"Daddy is going to insert it," I yelled. "Daddy is going to fuckĀ this lovely hole with his fingers." Either because of the feelings in her cunt or because she knew a horrible fuck was about to happen, she cried out at that point, but it worked for me. I started to pierce her back by gently pressing my finger against the tight folds, using more pressure to force my way in. I gave an encouraging rasp, "Come on, baby." "Calm down, open up to Daddy, and let him buttfuck you." With a snap, I slipped in up to the first knuckle, that tight ring squeezing my finger so tight, so dry, so stimulating, and those dirty words did the job. The brunette thought it was great. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" As I pierced her ass, she let out a cry, her head tilted towards the heavens, her lips slightly open, and her breasts swinging subtly below.
He valued my virginity at money, even though it was priceless.
I didn't believe it could be done. Being a billionaire, Drey Black didn't need to purchase females. But he purchased me at the virgin auction, and all of a sudden I was the alpha male's property.
But he made it nice for me.
I dressed in his clothing.
ate the most delicious meal.
and rested on a large, plush bed.
However, everything has a cost. and my virginity was desired by the a billionaire!
*********************************
Ellie
"El, you really can't wear that," my buddy Monica remarked.
I turned to face her again, a bit irritated.
"Why not?" With a sorrowful tone, I asked. I put on a fantastic pair of dark denim trousers and combined them with a crushed velvet scoop-neck long sleeve blouse. "It seems fine to me."
Monica laughed hysterically.
El, really, we're spending the week in Vegas. It's very hot, and we're going partying at this establishment that has no name at all. She said, "You can't wear what you usually wear. Please take it off."
I considered giving up completely, planting my foot, and getting stuck in. However, my buddy Monica is the one with style sense; she always looks stunning and knows just how to dress for every situation. In contrast, I had something of a frumpy appearance, was sometimes bewildered and befuddled, and had round, unfashionably curly brown hair. As a result of my friendship with Monica, I did indeed get invitations to fancy events, but I didn't resemble any of the slender minnies there.
In all honesty, I found it astounding that Monica and I could even be friends given how different we are. I'm little and round, an A student, and she's swan-like, graceful, and slender with a modeling portfolio. We thus have very different hobbies and life trajectories. However, we have been friends since we were five years old and have supported each other repeatedly through good times and bad. Consider the divorce of Monica's parents from the previous year. I served as her confidante, therapist, and anchor throughout her time of emotional drifting. If our circumstances were different, I'm certain she would act in the same way for me. Thus, while it may seem that we are very different from one another, our relationship is really far deeper than our respective appearances or personalities would imply.
Furthermore, my friend's fashion advice was even more crucial because of the way my physique evolved. For where the underweight mouse fashioned like a broomstick Ellie of two years earlier was no more, there was a woman's physique, like to Venus de Milo. I can hardly squeeze into any form of jeans because of my large ass, protruding boobs, and wide hips. To be honest, I had a hard time fitting into my jeans tonight; I had to frantically bounce up and down a few times before they finally fit, and the button seemed like it was about to come off.
I let out another sigh.
I pointed with extended hands and repeated, pitifully, "I don't have anything else." "Look at my suitcase-there's nothing else, nothing, nada." Additionally, the inside seemed unimpressive when the purple travel case was opened. Nothing too risquƩ or high couture, just a few additional colorful blouses and some grey pants to break things up.
Monica gave a grimace.
You didn't pack a dress, really? Something a little more cunning? Glancing over the contents of my luggage, she questioned.
I gave a headshake.
I told her, "Nope, you know I don't wear dresses that often." "I lean more tomboyish."
Rach made another expression.
She underlined, "Tomboy, schmomboy, El, you got a body now that's definitely not tomboyish anymore." "You're going to have to wear something of mine then, come on." After that, she started going through her belongings and opening the closet, which was filled with a million flashy, bright outfits-some even had sequins and pom-poms.
"No, Rach, please," I begged. We weren't even close in size, even if I wore some of my friend's clothes. At five one and a size zero, my blonde pal was your average little vixen. I was maybe up to a size fourteen now, however. Depending on what I'd eaten at breakfast or, sometimes, supper the night before, I may have been sixteen. I could never fit into any of Monica's clothes; I would shred them at the seams like a juicy tomato about to burst.
However, my pal seemed unfazed.
She pulled a frock out of the wardrobe and said cheerfully, "How about this one?"
I let out a moan. The colors were trippy, with oranges blending into purples and large patches of green sporadically. It was awful.
"No, Rach," I firmly said. "Definitely not, the mere sight of it gives me a headache."
Her nose wrinkled pertly as she sniffed.
"El, just so you know, this dress is from Missoni, a well-known Italian fashion business that is well-known for its outrageous patterns."
Even so, I shook my head.
I shook my head and replied, "I've never heard of this designer, but no Rach, it's like an acid trip." "I am unable to."
With a big sigh, Monica put it back up.
Then, how about this one? she enquired.
I halted, momentarily taken aback. Really, the dress wasn't really a dress. It resembled a band of fabric across the breast worn with a skirt, with the smallest bit of material-enough to cover your belly button-connecting the two vertically.
"What's that?" Horrified, I asked.
"You've never seen cutouts before, what?" My acquaintance gave me the grand dame sneer. She gushed, "This is an Azzedine Alaia; I adore his work." "He knows a woman's body so well, it's so sultry."
Chapter 1 EPISODE 1
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Chapter 2 EPISODE 2
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Chapter 3 EPISODE 3
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Chapter 4 EPISODE 4
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Chapter 5 EPISODE 5
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Chapter 6 EPISODE 6
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Chapter 7 EPISODE 7
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Chapter 8 EPISODE 8
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Chapter 9 EPISODE 9
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Chapter 10 EPISODE 10
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Chapter 11 EPISODE 11
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Chapter 12 EPISODE 12
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Chapter 13 EPISODE 13
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Chapter 14 EPISODE 14
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Chapter 15 EPISODE 15
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Chapter 16 EPISODE 16
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Chapter 17 EPISODE 17
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Chapter 18 EPISODE 18
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Chapter 19 EPISODE 19
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Chapter 20 EPISODE 20
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Chapter 21 EPISODE 21
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Chapter 22 EPISODE 22
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Chapter 23 EPISODE 23
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Chapter 24 EPISODE 24
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Chapter 25 EPISODE 25
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Chapter 26 EPISODE 26
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Chapter 27 EPISODE 27
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Chapter 28 EPISODE 28
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Chapter 29 EPISODE 29
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Chapter 30 EPISODE 30
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Chapter 31 EPISODE 31
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Chapter 32 EPISODE 32
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Chapter 33 EPISODE 33
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Chapter 34 EPISODE 34
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Chapter 35 EPISODE 35
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Chapter 36 EPISODE 36
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Chapter 37 EPISODE 37
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Chapter 38 EPISODE 38
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Chapter 39 EPISODE 39
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Chapter 40 EPISODE 40
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