A Boss a Mentor a Lover

My mind raced. Could this really be happening? Was I really on top of Carrie, her legs wrapped around me, her fingernails digging into my back, our mouths pressed against each other, tongues dancing in unison? Did she really just admit to me that she was my slave, willing to do anything I wanted, anything I asked of her? It didn't seem possible.

I broke off our kiss and looked Carrie in the eyes, my fingers curling into her hair. "I just want you to be happy, Carrie, you know that's all I want," I told her.

"Bullshit," she replied calmly and matter-of-factly, not changing her expression in the least. "I know you want me to be happy, but I also know that's not all you want. In fact, I'd be very unhappy with you if it was. C'mon Jim," she coaxed, running her fingers through my hair as well, "you know you want me to do things, and you want to do things to me. So do them. Let your slave please you."

I bent down and kissed her lips softly. If she wanted this master and slave arrangement, I was game. I broke the tender kiss off rather quickly and got up off her. I stood beside the bed admiring my little gift slave. Carrie lay before me legs spread widely, her black pantyhose fastened to a garter belt I couldn't yet see. Her mound was covered by a pair of candy apple red panties which had a thin vertical line of wetness running directly down the center between her pussy lips. With her legs spread this widely, the plump flesh of her outer labia had begun to push out of the fabric of her panties as they crept into her crack.

"Stand up," I told her. I hated to put an end to this lovely view, but it was time for the game to begin. She pushed herself off the bed, but her motion was quick and too eager. "Wait, stop," I said. "When I ask you to do anything, slave, you will do it slowly. I don't want you moving too quickly; I want to enjoy your sexy little body when you're doing things for me. Is that understood?"

Carrie's eyes narrowed into slits. I thought for a moment she would challenge my authority as master, but she half-smiled a moment later and her features softened. I had provided the first test in our little game, and she allowed me the indulgence. "Of course, master, I want you to enjoy looking at me," she replied submissively. But despite her submission I could still detect a faint hint of impudence in her voice. Good, I thought, I love how strong this woman is. It's what defines her. I want her to defy me and test me, without that strength she wouldn't be the woman she is. Thinking of the power she wielded just turned me on more.

"Excellent. Now please stand up slowly," I told her. I added "please" to reaffirm the respect I had for her; it wouldn't be easy to treat her as a slave completely. She stood up slowly and the bottom of her skirt fell back down to knee-length, covering her panties and her sex. She stood before me, arms at her side. "Good. Now I have just one question for you, and you'd better answer it honestly, do you understand that, slave?"

"Yes, master, I understand," she replied.

I took a deep breath. This was a dangerous question, but she was offering me a great deal of power, and I needed to know she wouldn't resent me wielding it. She had been mistreated lately, perhaps all her life, in her pursuit of her goals, and I needed to know my actions would be a healthy release for her, not something that would further degrade her. I let the question out slowly, in barely more than a whisper. "Why me, Carrie? Why, when you've been so insulted, so affronted, would you want me to be degrading to you?"

Her expression didn't change in the least. "I've already told you why, Jim. But if it will make you feel better, than know this: Many men want to control me. Many want to degrade me, as you say, and cut me down to keep me below them. You, however, respect me as I am. Therefore I offer you control, freely and willingly. Please don't deny me this; it is not a degradation. And please don't question why I might find you worthy. Just indulge me... indulge yourself... and enjoy this. Being with you is the purest form of enjoyment I've felt in a long time, let me revel in it."

I reached up and stroked her cheek. This was all I needed to know. I gave her a soft look to let her know how much I both respected and admired her. But then, in a single moment, I switched. I let some of the primal animal I had roaring inside me come out. I flared my nostrils to breathe deeply the scent of her as I stepped closer to her, now just inches away. "Take off your blouse," I commanded breathily.

Without stepping back or breaking eye contact with me, she defiantly reached up and undid the first attached button, lifting her chin proudly as she did so. She had already unfastened the top two buttons earlier, so this third revealed a good deal of cleavage, as well as the connecting piece of fabric between the two cups of her bra resting between her breasts. She reached for the next button but before she got to it I reproached her, wielding my control. "Slowly," I reminded, "make it exquisite."

This word must have pleased her because she half-smiled again knowingly. "Of course, master, I'm sorry." With both index fingers she pulled lightly in opposite directions on the blouse to reveal the tops of her breasts. She then slid her fingers slowly down the fabric and undid the next button. The blouse slipped tantalizingly off her tits and revealed them to me. Her red bra was semi-transparent and unadorned with a pattern, a perfect match with her panties, and I could see her taut nipples standing erect beneath its fabric. She exhaled heavily as she exposed them, revealing her nakedness to me for the first time in nearly a year. I exhaled as well; I had craved this for so long. It took all my willpower not to bend down and put my mouth onto her nipples. They called to me: tight little light brown treasures aching to be sucked, licked, bitten... but I fought the urge.

She undid another button and the blouse slipped free of her shoulders. She pulled the bottom of it from out of her skirt where she had it tucked, and unfastened the last button. Before it slipped to the floor I said, "Wait, let me." I caught the delicate fabric in my hands. "Turn around," I told her. She spun slowly around and I slipped the blouse down her back and off her arms. I brought it to my face and breathed deeply, inhaling her sweet perfume on the fabric. I did this right next to her ear so she could hear exactly what I was doing, enjoying the scent she left behind. I then dropped it to the floor.

Wordlessly I ran a line with my fingertip from one of her shoulder blades to the other. Her muscles tightened slightly, but she relaxed just as quickly. I then grazed the four fingers of my hand from her neckline all the way down to the small of her back. I heard her exhale audibly. "You don't mind if I touch you, do you, slave?"

"Of course not, master," she replied.

"Do you like it?" I questioned further.

"I do, master."

"Say it then."

"I like it, master."

"What do you like?" I prodded.

"I like it when you touch me, master. I like having your hands on me."

"Good." I then ran my fingers back up her back, barely grazing the skin. This time she moaned, a very soft, "Ohhhhhh," from deep in her throat that was barely audible. I stepped in very close to her, my breath warm on her neck. I took both sides of the clasp of her bra between my fingers and pushed them together quickly to surprise her. The clasp popped free and both straps dangled down her back. She let out a little squeak of surprise. I leaned in slowly and nuzzled my face into the hair just above the nape of her neck. "Turn around again," I whispered softly into her ear. I heard her exhale sharply as my breath tickled her, and she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

She spun around again slowly. The unfastened bra was now held on by only the shoulder straps and her breasts had fallen just slightly. The fabric under the bra had slipped free from under her tits, and it seemed like the bra was now defying gravity hanging there.

"Take it off, slave," I whispered hungrily; I was eating her alive with my eyes. She kept her chin lifted slightly, delectably defiant still. But she obeyed my command as she lifted both hands slowly and hooked her thumbs into the shoulder straps. She paused for a single, teasing moment before pulling forward on the straps and releasing her tits from the fabric. The bra slipped forward onto her arms, and she dropped it to the floor, leaving her arms at her side.

Her perky teardrop breasts, small B cup-sized, hung proudly, the nipples taut and at attention. I drank them in with my eyes, unabashedly leering at her pert form. I stepped forward and put both hands on her upper arms. She inhaled deeply, anticipating my touch. But instead of indulging her by running my hands over her, I whispered, "Turn around again." She pushed her lower jaw out slightly to illustrate her annoyance with being told to spin around and around, but again she relented and simply replied, "Yes, master," in a submissive whisper. She spun slowly around again and presented me with her soft, creamy white back.

I ran my fingers down her again, from the nape of her neck to the small of her back where two firm muscles ran vertically on either side of her spine. Her heavy exhalation told me she enjoyed it and had been craving my touch. I got down on one knee behind her, my fingers tracing a line horizontally along her lower back along the top of her skirt. This skirt had taunted me. It was a symbol of the attraction I had for her, and the power she wielded over me. It symbolized my lust for her, wanting to have her but not being able to take her. I had craved this moment from the very first time I'd seen her wearing this suit. This was the moment I would finally be taking it off of her.

Silently I put both of my hands onto her ass cheeks and squeezed. I had longed to feel her muscled ass beneath the fabric of that skirt, and it didn't disappoint. The soft flesh yielded invitingly at first, then became taut and hard when I reached the firm muscle below. Her workout regimen and commitment to a healthy lifestyle had created the ideal female behind, yielding yet firm, supple yet strong. It was heavenly. But I removed my hands after just a single squeeze. I waited several moments, not moving. I wanted to build her anticipation of what was going to happen next. She stood defiantly still, but I could hear her breathing heavily.

After several moments I used a single finger to delicately remove the tiny handle of her zipper from where it was tucked into the folds of fabric. Very lightly, and very slowly, I tugged down on the zipper. The buzz it made as it slid slowly down her ass was barely audible, but I heard Carrie's breath quicken as it went. When it reached bottom, I simply let it go. The two sides of the skirt fell open, and for the briefest of moments it defied gravity, hugging her rounded hips against all odds. But with the slightest tug on the bottom of the hem, it slipped languidly off her and fell slowly to the floor.

She exhaled deeply. My own breath caught in my throat as I drank in the sight of her. The panties formed a small, red triangle at the top of her ass, and the thin G-string fabric rode deeply between her cheeks below, revealing her bare ass to me, fine little hairs lying lightly on each cheek. The black garter straps ran in a vertical line over the very outside of her butt cheeks, hugging their curves. The straps connected to a lacy black garter belt which clung to her waist just above her panties. The muscular shape of her ass, and the creamy whiteness of her skin, created the appearance that each cheek was a perfectly rounded scoop of vanilla ice cream perched on a cone; the dark stockings giving her thighs their cone-like appearance.

The fine, light little hairs on her cheeks were beckoning me; I wanted so badly to put my mouth on her ass. To kiss it, bite it, lick it, to run my tongue along those garter straps and pull the elastic into my mouth with my teeth, to lick those cheeks like the ice cream scoops they were, tasting the sweet juice flowing between them. But I had other plans and this indulgence would have to wait. I stood up slowly behind her.

"Turn around," I whispered again into her ear. This time she spun around quickly and slapped my chest, clearly revolting against this game I'd made of spinning her around again and again. She bit her lower lip in defiance and I cherished her impudence; I loved how she would only be pushed so far. But I wanted to continue the game. I caught her hand on my chest with my left hand, and grabbed her waist and pulled her into me with my right, her breasts pushing tantalizingly against my chest.

"Bad slave," I scolded, "you must never hit me." I held her body against mine, our faces just inches apart, her tits pressed against me. "But I'll forgive you this indiscretion, for now, because I have a chore for you." She was still biting her lower lip, but I'd piqued her curiosity so she relented.

"I'm very sorry, master, what chore do you have for me?" she asked.

I released her and walked over and picked up her heels. "Put these on, please," I asked politely, handing her the shoes. She obeyed wordlessly, and the sight of her stooping over to hook the heels over her stocking-clad feet, her tits gently bobbing with each motion, made my cock stiffen in my pants.

When the shoes were on, she stood proudly and asked, "What next, master?" I was thoroughly turned on now and hearing her say this forced me to conjure every ounce of willpower I could muster to not throw her on the bed and fuck her savagely and deeply right there. I had plans, and I wanted to see how far she would take this master/slave game, but she looked so remarkably sexy in her stockings and heels. I shook my head clear and focused.

"Well, Carrie," I explained, "it's been a long day. I think we could both use one final drink to cap off our success. The mini-bar must have some good liquor in it, but the problem is we have no ice. Me, I prefer my drinks on the rocks." The look on Carrie's face began to become very questioning. "Every floor in this hotel has an ice machine," I continued, and she shot me a very devious, very knowing look as I said this. She was catching on to my intentions. "So would you please be so kind as to take that bucket on the desk over there and run down the hall to get us some ice for our drinks?" When I finished my question, Carrie's breathing quickened to a furious pace. Her shoulders were practically shrugging up and down with each breath. But she maintained composure and kept her gaze defiantly on my eyes, not looking away for a second.

"I'm naked, master," she said after a moment, "may I cover up before I go?" I'm sure she knew the answer to the question before she asked it, but she wanted to hear my response.

"No, I'm sorry," I replied. "The ice machine isn't far, so you probably won't meet anyone in the hall this late, but even if you do you're just going to have to let them see your sexy little body. Consider it penance for always wearing that suit," I nodded to the jacket and skirt lying on the floor, "knowing how it turns me on every time I see you in it." She exhaled heavily after I said this and blinked her eyes slowly.

"Yes, master," she relented, "that's fair." She walked slowly over to the desk and retrieved the ice bucket, then made her way to the door. She turned the knob and opened the door slowly, shooting me a defiant, indescribably erotic, look over her shoulder as she stepped through the door and out into the hall.

I couldn't believe she was actually doing it. She was a well-respected professional, this was crazy. I had fully expected her to refuse, to say the game had limits and that this went beyond them. And of course I would have relented; I wouldn't have pushed.

But she hadn't refused; she was out the door. Sure, the odds of her being seen by anyone were small; she'd only be gone a short time. And yes, even if she was seen it was doubtful anyone would make all that big a deal about a woman being half-naked in a hotel hallway at midnight. But still... she was risking a lot doing this. It was illegal. I was really just kidding when I suggested it. I expected her to refuse so I could use that refusal as ammunition for other things. Her carrying the request out was completely unexpected.

I walked quickly, nearly running, to the doorway to watch her. It wasn't easy with the erection I had raging in my pants. She was several steps down the hallway when I arrived at the door. Her ass cheeks bounced slightly with every step, the muscles flexing and contracting. She must have heard my deep exhale from the doorway behind her because she looked over her shoulder again, cracking a devious grin at me as she walked.

She reached the nook in the hallway where the ice machine was located and disappeared from view. I heard the hinges on the machine's door creak as she lifted it, then I heard the crunch of the ice as she scooped several spoonfuls into the bucket. After a moment of silence the door thumped as she closed it and she reappeared into view walking toward me. Her naked breasts bobbed and swayed slightly with each step, her nipples taut and erect. She was still wearing that wicked grin as she kept her gaze fixed on my eyes, never breaking eye contact or looking away.

Suddenly, when she was about ten feet away from where I stood in the doorway, the elevator dinged. Someone was about to get off on our floor. My eyes darted to the elevator and back to Carrie. I expected her to ditch our little charade and run back into the room. But she didn't; she refused to quicken her pace in the least and continued to walk leisurely toward me.

The elevator doors rumbled open and I heard the voices of a man and woman talking lowly inside. Just as they stepped out of the elevator, Carrie crossed in front of me and slipped back into our room. I turned to look at the pair exiting the elevator; the woman had looked toward me immediately after stepping out. I'm almost certain she must have caught a glimpse of Carrie as she walked by me, the woman's eyes seemed to widen in surprise for just a split-second. But I don't think the guy noticed, his gaze never turned toward me. I nodded to them as I stepped after Carrie into our room. The woman shot me a quick, knowing glance and a smirk, while the guy merely nodded back. I closed the door behind me.

"Holy shit, Sterling," I laughed once inside, completely breaking character. "That was fucking crazy!" I turned, laughing, to Carrie expecting her to be laughing as well. But she stood stoic and defiant in the middle of the room, the ice bucket still clutched in her hand.

"I just do exactly as my master wishes," she said calmly. She was serious about playing her role.

I stopped laughing, but continued to smile at her. "Well, you did a wonderful job, and you looked incredibly sexy doing it. You have some serious balls, Carrie, and you've earned a drink." I went to the mini-bar and checked out its contents. "Come here, pick out whatever you want," I told her. She brought the ice bucket to the desk and put it down, then came to the mini-bar and bent to look into it. From it, she pulled two little bottles of Dewar's scotch.

"I think we've earned the best," she said, "as long as master agrees."

I ran my fingers through her hair, and tucked it behind her ear to get it out of her eyes. "Of course I agree." I grabbed two cheap plastic glasses off the desk, filled both with ice, and returned to her. She twisted open both little bottles and poured each into the glasses. I raised my glass to her. "I'd like to propose a toast," I began.

She lifted her glass to mine and smirked. The last time I'd tried to toast us it was a comical event. Her saucy smirk told me she hadn't forgotten the incident.