Lacy Bonds (Veronica's Tale)(Curvy Maids 3): (A Billionaire, BDSM, BBW naughty romance) (5 page)

If I was Mr. Marsden's fiancee, would he take me to exciting places. “Have fun,” I told her, hanging up on her.

I imagined being out on a snowy mountain slope, Mr. Marsden's arm wrapped around me, warming me with his strong kisses, his fingers brushing snowflakes off my cheeks.

My heart beat faster.

We would kiss and sink down in the pure snow and keep each other warm. My fingers crept down my stomach, my thighs parting. A damp itch grew between my thighs as I fantasized about Mr. Marsden's strong hands roaming my body. He would touch me everywhere, teasing me, building my passion until I was ready to boil.

My fingers stroked my vulva.

And then, when I was ready, he would thrust into me, filling me up, his strong body atop me. I would hug him, reveling in his hard muscles crushing against my breasts. My limbs would wrap around him, pulling him tight.

My fingers pushed inside me, the heel of my hand grinding on my clit.

He would be so passionate. His lips would kiss me, then work their way across my cheek until he reached my ear.
I love you so much.

I froze, my eyes snapping open, my fingers buried inside me.

Was I falling in love with him?

I pulled my fingers out, my fantasy disrupted. Don't get your hopes up. We're just having fun. Remember that.

Keys rattled at the doorknob. My heart lurched.

I rolled off the couch, smoothing my skirt as Mr. Marsden opened the door. “Welcome home, Master,” I smiled, my voice breathy.

He was so gorgeous in his dark-blue suit, perfectly tailored to cover his broad shoulders and muscular chest. A smile crossed his chiseled face and his gray-blue eyes came to life when they saw me waiting for him.

But it's not really me he's seeing. I'm just standing in for his dead wife. Is this a mistake? Maybe I should quit before this goes even farther.

I couldn't say it. Not when he strode to me, so powerful and strong. My knees quavered and my heart thud. He reached out, stroking my neck, brushing the diamond necklace he gave me. His smile deepened.

“You look so radiant,” he grinned. “Flushed and blooming. You really enjoyed my gift.”

I shuddered at his touch. No. I could stay little longer. I could enjoy being his slave for now. I could keep my heart safely protected. “I did, Master.”

His lips brushed my forehead. “I think you need a shower. I know I do.”

I bit my lips, swallowing. “Together?”

“Yes. Strip.”

I had never intended to let him see me naked. Of course, that resolve failed on my first day when he tied me up. Now I didn't hesitate to began unlacing my maid uniform. His eyes were so hungry as my heavy breasts fell out, my fat nipples hard. His strong hand engulfed one mound, kneading my flesh. His thumb brushed my aching nipple.

“Master,” I shuddered as I worked my uniform down my curvy hips. It fell to the floor in a puddle of black cloth and white lace.

His eyes traveled down, resting at my neatly-trimmed, brown curls adorning my pubic mound. “No panties? How very dirty of you. Are you that much of a slut, slave?”

Another shudder went through me. It was so wrong, so degrading, and so hot when he called me slut. I wanted to be his slut. I wanted to be his submissive lover. “Your vibrator got me so excited, Master. They were drenched after...”

“You came like a filthy whore?” His eyes brimmed with passion, his fingers pinching my nipple.

“Yes, Master.”

“Well, a dirty girl like you needs to be cleaned up.”

I smiled. “I do, Master. So bad. I'm dripping with filth.”

His hand slid down my round stomach, pushing between my thighs. I gasped. His strong fingers brushed my clit before shoving inside me, churning up my liquid warmth. “So dirty. I'm will have to clean you.”

“Thank you, Master,” I moaned.

“So undress me.”

I reached out, letting my hands touch his muscular chest through his silk shirt. I slid down until I reached the buttons holding his suit jacket closed. I worked them, then pulled his jacket off his shoulders, carefully setting it down on the couch. Then I loosened his tie, his hands roaming my body, leaving trails of fire.

The tie hissed as I pulled it off, throwing it atop his jacket. My fingers went to work on the smaller buttons of his shirt, unveiling his sculpted body. His muscles were hard, perfect, my hands caressing them as I unbuttoned his shirt. I stroked his abs, tracing his six pack before I pulled his shirt off his arms, tracing his biceps.

He was so yummy; my juices trickled down my thighs.

I knelt, untieing his shiny dress shoes, pulling them off his feet, then I peeled his socks off. A manly, sweaty musk tickled my nose. My hands slid up his dark-blue pants to his belt. His trousers dropped, his thighs thick and hard, his cock tenting his gray, silk boxers.

His hand stroked my hair as I pulled his boxers off, unveiling his thick dick. He was half-hard, throbbing with excitement, his heavy balls covered in coarse, black hair. I licked my lips before I sucked his cock into my mouth.

He groaned and pulled away. “I didn't tell you to suck my cock,” he said, his face stern.

“Sorry, Master,” I gasped. “I just wanted to please you.”

He caressed my face. “You will. In the shower. Have you cleaned it yet?”

“Not yet.”

His smile grew. “Then you haven't seen what I had installed last night after you went home.”

He took my hands, helping me to my feet, then I let him lead me through the apartment, his muscular ass rippling. Our feet slapped on the hardwood floors, then padded across the carpet of his bedroom.

The bathroom was austere—silver shower head, white tiles with the occasional black, plain white towels hanging from silver brackets. It lacked those little, feminine touches to give the room some character. His shower was large, opposite a whirlpool tub. Dangling from the ceiling were a pair of manacles.

I blinked. Those had definitely not been there before.

“Start the shower,” he grinned, smacking my plump ass. The sting was nice. I had been spanked a few times by ex-boyfriends in the middle of sex, but his hand was so firm, the pain shooting right to my aching pussy.

“Yes, Master,” I purred.

The shower hissed to life, quickly heating up. Steam billowing around, fogging up the glass doors. “I had these amazing water heaters installed. We could spend all day in here and never run out.”

I stepped in, the warm spray landing on my skin. I loved it. I wanted to luxuriate in it and let the water roll down my body. He stepped in, his hard cock brushing me, the water rolling down those yummy muscles.

I knew what he wanted before he asked, grabbing the men's body wash sitting on a small shelf. It sat next to a lavender-scented body wash. That had definitely not been here before. Was he going to wash me, too?

I shuddered with excitement.

He stood in the spray, watching me, his lust thrusting before him as he gazed at my plump curves. I grabbed the body wash, brushing a curious, tapered object, almost like a small, black Christmas tree. What was that for?

“Vous êtes parfait,”
he said in French. He learned it for his dead wife. I needed to remember that. I'm just helping him grieve her. I'm a stand-in.
“Je pense que je pourrais vous aimer. Je pourrais adorer votre beauté. Je veux que tu sois ma femme de chambre liée.”

I lathered his broad chest, rubbing his hard muscles with the suds. I looked up at him, his gray-blue eyes intense, the tip of his hard cock brushing my stomach. He was perfect. An Adonis. I wanted to be his. I wanted to stop fighting my heart and just surrender to him fully.

“How was your day, Master?” I said, pushing down those thoughts as I worked down to his abs, tracing his muscles as I washed. He had a long, white scar on his right side. How had he got it?

“Tiresome. Too many meetings. But you provided a lovely distraction between them.”

I knelt, my hands slipping past his groin to rub his thick thighs. His cock bobbed right before my lips. I wanted to suck him. To give him such pleasure with my mouth. I looked up at him, begging with my eyes.

He nodded.

I opened wide, my soapy hands sliding up his thigh to cup his heavy balls. He groaned, his strong hand rubbing through my wet, black hair. I sucked, working more and more of his cock into my mouth. Salty precum tickled my taste buds, a preview of what his balls contained.

“That's it,” he groaned. “So good. Work that mouth. Show me how much you love my cock.”

So much, Master. I moaned around his cock, swirling my tongue about his girth. When I blew my ex-boyfriend, it was a chore, but this man excited me and I wanted to please him in return. I would do anything for this man.

I cupped his balls with one hand, the other sliding around to squeeze his muscular ass. He flexed, his cock pushing deeper into my mouth. A feral groan, almost a growl, escaped his lips. I sucked harder, greedy for his cum.

“What a perfect slut you are. What a perfect creature. I want you to relax your throat. Do not fight me.” His fingers tightened on my head.

What was he doing?

His hips thrust forward. His cock brushed the back of my throat. And he didn't stop. For a moment, panic filled me. I wanted to rip away as he pushed his cock down my throat. I couldn't do this. I had never deep-throated a man before. He was so thick. He would choke me.

And then I saw his eyes.

This man wouldn't hurt me. He would never do something I couldn't handle.

I relaxed my throat and submitted to him.

I swallowed his cock. He grinned as his wet pubic hairs brushed my throat. I had taken his entire cock. His hands stroked me. I moaned in pleasure, my pussy clenching with excitement. I was his. Entirely.

“So perfect. Just like...”

He drew his hips back. I sucked in a breath through my nose before he thrust back down my throat. Over and over, his balls slapping my chin. He used my mouth and throat, fucking me hard. I loved it. I sucked and moaned, giving him all the pleasure I could.

He erupted into my mouth. Salty cum flooded me. I groaned, swirling it about. Why had I always hated when other guys came in my mouth? Because every other guy I blew didn't know how to treat a woman. I swallowed, savoring every warm drop.

“Perfect,” he grinned, pulling his dick out. “You are superb. You are everything I want.”

“Thank you, Master,” I said, tears misting my eyes. If I wasn't dripping from the shower, I'm sure he would have seen.

He pulled me up, pressing his strong body against my plump curve. He raised my hands over my head, towards those manacles. I didn't fight. This is what he wanted from me. I was so happy to give it to him.

The first manacle clamped over my right wrist. It wasn't cold, warmed by the shower's steam. Then the second one clamped. I was at his mercy, standing there beneath the shower's spray, my arms already growing sore.

His fingers pinched my nipple. “Perfect. Let's get you cleaned, dirty maid.”

“Yes, Master,” I gasped.

He grabbed a loofah and the body wash, the scent of lavender filling my nose. He rubbed the loofah until it frothed, then reached out and rubbed against my body. I beamed at him as he washed my flat stomach, the loofah caressing my sensitive skin.

I sighed as he washed higher, brushing the bottoms of my heavy breasts. Then he was soaping them, the loofah brushing my hard nipples, shooting pleasure down to my itching pussy. I moaned, swaying, letting him tease me with the loofah. He moved off from my breasts, still swirling it around my body. Everywhere he touched was electric.

He worked down my body, soaping my sides. I giggled, his lips kissing my belly as he went down. He reached my matted pubes, the water rolling down my body. I tensed, eager for him to kiss a little lower and brush my aching clit.

“This is where you're the dirtiest,” he grinned. “I can smell it. So beautiful and passionate.”

He soaped my legs, his lips still nibbling on my pubic mound, so frustratingly close to my clitoris. He sponged up my chubby thighs, drawing closer and closer to brushing my aching pussy and giving me some satisfaction.

He was such a tease.

“Are you excited?” he asked.

“So much, Master,” I moaned. “Please, wash me between my thighs.”

“I am washing between your thighs.”

“No, higher.”

He moved the loofah up another few inches, soaping my inner thigh. “Here?”

“No, Master! Please, higher!”

Another inch. “I think this is the spot.”

“My...pussy, Master! Please, wash my pussy!”

He moved the loofah up. “You can't cum until I tell you to.”

“What?” I moaned as he rubbed the loofah through my labia, brushing all my sensitive flesh.

“You will not cum until I give you permission, slave.” His voice was so firm, so demanding.

“Yes, Master!” I moaned, then bit my lower lip, fighting against the pleasure he churned inside me. The loofah felt wonderful on my pussy, stirring me up. I could explode if I let myself relax.

Sweat broke out on my forehead as I strained against my swelling passion. I wanted to let myself go and give into his touch. But I refused to disobey him. He pressed against my clit, a gasp escaping my lips.

I was so close. On the brink.

“Please, Master,” I moaned. “I need to cum.”

“Not yet.”

He rubbed one last time, then pulled the sponge away. I let out a great moan of disappointment, my entire body tingling. I just needed a little more. The manacles rattled as I pulled on them, wanting to shove my hands between my thighs and churn myself up.

He stood up, sliding past me to stand behind me. “Time to wash your back.”

I moaned as he stroked my back. My skin felt so alive, even caressing my back added to my frustration. He worked lower and lower, reaching towards my plump rear. He kneaded my cheeks, the sponge dropped, his fingers massaging my butt.

Then he dipped into my crack, brushing my sphincter.

“What are you doing?” I gasped. I had never been touched there before. He massaged my sphincter. “Oh, Master, that's so dirty!”

“I know.” He kissed my butt-cheek. “So dirty. Have you ever had a lover fuck your ass?”

“No, Master.”

“Good.”

His finger pressed harder at my butt-hole, pushing inside. It was so strange, a hot pleasure shuddered through me. He wormed his soapy finger in deeper, pumping it in and out. I moaned, more pleasure adding to my frustration.