The Billionaire's Fall (18+)

4: Beggars Can Choose

Brandon wanted to kick himself in the ass.

The one time in his life that he slept in and woke up late for something, happened to be for an event that he was more anxious for than anything ever.

His week had been hectic, even despite the fact that he'd been preparing to retire ever since he'd gotten wind that the powerhouse business's of the country wanted a stake in his own business. There were last minute decisions, employee inquiries and more to deal with.

Brandon had promoted Jeremy to CEO, he would still own the business itself but he just wouldn't be as involved. He knew he wouldn't need to though, from the start his best friend had showed him that he could run the business, maybe even better than Brandon himself had.

He exited his car, actually having driven it himself for once, and walked through the doors of the Club's building.

It shouldn't have been surprising that at eleven at night, no guards were present and the doors were locked. "Fuck," Brandon cursed and whirled around, exiting the building but not giving up hope.

He needed this. Needed to see the Mistress at the very least. And so he circled the building and felt like he'd struck gold when he saw the lone door in the back.

Brandon found that it was unlocked and entered the building, though he quickly got lost. The door he had gone through didn't lead through the back room that the Mistress had shown him, instead, he had no idea where the fuck it was leading to.

Frustration boiled in his veins the further he walked and didn't see anything familiar. He couldn't help but think about the fact that the Mistress might not give him another opportunity after this.

Maybe he should just turn around... catch her at the next show. She had said she was on the stage every Friday—another week from now.

Too fucking long of a wait, Brandon thought angrily.

He continued forward. The hall seemed to be endless, until he saw it. The bright light of the stage straight ahead.

Just as quickly as he felt elated at the sight, he felt dread. The light slowly decreased before his eyes as the curtains were drawn closed. He stumbled out of the end of the hall right when the stage was awashed in darkness.

Fuck. "Hello!" He yelled, his voice booming—desperate.

The click of high fucking heels against the stage to his left caught his attention and filled him with relief.

"You're here."

Brandon let out a breath of relief, replying, "I am."

The Mistress's heels clicked a few more times as she moved and then the stage was suddenly bathed in light once more.

There she was, clad in her silk mask and a short black dress that he was sure displayed her lush ass like the last time he saw her.

"You're also late. If you were my submissive, I would punish you." Brandon's heartbeat spiked In his chest. The thought of her punishing him sounded too fucking good. "Since you aren't. I'll settle with giving you one chance to show me you're ready to be my submissive... or my slave."

"There's a difference?" Brandon asked. The Mistress nodded and he held his breath as she walked around him. "Wait here," she commanded.

Brandon watched her curvy ass sway as she walked off of the stage and returned a few minutes later. She had a crop in her hand and had let her hair long hair down.