Slaves of the Billionaire Read Online Free PDF

his suit was flawless and he was handsome. He had a stern look on his face. I could tell right away, you couldn’t mess with him. He was confident, not arrogant. There was strength in his body, but his mind was the real muscle. I just knew that.
    “Interesting routine.”
    “That’s the first time I did it.”
    “Did you like it?”
    “Very much.”
    “Have you ever worked in a dungeon?”
    “I’m not even sure what that is.”
    “It’s a playroom for dominant men and women. I think you would be a good fit for one in Manhattan. It’s called The Darkest Pit. You would make a good sub. You’re rough, though. I could groom you. I could turn you into a powerful woman who submits.”
    “Would I be yours?”
    “You would be a slave to any man who pays. Don’t worry. All the men are vetted. You have no idea how powerful the men are that go to the Darkest Pit.”
    “A slave. That’s new to me.”
    Trent raised his perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I doubt that.” He came towards me and grabbed my vagina with his right hand. I could smell a light musky cologne on him. I found the firm set of his mouth alluring. “You like that don’t you? You’re a true submissive. You’re a whore and you know it. But you haven’t accepted it yet. You’re confused. There is so much frustration inside you.”
    My eyes were watering from the pressure of his hand.
    “I want to be a slave.”
    He smiled and kissed my forehead. “I know you do.”
    The Darkest Pit was in mid-Manhattan. I met with a tall, red haired woman named Sinister Light. She was beautifully dressed in black stockings and a skirt. Around her waist was a slate colored corset that cinched her waist. She surveyed me and then sent me off to several stylists with her recommendations.
    “Come back tomorrow at noon after you’ve had your makeover.”
    The next day I walked into the The Darkest Pit with hair that had been expertly highlighted, lightened and curled. My eyes were kohl lined and highlighted with gold dust eyeshadow. I was wearing a tight red dress, a garter belt and a demi bra that pushed my breasts upwards.
    “Ravishing.” Sinister Light looked delighted.  I had never felt beautiful until that moment.
    I spent the next two weeks being schooled. Various women, both submissive and dominant, sat with me for hours talking about BDSM, switching, topping, whips, canes, pain and so many other things that I had never heard or read about. At the end of the two weeks, I met with an aging, love ly looking woman, named Grace, who was dressed in a light blue suit. She told me she was a therapist. I had to be cleared by her to work at The Darkest Pit. I found this strange. I was nervous meeting with her. I had talked to social workers and psychologists in the past, usually in jail or for probation.
    “Don’t be nervous,” she said. “Just be honest.”
    I told her everything including my drunken and abusive father and my incident with Jon. Grace’s face was neutral and made no comments. She was quiet for some time.
    “Let me ask you, when you are submissive what comes to mind?”
    I thought for a moment. “Peace.”
    I didn’t hear anything for three days. I lay around my apartment, watched TV and tried not to stare at my cell phone every twenty seconds.
    On the morning of the fourth day, Trent called me.
    “Be at The Darkest Pit at 8:00 PM tonight. Wear red.”
    The Darkest Pit, despite it’s off putting name, is an elegant and exquisitely decorated place. It is filled with ornate furniture, golden mirrors, maroon plush chairs and couches, a long bar with mahogany wood and overly polite staff. There is a long hallway with multiple rooms and behind each door is a play room in various themes. The rooms are all sound-proofed and the carpet in the hall is so plush that you can’t hear your footsteps. I have never been in the play rooms. My training took place in small offices on the other side of the Pit and at the long bar. I occasionally got glimpses of