Note: No sex in this chapter, but lots of build-up and sexual tension. If you want a CH2, please let me know in the comments!
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"Right here, good?" your Uber asks.
"Yes, thank you," you reply.
Stepping out of the Uber, you stand on the street in front of an enormous antebellum style home. It's the only home this far down the road, and given the nature of the job advertisement, you assume it must be my home.
"House servant wanted." The job listing had said. "More details available upon request."
Walking up to the door, your mind races. The exciting adventure you were imagining online, is now all too real, and you begin to wonder if the money is really worth it to you. If everything included in the contract was legitimate, I would be paying you for one day's work what you would normally make in a month. Only... this job required a different kind of work.
You ring the doorbell, unable to stop envisioning the endless scenarios demanded of the role. The contract explicitly stated you were not required to have sex with me, in order to be paid, but it also said you were legally allowing me to touch you, command you, and dispense both pain and pleasure, as needed. And that you could quit at any time, so long as you explicitly stated such.
The doorlock clicks, and the heavy door swings open. A large man in a black suit steps through and shuts the door behind him, now looking you in the eyes with a scowl.
"Mr. Hammer?" you ask.
The man grimaces, clearly angry about something. "He's inside. The ungrateful bastard-" the man snarls as he briskly walks past you without looking back. "Short by 1%, and he fires me- the fucking prick!"
You watch him leave, your adrenaline pumping, and then look back at the door. Not a great sign. But something compels you to continue.
Swallowing, you reach out your hand. The instructions on the email did say to come inside, if no one came to the door. You close your eyes for a moment and inhale deeply, opening the door.
Upon entering, you step into a large and lavish foyer. Dark wood everywhere. Spacious and in perfect condition. Expensive furniture and artwork all over the place, tapestries and paintings covering the walls.
"Mr. Hammer?" you call out, your soft voice echoing through the foyer.
A moment passes, and just when you start to call out again, you hear a man's voice respond, from some corner of the house, "In here."
Following the direction of the voice, your footsteps click through the foyer, until you reach the hallway where you believe to have heard the voice. Seeing an open door, you look inside and see what appears to be an office, and a dark desk at which I sit.
"Come in," I say, without looking up from my computer screen. "Take a seat."
You sit at a chair in front of my desk. I still haven't looked at you, and you can now see I'm on the phone.
"No," I say, looking at the computer screen. "If I had wanted to play it safe, I would've explicitly told you so. Sell those garbage shares immediately. Don't you ever assume to 'understand' my financial strategy without checking in with me, first- is that clear?"
I look at the watch on my wrist, the sleeves to my glossy black button-up shirt rolled up to my elbows.
"Just get it done," I say, hanging up the phone.
You look at me, attentively.
"It's you," I say, standing up and coming around the desk to face you. "You're early."
You swallow, sensing maybe a slight annoyance in my tone, "Yes, Mr. Hammer, I wanted to make sure to show you how punctual I am. I'm new to the city, and wasn't sure if there'd be traffic, or anything like that.""
I blink, expressionless. The sound of your feminine voice turns me on. I lean back against my desk as my eyes study your appearance, examining every detail.
"The man you saw leaving was an employee of mine," I start. "I put him in charge of a small section of my business, and he failed to meet our goals. He was an underperformer. I pay people who take their jobs seriously and know how to take orders."
I pause long enough that you blurt out, "I can take orders."
I fold my arms, "Is that so?"
"Yes, Mr. Hammer."
"In that case, you will address me as 'sir' going forward. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," you respond.
"Good- you've passed your first test. I don't have time to train slow learners."
You smile nervously, nodding, wondering if I was making a little joke there, or if you should laugh.
"You're new to the city, yes?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you've read and signed your contract?"
"Yes," you respond, leaning forward in your seat to hand me your signed contract. "It's right here, sir."
I look over the various sections of the contract, finding your initials next to each bulleted item. I go down the list, checking the more scandalous sections of the contract, but find every single condition signed, as promised. I look up from the contract, making eye contact with you, again. You're prettier - and younger - than my current maid, and with the formalities taken care of, my eyes seem to notice your beauty for the first time.
"And you understand that no one is forcing you to stay?" I continue.
"Yes sir."
I stand up straight, "Come with me."
Following me out of my office, we walk down a hallway, and up the curved staircase to the second floor. Heading to the very end of the hallway, we enter into what appears to be a second living room, and I open up a dark liquor cabinet, beginning to make myself a drink.
A moment of silence passes as I continue making my drink, but I finally turn to stand in front of you, the ice clinking softly in my drink. You realize this drink is not for you.
I study your outfit in full now, my eyes roaming over the breasts hidden beneath your grey top, and traveling down your tight jeans which accentuate the curves of your hips.
"Are you ready to work?" I ask.
"Yes sir," you nod. I can hear how nervous you are, this time.
A gleam you haven't noticed before lights up my eyes, and the slightest smile touches my face, as I make eye contact with you, an arm's length away, "Then, take off your clothes."
Your breath catches for a second, butterflies in your stomach, but to your surprise, your hands slip under the hem of your grey top, and you lift upwards, slowly revealing your ample breasts encased within a sexy black bra.
You take your time placing your shirt on the couch behind you, as you feel my eyes devouring the details of your bra and creamy cleavage. I take a sip of my drink, and wait for you to continue.
Avoiding eye contact with me, your fingers find the button at the top of your jeans, and you pull your zipper down. You think about when you imagined this moment in your head, before you arrived, and how you had wondered if you would even be capable of stripping in front of a stranger... Perhaps, it is easier than you expected because you had already been imagining this scenario so many times before now? Or perhaps, it is easier than you expected because you are naturally intimidated by me, and afraid of what might happen if you were to disobey my commands?
Using both hands, you bend forward to pull your jeans down, and your breasts swing forward in their bra. I feel my dick twitch in my pants, as I realize just how full your tits are... I imagine how warm and sensual they would feel on my skin.
You kick the jeans to the side, and look up at me expectantly, standing in front of me only in black underwear. My expression remains unchanged, as I make eye contact with you, and my drink rests in my hand at my side, one hand on my hip, waiting.
I pause a moment longer, searching your eyes for a reaction, and wondering if I'm going to need to discipline you already.
Just in time, it dawns on you that you're not done. I'm waiting for more, and your hands move behind your back, unclasping your bra. For some reason, this part is harder for you to obey, and when it clicks open, your hands hesitate, holding your bra against your breasts, unable to look me in the eye.
My head lowers, my free hand stretched out, waiting for you to put your bra in my hand, as my dark gaze fixes on your face intensely.
