The Billionaire's Curvy Submissive (BBW Billionaire Erotica Novel) (6 page)

“Go ahead and touch me,” Claire said again,
her pulse quickening, “I want to feel what it’s like.”

“Claire... are you sure? This isn’t like you
at all.”

“Don’t you want to do it?” Claire said,
pouting sexily.

“God, yes,” Savannah breathed, “You promise
you won’t get freaked out?”

“I promise,” Claire said. The girls were
sitting on opposite ends of the bed she shared with Tommy. She
tucked her ankles beneath her and leaned forward, letting her ample
bosom spill out of her tiny tank top. Savannah’s eyes glowed
craftily.

“You’ve never been with a girl, have you?”
Savannah said quietly.

“Never,” Claire said, “I wouldn’t know where
to begin.”

“You mean you need me to teach you?” Savannah
offered, pulling herself to standing on her knees, looking down at
her friend. Claire was much taller and more filled out than petite
Savannah, but it was becoming clear who was really in charge.
Claire didn’t mind—she liked knowing that she was at the disposal
of someone she trusted as implicitly as Savannah.

“Show me how?” Claire asked, her voice
lilting irresistibly on the final word. Savannah grinned and shook
her head, amazed.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” she said,
running her hand through Claire’s ash blonde hair, “Now why don’t
you crawl over here like a good girl.

Claire felt a stirring in the very pit of
her, a smooth undulation that spread through her core and let her
know that something wonderful was about to happen. She pulled
herself onto her hands and knees and slinked across the bed. The
little twin-sized mattress seemed endless as she made her way
toward Savannah in anticipation. Savannah’s long mane of jet black
hair shimmered in the lamplight as she giggled at Claire’s
approach.

“There’s a good girl,” Savannah said, as
Claire rested her cheek against the warm firmness of Savannah’s
toned thigh. Claire knelt before Savannah, and tentatively burrowed
her face into the warmth between her legs. The undeniable scent of
wet pussy sent Claire’s head spinning. She looked up at Savannah,
amazed.

“You’re beautiful,” Claire whispered,
wrapping her hands around Savannah’s tiny buttocks. Savannah leaned
down and whispered in Claire’s ear.

“Do you want to lick my pussy?” she asked
lightly, “Do you want to bury your tongue in my cunt?”

Claire’s stomach flipped over as she nodded
vigorously.

“Ask my permission,” Savannah demanded.

“Can I—”

“May I.”

“May I... lick your pussy?”

Savannah nodded and lay back on the tiny bed,
folding her arms behind her head. Claire gently tugged at the
elastic waistband of Savannah’s delicate panties, revealing her
neatly-trimmed pussy. Savannah spread her legs wide for Claire,
revealing the most intimate folds of herself, the most precious
spaces. Claire, as if in prayer, lowered her mouth to Savannah’s
crotch. Drinking in the unexpectedly sweet nectar, Claire ran her
tongue along the tantalizing slit of her best friend’s pussy until
her tongue brushed against the nub of Savannah’s clit.

“That’s right...” Savannah coached, arching
her back in pleasure, “Right there... I want you to taste it when I
cum...”

Claire didn’t need to be told twice. All she
wanted in the world was to do whatever Savannah, her mistress,
asked of her. She flicked and sucked at Savannah’s clit, feeling
her friend rolling closer and closer to inevitable orgasm. Claire
grabbed onto Savannah’s knees and pushed them back, exposing her
pussy ever more.

“I’m there!” Savannah moaned, bucking against
Claire’s hungry mouth, “I’m... there!”

Savannah’s saccharine juices spilled into
Claire’s mouth, filling her with the taste of sweet, young pussy.
She was intoxicated with freedom, with choice, with the desire to
be instructed and enlightened and used and taught. She raised her
head to look Savannah in the eye. Savannah stared back at her,
elated.

“Well, shit,” she breathed, her tiny chest
heaving, “How did you do that?”

“I just wanted to please you,” Claire said
softly, laying down beside her friend.

“Well, if that’s the case,” Savannah said,
pulling her pants back up her legs, “Then you’ve done good,
kid.”

The faint sound of keys in the front door
lock startled the girls. With one panicked look at each other, they
threw on various articles of clothing scrambled to pull up a TV
show on the closest laptop. As the opening theme of some BBC drama
began to play, Tommy sashayed into the room, clearly drunk on light
beer and delusion. He took one bleary look at the girls and
smirked.

“Whadd’re yaguys doin’?” he slurred, leaning
against the doorframe.

Savannah glared at him from her cave in the
crook of Claire’s arm. “Oh, you know,” she said mirthfully, “Claire
just finished eating me out and giving me a wonderful, toe-numbing
orgasm, and now we’re watching chick TV.”

“Yah... right.” he chuckled.

“Tell him, Claire,” Savannah insisted.

“It’s true,” Claire said, poker-faced, “I’ve
realized that I’m an avid submissive and want to be used sexually
by as many people as will have me, including but not necessarily
limited to the smoking hot husband of my boss and our dear friend
Savannah, here.”

“You know... you guys are kind of funny!”
Tommy exclaimed, “You should totally join my improv team!”

“I’d rather kill myself,” Claire responded,
“Or worse, ever have sex with you again.”

“What?” Tommy said.

“Looks like you’re sleeping on the futon
tonight,” Savannah chirped, nuzzling against Claire, “I’ll just be
in here, fingering your girlfriend.”

“Whatever...” Tommy said, shuffling off
toward the living room, “You guys are freaks.”

“I think he’s right!” Claire whispered,
letting her hand dance across Savannah’s breasts, “And I’m
glad.”

“Well, good,” Savannah whispered, pulling
down the neckline of her shirt, “Because I love sleepovers, and
besides... we’ve got a lot more ground to cover before you head
back to Mr. Man uptown. He’s not going to know what hit him.”

“You don’t think he’ll be upset?”

“Just trust me,” Savannah said, “Would I ever
steer you wrong?”

***

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Cheryl
screeched, the tiny vein in her forehead popping out as if to join
in the fray.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,”
Claire said, attempting to remain calm in the face of Cheryl's
irrational anger, “It’s just a freelance thing.”

“I’m upset because you went behind my back
with my husband,” Cheryl screeched. A sickly sensation rose in
Claire’s stomach as she considered just how true a statement that
was. Of course, Cheryl wasn’t referring to Claire’s affair with
Parker, but the fact that Parker had offered Claire a job with his
company as a small-time photographer.

“Cheryl, photography is what I studied in
school. It’s what I’m passionate about. Can’t you be happy for me
that I finally get to do some work that’s related to what I
love?”

“What the fuck do I care about what you
love?!” Cheryl yelled, attracting the attention of a young nanny
and her two charges who were milling aimlessly about the store. “I
don’t want you slacking off here because you’re too busy running
around with my husband.”

Claire bit her tongue and looked at her feet.
One of these days, she would give Cheryl a thorough tongue-lashing.
And not the kind she had treated Savannah to. “Please let me take
on this job, Cheryl,” she said, ever the submissive, “It would
really mean a lot to me.”

“Oh... fine. Whatever. Go run around snapping
pictures of puppies and butterflies to your heart’s content, or
whatever it is you do.”

“Thank you, Cheryl. Parker wanted to start
this afternoon with some product photos.”

“You’re going to Parker’s office?” Cheryl
said.

“Uh...”

“Great. Tell him I won’t be around tonight.
I’m doing triple-header spin class. The idiot at the Deli put mayo
on my wrap instead of mustard and I need to stay on top of it.”

“Oh... yeah. Gotta watch those pesky
condiments,” Claire offered, lamely, “Don’t want to let that
mayonnaise think it’s boss.”

“Wow, Claire,” Cheryl smiled, “You’re really
starting to get me, aren’t you?”

The store’s front door flew open and Savannah
flew in, red-cheeked. Cheryl beckoned for her to follow into the
store’s office, probably for some unnecessary talking-to. Savannah
breezed past Claire and, with a firm grab of the ass, whispered in
her ear, “Go get him, tiger.”

Claire did not need to be prompted twice. She
gathered her things and headed out onto Mulberry Street, feeling
her heart begin to beat against her ribs as she hailed a cab going
uptown. She’d gone a whole forty-eight hours without seeing Parker,
and was in desperate need of his thick, unstoppable dick. As she
pictured his warm cum spilling against her breasts, she was amazed
to find herself in possession of such dirty thoughts. She was
changing, and fast. She only prayed that her body would be able to
keep up with the pace of her desires.

***

She knew the score this time, as the climbed
the steps to her lover’s townhouse. The last time they’d met, he’d
went out of his way to concoct some silly cover-up about important
documents or some such nonsense. This time, however, there was no
duplicitous cover, no need for any embarrassment or shame between
them. Claire had returned to Parker’s upper east side love nest for
one reason and one reason only: she could no longer stand to be
away from the rippling, unstoppable body that had taught her what a
real man’s love felt like. She scaled the steps of the pre-war
brown stone and felt her knees begin to knock together. She wasn’t
nervous, she had no reason to fear anything from Parker. She
trembled with excitement, for the thought of what he might unlock
within her once she entered that sacred place.

She felt so much older than she had when she
first laid eyes on Parker. Only a week and change had passed since
their fateful meeting, but already she’d thrown caution to the wind
and found unbearably deep satisfaction in a forceful, intense tryst
with Parker and a completely unexpected tongue session with her
best friend Savannah. She’d come to realize how much she loved her
body to be at the hands and command of another, and she wanted to
see how far she could take this new, exciting form of submission.
She wanted to see how deeply this urge to be conquered, mounted,
and penetrated ran in her. How far would she go to serve the whims
and fancies of her master or mistress? Only time would tell.

She rang the bell of the townhouse and
waited. The air had turned cooler in New York, and she pulled her
jacket more closely around her. She could feel her erect nipples
against the fabric of her sweater and coat, and had lost track of
whether she was just cold or extremely turned on by the thought of
Parker’s member snapping to attention on the other side of the
door. As if by the willing of her mind, the front door of the
townhouse swung open. Claire peered inside, expecting to see Parker
waiting there for her. Instead, there was only darkness beyond the
threshold. Claire’s brow furrowed in concern. Where was he? She
moved tentatively through the doorway, stepping lightly into the
sleekly furnished apartment.

“Parker?” she called, feeling the soft carpet
of the entry way under her feet, “Parker, where are you? It’s me,
Claire.”

Still no answer from the depths of the house.
As Claire made her way into the building, she realized that not a
single light was on in the entire house. A burst of excited energy
sparked at the base of her spine. It didn’t seem like anyone was
home, but if that was the case... who had let her in?

“Parker?” she said again, the sparking
excitement moving up her spine, illuminating her in the dark like a
roman candle. She opened her mouth to call out again, to locate her
lover in the heavy darkness of the apartment. As she parted her
full lips, a strong hand clamped down over them as a thick, sinewy
arm wrapped around her sumptuous waist. Her head swam with the
sudden contact, and a cold panic washed over her. It was Parker
there, wasn’t it? Not some random intruder who had it in for both
of them?

“Who do you think you are?” a voice growled.
With simultaneous relief and ecstasy, Claire realized that the
voice was Parker’s.

“Oh, thank god,” she cried, her words
obscured by Parker’s hand. He clamped down harder on her mouth and
she felt a knee dig into her back.

“Who said that you could wear shoes into this
house?” he demanded in the darkness. Claire kicked off her modest
pumps, eager at the opportunity to please her master. “It’s too
late,” he continued, tightening his arm around her midsection,
threatening to knock the wind out of her, “You blew it, kid. Now
you’ll need to be punished. What do you have to say for
yourself?”

Claire hesitated, not wanting to anger him
further. He laughed and told her that is was OK, he gave her
permission to speak if she made it quick. Claire wet her lips with
her tongue, allowed her teeth to touch the cool, authoritative skin
of her keeper’s palm.

“Parker,” she whispered, pressing harder into
his body which stood stiff and unmoving behind her, “I’ve been so
bad, Parker.”

She felt his hand snake through her hair,
grab it tight. The force of his grasp threatened to tear her hair
from her scalp.

“What the fuck do you mean you’ve been ‘bad’?
How bad have you been, you filthy little bitch? Badder than
dirtying my carpet with your bullshit whore heels, huh?”

“I’ve been so much badder than that,” Claire
said, her throat thickening with tears. She wasn’t afraid of
Parker’s force, but she was afraid to upset him. She just wanted to
make him happy. And if his happiness lay in punishing her for her
transgressions, she was more than happy to concede. “I... Parker,
I... I was with someone yesterday.”