Bred for the Billionaire’s Heir (An Erotic tale of BDSM, Alpha Male Dominance and Female Submission) (2 page)

With his shirt off he immediately pushed Jasmine away. She couldn't stop herself, but as soon as she reached her furthest distance from him, she immediately came back. Running into his hand she grabbed onto his hair and pulled in chunks as he fell to his knees, took a firm hold of her panties and ripped them apart. Falling, they never touched her skin. Laying as one flat sheet on the deck, they could never be worn again. She couldn't care less though because this was what she had dreamed of. And naked in the moisture of the ocean air, this was what she got.

Still down on his knees the mysterious man didn't get up. Instead he made Jasmine's heart skip a beat with a weird, wild sensation. The mysterious man pushed his rough, slick tongue onto her engorged nub and the pressure made her knees wobble. How she could take any more of this she didn't know.

In an explosion of emotions Jasmine burst into tears. At first she didn't understand whether she was happy or sad. But when he backed off a bit wondering what was going on, she immediately knew. Forcing his head back into her swollen folds, her withdrawal pangs had been too much.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please!”

Whether or not he heard it, he gave her more. Shaking his head wildly, the soft roughness of his tongue on her most sensitive part drove her wild.

“Ohhh!” She screamed not caring that even the patrons at the bar could hear. “Ohhh yesss!”

Forcing his head into her lap with all of the strength that she could muster, she stepped closer trying to push him inside of her. She wanted his tongue to tickle not just her pinkened thistle, but the flesh inside of it. And with more and more pressure driving her body to wrench left and right in painful pleasure, she let go and screamed, feeling a throbbing that pulsed and ached and ripped through every inch of her body. 

Unable to go on, Jasmine collapsed. Twitching and whimpering uncontrollably, she fell onto the man who rolled her into his arms and pulled her quivering body to his. She couldn't think as he held her. She wanted to hold him back but she couldn't control her arms. She wanted to show her appreciation for him, but all she could do was look at him wild-eyed while spasming uncontrollably.

Unsure of where she was going, the sights from the deck rushed by her. Soon they were inside and the glossy shiny wood of the deck chairs continued down the hallways and then the stairs. Pushing into what looked like the master cabin, he placed Jasmine onto the bed where she again tried to stop her spasming. Closing her eyes she did her best to think of something else, but they continued. Unable to even fold herself into a ball, she popped and jumped until eventually, after long last, her exhausted body stopped and she quietly fell asleep.

When Jasmine woke it was to a knock on the door.

“Ms Cameron, are you awake?” a voice asked startling her.

Looking around the room she wasn't sure where she was. Nothing looked familiar. It was certainly not her room back home and it wasn't the hotel. It was the smell that reminded her. It was a woodsy smell. It could have been oak or maple, but whatever it was reminded her of the beautiful deck chairs. She was on the mysterious stranger's yacht. Looking down to confirm, she saw that she was indeed naked.

“Ms Cameron, are you awake?” the voice repeated.

“Yes,” Jasmine replied. “Don't come in.”

She couldn't be sure but it didn't sound like the voice of the sea swept man who had brought her to orgasm twice.

“I would never dream of it. I just wanted to let you know that I left you some clothes in the closet and that breakfast is served.”

Jasmine turned her attention to the rest of the room. Everything in the room was either the color of glossy blonde wood, a cream color like the sheets and sink, or gold like the fixtures. It was a stately room and was certainly owned by an exceptionally wealthy man.

“Okay, thank you,” Jasmine finally replied before hearing footsteps walking away.

Holding the sheet up to her naked breast she wondered how long she had been asleep. The man had said breakfast so certainly it had been the entire night. Turning to the windows she found it light outside and thinking next of her family, she knew that she had to go.

Locating the closet, she got out of bed with the sheet still wrapped around her. Pulling open the mirrored door she found it full of clothes. Filing through all of them she found a variety of options, with none of them being her own. So selecting one she then went looking for underwear. Pulling open the drawers she found none. Looking down at the ground she found flip flops and boat shoes, but nowhere were there panties.

Jasmine dropped the sheet and put on the dress. Choosing a cute pair of matching flip flops, she closed the door and looked at herself in the mirror. She could see the bump of her nipples under the soft cloth but nothing else. The slightly sheer sundress caught her mid-thigh and most resembled the one she had worn to the ship.

Apprehensively, Jasmine opened the bedroom door. Outside was a long hallway and at the end of it were stairs. She would take them up, she decided. Her first priority was to get back to her hotel. If she passed the stranger on the way, then that would be fine too.

Jasmine continued to maneuver the maze of hallways and doors. It was like a cozy inn with its hidden corners and lines of rooms. But when she ascended into the sunlight it was with a tremendous amount of relief. 

Stepping onto the deck, she found that it was almost exactly like the night before, the only difference being significant; the view. Instead of finding the mainland as she had seen the night before from this side of the deck, she found open ocean. Jogging across the ship to where she had boarded, she didn't see the pier and bar, what she saw instead was what could only be described as an island estate.

Littered across the estate were mushroom shaped cabana huts. They weren't made of thatch and brush, however. They were made of something intricately painted to look like wood. Her first thought was that the entire scene looked like a magnificently crafted work of art. Her second thought was that she had been kidnapped.

Examining the path that led from the private pier to the cabanas she found a few dark-skinned people fluttering about. It was tough to tell if they were vacationing or working. Either way it didn't seem like a threatening prison if it was one, so instead of worrying or jumping to any conclusions, she exited the ship and headed toward the smell of breakfast.

Crossing the sand, she found it was an exquisite estate. There were beach volleyball courts and paddle boats. She made note of the sailboats that sat unattended and of the personal watercraft vehicles that seemed available for her escape. She followed the path between the cabanas into a large dining area filled with people. None were having breakfast, but one of them caught her attention and pointed her further along.

When the path ended, Jasmine found herself standing at the door of a large round structure. 'Perhaps it's the main house,' she thought. But it wasn't shaped like one. To Jasmine, it instead looked like a larger version of the cabanas she had passed. And peeking into the open door she was greeted by another man whose voice sounded familiar.

“I'm glad you could join us, Ms Cameron,” the older man pronounced. “Right this way.”

“How do you know my name,” Jasmine asked unsure of how even the mysterious man would know it.

“It is our job to know all of our guests' names.”

'So I'm a guest,' she thought. 'This isn't a kidnapping. Or if it is, it is the most polite kidnapping of all time.'

“Right this way, madam.”

The casually dressed man-servant led Jasmine through the open room. It was as authentic to its design on the inside as it was on the outside. It had an open ceiling and looked like what she would imagine a real beach hut would look like if decorated by someone with impeccable style.

Crossing the room, Jasmine saw a glass door come into view. Through it was the one person that she recognized. It was the mysterious man. He was dressed in light tan pants and another of his tailored white shirts. With his dashing good-looks he looked like a model in a cologne ad. Jasmine again wondered who this man could be. Joining him on the balcony, she decided that the first thing she had to do was find out.

“Okay, who are you and why have you brought me here?” Jasmine demanded parking herself next to the table laden with breakfast food.

“Well, good morning to you too. Is that the way you were raised to address your hosts?” the man said with an unflustered smile.

“That's the way I was raised to address someone who's kidnapped me in the middle of the night.”

The man laughed. “I can assure you that this is not a kidnapping.”

“Then what is it?”

“Why don't you sit down and let me tell you?” The man gestured toward the chair across the table from him. Jasmine considered rejecting his offer but quickly decided that it would be a futile act. She was hungry and whatever happened next was in her host's hands. Jasmine pulled out the chair and sat down.

“Now eat. You must be famished.”

Jasmine looked up at the man hearing an accusation buried in his words. Finding nothing accusatory on his face, she grabbed a scone and buttered it. She was famished. She didn't understand why but she felt like she could eat everything on the table.

“Very good. Now, we didn't get the chance to formally meet last night. You can call me Jassar.”

The man held out his hand allowing Jasmine to gain a firm grip.

“And you?” He continued.

“Jasmine,” she offered softly, seduced by the taste of the scone.

“Jasmine Cameron, yes?”

“Yes,” she confirmed with apprehension. “How did you know that?”

“What type of host would I be if I didn't know my guest's name?”

“So you're telling me that I am your guest?”

“Of course.”

“Then in that case I need to get back to my parents. They're probably worried.”

“Your parents have been informed of your whereabouts and hope for you to have of good time.”

“What do you mean 'my parents know where I am'? How could they when I don't even know where I am.”

“You are a guest on my estate. You are on a private Cay in the Bahamas. Anything you like will be made available to you while you are here and the resources here are plentiful.”

“Great, then what I would like is a ride back to the dock where I got on.”

“I'm sorry Jasmine, that is the one thing that I cannot give you.”

“Why not?” Jasmine asked becoming concerned.

“Because that wasn't part of our arrangement.”

“Whose arrangement?” she asked confused.

“Why, your father's, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would have preferred for you to think of this excursion as a luxurious surprise, but I see that you are going to want to know the gritty facts. You see, your father has a business.”

“Yes, a textile company.”

“Yes. And unfortunately it isn't doing as well as he would have hoped. He owes a lot of money to those who you wouldn't want to owe money to.”

Jasmine's voice softened at the possibility. “I don't know anything about that.”

“And why should you? What your father needs is a very generous benefactor. The problem is that aside from his indebted company, he has nothing else of worth… accept one.”

Jasmine's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She wouldn't have believed it accept for something in the back of her mind that said it could be true. Her father, though fairly westernized and married to a white American woman, still held onto some of his culture's beliefs. He had mentioned arranged marriages many times to her throughout her childhood to Jasmine's refusal. She had always thought of it as a game they played, but for the first time she considered otherwise. Could the financial state of her father's company be what was behind their long standing game?

“Before you come to the wrong conclusion, I would like to assure you that you are my guest here. The simple arrangement that we made is that you would stay here with me for three days. Nothing else will be expected.”

Jasmine looked at Jassar in disbelief.

“Let me assure you, I am not a man without options. I have captured the attention of princesses and models alike. What you would offer me wouldn't be any better.”

“Then why am I here?”

“You are here because I collect prized possessions. And when I met your father, I found that you were his.”

Jasmine relaxed into her seat absorbing everything that she had heard. She didn't understand it. It was if her entire life had been turned upside down and she could no longer get her bearing. Her father always seemed like such a caring father, how could he do this to her. Jassar had convinced her that she really didn't have anything to fear from him, but how could her father know that.

“I don't understand how my father could do this to me.”

“Perhaps he knows what you know deep inside.”

Jasmine looked at her host taken back that he would presume to know what she 'knew deep inside'. “And what's that?” she challenged.

“That you are moderately attractive, but not beautiful; that you are above average intellectually, but not particularly smart. Perhaps he knows that with nothing special about you, you were destined to live a pedestrian life. But in my hands I could mold you. I could turn you into the envy of women everywhere. Perhaps he knows that in my strong hands your life would exceed even your wildest expectations.”