Fucked Raw by my School's Billionaire Owner
He laid me on the sheets, climbed over me, caged me with his arms. "Last chance to run," he said, voice low."I need the money," I whispered, feeling so tiny in his arms."You're soaking," he muttered. "Virgin or not, your pussy wants this."I moaned, looking away, couldn't help it,"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he pushed his tip in slowly."Fuck," he groaned. "So tight."He fucked me like he was claiming something. "Come for me," he whispered in my ears, moving faster."Damien," I cried out his name as I came."That's it," he growled. After a long minute he pulled out slowly. "One night," he said again, almost like a reminder....weeks later, I walked through the quiet hall of my school. A massive portrait stared back at me.Damien BlackwoodPrincipal Benefactor and OwnerColumbia University.Same man who'd just taken my virginity for money. My stomach dropped. "Oh fuck... what have I done?"
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Chapter 3
I woke up feeling tired, today was a weekend so I didn't have much to do. I had waited all night for Sofia's idea but she didn't text, I guess she hasn't come up with something yet. I looked at my face on my phone screen, my eyes were swollen from crying, I didn't mind, because some times this was normal to me. After freshening up, I was debating on going to the hospital to see Papa or study, when an incoming call interrupted my thought.
The caller name read 'Sofia' a little smile formed on my lips, she had finally come up with an idea. I picked up the call. "Hey Sofia," I greeted.
"How are you?" She asked concerned.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"Have you come up with an idea?" I asked hopeful.
"Yeah, but I'm not sure you would like it, I'm on my way to your place," her voice was not cheerful, but I was still hopeful.
"Okay, I'll be waiting," I ended the call.
After what seemed like an hour, she knocked, I rushed to open the door.
"Come in," I gestured her.
"I knew you have been crying," she said as she sat down. I gave her a reassuring smile not to worry.
"I'm not sure you're going to like the idea, but it's the fastest way to get the money," she paused expecting me to say something but I just listened instead.
"There is a website where old men pay young girls to sleep with them for a night, just for a night and then you get paid," she emphasized but it was not about it being for a night. I stayed quiet for some time.
"I'm a virgin," I said quietly.
"Oh, I'm sorry for bringing up such an idea, I did not know," she panicked but I did not feel offended she was only trying to help.
"It's fine, I know you mean no harm," I said trying to ease the tension she felt.
"You sure it's just a one night thing?" I asked considering the idea. I kept my virginity for true love, but this was an emergency and who knows if I would ever meet my true love.
"Yes, it's just a night, but you don't have to do it, we can think of another way," she said calmly.
"There is no other fast way to get the money, except I want to do something worse than this," I exhaled.
"So how do we...," I was too shy to complete it, but she understood what I meant.
"We would create a profile for you and then wait," she said grabbing my phone. After the process was done, I uploaded the sexiest pic I had on my phone.
"So that's all?" I said surprised.
"That's just the easiest part," she said giving me a small smile.
After a few hours a notification popped up on my phone, it was a message from the app, I gave the phone to Sofia to check it out, she understood the app more.
"You have a client already," she said not to sure if it was a good news.
"Okay," I replied not believing I could do this for a man who spent most of his time abusing me with harsh words.
"He's in his sixties, are you sure you want to do this?" Sofia asked concerned.
"What choice do I have?, It's just a night, I would be fine," I said reassuring her.
We accepted the offer and the pay was exactly what I needed.
"My driver would pick you up in the evening," Sofia read the message on my phone. That was fast, I didn't even have time to look good but I didn't care, it was just a one time thing.
"I would leave you to get ready, if you change your mind before then, it's fine," she said hugging me.
"Thank you," I appreciated her.
I wore a simple black dress, it was just business, there was nothing special there. Once it was 8pm a black SUV was parked outside and I just knew it was his driver. I walked outside not minding the stares outside, I just knew I would collect a lot of insults when I come back, but I didn't care.
The drive to the house wasn't more than an hour, I was shocked to see a beautiful mansion, but then again, it was a wealthy old man, was I meant to expect less.
"Ma'am Mr Damien will be with you shortly, you can wait In the third room by your left," the driver directed me.
"Thanks," I gave a slight nod.
With the help of the driver's description I found the room, I sat on the couch close to the bed. My hands were shaking slightly but I held them firmly, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.
After what felt like 30 minutes, a tall handsome man, black hair, brown eyes, great physique and perfect jawline entered the room. He looked to be in his late thirties, probably Mr Damien's son, I thought to myself.
"I'm waiting for your father," I said shyly, even though I hated the fact I was shy.
He chuckled slightly. "My father is long dead,"
My eyes widened in shock and surprise, what does he mean 'long dead'.
"Darling you were waiting for me, My name is Damien," he introduced himself.
He looked nothing like the profile picture, it was confusing.
"You're not the one in the profile," I said confusingly.
"Yeah, that's a fake picture, I prefer to keep my identity private, so young girls won't end up falling for me, it's just sex," he said nonchalantly with so much pride.
I looked closely at him and I could have sworn I had seen him somewhere, but couldn't just place where. I brushed it off, might just be my mind playing with me. We stared at each other for close to five minutes, I didn't know what to do and I was not going to ask.
"You would need to freshen up, but I would join you," he said pulling off his suit.
"You don't have to," I replied quickly remembering I had to shave and would be too shy to look at him while doing that.
"I wasn't seeking your permission," he said with so much pride. I kept reminding myself I needed the money and just have to tolerate his ego and pride for one night.
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8.4
Ayleen Avery was just a struggling hotel worker trying to survive her shift. But during a sudden blackout, she accidentally stumbled into the pitch-black VIP suite of a ruthless billionaire driven mad by chronic insomnia.
Calmed only by her unique natural scent of roses and rain, the terrifying man attacked her from the shadows and forced himself on her. Terrified and broken, Ayleen fled at dawn, unknowingly leaving behind her late mother's antique rose necklace in his bed.
Her greedy coworker found the necklace, claimed to be the woman from that night, and was instantly swept into a life of luxury. Meanwhile, Ayleen was blackmailed into a forced marriage with her attacker—Cassius Doyle—to save her adoptive father from prison. Deceived by the stolen necklace, Cassius believed Ayleen was a manipulative spy. He brought the coworker into their home and paraded her around the master bedroom.
"In this house, you are lower than the dirt on my shoes."
He choked Ayleen, forced her to sleep in a damp storage room, and treated her with violent disgust while pampering the thief.
Ayleen was suffocating in absolute despair. She had lost her innocence, her freedom, and her mother's only relic to a vicious liar. She couldn't understand how this all-powerful man could be so completely blind. Why couldn't he recognize the very scent that had cured his agonizing madness?
Staring at the dark bruises he had just left on her neck, Ayleen wiped the blood from her lip. She would endure this three-month marriage to secure her family's safety, but once the contract ended, she would expose the truth and tear down the fake savior he cherished so much.
9.5
On the day she discovers she is pregnant, Amara is handed divorce papers by the man she loved for three years. Betrayed by her husband and her best friend, she walks away with nothing-except the secret growing inside her.
But what Ethan Cole doesn't know is that the woman he abandoned is not weak... and not alone.
When Amara returns as a powerful heiress, no longer the woman he could control, Ethan begins to regret everything. But as secrets unravel and the truth about her pregnancy comes closer to light, one question remains-
When he finally finds out the child is his... will it already be too late?
9.7
I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire.
One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery.
When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community.
Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby.
The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir.
I slapped her across the face.
The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital.
She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium.
My husband cornered me in the interrogation room.
"Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear."
I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion.
He actually believed I was a jealous murderer.
I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them.
Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang.
The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest.
Only I had the surgical skill to save her.
I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.
7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.
8.0
After years of a freezing, loveless marriage, my billionaire husband Israel finally threw me out to make room for his new lover, Ayla.
Before I even packed my bags, he ordered a crew to shred the Dogwood tree in our backyard and pour thick concrete into the crater, claiming it was a symbol of my infidelity.
He didn't know that buried beneath those roots was the urn containing the ashes of our unborn baby.
Stripped of everything, I tried to rebuild my shattered life by securing a supporting role in an indie film.
But Israel bought the entire production studio just to cast Ayla as the lead, demanding I act as her pathetic stepping stone.
When I refused, he cornered me on set with a sickening audio recording.
"We want one million dollars. This will ruin Karen forever."
It was my own parents. They had forged my medical records, planning to sell a story to the tabloids that I was a violent, delusional schizophrenic.
Israel smiled coldly, threatening to lock me in a padded room on an involuntary psychiatric hold unless I signed an unpaid contract to serve Ayla unconditionally.
My own flesh and blood had sold me out to a ruthless monster for cash.
Staring at the extortion contract, the last shred of desperation and love in my chest burned away into cold, gray ash.
To survive a monster, you have to become one.
I picked up his pen, violently signed my name, and prepared to rip his precious Ayla to shreds on camera.
7.1
For six years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Hartwell Ware, enduring his coldness because I thought my love could eventually thaw his heart.
Then, my friend sent me a photo. Hartwell was at the airport, tenderly holding the waist of his first love, Eveline Craig.
He came home smelling of her synthetic rose perfume, accused me of stalking him, and coldly demanded a divorce.
His lawyer handed me a thick settlement agreement. It offered astronomical alimony and luxury properties, but it came with a humiliating ten-page non-disclosure agreement.
He wanted to buy my silence. He wanted to strip me of my rights to our son and gag me permanently, just so he could parade his new life with Eveline without any PR backlash.
Even now, he still thought I was a gold digger who had orchestrated a media scandal to trap him into marriage.
I stared at the man I had worshipped for two thousand days. My six years of desperate devotion had been nothing but a humiliating, one-sided delusion.
Hope was finally dead, and with it, my tears had completely dried up.
He expected me to cry, to beg, to negotiate for more millions.
Instead, I snatched the pen, crossed out the massive alimony, and signed my name on the dotted line.
"I am taking the basic child support, and not a single red cent more."
Leaving my five-carat diamond ring on the marble table, I walked out the door with nothing but my old suitcase.