At the Billionaire's Beck and Call

Melinda sighed. She had come out of the bathroom wearing her sexiest lingerie, lacy red bra and panties that accentuated her clothes as well as anything she owned. She had makeup on her face, and cherry red lipstick applied lovingly to her pouting visage. But as Fred sat on the bed, staring at her, she had the feeling that no matter what she did, it would never be good enough for him. She didn't know quite where there relationship had fizzled—but the past few months, their lovemaking sessions had been few and far between. She was putting in the effort, but he certainly wasn't doing anything to keep the union fresh. She supported both of them in her housekeeping job, working for the eccentric billionaire Remington Blackwell, but Fred was unemployed, and he spent most days moping around the apartment, berating her when he could find the chance.

“What is it with you?” Melinda asked, annoyed and fed up, standing there in her underwear, trying to look sexy for him. “You don't want to have sex with me? I know for a fact that other guys would be lining up around the block.”

“Don't take this the wrong way,” Fred said, still lying prone on the bed, his hands folded across his chest, “But I think I'd prefer a thinner woman.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I'm not kidding. I just don't think you're doing it for me anymore.”

“Thinner? Are you serious? This is what a real woman looks like. This is what curves look like. I'm sorry if you're not man enough to handle me.”

“I guess I'm not,” Fred said, and she hated the tone in his voice. It was the same tone he always had—one of defeat, one of not trying if it was too hard, one of giving up.

“Well, I think you're an idiot, Fred. I'm doing everything in this relationship. You don't have a job, you're not looking for work. I pay the rent and buy the food. What are you contributing to the relationship?”

Fred shrugged.

“I don't know, but I think it's over.”

“It's over? What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about breaking up with you.”

Melinda stood there for a long moment. She found her blouse on the floor and put it back on.

“Go to hell,” she said. “You can find another place to live if you're breaking up with me, considering that I'm paying for this apartment.”

“What? It's ten at night. Where am I supposed to go?”

“I don't care. Just get out of here. I never want to see you again.”

“Fine!” Fred said, angrily, rising from the bed. “But if I go, I'm not coming back.”

“Good,” Melinda said, realizing that this was a long time coming. She could do better than Fred, no doubt about it. But it hurt her to have him break it off, to know that she wasn't good enough for him. As he collected his things and stormed out, she collapsed onto the bed. But she wouldn't cry. She was stronger than that. She took a few deep breaths, and collected her self, and settled down to sleep, knowing that tomorrow was another day, that at least she had a job, and that she could take care of herself, just like she'd done her entire life.

***

Despite putting on a brave face the night before, Melinda was, in reality, very upset. On her way to Blackwell's mansion to start her job, she broke down into tears, nearly having to pull over to the side of the road. Who was she kidding? She had curves, sure, but all guys these days just wanted those skinny, anorexic looking girls they saw in the magazines and in movies. Fred was a lowlife, a deadbeat, and she wasn't good enough for even
him.
Sometimes it seemed like there was no justice in the world. Her mascara running, she pulled into the driveway of Blackwell's palatial estate, and headed inside.

Melinda went in through the back door, for which she had been given the keys, and into the sleek, modern kitchen. She was especially fond of the kitchen, with its new appliances that mostly took care of themselves. Still sobbing a little bit, she set to work cleaning, knowing there was a massive theater room that needed vacuuming, as well as the upstairs bathrooms, of which there were six.

There was no sign of Mr. Blackwell, but this wasn't unusual. She rarely saw her employer, who spent a lot of the time in his office or out at meetings. Not that she blamed him. The life of a billionaire, especially a self-made one like Remington Blackwell, was busy, and there was little time to socialize with the help. But she could have used somebody to talk to.

Although she tried to keep it together, Melinda couldn't stop the tears from coming as she dusted the kitchen counter, made sure the priceless art on the walls were hung properly, and mopped the floor. Soon she was sobbing openly, running the sink to mask the sounds of her misery.

Pull it together, Melinda
, she thought.
You've got a job to do. You're not getting paid to cry
.

She continued to scrub the floor, sighing out loud when she realized just how much more she had to do today. Then, all of a sudden, she heard someone coming down the staircase.

Mortified, she struggled to pull herself together, straightening her apron, wiping her face. Remington Blackwell strolled into the kitchen, tall and immaculate in his custom-fit suit, looking like something out of
GQ
. Melinda saw him, and in her pathetic state, she felt even worse. He was too handsome and perfect. She couldn't match his gaze.

“
Melinda,” Blackwell said, in his deep voice. “Is everything all right?”

“
Fine, fine,” she said, wiping the last few tears from her eyes. “Just allergies I guess.”

Blackwell nodded, rubbing his chin. He motioned to the ceiling.

“
I don't know if you're aware, but I have cameras all over this place. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that...well, when you've got money, people try to take advantage. I swear I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything of that nature, but I couldn't help notice that you seemed very upset.”

“
I just, uh...” Melinda started. “Well, I broke up with my boyfriend last night. I guess that has me pretty upset. Actually, scratch that. He dumped me. He's an unemployed lout, and he dumped me.”

She had no idea why she was telling him all this, but it felt strangely cathartic. Blackwell listened to her sympathetically, nodding as she told her sob story.

“
It sounds like you dodged a bullet there,” Blackwell said. “You know, when I was first starting out, founding my own business, I had to deal with a lot of assholes and negative people. After a while you learn to tune out all the excess noise. And besides, your physique is great. You look just like a real woman should.”

Melinda stared at him.

“
Are you being serious right now?”

“
Of course,” Blackwell said, smiling, his chiseled features betraying no hint of dishonesty. “Real women have curves. If I wasn't too busy all the time to date, I'd prefer to have a wife or girlfriend who looked just like you.”

“
Like me?”

“
That's right.”

Melinda studied the billionaire, wondering if she was being put on. But there was nothing deceitful in his gaze or in his voice. She felt a little thrill come over her, and decided to speak boldly.

“
Well...if you want someone just like me...why not me?”

“
What do you mean, Melinda?”

“
Look,” she said, setting aside her rags on the kitchen table. “It's been a long time since I've had a good fucking. Fred didn't know how to please a woman. But I get the feeling you do. I'm going to let you do whatever you want to me. All you have to give me in return is a nice, hard fucking. That's all I want. I'll do anything you say, give you your every desire. What do you think? Interested?”

Blackwell grinned, putting his arms over her shoulders.

“
Most definitely,” he said. “I thought you'd never ask. Let's head over to my study.”

“
Your study? What about the bedroom?”

“
The bedroom is so passe, wouldn't you agree? Besides, I spend most of my time in my study. That's where I keep my equipment.”

“
Equipment?”

“
You'll see. Follow me.”

With his poised demeanor, Blackwell led her down the long, familiar hallway, with the vaulted ceiling and marble floors. He took her up a spiral staircase, to the second story of the mansion. Blackwell's study had always been off limits to her, and she knew that was where he spent most of his time.  Blackwell unlocked the door and led her inside.

The study was a spacious room, with hundreds of books lining the wall. There was a plush couch that looked very comfortable, and several chairs. A fireplace was built into the wall, and there was a large desk in the corner that probably cost more than Melinda's yearly salary.

“
Home sweet home,” Blackwell said. “Now, undress for me, if you don't mind. I want to see your magnificent curves in all their glory.”

“
Everything?” Melinda asked.

“
Everything.”

She hesitated. After the latest debacle with Fred, she was a little worried about showing off her body. But Blackwell had requested. And he seemed genuine in his admiration of her. So, smiling, Melinda untied her apron, pulling it over her head. She unbuttoned her blouse, slowly, and slipped her skirt down over her legs, until she was standing there in her bra and panties. Blackwell nodded, and she pulled off those too. She stood before him completely naked. She tried to cover her breasts partially, but they were too large to be obscured by just her hands. She felt him examining her, studying her body, looking over her tits and pussy. Melinda had turned a bright shade of red, but Blackwell was staring at her, admiring, rubbing his hands together.

“
Wow,” he said. “That's what a real woman looks like.”

“
You really think so?” she asked.

“
Of course,” Blackwell replied. “Step closer towards me. I have something to show you.”

Puzzled, but naked and now feeling quite horny indeed, Melinda did as he commanded. Blackwell reached behind his desk, and pushed a button. To her astonishment, a compartment in the ceiling opened up, and a large metal cage began to lower down, until it finally settled on the hardwood floor of the study.

“
What...what is that?”

“
Just one of my many playthings. I had it custom built for me when this mansion was constructed.”

He pressed another button on the desk, and the door to the cage swung open.

“
Now, get inside, Melinda.”

“
Okay...”

She walked into the cage, feeling its confinement. The door swung closed, and she was trapped. She grabbed at the bars helplessly, like a convict in a prison movie. Blackwell came over until he was standing in front of her. He unzipped his pants, and within seconds his stiff, gigantic cock was hanging out. Melinda goggled at it, unable to believe the size.