Mr Big Shot: A Sheikh Billionaire Romance Read online

  “All Aboard!” the shout passed through the air, and eager tourists began to line up on the ship, all boarding for what they hoped would be some great adventure or reprieve.

  I sniffed.

  “Better go, and not be such a stick in the mud,” I told myself, before making my way to the cruise ship. “Who knows, it might turn out to be something special after all.”

  The ship was extravagantly decorated, and all of the people who had filed in line before and after myself were of a wealth class that I typically wouldn’t associate with. It seemed as though all of the men were bold, handsome, playboy types, and around the arms of quite a few of them, models dangled like ornaments of flesh straight out of a pornographic magazine. I saw a number of gay men in the crowd, who were also dressed to full tilt, but no lesbian couples in sight.

  The crew were, likewise, dressed for success, with impeccable grooming and well-tailored suites.

  “They really did a number on this one,” I said to myself, taken aback by the extravagance of the gift which my supportive staff had given me.

  My surprise only increased when I arrived in my room, only to be greeted by a private masseuse with a massage chair set up exclusively for my pleasure.

  “Ma’am,” she said, gesturing to the table with open arms — wordlessly directing my body toward the clean leather surface of the chair.

  I didn’t think or hesitate. Maybe it was the drink I had just prior to boarding, or maybe I just wanted to get a thorough sense of what this place was all about — really experience the lap of luxury first hand, instead of fighting it in bitterness. I thought about the man on the on the dock who had reached out and touched me in an effort to bring me comfort; this staff member couldn’t possibly be any different.

  Stripping my clothes to the ground, without shame or hesitation, I walked forward and laid down on the massage chair. The woman lifted my legs and set them spread apart on two extensions toward the end of the chair, and then proceeded to drip warm oil on my body. My hips were set into the air by a curved cushion, and the woman began her massage by spreading oil along my back, hips and shoulders. Her hands were soft, and her touch was incredibly alleviating.

  She moved her attention down the length of my legs and made small circular motions around my ass, spreading her hands along the inside of my thighs — her fingers gracing my vulva.

  Dripping more oil onto my body, I felt the drops of warm oil run down the length of my vulva, and then I felt her thumbs and fingers work tiny circles around my inner thighs.

  She drew continuous figure eights with one hand on my crotch and ass, and the other stroking my shoulders. I felt like I was the inside of a galaxy, and she was commanding the orbit of my body.

  Her hands pulled at the inside of my thighs, and one of her hands cupped my vagina, just holding me there — I wasn’t used to this type of treatment, but my body was loving it, and my inhibitions simply weren’t there. The masseuse stroked my labia, and then brought her hands up again along my body, running the warm, sweet smelling oil along my ass and down the length of my legs.

  When her hands began to focus on my anus and vulva, I grew warmer, and was no doubt noticeably aroused.

  I squirmed for a moment, only to be put at ease by her soothing voice.

  “Shhh….” she whispered, “Try to relax, and let me do my job.”

  Both of her hands began to massage my anus then, her thumbs stroking the inside of my ass cheeks, and her fingers stroking the length of my labia. Her forefingers found their home around my clitoris, and she pushed on my sex with both hands, spreading my labia to touch the soft outer surface of my vagina. With one hand on my asshole, and the other on the inside of my legs, she worked out the tension that I had built in that area.

  She began dripping oil repeatedly on my anus, so that the liquid descended down to my clit. Her thumb worked my asshole in small circles, and she stroked me softly.

  I felt something enter my asshole, followed by a rush of liquid inside of my rectum. I looked back to see that she had used a syringe to load me up with massage oil.

  “Just relax,” she cooed, resting a hand on my shoulder.

  As I lay my cheek back on the towel, I felt her penetrate my asshole with her finger, while her thumb worked the inside of my vagina. I licked my lips and twitched my toes, feeling her fingers push up against my clit, while the sensations of being penetrated through both holes filled my body and warmed my pelvis. I couldn’t stop twitching my toes. My muscles would tense and then release once more, soaking up the attention this beautiful woman was offering.

  “I think I’m in love,” I moaned.

  “Shh.…” she said, though I could hear a smile in her voice.

  She worked my vagina with steady repeated strokes pushing her thumb down inside of me, while her other finger stayed firmly rooted in my asshole, shaking back and forth in synchronized motion.

  My hands clenched at the table, and my ass arched unconsciously, yearning to provide her with better access.

  “You have a beautiful body,” she said, not breaking pace at all.

  Her fingers brushed up against my clit, her thumb penetrated me, and a finger into my asshole.

  Switching her movements, she would stroke the space between my asshole and my vagina, push down on my clit, and let one finger rest on the crotch of my thigh. When I thought I would approach an orgasm, she would back off, and begin stroking my body once more with those soft, circular movements.

  “You are holding a lot of tension here,” she said, sliding a thumb into my anus while using her other thumb to finger my vagina.

  “I’m going to release that tension for you, and it is going to change the way you operate as a person,” she said, confidently.

  I started to moan.

  The sounds coming out of my open mouth began to grow in escalation, and the pace of her hand that was fucking my cunt increased in speed. My legs pulled up off of the chair, and I felt all of the muscles in my back tense. I gripped the table, and yet she did not relent.

  Her finger and thumb went deeper into me, kneading and fucking me, until she easily slid two fingers inside of my vagina, and one finger inside of my anus.

  The way she stroked me charged my entire body with energy. I started to get flashes of visions through my closed eyelids. The lion was there again, pacing around and shoving its face into my body. I could feel his teeth, and hands, wrapped around my hips.

  My breath got deeper, and long, steady moans came out of my mouth. I smiled, and tried not to think about the way that I sounded, but I couldn’t control myself. My body was building up into a slow and steady wave of climaxes that caused me to sing for this woman — not caring who heard how incredible I was feeling.

  Writhing on the table, my torso pushed from side to side. I angled my pelvis toward the woman, and after reaching my peak, my vagina clenched over the woman’s thumb, pulling her inside of me. She held me there for long moments, and when I had settled back into my body, she addressed me.

  “It’s time for you to turn over now,” she said softly. “You haven’t received the full course of your treatment yet.”

  I smiled at her in adoration, my eyes hopeful.

  She grinned in response, and I positioned myself face up, with my legs spread out to either side.

  Her next point of focus was my breasts.

  My nipples were stroked and pinched with her well lubricated hands. She massaged my neck, and I felt her fingers trace along my shoulders. My vagina and clitoris were still swollen with blood flow, but her soft stroking touch comforted me. One hand was held on my chest, while the other massaged my labia in soft circles. From my crotch, to my thighs, up to my sides, and down again, I was completely covered by her warm touch. Resting her hand on my pubis, she began to stroke my clit with one hand, and insert a finger inside of me with the other. I was already loosened up, and immediately rose into an ascending state of ecstasy.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  Two fin
gers inside of me now, with the third finger poking at my asshole. The pace steady and with pressure applied toward my g-spot and clit simultaneously, I couldn’t contain myself. Breathing deeply, I stuck my tongue out and licked my lips with joy.

  Three fingers were inside of me now, fucking me slowly, and causing me to gasp with sheer pleasure. The volume and frequency of my moans increased, and I could feel the depth of every inhale spread through my entire body. I twisted and arched my back, smiling through my cries of pleasure as this woman served my long ignored body.

  Too long I had been without physical satisfaction, and this woman was giving me everything I had longed for and asking for nothing in return. I gave myself to her touch completely, moaning and twisting on the table, gasping for air, and responding to the slightest change in her touch.

  After another round of orgasms, she held two fingers inside of me, and stroked my body once more with her free hand. Feeling her hand on my breast felt safe, and I knew that I was going to be cared for until I had given everything up — all of my tensions, bitterness and frustration; this was a sexual healing session to be sure.

  Within moments, she was back at my clit, with two fingers inside of me pushing upward, so I could feel the pressure of her fist against my body. I clung to the towel with all of my might while she dug out the pain and isolation from inside of my body. The emotions transformed themselves into divine liquid and leaked out from my cunt like honey, mixing with the thin coat of oil that covered my skin.

  Two fingers and a thumb inside of me now, with her other hand rapidly stroking my clit in repeated fashion. My labia clung to her fingers, and I pulled her inside of me, riding wave after wave of orgasmic release.

  Each time I came, she pushed deeper inside of me, until eventually, she was literally holding my pelvis, with two fingers deep within my vagina and a third pressed eagerly up against my entrance. My clit was covered by her palm, and her other hand applied a firm pressure on my lower abdomen.

  I moaned, squealed, and sat with my mouth open, praying to whatever gods that would listen exaltation of joy that my body could know such love and pleasure.

  I felt a hand on my breast, reassuring me that everything would be well, and then she started stroking my clit once more with her thumb.

  She stayed inside of me with her finger, and gave me love and attention with her thumb, never breaking rhythm, holding me still with her spare hand on my lower abdomen.

  My head turned to the sid, and back again, and I drove my pelvis into her hand, longing for more — for some final release that would push beyond anything that I had previously felt. It had been so long since I had been in this state of mind, and there was a beautiful singularity to the experience. Her gentle and persistent fucking and stroking was something I could feel throughout my entire body, pulsing rhythms that filled me up, and made me gasp in fulfillment. Singing now, like a chorus, I cried out without words. Every exhale was a moan, and my entire body began to shake and vibrate with the throws of the approaching orgasm.

  My muscles tensed, and my chest heaved — my breasts rising up and down in the air, while the breath of life entered and exited my lungs.

  Calmly, she held me then, stroking me gently, and applying a soft touch to either side of my labia.

  “Sleep now,” she said calmly, running her hands along my body, sharing joy and beauty with every inch.

  I fell into a deep state of relaxation while holding my breasts with both hands. She placed a silk linen over my body, and sleep became a deep and real experience.

  The state of my sleep was not something that was full of dreams, visions, anxieties, or any type of foreboding feelings whatsoever. I fell into a state of profound nothingness. There were no sounds, no stirrings, not a thing to speak of except for a deep and limitless period of relaxation.

  I felt nothing, except for calm, and it was wonderful.

  When I woke up the rocking of the ship continued, but just outside of the ship, I could hear waves crashing against some kind of shoreline. I was a bit confused, because prior to sleep, I had definitely been aware the ship had left the port of Patagonia. I was curious about our whereabouts, and there was no one around, so I decided to investigate.

  Standing up from the massage chair, I felt extremely light and comfortable on my feet. I remembered every achingly beautiful moment of the massage, and I can’t quite describe the feeling, but there was something incredibly different about my state of mind. My body felt weightless, and all of the regret, tension and trouble that I carried with me prior to boarding the ship was completely gone.

  Sure, I could remember that I had been upset over leaving the city without being able to continue my work, but that seemed like so far removed a reality that it was clear to me, I was more attached to the idea of doing work and being needed, than I was to the my current state of reality.

  In the reality I was in presently, there would be another medical team, with other highly qualified traits who would go and continue the work that I had begun. There were no major emergencies, because I knew that increased funding, resources, as well as the time of skilled professionals were on their way to the area — if they weren’t there already. The organization which had sponsored me was incredibly effective and very passionate about their mission.

  I threw on a skimpy gown that was laid out for me on the dresser next to the bed. My skin, still soft to the touch, had largely absorbed the oil, and wearing the gown over my naked body felt like an extension of the softness of my skin flowed out about my thighs. In my previous state, I would have judged myself harshly for wearing something so revealing — a see-through night gown, that barely covered my ass, but at that moment, I couldn’t be bothered.

  Walking out of my cabin suite barefoot, I noticed that the ship was empty, except for a few maintenance workers who smiled at me cheerfully, a blush coloring their cheeks.

  I grinned in return and made my way to the shore.

  It turns out the course for the cruise ship was basically island hopping all around the coastal waters of Patagonia. I discovered that I had been asleep the better part of sixteen hours, which was incredible to me, given that I had not been conscious any of that time.

  “I had no idea I was that exhausted,” I said out loud, taking a survey of my surroundings, and feeling a delightful warm breeze whip my night gown about the curves of my body.

  When I looked to the side of the ship, I grinned.

  The only other ship in the area was an old style Galley ship — a wooden one with a siren statue holding her breasts at the front of the ship. It looked like something out of a children’s storybook, and I was delighted that some enthusiast had taken the time to construct and sail such a vessel.

  “Must be a movie they are shooting in the area,” I thought to myself.

  When I got to the shore, and felt the sand between my toes, I looked around on the beach. I saw couples making out by firelight, and all kinds of people in what appeared to be a loosely aggregated party. The stars were brilliant in the sky, and the moon was nearly full, so the lighting of the entire beach was impeccable — like nothing I had ever seen.

  “Truly magical,” I thought to myself, deciding to spin about on my toes, letting my night gown flare up around my hips and the fall back down again to my sides.

  I thought fondly about the way my body had responded during the massage with that woman and bit my lip with anticipation.

  I wanted more, that was for sure, and I just wasn’t sure what I was looking for at the time.

  I had primarily been in heterosexual relationships during my early twenties, but for the last few years, I had given myself entirely to my profession and had nearly forgotten that I was a sexual person. The stress levels and constant need to produce meaningful results had effectively castrated my sexual impulses.

  “Not the case anymore,” I thought to myself, feeling the warmth of my own arousal flowing within my body. “Tonight, this girl’s getting some.”

  I bit my li
p once more.

  “Cock,” I thought. “I need some big cock, with a strong man — someone who knows how to handle me, and can take what he wants — but how to find such a man?”

  I decided to start by upping the standard arrangement of the people on the beach. Most were clothed, and a few women were topless, but there were no naked bodies to be found — at least not in the open areas. I could see more than a few couples hidden away in some areas, only revealed by moans or a pair of raised legs, held up in the air.

  I decided to drop my gown, approach the biggest bonfire in the area, and dance.

  As I approached the fire, a loose plan formed in my mind, my body began to unconsciously sway to the sounds of syncopated drum music. I felt so incredibly alive, and there were almost no thoughts present in my mind. I was completely giving myself to what my body wanted, and though I couldn’t really be sure, I was confident that my being present in my body resulted in some of my better dance moves.

  My ass swayed from side to side, and my legs spun out in impulsive, yet graceful arcs. I played around with the weight of my body, letting one motion fluidly carry me into the next, and before long, a crowd of people gathered around to watch. There were a number of cheers from drunken men, and a few supportive cries from women, who no doubt saw me as some kind of libertine sexual figure. To be fair, I was doing my best to fulfill the role of a sexually free woman, but I think what really made that work for me was not because I was trying, but because I was surrendering — truly.

  My dance became more erotic as time went on — something about being there with all eyes on me, feeling the warmth of the breeze next to the increasing blood flow from my own movement and arousal made me want to touch myself. I didn’t do anything as blatant as lay down on the ground and start penetrating myself, though if I had been moved toward that action, I might have done that. My inhibitions were completely gone, and I was drunk with lust and the power of my own self-expression.