His Will, My Desire #1 - Intrigue Read online

  His Will, My Desire #1 - Intrigue

  By Anita Dobs

  Copyright Anita Dobs, 2014

  Published by Bloomingdale Books

  Previously released in serial form as 'Victoria's Secret Billionaire'

  Reviewer: “It's intense, and I love that.”

  Anita Dobs Books

  Disclaimer:

  All characters in this story are fictional, and any resemblance to anyone either living or dead is entirely unintentional. This is a work of erotic fantasy, and should be taken as such. No part of this work can be republished without the author's prior consent.

  The Stranger

  The camera flashes went off in her eyes, but as usual, Victoria maintained a fixed expressionless face as she walked down the catwalk in the revealing lingerie she was modeling. She didn't mind that it revealed her nipples and was ever so slightly revealing in the panties area, what she minded were those damn camera flashes. She reached the end of the catwalk, and hands on hips, she shifted her balance from one foot to the other for all the audience to see. The stage director had told her to make sure she stood exactly on that spot so that the fan would blow her long hair backwards, creating a stunning effect with the lights beaming on her body and face.

  She was at the peak of her career, no other model commanded the kind of fees she did, or garnered as much attention from the press. Her slender body was plastered all over the tabloid newspapers daily, with rumors of her having a relationship with some celebrity or other. But the sad thing was, most of those men quite simply bored her. She had, had only two dreams during her childhood. One was to be a model, and the other was to be with a man who truly knew how to treat her; not pander to her and give her everything she wanted at that moment, but a real man that knew how to achieve a fine balance between kindness and cruelty, while being able to satisfy her secret desires that she never spoke of. Model friends of hers in the industry had asked her exactly how any man would be able to satisfy her desires if he didn't know what they were in the first place, to which she had simply replied,

  “The right man will instinctively know what I desire, and if he doesn't, he'll be able to force the answer out of me.”

  Her statement had led to raised eyebrows in the dressing room, but quite a few of the girls would privately tell her they wished they could find the same thing. But up until that point in her life, she'd never found such a man; most men almost quite literally drooled over her, and would go through the usual motions of dinner, flowers, and compliments that she really didn't need. Even some of the ones that seemed like good prospects at first, would soon fall under her spell, and as they did, she'd quickly lose any desire for them that she once may have had.

  Victoria walked back off the stage, and then returned with the other girls for the final curtain call. When it was all done, and the cheers had subsided, she changed into her normal clothes and donned her baseball cap that she always wore so she could hide her face by hanging her head down if she didn't want to be recognized in public. Saying goodbye to Cindy - her long time model friend - she went outside onto the wet London streets and hailed a taxi to take her back to the Grosvenor hotel on Buckingham Palace Road where she was staying. Across the road she noticed a long black limousine, parked parallel to her. She just caught a glimpse of the window rolling upwards, and made out the shadowy figure of a man inside. Thinking nothing of it, she got into the black taxi as it did a U-turn and pulled-up in front of her.

  “Where to miss?” Asked the middle aged and slightly podgy cab driver.

  “The Grosvenor.” She replied, trying not to let the driver catch a full view of her face in the rear-view mirror, but it was too late,

  “Ere! Ain't you that there famous model?” He suddenly said in his thick Cockney accent, turning around to get a good look at her.

  Victoria tried to stifle a sigh, and simply allowed the sound of it to form into her answer “Yeah. I am.”

  Surprisingly to her, the driver seemed satisfied enough, and silently went on driving. It was quite a different reaction to what she'd get in her hometown of New York. Once cab drivers recognized her, they'd then make sure to talk to her for the next forty minutes non-stop. But the English were different. They were classy like that, fame didn't seem to impress them as much. She guessed it was something to do with the well known 'English reserve'. The taxi pulled up at the hotel and Victoria made sure to tip the driver as a thanks for not asking her all the same questions she usually got asked. A doorman walked over to car and opened the taxi door for her; and with an umbrella shielded her from the now pelting London night rain, as he walked her into the hotel.

  Arriving in her room, Victoria took off her baseball cap and let her long hair flow downwards as she sat down and closed her eyes, for a brief moment. Traveling around the world seemed glamorous, but in fact it could be very lonely. In two days time she would have to up-and-leave again for Milan. But for now, all she wanted to do was to relax and be out of the public eye.

  Her Blackberry rang, it was Richard, her long time agent. It was rather late at night and Victoria wondered what could be that urgent that he couldn't call in the morning; picking it up, she heard Richards somewhat thick New York accent crackle over the line,

  “Hey Vicky!” He began, he had always called her Vicky, even though she had told him countless times she hated it, “..Here's the deal, there's a private show you've been booked for, just outside of London, some kind of blue-blood limey has arranged it all.”

  Victoria asked him how many models had been booked for the event and was shocked to find out it was only her. Asking Richard for more details, he told her that all she needed to know was that firstly, there would be a limousine to pick her up at 4pm the next day, and secondly, that she'd be paid fifty thousand dollars for just one private one hour show,

  “Fifty thousand dollars!” Exclaimed Victoria, “Who would pay fifty thousand dollars for a private show?”

  She heard Richard on the other end get impatient; he didn't really care why, he only cared he would be getting fifteen percent of it;

  “I have no idea. A representative of his made all the arrangements. Anyway, I've gotta' go, I have a call on the other line.”

  And with that, Richard hung up, leaving Victoria to wonder how an hours work could net her fifty thousand. What kind of show was it exactly, she asked herself. She'd done some endorsement work before, but nothing had ever made her that kind of money in such a short space of time. Taking a shower, she continued to be intrigued by the prospect, but if she admitted it to herself, she was also slightly nervous. Putting it out of her mind, she lay down on the double bed and quickly fell asleep on the Egyptian cotton sheets.

  …

  After spending the morning and part of the afternoon shopping, Victoria waited for a call to her room to tell her that the limousine had arrived. It wasn't long before the reception staff called up and she left with some trepidation, closing the door behind her. In the sumptuous lobby was a chauffeur, dressed all in black wearing a peak cap who recognized her instantly, and motioned for her to follow him. Victoria tried to speak to him. But he only smiled and replied to her in French, a language she didn't understand at all, apart from the word 'Bonjour', which wasn't exactly going to help her in finding out what all of this whole escapade was all about.

  Victoria found a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket in the back of the limousine, with a chilled glass already apparently waiting for her.

  The limousine drove for what seemed like a couple of hours, and now all she could see out of the windows as she sipped on another glass of champagne, was the English countryside. The car soon turned onto a long gravel drive that seemed to go on forever. It was dar
k outside, but as the car turned another bend she saw a Gothic-esque mansion that looked to be at least couple of hundred years old. It was lit from the base and Victoria could just make out some windows with lights in them. As the car drew closer Victoria was able to gauge the size of the place, it was truly massive. It seemed to stretch back far into the landscaped grounds, and its four turrets on each corner made it all the more imposing. She estimated there must have been at least a hundred or more rooms in the place. Victoria shifted in her seat, as the smell of the leather within the car added to her sense of luxury. Whoever lived in this house, she thought, he was seriously rich.

  As the car came to a halt in front of the main entrance, a butler came out and walked her into the house. His accent was of the well-spoken old English type you seldom heard in the country anymore; she'd only really experienced it when watching old black and white British movies. He introduced himself as Perkins, and Victoria was pleased that at least he didn't speak French, as far as she knew.

  “Why exactly am I here Perkins, who booked me for this show?” Victoria asked the butler, as he led her through and into the reception area, although to call it a reception area was something of an understatement. The floor was of white marble and the staircase had two flights leading up to the mezzanine. Old paintings - obviously of family members long past - adorned the walls, wearing strange clothes from another century.

  “The master has been following your career avidly Victoria. He feels you are missing something in your life.” Said Perkins cryptically, as he led her into an adjoining room.

  “Missing something? Missing what?” She replied, “Just exactly what am I expected to do here?” Victoria asked, still more than a little perplexed. Perkins stopped and turned to face her,

  “All will become apparent in good time. But first you must give the master the show he has hired you for.”

  Perkins then showed Victoria the lingerie she would be wearing; they were hung deliberately on a moveable hanger in the room, and were numbered from one to ten. It seemed to Victoria that the higher the numbers got, the more revealing the outfits were. Number one was floral and tasteful, yet they gradually got more and more revealing and sexy as the numbers got higher, with number ten - a black silk outfit with suspenders - leaving very little to the imagination; yet it still managed to be tasteful, which was something only the best lingerie designers usually managed to pull off.

  Perkins told Victoria that the entrance to the stage was through a green velvet curtain she could see at the other end of the long high ceilinged room. She would know when to start as the music would cue her, and that was when she should make her entrance. With a slight bow, Perkins excused himself and told her to begin getting changed into outfit 'number one'. Victoria looked around her when Perkins closed the door. Whoever was behind that curtain waiting for her, must really want to meet her. The fee was no small amount for an hour, but judging by her surroundings, it may well be a paltry sum to the owner of the mansion. Changing into outfit number one, Victoria put on some make-up in front of the near-by dresser that had obviously been placed in the room for that nights purpose. She usually had her own make-up artists at her beck and call to do this work for her, but for fifty thousand dollars, she certainly wasn't going to complain. She chose hot pink as her lipstick color, it didn't exactly match all the outfits, but she really had no other choice, as her other lipstick colors didn't match any of the outfits at all. Victoria carefully put one of the hand-made chocolates that were on a silver tray into her mouth. The filling was unlike anything she had tasted before and she couldn't help herself give a slight moan of pleasure as the chocolate melted inside her mouth and the filling oozed over her tongue; sweet, but with a hint of something sharp that gave it a depth she never knew was possible with chocolate. There were only one pair of shoes in the room, and she guessed they must be for her. They were a pair of red high-heel shoes sitting beside the dresser. Slipping on the the first item of lingerie, she was surprised to find herself getting slightly wet. It seemed the surroundings and the soft touch of the silk on her body was having an unexpected effect on her already. It also astonished her that the high heel shoes were a perfect fit, Richard, her agent, must have informed them of her size, she figured.

  Just then, Victoria heard music begin to play in the other room. It wasn't the type she'd expected, it had deep mellow and sensual tones. And it was her cue to begin. She knew that because of the music she'd have to slow down her her walk on the stage to an almost feline predatory speed. Victoria moved the curtain back and was hit by the rich smell of cigar smoke and the warmth of strong lights on her face. It was show time, and there was no time to think of anything except doing her job. She tried to see beyond her to who was watching, but could only make out a pair of crossed legs in black trousers and black leather shoes as the lights were too bright. Reaching the end of the catwalk that had obviously been especially made just for this performance, she posed and then walked back. She felt the silk thong move across her labia delicately, and it struck her that the underwear was slightly too small for her, which was leading to the effect of arousal in her body. Changing again, she took to the catwalk, but each time she did, she noticed the music had changed. As she walked and returned to change without a word being spoken to her, the music took on harsher but more excited tones, leading her to really feel a desire to let herself go.

  Finally, she donned the last outfit, and it was slightly tighter than the rest and pushed her breasts up and out. The panties gripped the outline of her pussy, and as soon as she tried to walk she knew the silk rubbing on her was going to make every step of the way excruciatingly pleasurable. She paced up the catwalk, and reaching the end, gave a final pose; then finally... he spoke to her.

  “My dear, that was a delectable performance.”

  He spoke in an upper-class strongly English accent, his voice was calm and measured, putting Victoria instantly at ease. Still unable to clearly see him, he got up and walked towards the stage and held an open hand up, breaking through the darkness, inviting her to take it in hers as he helped her to step down from the catwalk.

  Seeing him for the first time - as she was still standing there in the tight fitting lingerie - she saw he was a tall man, and his frame was broad chested and masculine, not exactly what she had expected. She had thought such a man who would pay for a private show with a model would probably be quite overweight, and definitely not much to write home about. Yet Philip Claringdale was most definitely something to write home about. To say he was a good looking man was putting it mildly, his dark hair was swept backwards from his noble brow, and his cheekbones and jaw jutted out in a manner that made him look like he was hew from a rock-face.

  “Come with me.” He said, as he led her through to yet another adjoining room by the hand. Victoria wondered how many rooms within rooms there were in the mansion.

  It seemed as if they were never ending, as she entered a room with a large lit fireplace already blazing in front of a white fur rug with two leather bound studded armchairs to either side, an ornate antique table and two glasses of champagne already waiting for them. Victoria sat down and felt the warmth of the fire on her still almost naked body, and crossed her legs. But it didn't occur to her to ask to change; somehow, she felt completely relaxed just as she was, although Phillip's dinner jacket and bow tie were quite the contrast to her suspenders and revealing lingerie.

  Phillip sat back and lit up another cigar as he eyed her, not with a look of desire, but with a piercing gaze that looked right into her, as if searching for her very essence. He told her his family line had past on the estate for three centuries, and now he was the heir. Throughout three hundred years they had maintained a close relationship with the royal family, and this had led them to accrue assets and land worth billions. As he spoke to her with his glass in hand, she noticed Phillip trail off. He seemed to have something on his mind,

  “What I haven't been able to find though, is the perfect woman. Do you know wha
t the perfect woman is Victoria?” He asked, with his palm held out, inviting her to answer,

  “Well, I suppose you mean beautiful and kind.” As she said that, Philip laughed, and waved his hand to-and-fro to indicate in the negative,

  “Oh no Victoria. Such a woman is common and valueless to me. What I seek is a woman who knows how to be my slave, and yet at the same time retains her own character and independence.”

  Victoria balked at the statement, yet it hit a nerve in her, but she was too scared to show him this; he went on,

  “I have watched your career Victoria. And I pride myself on being able to notice a kindred spirit. I've seen the bored look on your face with many a handsome man on your arm. I know what you need Victoria, I know what you want and crave.”

  Victoria looked into the flickering flames of the fire. She had to admit, most men did bore her, handsome or not, they were all the same. Turning her head to look at him again, and flicking her hair to the side, she decided to find out exactly where all this was going.

  “So what do you suggest Phillip? Why am I really here?”

  Phillip got up and walked over to a nineteenth century chest of draws, and pulled out a piece of paper and a diamond encrusted fountain pen, and sat back down on the chair, placing them both down carefully with a sense of ceremony.

  “This is a contract Victoria. In this contract you will sign, you will agree to be my slave whenever you are here at Claringdale Mansion. But the choice to come here is entirely yours.”

  Victoria almost spat out her champagne,

  “Slave! You want me to be your slave! That's ridiculous!”

  Philip leaned forward, taking her hand in his, and with his dark eyes focused intently on her, said,

  “Victoria; know this... I do not take this decision lightly. This contract is also for your own good. I will give you all you want, but more importantly, I will give you all you need.”