Home > Who Wants to Lock Down a Billionaire

Who Wants to Lock Down a Billionaire
Author: Jamie Knight

Chapter One - Morgan


I was debating whether to break out a pink of ice cream or take a bubble bath when my best friend Morgan plopped down beside me. I’d always loved this relaxing part of the evening, in which I could have fun for an hour or two now that the responsibilities of single motherhood were done for the day, before I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

“Have you heard about this show called Who Wants to Lock Down with a Billionaire?” Astrid asked, pulling up the site on her laptop.

We had made a large meatloaf dinner, working together to threaten the plot of the evil oven trying to throw us off, and then put my daughter to bed, which was another team effort. I hadn’t known if she was going to head home or join me where I’d lazily collapsed on the surprisingly comfortable couch in my tiny living room. It really was amazing what you could find on the curb side if you were willing to look for it.

Astrid didn’t live with Freya and me, but she might as well have. She was constantly over and often spent the night.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said, as a timid answer to her question about the show.

All these reality TV shows sounded alike to me, and it was hard to keep track of them. But this one was new and was being done virtual style, due to the pandemic, so that was a unique twist that made it stand out a bit more from the others.

“It’s really wild!” Astrid continued. “There’s like this super rich guy and women apply to go with him to this luxury compound he has set up for a two-week lockdown! The only catch is that they have to agree in advance that if they win, they’ll be his ‘pet,’ like a sex slave or whatever, and he’s really into the whole dominance thing. Like spanking and stuff!”

I tried to keep myself from giggling at the way she was phrasing things. Astrid had been raised Dutch Orthodox and was a bit sheltered. She didn’t really know what sex was until her late teens and didn’t lose her virginity until college.

I had shown her some amateur porn just to give her a clear idea of what might happen. She nearly fainted. For her, anal sex was the height of taboo kink. There were some ways in which I envied her innocence.

The idea behind the show wasn’t the worst one I’d ever heard, for this sort of thing. Reality TV had always carried a slight varnish of sleaze, going all the way back to the first seasons of Lost and Big Brother.

Sex and betrayal were major themes of the shows and a big part of the attraction. They were Shakespearian tragedies without the writing or performances, something the tabloids, then and now, did their very best to run with.

The more devastating the news, the better. After a while they just dropped the pretense and innuendo all together and came out with shows like Naked Attraction, which is basically what it sounds like.

“So, this is like a luxury lockdown with a billionaire, but I guess the play on words is that you also lock down his heart, by being his choice of the one girl he chooses to quarantine with, out of the many who apply,” Astrid continued.

“Hmmm,” I thought, shrugging. “I guess even billionaires have needs to be fulfilled during the quarantine that they have to find special ways of going about.”

“Yeah,” she said, laughing. “The rest of us just have to fight over toilet paper at Walmart for days on end in order to have our basic needs met.”

In a lot of ways, Who Wants to Lock Down a Billionaire? seemed a lot tamer than most reality shows on network TV. Especially in the post social-media age. Which made sense, I guess, since the name of the show was a tongue-in-cheek throwback to the innocent and pure game show.

Sure, the winner was supposed to do whatever the billionaire wanted while on their luxury lockdown, but that just added to the fun. It seemed almost like a game of double dare.

The star billionaire Adam Leary’s well-publicized proclivities were all reported in age appropriate language, so you never quite got the full picture, leaving the reader to decide whether the handsome self-made man liked a bit of spanking or left his lovers with black eyes.

It was, of course, impossible to know for sure. Who really knows even their closest friends truly?

But there was something about him. Something in his eyes that made me think it was the former. I knew he was a Dom, at least to hear the rumor mill tell it, but I couldn’t really imagine him harming anyone. I had seen brutality. I knew the look and he just didn’t have it.

The contestant that night was an unspeakably hot redhead with skin like milk and freckles in all the right places. Her breasts were also to be admired, perfectly shaped and just the right size.

Adam seemed interested. He engaged her and made her giggle, though I suspected he was like that with everyone. It could have just been an act.

One didn’t get to be a billionaire without learning to schmooze, unless they were born into it. Even then schmoozing was probably a required course at private school along with which spoon to use and how to tie a cardigan around your neck.

Not that Adam struck me as particularly pretentious. He was always well put together, but in a style probably best described as beautiful simplicity. Boots, jeans and t-shirts were worn in such a way as to look like they belonged at an opera house. His jeans were perfectly pressed and always unruffled; his black t-shirt looked like it was designed to perfectly fit his beefy frame and his boots, Doc Martens from what I could tell, were always polished to a mirror glow.

Of course, when you had as much money as he did, no one was going to argue with what you chose to wear, now were they?

“You should go on this show!” Astrid gushed, nearly squealing with excitement.

“What? No I mean I couldn’t, I-”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! You're super hot; I’m sure he’ll like you.”

I wished I shared her confidence. I had certainly been what one might describe as “hot” when I was younger, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. Rick walking out on me when he found out I was pregnant was quite a shock and really shook my confidence.

I had tried my best to get my figure back after having Freya but I really wasn’t sure it had worked. Truth be told, Astrid as the first person to tell me I was hot in about five years. On the upside, I had no reason to doubt her intentions. She was nothing if not honest and direct.

“There’s a ton of prize money in it,” she coaxed me, and I thought about how much it could help out my situation, and Freya’s too, of course.

“Do you really think they would want me?” I asked hesitantly.

“Sure, put in an application. I’ll bet you a turkey dinner that you at least get on the show, if not chosen to go with him on the luxury lockdown.”

“Fresh or frozen?”

“I’m serious!” Astrid objected, pelting me good with a cushion.

“My own cushion turned against me in anger! Oh, the humanity!”

“Come here,” Astrid said, squeezing me tight.

“You’re forgiven, oh traitor of mine.”

“Good. At least think about what I said, yeah? It could be really fun! The prize money for lasting the whole time is a million dollars! We both know you need the money.”

“Yeah. I’ll think about it,” I said.

I did think about it. I almost went mad thinking about it. I got so horny I could barely sleep. My mind was full of images of me bent over Adam’s knee, his strong, sure hand landing expertly on my bare ass again and again, before turning me over and having me suck on what I assumed to be a truly magnificent cock. I mean, his hands were big, so it only stood to reason. Or so I had been led to believe.

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