Owned by the Billionaire CEO

THE MONSTER HE IS

He strode to a big black box at the corner of the room and pulled the cover open.

She watched as his hands worked around the contents of the box, wondering what new tool he was about to bring out again.

He found what he was looking for and walked back towards her.

In his hand was a purple strapped vibrator and its remote control.

Amy scoffed internally— so he really thought this was what would make her regret calling him a monster?

This… this toy that she had seen on some flimsy website advert?

He sensed her thoughts and smirked, saying nothing.

Thomas set the strap firmly around her waist, positioning the vibrator just below her pink c**t.

When he was done, he stepped back and settled into his chair before her, a smug look on his face.

“Let me show you the monster, girl.”

And then he pressed a button.

A low hum started, spreading a tingling warmth across her c**t.

Mmm, God this felt so good! More, more…

Her eyes closed in ecstasy and her mouth parted, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Thomas pressed another button.

And the buzzing intensified, a focused point of sweet pleasure that started to numb her brain, spreading a warm fuzzy feeling all the way up to her head.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her breath hitched as the sensation doubled and tripled, filling her with a delicious ache.

The intensity was almost getting too much for her to handle, but she could do just fine.

She felt the surge of the delicious ache rising from her c**t, a sweet overload of pure ecstasy overshadowing her ability to think about anything else.

Her back arched backwards and her toes curled, her eyes squeezed shut. And then she climaxed, a series of fierce contractions that left her weak and breathless.

“I came, it's okay now,” she breathed weakly to him.

Thomas heard her, but only pursed his lips into a thin line.

“I've just started with you, girl. The monster just began.”

He pressed again; the frequency increased.

New waves rushed through her slender body all over again, each one building on the last, pushing her closer to an edge where she started to lose all control.

Her c**t nerves, now hypersensitive, were sending overly sharp signals to her brain with every movement, every vibration.

Amy's eyes shot wide open, and she gasped for air sharply.

Thousands of tiny electric pulses coursed through her, overwhelming, consuming, quickening her heartbeat and forcing her to scream out loud.

Thomas smirked, enjoying her frantic reactions. He pressed the remote control again, increasing the frequency of the vibrator.

Her legs quivered violently on the bed, her c**t was consumed in a hotness that engorged her, sending shivers up from her nerves to her whole frame.

“Pleaseee, pleaseee stop!”

“I’m a monster, remember? Your pleading just makes me never want to stop,” his lips curved up in a sarcastic smile, increasing the vibrator frequency yet again.

Her high pitched scream filled the room, she writhed violently on the bed, clenching her fists and thrashing her legs, desperately trying to get the evil vibrator off.

“Every room in this house is soundproof, girl,” her distant senses heard his voice say faintly.

Amy burst into tears, wondering when he would decide to stop. She might collapse if she took any more minute of this torture.

Nanny minutes after, just when she thought she was going to pass out, the vibration stopped.

Her weak body was sprawled out on the bed.

He took the vibrator off, tossed it aside and blindfolded her.

She heard the ripping sound of the condom pack and knew what was coming next.

She felt his hand on her waist, turning her over to lay on her belly.

“Get in position. Now,” he ordered as he slapped her ass.

She was used to it already, his rough hard s*x, his intense s****l energy.

The previous day, Amy had screamed her lungs out, pleading for him to stop, but all he did was thrust even harder, his hand holding on tighter to her hair.

Today she had learnt that he savoured the sound of her pleas and Amy refused to give him any of such satisfaction.

She clenched her fists so hard; deliberate and not letting any sob escape her mouth.

She realised how she had come to hate him in just 7 days.

She hated the sight of him at the dining table every evening, hated the way he walked through her door in the evenings after he was back from the office, hated how he sent her new dresses and lingeries only to rip them off her body whenever he wanted, hated the smirk on his face whenever he was satisfied with having his way.

The minutes flew by much easier with hateful thoughts in her mind.

Thomas finished with her and uncuffed her. He was done, his mission accomplished.

But he had an announcement to make.

“Get ready, there's a dinner event tonight. We leave in an hour,” he declared as he fastened his trousers.

He was about to reach for the door knob when he heard Amy's voice behind him.

“I hate you.”

She was weak but loud enough for him to hear, her voice definite—her gaze at him unwavering.

His eyes darkened, recalling the words his late father, the powerful Charles Walton, told him on his 19th birthday.

“Love and power can never coexist. What a man loves will be used to strip him of his power, especially loving a woman,” Charles Walton had said.

That day was the day young Thomas decided that he would always choose the strength of power over the weakness of love.

And his choice would not change, not even now. He couldn't care less about her loving him, she could hate him all she wanted.

“Never needed your love anyway,” he smirked at her like he used to, the regular way of communicating his nonchalance, and walked out.

*** ****

Amy emptied the whole bottle of body wash and fragrances into the warm bathtub, as she usually did after he was done with her every evening.

Not that she cared though; the servants would replace them the next morning.

Obviously, Thomas had too much money. He could never notice the cost of a few bottles of body wash.

All she wished for was that the memories would be washed away with each bubble.

She took less time in the bath this evening, not wanting any of Thomas's insults about her being dumb or slow.

If that happened, she would definitely snap back at him, and he would lose his temper at her.

And bad things happened whenever he lost his temper.

Just like she expected, she met an assembled outfit for the evening on her bed.

There was a maroon designer dress with a boat neckline, a simple pearl necklace and matching pearl earrings, a complete makeup kit and an unopened box of perfume.

A Chanel purse sat pretty at the edge of the bed too.

On the floor was a pair of beige coloured pumps. She picked one up, examining the height of the heel. Not too high, thankfully.

The red bottom of the shoe caught her attention—these were the popular Christian Louboutin pumps, the dream shoe of ladies who knew the trends and fashion.

She blinked, trying to assimilate the fact that she was going to be dressed in luxury designers this evening.

After a mental calculation of the worth of her whole evening outfit, Amy realised that the $80,000 for Debby's surgery was mere chicken change to Walton.

So why didn't he just help and let her go? Why was he being evil towards her for it?

The reason, as Amy would soon discover, would shock her very much.