floor.

Nat stood there amazed by her womanly confidence. He felt, a slight punch to his ego, his self-assured belief that because he had money every woman could be his slave.

He drowned a glass of whiskey that was left on the table, certain the “bitch” would come back to him.