Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

Azriel was accessible by phone or computer but it wasn’t the same. I wanted to sit down and have a drink with my brother. What I probably wanted most was for him to clap me on the back and tell me Carpe Diem with the girl. She was mine. Seize her.

He’d done it and he hadn’t regretted it.

I had options to consider. Keep her, try to forget about the existence of the club. Let the profits continue to go into an untraceable account offshore and send someone, probably Stan, as a rep to the meetings when I had to.

Do what we often did with the construction business; sub it out. Back away. Let it happen for now and just concentrate on the plan to sell Clarke Enterprises and figure it all out later.

Or, f**k it all. Take the money we had squirreled away and grab my sisters, Ed, Lisa, the kids, and f**k off somewhere, maybe to Costa Rica where Claire and Azriel were living in paradise under fake names.

And her. Leave her a decorative piece in the apartment three doors down. Set her up with counselling. Wait a few months and stage her death, pull that tracking implant and bury it, but really sneak her out the back door and set her up with a life on another continent under a new name.

Or, see where this thing could go. Face the fact that I was too f*****g hungry to be reasonable, too infatuated by her and the idea of what she could give me to last more than a few days before I had tasted her, f****d her, fuckin’ lapped up her hero worship of me.

What if I just followed Azriel’s suit, took what was given to me and kept it, protected it with every ounce of my being, hoping I’d get my happily ever after, too, and that I’d somehow miraculously escape karma for keeping her?

I knew what I should do. I also knew I probably wouldn’t do it. Not after tasting what she had to give, what she begged me to take.

I worked until after 10:00 that night and then had a Skype chat with my brother about business until after 11:00. I didn’t bring up any personal s**t.

He asked how it was going with my houseguest and I’d said ‘fine’ then changed the subject, didn’t tell him I’d f****d her, that I was thinking about keeping her, that the dilemma had me twisted up inside. I kept it to myself.

** ** **

When I got home she was asleep on the futon in my den. s**t.

I’d been an a*****e that morning and then left her alone all day without calling and now here I was, standing over her while she slept. When I’d gotten in and saw she wasn’t in my bed at first I panicked but then saw where she was sleeping. Of course she wasn’t in my bed, she’d never just presume that she was allowed to be there.

At first I went back to my bed and laid staring at the ceiling for 10 minutes. Only ten minutes and here I was. I should leave her, create some distance. But what if she has a nightmare? What if she lets me create distance?

I leaned over and scooped her up into my arms. Her eyes opened and she looked at me with a little bit of fear and then with another emotion; it looked like affection and need. It gnawed at my gut and I felt a mixture of desire and regret. I carried her to my bedroom without a word, put her on my bed, and then I was on her, on her like white on rice, yanking clothes off, grabbing a handful of her hair, which was again curly, thank f**k, but grabbing it probably a little roughly, and slamming my mouth down on hers.

She spread wide for me and m****d into my mouth. I rammed my c**k into her, hard into her, and for a minute I held her so tight I was worried I was gonna hurt her. She went from asleep to wide open and completely wet in just seconds.

I played with her clit while I f****d her and her h**s circled and circled until she convulsed around my c**k, crying out a “Thank you, Master” that made me come 2.5 seconds later.

I held her tight, burying my nose into her hair and kissing her over and over, along her jaw, up and down her throat, on her soft lips, on her eyelids.

It almost split me in two when she again said, with so much emotion in her voice, “Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome sweet Angel,” I answered.

“Please keep me,” she said, her voice laced with emotion.

I sighed, “You gotta gimme time to figure this out, baby. My head is f****d over this.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t ask again. Take all the time you need, Drake. I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

Mine. f**k.

“Sorry I was a d**k today.”

She snuggled in and said, “You don’t have to say sorry to me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You don’t. But thank you for saying it anyway.”

I didn’t fall asleep for a long while. She took every kindness from me as a gift. She deserved to expect kindness. Could she get to where she didn’t feel so grateful for any scrap I gave her? I only worried that once she did she wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want me.

Not because I wasn’t good enough but because she wouldn’t need me. She’d start to wonder where her life could go without being owned.

What was she was like before Kruna? I wondered if I’d ever see that side of her. I was torn between waiting for her to tell me her story and finding out myself. As I was drifting off to sleep I heard her whisper,

“You’re a dream I was too broken to even wish for but somehow you still came true.”

Damn.

** ** **

The next morning I was up before she was and I texted Zack. I told him to try to find out about her but not to tell me the information until I asked for it. I gave him the information I had, which was minimal, that she’d been at Kruna almost 23 months, that she was almost 23, she’d had an Alaska driver’s license, and went to teacher’s college and then taught first grade in an English school in Thailand before Kruna.

He said he’d see what he could find out.

Suddenly I heard keys and my front door being opened and then Rosita was at my alarm panel, punching in her code. Aw s**t; I meant to cancel her today.

“Mornin’, Drake. How was the business trip?”

“Hey Rosita, I meant to call. I don’t need you here today. You can skip—”

“What? I need to do your laundry and change the bedding, and wow…it’s too clean. What’s up? You replace me?”

“I have a houseguest and she’s tidy. She did the laundry already.”

“She? Your sisters said you were on a date Saturday.” She was smirking.

“Leave it alone, Rosita.”

She laughed a big belly laugh, “I hear she’s a pretty little thing.”

“Time to go. I’ll let you know about the next time I need you. Don’t just pop by.”

“You need groceries?” She put her purse on my island.

“No. You stocked me up for like a month with enough food to feed a family of six just a few days back.” I passed her the bag and jerked my chin toward the door. She put the bag down again and picked up a sponge by the sink and started wiping the already spotless counter. For f**k sakes.

“Where did you meet her?”

“Rosita, I’ve got s**t to do. You can see yourself out.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll take your dry cleaning with me.”

“No, I’ll deal with it.”

“Don’t be silly, I pass there on the way to Lisa and Tessa.”

She put the sponge down and started to walk past me toward my bedroom and I blocked her, “I’ll get it. She’s still asleep.”

Rosita grinned like a cat that ate the canary. She knew I wasn’t alone and wasn’t giving in till she got me to admit it.

I was about to head to the bedroom when the door opened and Angel came out, dressed in my grey flannel pajamas, her hair tied into a ponytail. She’d bought a few pairs the other day but it was pretty obvious that she preferred mine.

Rosita’s face lit up.

“f**k me,” I grumbled.

Angel froze in her tracks, “Um…”

“Good morning! Angel, right? I’m Rosita. I’m Drake’s housekeeper. Housekeeper for the girls, too. I flit around, like a happy cleaning and cooking butterfly. But I’m like more of an auntie to the family. Can I get you coffee or tea?” She moved to my counter and fetched a mug.

I gave Angel an eye roll and she wandered over.

“Nice to meet you,” she said to Rosita.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Extra milky, 2 sugars. Thank you very much.”

“Ooh,” she winced, “That much sugar is bad.”

“Oh, I know it,” Angel said, “I gave it up for 2 years. But I’ve backslid. I’ll probably give it up again soon.”

Rosita smiled, “Good. Give it up as soon you can, mija, It is so bad. I read this book…”

I took that opportunity to go grab my dry cleaning bag, kissing her on the forehead as I passed. She gave me a warm look and ran her hand up my chest and sank into me while I kissed her forehead.

“I’ll be one sec, Rosita,” I said but Rosita was too busy educating Angel on the evils of sugar to acknowledge me.

When I got back to the kitchen they were sitting at the island chatting and Rosita had her own cup of coffee. f**k sakes…

“Come for a sec, baby?” I dropped the garment bag on a sofa and led her into the den and shut the door.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“We need a cover story,” I told her.

She nodded.

“So,” I started. My phone rang. I grabbed the desk line, Private Caller.

“Hello.”

“Drake Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“Sheridan Leo. Local associate to Stanley Smith.”

“What’s up?”

“Stan asked me to meet you and deliver an envelope to you. Says there’s time-sensitive information in there for you.”

“Courier it to my office.”

“I’ve been asked to hand it to you and no one but you.”

I got her address, told her I’d pick it up on my way to my office, and hung up. Angel was still in front of me.

I looked at her blankly for a sec, “Right. Cover story. If anyone asks we’ll say we met on the plane coming back from Thailand. Stick close to the truth. I was there on business. You and I met on the flight here.

You taught there but that ended and you’re relocating here. Your plans to stay with a friend fell through when we got to the airport you found out you had no place to stay and were goin’ to a hotel but I offered my spare room and you’re staying here for now.”

“People will believe that?”

I shrugged, “I don’t give a f**k. I have had no time or headspace to come up with a better one. The more complicated the less believable. I’ll tell my family that you’re getting over something, not to ask you questions. It’ll make them back off. Except Rosita. Rosita will dig and dig to try to get your backstory. She’s harmless, just a den mother.”

“Okay.”

“But don’t give her an in. She’ll pick at you like you’re a scab until she gets to the good stuff. I gotta go. See ya later on.

I’ll get Rosita to leave with me. Stay here till we go.” I pulled her in for a k**s.

** ** **

Stan’s colleague gave me an envelope with another one of those tablets. I sat in my car in the covered parking lot by the Clarke office and opened it with my fingerprint, again hating with a passion that they had my prints.

A document was on the screen with a note from Gan Chen.

I regretted I was unable to say Goodbye to you prior to your departure. Something urgent had arisen. I was informed that you were not provided with some of Felicia’s details prior to pick-up. These would have been provided to you prior to departure but with the rush, typical protocol was broken. I have enclosed them here. If there is anything listed that displeases you we would be happy to discuss an alternate or enroll Felicia in re-training. Your satisfaction is our top priority.

If you require further information please do not hesitate to reach out. Should you require the same information for Monalisa, this can be provided.

This information will expire on this device one hour from opening it. I hope to be meeting with you and your brother at our Partner Summit in October. Kindly RSVP through our mutual acquaintance by September 30.

Regards,

GC

I thought the information would contain her details, details about her past. I braced to find out her name, how they’d gotten to her. But that was not the info I got. I was not at all prepared for the information on the next screen.

The next screen was the Report screen that looked like what came up blank on the last tablet. It was not blank this time. It detailed information gathered through her training. It was like a report card with grades and a few comments sections.

Everything had her individual score as well as a median score for others in the resort. It said she had a high pain threshold, higher than 80% of the other slaves. I didn’t even want to know what they used to test that.

It said that she’d taken 19 days to break. The average slave took an average of 3-4 days under their program. 19 f*****g days. f**k.

It classified her as a s****l submissive. There were categories: dominant, submissive, and switch. In each category was a graph, a degree, and she graded at slightly more than the 75% submissive mark 22 months earlier and now was listed at the furthest submissive degree.

It said she had no known s****l aversions, that she had the most intense o*****s when experiencing multiple penetration, and that her o*****s were off the chart when she was restrained. She liked it rough. She liked to be bossed around during s*x. She had intense reactions to spankings.

It said she had panic attacks in her first several months at Kruna but had not had any in over 14 months. Their anecdote for her panic attacks was to restrain her and bring her to o****m.

There was a rancid feeling in my gut and a foul taste in my mouth as I skimmed through the bullet point notes stating that withholding o*****s as punishment worked much more effectively than pain in disciplining her but that she had not required punishment in more than 18 months. Her last infraction was self-pleasure.

It said that she was an exceptional asset who was capable of multiple o*****s that exceeded the average Kruna assets by 400%.