The Billionaire or The Cowboy: A Tale of Two Suitors, Part 1 (BBW, dom/sub BDSM, erotic romance)

*Warning:* This 5000 word story contains graphic language, a curvy BBW girl, rough sex, and explicit descriptions of sexual activity including dominant/submissive BDSM, blowjobs, cunnilingus, and orgasm denial. Intended For Mature Audiences 18+ Only.

When Lois, a gorgeous, full-figured secretary at Tarbell Software, is introduced to the CEO, there's instant attraction. At least on her part. Late one night, alone in the office, Lois lets her fantasies get away from her and the big billionaire boss, Mr. Tarbell, catches her in the act of masturbating. Mr. Tarbell takes on the challenge of disciplining her for this office deviance and so begins Lois's sexual adventure. And Mr. Tarbell isn't the only man with eyes for Lois.

*Excerpt:*

The rhythmic squelch of my fingers plunging in and out of me filled the air as I arched my back and cried out loudly. My breaths were ragged. Each plunge of my fingers eliciting louder moans. "Mr. Tarbell," I choked out. "Fuck me." As I orgasmed, it felt as though electricity was shot through my body. My muscles spasmed and I slowed my fingers and took deep breaths. I licked my fingers clean and opened my eyes.

Mr. Tarbell was standing right there.

I jumped, struggling to hide my body, throwing my skirt over my legs, and pulling my shirt back together as best I could. My face burned. Shit, shit, shit. How fucking embarrassing. "I'm sorry," I said, stammering. "I'm sorry."

Few had seen me so naked, so exposed. A couple of old boyfriends, maybe, though I usually insisted on doing it in the dark. I had a hard time feeling sexy, given the wideness of my hips, and the extra pounds on my stomach. I was sure that the image of my jiggling fat would be revolting to any man. And here he had seen me, in the unforgiving fluorescent light, masturbating with my skirt pulled up and my shirt pulled down.

Mr. Tarbell looked unamused. "This is an office," he said. "This is a place of business. Have you no self-control?"

"I don't know what came over me," I said, nearly crying. "It won't happen again. I thought I was alone. Please. It won't happen again." I needed this job. If I got fired, I definitely wouldn't make rent.

"This is unacceptable," he said, disgust on his face. "You need to control your urges. You're not an animal." He looked around. "This offices reeks of sex."

"I will control myself. I swear."

"Self-control must be taught," said Tarbell. "And it looks like it'll fall to me to teach you." He put his hand on the desk between us and tapped it for emphasis. "If you want to keep this job, you'll do what I say, when I say it."

"I will, sir."

He pointed his finger at me. "Swear it."

"I swear."

"You've been a bad secretary. You've been a bad girl. You're not to touch your cunt for two weeks. If you do, I'll find out. If you do, you'll be punished."

I was shocked. My mouth was agape.

"Close your mouth."

"Sorry."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You're to call me sir," he said, sternly.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl." Then he smiled for the first time. A small smile. And he boarded the elevator and left.

After the weekend, I came back into the office sheepishly, wondering if somehow everyone knew. The sight of my chair, the scene of the crime, made me feel sick with humiliation. There was a light stain, but it was probably only me who would notice it. After about an hour, though, I settled back into my rhythm and everything was as normal.

But at the end of the day, just before I was to leave, I got an email from Mr. Tarbell. It said:

Stay at your desk.

Nothing more. The nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach returned. Was he going to fire me? The thought didn't make any sense, but the fear was real.

But I stayed at my desk. And when my boss and coworkers had all gone, Mr. Tarbell was there. He didn't even say hello before he spoke.

"Did you touch your cunt?" he asked.

"No," I said.

He narrowed his brow, annoyed.

"Sir."

"G