Erotic Billionaire 3(6)

The Frenchman brought two women on leashes, and Peter had ordered her to lie perfectly still while the two women licked her entire body until Celine, by now a quivering wreck, came in great gasping heaves. After she had cum, Celine had to hold the leashes and watch as the two French girls sucked the cocks of both men and then kissed each other with their mouths full of semen. Celine had wanted Peter’s cock so badly that night that she had cried as she lay in her lonely bed.

Celine had serious doubts about her job and the life she had chosen after that night, uncertain whether the damage to her psyche and her self-esteem was worth even the exorbitant rewards Peter was piling onto her. At breakfast in the incredible hotel restaurant the next morning she was surprised to see Aimee and Marguerite, the two French girls walk cheerfully across the dining room to her table. They both cheerfully kissed her…not the standard European kiss on the cheeks, but a lover’s kiss, full on the lips followed by a searching tongue. They sat down and ordered coffee and croissants and began to chatter away like magpies.

Blonde haired, blue eyed and very willowy, the two girls looked very much alike. “My boobs are bigger!” Aimee said smugly. They were dressed incredibly well, even by Parisian standards, and they seemed totally happy with their lives. Celine found herself trusting these two strangers for some reason, and within the space of half an hour she was voicing her doubts about her job and about Peter himself.

Marguerite found Celine’s worries foolish and told her so. “Why should you care at all how he feels?” the French girl asked. “I assume you are very well paid, as we are?” Celine nodded. “And you are not in jeopardy of real physical injury?’ Celine nodded that she was not. “And you get to have sex with pretty people like Aimee and me?” Celine smiled and shook her head yes. Marguerite cocked an eyebrow. “I have seen for myself that your Master is pretty, and he has a big package. I don’t understand why you could possibly be unhappy.” Celine laughed, her mood changed. “Eat your breakfast cheri,” Aimee said, her hand beneath the table and under Celine’s skirt, “there are more good things to share on this beautiful morning than unhappy thoughts.!” Her fingers stroked Celine’s clit and everything was suddenly just fine.

“Be ready for the limo to pick you up seven tonight,” Peter told her as the limo driver unloaded packages and carried them inside her apartment. “Wear the black Balenciaga,” he said, looking her body up and down, “and nothing beneath it.” Celine smiled adoringly at him. The Balenciaga had been unbelievably expensive, even compared to the other clothes Peter had selected for her. It was a sheer nothing of a dress that had spots of opaqueness that distorted strategic areas of her body, but if anyone was close they could see right through it as if she was naked. Whatever was going on tonight was going to be thrilling and sexual.

“Do you have enough room in there for all that?” Peter asked, indicating her apartment. Celine looked at the remaining pile of packages.

“No master, I’m afraid I’m going to have to move.”

Peter took one of his business cards and wrote a number on the back with his gold Mont Blanc fountain pen. “Call him tomorrow and have him show you the “B” selection. When you find one you like, just sign the papers he gives you and I’ll send a crew by from the plant to move you.”

“Oh master, that’s awfully generous of you but…”

“No buts, Celine,” he said, “I need you at your best at a moment’s notice, and your best has to be very good. Pick something closer to work.” He glanced at the aging Malibu in her parking space. “Is that yours?” he asked. Celine was unable to do anything but nod her head, it was the first time he had used her name. “Go by the maintenance shop on your way to the realtor’s, and pick any one of the cars except the Aston-Martin or the Bently…I haven’t driven either of them yet.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and left Celine standing with her mouth open.

The limo driver picked her up at precisely seven. The handsome driver was more than appreciative of the dress, his eyes bugged out as he held the door for her, and she heard him as he shut the door. “Jesus Christ!” She would have favored him with a flash of thigh or a breast …the halter type top was certainly loose and cut deeply enough, but she realized with a brief flash of lust that he could already see every inch of her. The moistness between her legs started.

There were many people already at the party, held in the Governor’s Room at the local country club. She was a trifle nervous at first, there were people she knew present…but after she was visually raped by the Chief of Police, whom she had known since she was a little girl, she realized that she no longer looked like the girl they had known. She was safe.