The Big Exclusive

At this point, Donna sincerely wished that she possessed the power to hurl lightning bolts Bill's way, as though she was Thor or Emperor Palpatine. Closing her eyes and visualizing just such a scenario made her feel better. At least temporarily.

Dinner arrived. Donna's only thought on spying the succulent dish was wondering how slowly she could eat it to delay the inevitable end of the meal and having to get naked in the hotel room of a complete pig.

"You don't seem hungry," opined Bill, a bit later.

"Not at all, Bill darling, I'm savoring every bite. I don't eat like this very often."

"I know that statement is a lie. Your young owner has access to quite a fortune."

"Not at all. He doesn't get a cent until he is twenty-one and won't gain control of his father's holdings until the old man passes."

"Really? Well, that explains why he was amenable to renting you this weekend. I know that if I owned you, I'd only allow you out of bed to piss and shit. The rest of the time I'd be nailing you."

Donna emitted a soft sigh hoping it hid her physical cringe.

"Looking forward to our time together?"

"Looking forward, yes," returned Donna silently adding, "to the end of the weekend!"

Donna could only delay the inevitable so far. Dessert arrived. Donna ate it slowly, then licked the spoon clean. The waiter came to settle the final bill, and Bill placed an astoundingly large tip, consisting of banknotes of three digits on the tablecloth. Bill pulled out Donna's chair, took her arm, and led her out the door and into the back of a waiting Rolls Royce. To Donna's horror, paparazzi were present and scores of photos of her on Bill's arm were captured. Most horrifyingly of all, Bill subtly manipulated Donna's controller, making it seem as though she was enraptured of the billionaire's company.

"Alone at last!" sighed Bill as the limousine pulled onto the highway. Donna gazed out the window at the passing streetlights and, for a passing moment, wondered if she could open the door and tuck and roll her way to freedom. That fantasy died when she realized that the driver had locked all the doors and windows.

Bill opened a portable bar built into the rear compartment and offered Donna a shot of brandy. The collared woman was grateful for a possible chemical escape for the evening. She avidly accepted the drink. He clinked their glasses together and offered a toast to "Great passions!"

Bill slid his arm over Donna's shoulder. She braced herself for the inevitable full-on kiss. When it came it was exactly as anticipated, wet, sloppy, and frenzied.

"That was nice," said Bill.

Donna made no comment. Bill stole another kiss.

The temporarily enslaved woman understood that trying to break things off would be counterproductive. She thought about a particularly nerdy boyfriend from her past. He was lightyears ahead of Bill in all the ways that counted, but he was similarly clueless about women and intimacy. Perhaps she could school Bill, just as she had Timmy. True Timmy had been sixteen and naive while Bill was pushing sixty and set in his ways, but Donna had to have some hope to cling to for the next three days. She began to return his kisses.

"That was nice, Bill, but let's try it this way." She shifted her facial position slightly. The kissing became better.

Donna found the necking tolerable and was happy that the drive was not too long. It ended at the front door of a luxury hotel. Donna's network had done a segment on this building. It catered to the one percent of the one percent. Nearly all its clients were multi-multi millionaires or better. Even to report on the story, the network's correspondents had to don a tuxedo and an evening gown just to get past the front door. Donna never thought that she would be staying there, especially as a high-end hooker. They were up the front steps and in the lobby. The smiling and very beautiful clerk recognized Bill and greeted him by name. Bill flirted with her briefly as she presented the pass key to him. She shot Donna an inquisitive look as they made their way to the glass elevators that lined the lobby. From the moment they entered the hotel to the time they entered the elevator Bill was a model of respect and deportment. Once the doors closed, however, he pinned Donna to the wall and pressed his body against hers.

"You are the most alluring woman in the entire world!" he gushed as he leaned in to take the longest kiss, they had yet shared.

The elevator doors opened, and Bill practically dragged Donna into the hallway and forced his passkey into the doorway. As soon as they crossed the threshold, he locked the door behind them, planted another kiss on Donna's lips before suddenly breaking things off.

"That gown, as lovely as it is, is the property of your master."

He picked up a small bag.

"Connie, please go into the next room, take off what you are wearing, and put this one. Come out when you are ready. I'll have a flute of Champagne waiting for you."

"OK, Bill."

Donna was glad to be out of Bill's embrace. The content of the bag turned out to be designer jeans, modest underwear, ankle socks, sneakers, and a tight-fitting V-necked sweater. It covered a lot more of her than the current dress she was wearing. The collared woman breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to do as Bill had asked. The jeans and sweater turned out to be skintight. The underwear, while modest, was also very thin, and could not be spied through them. The sneakers were ankle high Keds. Donna hadn't worn anything like this since before she was enslaved. Instantly, Bill went up in her estimation.

She returned to the main room of the penthouse suite.

"Marvelous!" enthused Bill. He kissed her lightly on the lips and placed the fine crystal flute of Champagne in Donna's right hand.

"A toast to an adventurous evening!"

Donna tipped her glass back the Dom Perignon slid sweetly down her throat. For the longest time, Bill seemed content to simply stare. He reminded Donna of Ahab. He had caught his fabled longed-for whale -- now what?

Eventually, he led her over to the bed and had her sit on it while he occupied a bedside chair.

"So, tell me what makes you tick, Constance. What do you look for in life or in a man?"

Donna expected this question. It was essentially a continuation of a conversation that had begun over dinner. She knew that tact and diplomacy were her allies. She considered the man sitting across from her. He was homely and crass, but he was also highly intelligent. His great wealth had been built with his brain more than his hands. Although he came across as a rube, he was well-read and had endowed a literature chair as well as a scientific chair at his alma mater. He had also built his school a new science lab and funded a new wing of the library. When he wasn't commenting on Donna's breasts, legs, or butt, he dropped Shakespeare and Milton's quotes into his discourse. The result was one large unappealing clash of opposites.

"Well, I like smart, well-read men," she said after a pause.

"Perhaps, Constance, but you don't seem to be the intellectual type. What you really would prefer is that I had a trim and athletic physique like your master. Women who look like you are only interested in a men like me because of the size of our wallets. Indeed, I had to buy this idyll with you. If you were a free woman and I asked you for a date, I'd have to bribe you to gain your assent."

"That's not true, Bill..."

"Bullshit! Lie down!"

"Sure, Bill."

She really had a dread of his anger. A man with a chip on his shoulder was capable of just about anything. She stretched out on the mattress. Suddenly, her body went lax as Bill fingered her controller. Donna found she could not move a muscle. Only now, as Bill grasped her left arm and raised it upwards, did she note the chamois-lined shackles attached to the frame of the bed! Donna's four limbs were quickly fastened to the wrist and ankle cuffs. Bill produced a pair of cut-down scissors like those used by paramedics, roughly tugged off Donna's shoes and socks, and began cutting up the left leg of her jeans.

"No, Bill! Not like this!" cried Donna as strength returned to her body. She fought the desire to flail around and try to elude the shears for fear of getting cut. Bill's insistent shears reached Donna's hip.

"Please, Bill. If you will just undo the cuffs, I'll do whatever you want."

"I know you would. I like you powerless."

"Bill! This isn't right!"

"No, it's not. But it sure is fun!"

Bill moved to the other side of the bed and slit up the right leg of Donna's jeans. A moment later, he tugged away at the rented fabric and tossed the ruin pants into a corner.

"Bill!"

"You are a slave and a slut. I can do whatever I want short of maiming or killing you and the law would do nothing to me.

Bill began to work on Donna's sweater. She tried to force her body to relax. It was all too clear how this scenario was going to end! A moment later and she was clad in just her underwear. Bill's eyes took on a glaze that terrified Donna.

He set the shears down for the moment and gently ran his fingers all over Donna's anatomy from great toes to lips. Donna noted that Bill was practically salivating.

"Oh my God!" he gasped in an almost reverential tone.

Donna started to fear that she would never leave this hotel room alive. The thought that she might leave it -- in tiny pieces crossed her mind unbidden. How could Warren have put her in this position no matter the size of the check? Bill's scissors closed in upon Donna's bra. After a few snips, he tugged away the remnants. Even though Bill had been an ardent and dedicated student of Donna's anatomy. The avid look in his eyes belied the fact that he had seen Donna's boobs literally thousands of times before. He put the scissors down and reached for them like some religious pilgrim grasping for a sacred icon. His subsequent touch was gentle, even romantic, as though his dreams of a lifetime had just been fulfilled. He bent and placed gentle kisses on each nipple before he stood, and his countenance donned a positively beatific look.

Bill's expression then changed. He stared for a moment at Donna and realized that his work was incomplete. Two snips later and he tugged her rendered panties out from underneath her. Donna had never felt more naked.

"Oh, God!" he gasped as he planted a dozen gentle kisses on Donna's bald vulva.

"Constance, you are the most beautiful woman who has ever lived," he gushed before he shrugged off his jacket and began to undress.

Donna certainly didn't want to see the billionaire naked but, for some reason, she could not look away. He was unremarkable in every way, paunch of a belly which was white as a grub, saggy eczema dotted skin and a most unimpressive manhood. He was fully erect. He stood above Donna, posing as though he was an Adonis before his unappealing body lowered itself to cover hers. Donna braced for the inevitable, as his lips meant hers. Through sheer force of will, Donna managed to kiss him back.

Donna closed her eyes while bill kept shouting, "Oh, God! Connie! Oh, God! Connie!" as he plunged in without any preliminaries at all, raising his gut so that he could plunge his cock into Donna's waxed quim. It was all over moments later. Bill gasped. Donna opened her eyes.

The look on Bill's face turned from one of elation to anger.

"You made me cum to fast, bitch!"

"Bill, it was fine, you were fine," stated Donna thinking fast to blunt the anger directed towards her.

"Don't patronize me!" screamed Bill.

He strode over to a table and opened a bottle of Viagra. He bolted down a pill and said,

"We'll try this again in a minute. You better make me last this time!"

"Bill, calm down, honey. Anger will only hurt your performance."

"Don't lecture me, whore!"

Bill calmed down. His hands and lips roved all over Donna's body until he was erect once more.

"Make me last, this time, slut!" he barked as he mounted her a second time.

No fool, Donna made soft mewing sounds and uttered phrases like. "Yeah, that's it, Bill. You are SO GOOD!"

The tech billionaire lasted longer this time. For Donna, it was almost tolerable. She gasped as though she had orgasmed as he emptied himself inside her womb before raising with a look of triumph. "See what happens when you obey, Connie?"

He reached over Donna's recumbent body and freed her wrists and ankles.

"Women like you make men better, Connie. We will have lots of fun this weekend."

Donna was quite positive that none of what Bill had just stated was even partially true, but at least she was no longer trussed up and immobile. After massaging her extremities, Donna fell to her knees and made a move to suck off repugnant Bill. Donna was quite aware that her survival over the next three days depended upon her giving this troll the most curl-toeing, spine-tingling sex he had ever encountered. She wondered if she was up to it, but she most assuredly did not want to see Bill's anger again.

After a bit of effort, she got his stubby member erect once more. He purred as she sucked him off before opening her mouth to display his gift of love, winking, and swallowing the load. Bill applauded and tears came to his eyes.

"At last, a woman who understands me!"

He swept Donna up in his arms and planted a deep, lingering kiss on her stunned lips. By pretending to be the most orgasmic woman in history who was up for literally anything, Donna managed to not only survive the three-day weekend but also to thrive. One of the rooms of the suit was fitted out as a miniature studio. Bill could convert it to most anything. The wardrobe options seemed practically limitless to Donna. It all passed in a haze of impressions and sensations. The Japanese schoolgirl outfit worn while Bill played teacher and gave a lesson in economics. She was a Union spy captured by a Confederate colonel slowly stripped and searched out of her voluminous dress complete with the hoop skirt. She was Mrs. Peel captured by an adversary and cut out of her leather catsuit. She was a teacher infatuated with her student to the point that she trysted with him in an empty schoolroom. She was Wonder Woman tied with her own golden lasso. She was Laura Croft, hiding a treasure map, captured by a Russian security officer with little patience, lots of rope, and a switchblade. At one point, she was covered head to toe in expensive temporary tattoos. The only authentic fun of the entire ordeal was the all-leather dominatrix outfit. Wearing this she put Bill through his paces and reveled in the temporary position of complete power. Over the course of the seventy-two hours, Bill must have taken upwards of ten thousand pictures!

Once Donna got a handle on Bill's obsessions, he was easier to deal with, although he never entirely lost the creep and ick factor that clung to him like a second skin. His fantasies were those of a horny adolescent boy. Romance or Donna's desires never figured in them. When he peeled her down or cut off her clothes Bill grinned like a schoolboy opening his favorite Christmas present every time. As though each new revelation of Donna's alluring physique was the first one. He was a greedy lover. Donna never came close to experiencing an authentic orgasm. Bill was simply not the type of man to consider his partner's needs. No wonder his track record was women was so abysmal despite his staggering wealth. Even the most financially driven woman needed some recognition as flesh and blood. No woman had even tried marrying Bill for his money, enduring it for a year or so, and then filing for divorce, because of Bill's iron-clad and daunting prenuptial agreement. Bill's wealth and high-toned lawyers meant that any future bride would get nothing unless the marriage lasted ten years and produced at least three heirs. Even then, she would get a relative pittance; the real money would come on the twentieth anniversary. Bill was quite proud of his "perfect" prenup and delighted in explaining it to Donna. Donna, in turn, was certain that it only ensured Bill's perpetual bachelorhood.

Donna felt like a prisoner being sprung when she was back in her original clothes and Warren reclaimed her at the threshold to the suite. Donna was all smiles when she kissed Bill goodbye. As soon as they were in Warren's car, however, Donna let her owner have it with both barrels.

"If you do ANYTHING like that again, Warren, I am going to castrate you in your sleep with a rusty tin can lid!"

"THAT bad?"

"Worse than you can imagine!"

Donna looked at Warren hotly.

"If you think you're getting sex when we get home. Think again! I'm shutting the baby maker down for a while. I should probably be decontaminated as if I was exposed to nuclear waste or something!"

"That sounds like a fun scenario!"

"Fuck you, Warren! Fuck you!"

The young master laughed. He was smart enough to realize that his slave had been through a strenuous, mentally taxing ordeal. He imagined Bill naked was not a pleasant in any way sight. Donna deserved some time off. She had earned it.

"Connie, I am not entirely heartless. I deserve those threats and curses. I know it is your anger talking. I'd be pretty pissed off too if I had to service that troll. I'll give you all the space you need. Besides, I have that Real Doll of you to use in the interim."

"Gross, Warren, but thank you."

"How about dinner in your favorite restaurant followed by a little dancing?"

"I'm not immune to bribery."

**

The C.F.O., the C.E.O., and the elite of the Bowersox News Network sat in a conference room on the twenty-first floor. The senior editor who had given Donna the initial assignment spoke.

"Thank Ralph Bingham we now know who owns Donna and where she is. "Sports Illustrated" has been very helpful. What do we do with this information? I'm inclined to offer this Wasserman fellow a blank check for liberating Donna and returning her to us."

"Do we have that kind of money?"

The C.F.O. stated, "We are running on a razor-thin margin currently. To get more capital I really would have lean on our investors."

A hand went up.

"Two things. What's the return for our investment? And what's in the kid's interest to accepting our hypothetical offer?"

"We get our reporter back; the Wasserman's get good publicity. A special extolling the virtues of the Wasserman Trust. Anything the kid and his father want."

"That's it?"

"What do you mean?" inquired the chief.

"Boss, I hate to be blunt but imagine that you had Donna Freeman as your own personal sex slave for five years. Why would you give up even a month of that time for "good publicity""?

"The cash..."

"He's a freakin' millionaire, well he will be an even bigger one when he's finished with Harvard. Cash is the last thing he needs. If we get into a bidding war, the kid and his father have enough resources that they can hold out until they own this network!"

"We just can't write Donna off," protested the network head.

The network's ace legal counsel spoke next, "She signed a legally valid contract. breaking it will require some extremely diligent effort on our part. The Supreme Court has upheld the legality of these contracts. Getting out of it is going to be mighty expensive in terms of legal fees alone. Breaking the contract means both federal and state indemnities. In plain English, we will have to pay the Wasserman's what Donna current assessed value as well as what she would bring at auction. Essentially twice what she is "worth." Now I have no idea what Donna's current assessed value is. I consulted a freelance assessor; his figure was, frankly, astronomical. I ask you, chief. Are you willing to put this network many, many multiple millions in the hole at the very point when we are making inroads in the cable news sphere? I know Donna was one of your favorites but is she worth turning our network into a poverty, shoestring operation? We've been there, and it SUCKED!"