The Billionaire's Hotwife Trilogy by Malicia Paine

Author:Malicia Paine [Paine, Malicia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B06XCVB8NV
Goodreads: 34616603
Published: 2017-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Book 3: Another Satisfied Submissive

When I awoke this morning, my hubby had already gone. All I found was the note he'd left on the pillow next to me. I also noted that he'd taken the liberty of taking off my leather monoglove armbinder. After our ecstasy last night, I must have forgotten and fallen asleep in it. This has happened a number of times now. I've grown so comfortable in that thing that sometimes I don't even feel complete without it. I love the way it feels on my body, and I love the lustful way master looks at me while I'm wearing it. Now I could see it hanging up on the wall by the bathroom. Just the sight of it reminded me of the thorough fucking he gave me last night, and I got a little tingly down below.

I felt like playing with myself a little, but I figured that I should probably read the note first. So I read it.

Dear Kayla,

I've had to catch an early flight to Phoenix to tend to some business, but I'll be back later this afternoon to play with you. In the meantime, I've left Chet instructions to take you shopping. Don't worry about what you're getting. I've already given him the shopping list. You just need to get your sexy ass into his limousine and he'll take care of you. ;)

Truly yours, Master Greg

P.S. If you're even thinking about thinking about masturbating right now, don't you dare. I don't want you worn out before I get back, and given the instructions I've left with Chet, you'll need your energy.

I made an overemphasized pouty face and crossed my arms at the notion that I wasn't even allowed to play with myself this morning. Then I realized that no one was there to see me, and then I felt a bit silly. Of course, if no one can see me, then who was to know?

Master will know, my inner voice told me. Better not risk it!

So I got up and showered.

I got dressed in a simple white summer dress and then headed downstairs to find Chet.

When I got downstairs, Chet was waiting for me, reading the morning paper on the chesterfield.

"Good morning, Missus Bennett," he said to me with a dazzling smile.

Chet looked dapper in his pristine white tux and his freshly shaved head. My husband's chauffeur, Chet—in case I haven't mentioned this before—is a devastatingly gorgeous black man. He has a smile that could peel the panties of the most frigid of women. And I'm hardly the epitome of frigidity. Especially not these past few weeks, where my husband has commanded me to sleep with numerous friends of his, often while in bondage. It was degrading in the most delightful way, and I've never felt like more of a sexual creature than I have since I saw this new side of my husband. Or of his friends, for that matter. Especially his super-hot, longtime friend, Chet. He may, on the surface, appear to be little more than a glorified limo driver.

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