Owned by the Billionaire(8)

I swallowed hard, the simmering arousal I'd been struggling to repress  during our fight flaring hotly at his husky tone and clear insinuation.  My rebellious pussy throbbed, and a revealing flush swept over me. The  infuriating jerk smirked in response. Grinding my teeth in irritation, I  tried to think logically about his proposal. Having access to my own  money would be really helpful if I needed to get away from this deranged  man, and I'd feel a lot less dependent and trapped. And to be honest,  the idea of splurging a bit on new clothes was also really tempting,  even though I'd have to return them sooner or later.         

     



 

I blew out a breath. "Alright, fine. It's a bet."

"Excellent!" My belly hollowed out at this happy response. He seemed  entirely too pleased with himself! His smirk broadened under my  suspicious glare. "Oh, don't look at me that way. You'll win the bet  pretty easily, I think. All you have to do is not have an orgasm in  public while we're shopping."

My jaw dropped. "What? Why would I...?" At that moment, an electrifying  tingle shot through my pussy, a sudden jolt of sheer pleasure. I gasped,  swaying, as my clit pulsed in time with the vibrations plucking my  nerves. After a few seconds, the intense sensation stopped, and I found  my voice. "What the hell was that?!?"

Miles grinned, and pulled his hand out of a pocket. He seemed to be  holding some small plastic remote. As I watched, his thumb flicked a  switch, and the vibrating tingle between my legs began again. He watched  me tremble as raw pleasure poured through my body, and then released  the button. "Our bet has to have rules, of course. You must keep the  panties on for the entire shopping trip." He went on, somewhat  reluctantly. "And I'll refrain from hitting the button more than once  every five minutes or so. That should give you a sporting chance."

He stepped in close as I panted, and I clutched him to take the weight  off my weakened knees. Chuckling, he petted my hair, and then tilted my  face upwards with a gentle hand, brushing a soft kiss across my parted  lips. My floundering mind finally pulled the pieces together and I  shoved him away, glaring.

"Vibrating panties?!? You... you were planning this the whole time!" He was unfazed by the accusation.

"Obviously. Although I had expected you to simply accept the gift card.  You constantly surprise me, darling." The warm affection in his voice  halted my outraged sputtering, and he went on. "I had to come up with  the bet on the spot, but I do believe it works better this way. It gives  you more motivation, after all."

He leaned forward, eyes suddenly serious. "You need to make the  decision, Sophia. Do you want to withdraw from the bet? Your defiance  this morning will have consequences, regardless." That was a clear  warning, and I swallowed my instinctive response to his blatant  manipulations.

I paused, thinking hard. Then I lifted my chin and met his eyes boldly. "No, I'll take the bet. And I'll win it!"

He held my gaze for a long moment, dark eyes surprisingly soft. Then he murmured. "Very good, darling."

The clothes shopping trip was sheer erotic torture. It started  innocently enough, when Miles summoned his driver to take us to some  fancy clothes store I'd never even heard of before. After my first  shocked glance, I made a point of not reading the price tags on any of  the clothes. I didn't want to know how much money was hanging on our  perverse bet!

Every fawning saleswoman in the place seemed to make a bee-line for us  as soon as we arrived. They largely ignored me in favor of blatantly  flirting with Miles, who they apparently recognized. Their bald-faced  rudeness made me seethe, but even worse, every time I was even a little  bit impolite to the conniving bitches, he triggered the panties, jolting  me with raw pleasure. After a few of these object lessons, I bit my  tongue and kept my opinions to myself.

Miles changed the game then, and started to pluck my nerves whenever I  didn't politely respond to their inane conversation. When six of the  harpies descended on us at once near the fitting rooms, I very nearly  lost the bet. The repeated lances of pleasure spreading through my body  left me weak and gasping, desperately trying to maintain focus as Miles  smirked behind the women clucking over me. He was clearly violating his  five minute rule! I glared at him as I regained my breath, forcing  pleasantries past my trembling lips. God only knows what the saleswomen  made of the ridiculous scene. I quickly lost count of how many times  they asked me if I was feeling alright.

One of the babbling women pulled rank and assigned herself to be my  personal shopper. She dashed around the store, collecting entire outfits  for me. Thankfully, the other women dispersed, no doubt deeply  disappointed, except for the fitting room attendant. She seemed  intimidated by Miles, and talked incessantly, going on about my skin  tone and hair, and complimenting my figure. With each calculated phrase,  her eyes nervously darted to Miles. He maintained an expression of  polite disinterest during the entire ordeal, breaking into stealthy  winks when his mischievous thumb made my voice shake and hands tremble.

After collecting a mountain of expensive fabric from my self-appointed  assistant, I was finally ushered into the fitting room to change. It was  a far cry from the tiny stalls I'd experienced before. The mirrored  room was huge and lushly outfitted, complete with a fainting couch. In  my beleaguered, nerve-wracked state, it seemed an almost heavenly  retreat from the madman tormenting me. I would have hidden there all  afternoon, but Miles demanded that I model every outfit, and sped my  costume changes with unpredictable jolts of overwhelming pleasure.         

     



 

Despite my embarrassment and outrage, the repeated sensory overloads  started to take their toll on my quivering nerves. Erotic tension coiled  in my belly, twisting higher with each vibrating tease against my  over-sensitized clit. Even just walking became an additional torture, as  my swollen pussy rubbed against the soft fabric of my panties with  every step. My recently shaved skin became slick with my juices, and I  could smell the sweet brine of my arousal every time I changed clothes.  The wicked panties grew damp, sticking to my quivering folds and  magnifying every tingling jolt Miles sent my way.

I must have tried on fifty different outfits before I cracked from the  strain. The repeated surges of raw pleasure had fried my nerves, leaving  me shaking with frustrated need. Flushed and dewy with sweat, I finally  shut myself in the dressing room and refused to come back out,  miserably lying flat on the soft couch. My legs and thighs were  quivering from the painful tension, and the urge to touch myself was  almost unbearable. But I was not going to masturbate in a public  dressing room, for God's sake!

After a few more punishing jolts failed to bring me back into line,  Miles opened the door and walked in, an irritating smirk crossing his  face. I scowled at him crankily. "Wasn't the door locked?" My shaking  voice seriously undercut my attempt to look like I'd been napping.

"The nice saleswoman let me in when I told her I was worried about you."  His tone was nonchalant, with just the barest hint of gloating  satisfaction. I flinched as he ran his hand up my calf. I had changed  back into the objectionable sundress, and he played with the hem,  flirting the soft fabric across my prickling thighs.

"Of course she did." I grumped, pouting at the unfairness of the world.

"Well, darling, what did you expect? Why haven't you tried on the rest  of the clothes she brought you?" His tone was utterly innocent, but his  dark eyes gleamed wickedly. His clever fingers drifted under my skirt,  brushing my thighs just under the soaked panties he'd so adeptly used to  torture me. I closed my eyes and stifled a moan as my pussy throbbed  eagerly at the teasing touch. My pride struggled with the painful lust  surging through me for a few seconds longer, and then I sighed bitterly.

"Alright, fine, you win. Just quit using the... well, anyways, please  stop! I give up! You win!" Only silence responded to this dramatic  declaration of surrender, and I cracked an eye open.

Miles smiled down at me, but shook his head, rejecting my terms. I  groaned and threw my arm over my eyes. He ignored that broad hint to  leave me alone. "Well, darling, I'm afraid that's just not true. I  haven't won the bet. Not yet." I lowered my arm to stare at him,  dumbfounded.

"What do you mean? I just told you, I give up! You win! The bet is  over!" My voice was a bit shrill from frustration. Miles shrugged his  shoulders, his serene smile broadening.

"Darling, please, be serious. I'm afraid you can't just give up. The  wager we made was very clearly defined." He paused, and I glared at him  until he shook his head, sighing at my obtuseness. "I only win when you  cum in public, and until then, well..." He trailed off pointedly, the  naked threat in odd contrast the gentle hand caressing my bare legs.