Summer Hire

Dinner

Erik looked up as she entered the main part of the house. He had a black dishtowel draped over one shoulder and had been stirring something in a pan. She noticed that he had changed. He wore black leather jeans and a pressed white button-down cotton shirt.

She wasn't sure at first that his jeans were leather because the material looked softer and less shiny than what she had seen before. They actually looked comfortable. "Of course," she thought, "he looks gorgeous in them."

He flipped the towel off his shoulder, setting it down on the counter as he walked over to greet her.

She had been so distracted by his appearance that she had completely forgotten about what she was wearing. As she suddenly remembered the leash and her nearly naked state, her confident stride faltered, and she involuntarily ducked her head in embarrassment.

He paused as well, tilting his head to the side. She was instantly angry with herself for her uncertainty. She had wanted to be sophisticated and confident, not awkward or ashamed. Seeking to turn her stumble into something that seemed more intentional, she sank slowly to the floor into the first kneeling position he had taught her, as best as she could remember it. Ducking her head and sitting back on her calves, she thought to herself, "That's a hell of a lot harder in these damn heels." She was proud, however, that she had managed the move in a mostly graceful transition.

She asked, "Does Master find me as he had wished?"

Soft laughter rumbled in his chest. "Yes indeed, my slave. You meet my expectations... rather nicely."

He walked closer. "It sounded as though you enjoyed your room."

She successfully avoided flinching in embarrassment. Instead, she mustered her confidence and insouciantly replied, "Yes Master."

He slowly paced around her in thoughtful appraisal. Stopping in front of her, he reached down to take hold of her leash. She could see the growing outline of his erection through the soft leather of his pants. Emboldened, she lifted her head and opened her mouth, trying hard to keep the posture he had taught her.

He laughed with delight. "Oh you are a saucy one, aren't you? Perhaps it's just that you're hungry." He unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and eased out his fully rigid penis. Stepping closer, he inserted himself into her mouth.

She felt a powerful sense of joy about her ability to arouse him. Determined to prove her submission, she took him deep into the back of her throat. She heard him gasp at the sudden sensation, but then her gag reflex kicked into overdrive, and she involuntarily jerked backward, sprawling back on her buttocks, struggling not to throw up.

He swiftly knelt down next to her. "Whoa there. We can take that a little slower. Swallowing me like that is something you've got to build up to."

She coughed back her bile, nodding in embarrassment.

"Let me get you something to drink..." He suddenly straightened up, "Oh shit, I'm going to burn the chicken." He rushed back to the kitchen while she tried to get her coughing under control. She was just returning to normal as he came back with a glass of water. She took it gratefully, trying not to spill as she took small sips and washed the foul taste of stomach acid out of the back of her mouth.

After a few more coughs, she handed the glass back to him. "Thanks. I'm better."

He gave her a hand up, and steadied her as she wobbled for a moment on her heels. She laughed self-consciously. "So much for being suave and debonaire." She deliberately mispronounced the French as "swavey" and "de-boner" to make fun of herself.

He laughed with her. "I wouldn't have you any other way. It's part of what makes you so wonderful."

She struggled not to show how her heart leaped at hearing such a loving compliment. After an awkward pause, she said, "Uh, thank you."

He smiled, and her pulse quickened again. From the beginning, his smiles had radiated his obvious joy in his feelings toward her. She felt a sudden urge to see if someone was standing behind her. It seemed impossible that he was so happy about simply being with her. Thinking about it, she marveled at the casual confidence that allowed him to show such a feeling, without needing to hold back. It wasn't as though he had a goofy love-struck look, which she had experienced with a couple of would-be boyfriends. He just seemed to enjoy being with her and was completely secure about showing his appreciation to her. She found the effect was potently magical. It simultaneously scared her and put her at ease.

"Here," he said, "Come sit down. Everything is ready."

The dinner was indeed marvelous. Erik turned out to be a good cook. She was a little embarrassed to realize that he was better in the kitchen than she was. "Of course," she reminded herself, "my budget mostly runs to Raman noodles."

They shared a bottle of French white wine that was different from anything that she had tasted before. It had a deep fruity flavor, without a cloying sweetness. After gulping her first glass more quickly than she had intended, she slowed down, worried that she might get giggly or say something stupid.

While they ate, Erik talked about his expectations. "So this is going to be a bit odd, figuring out how everything works. First off, you are clearly a strong, competent woman. As I told you out by the stream, I value that, and I've no desire to take it away. My working assumption is that the whole submissive thing is simply how you enjoy your sexuality, not how you live your life. I'm not planning to confuse those two.

"What's going to make it a bit difficult is my being your employer." He paused for a moment, then continued with carefully chosen words, "There were a couple of reasons why I thought it made sense to set it up this way. At a practical level, you need a job. At a deeper level, I was worried that your earlier years of being a good Catholic girl might be a tad bit at odds with the whole notion of exploring all the hidden nooks and crannies of your sexuality."

Melissa laughed and asked ironically, "You think?"

"Yeah, well, so what I'm hoping is to pull off some mental judo. Your 'job' simply requires you to do all these horrible deviant things. Plus, I'm your mean and nasty boss. In the war between your deeply implanted moral imperatives, I'm counting on your adherence to authority and work ethic overruling any objections about sexual mores. After all, aren't good little Catholic girls supposed to do what they are told?"

Melissa sat up primly and folded her hands in front of her on the table. She cast her eyes demurely down. "I always do what I'm told, Master... now may I suck your dick?"

Erik laughed. "Indeed, that's the idea. But before we go there, I want to make sure we're clear on a few things.

After a moment to organize his thoughts, he continued, "So we've got this wonderful dominant/submissive thing going on. On top of it, I am your boss. At the same time though, we're just two people together, with equal rights and all that. The way that works from my point of view is that, as your boss, I'll lay out your schedule and responsibilities. As your dom, it's my job to train you and satisfy you."

She asked, "I thought my job is to satisfy you, not the other way around."

"Well, in the end, all of the satisfaction should be mutual, at least hopefully. But as a dom, my primary responsibility is taking care of my sub's needs. I'll also make sure that I instruct you in how to meet my needs.

"In any case, I'm not a big believer in 24/7 dom/sub roles. I'll try to make clear the transitions into and out of the dom/sub play-space. I'll also try to keep your scheduled time, from a 'work' point of view, limited to a reasonable number of hours. At the very least, you'll have off from 7 am on Wednesday to 7 am on Thursday every week, and every other weekend from 5 pm Friday to 7 am Monday."

"Okay... so what is this schedule thing?"

He smiled, pulling out his phone. Opening up a calendar, he said, "Let's see. Tomorrow morning at seven, you have an hour with your personal trainer, Mistress Amy. Then you've got a massage with Serena. After that, it's off to Henri for hair, nails, and a pedi. I'll meet you for lunch, then off with Cathy for clothes shopping. Back here by four for an hour of martial arts training with Sensei Mike."

"Wow. That's not exactly what I was expecting when you said 'sex slave.'"

"Oh, we'll have plenty of that too. But you'll be busy with lots of other stuff. Some of your teachers will be vanilla. Some of them are part of the scene. I will let you know which ones I'll allow to do whatever they want with you."

"Ah... I didn't know there would be others."

"Selected. Vetted. But yes, there will be others. And remember two things. You always have your safe word, and you can always quit."

"Um, sure."

"Do you remember your safe word?"

"Red light."

"Good. Hopefully, you won't need it... at least, too much. When people with some experience in this lifestyle begin a relationship, or even just negotiate a scene, there's a whole process of comparing kinky desire lists, going over hard limits and soft limits, and then working out the details of how a scene might unfold. You're completely new to this, however, so that process just doesn't make much sense, at least right now -- later on, it will. For the time being, it's my responsibility to carefully feel my way through -- to find out where your boundaries are and see what delights you within those boundaries. I might push a bit on those boundaries at times, in fact, that's pretty much guaranteed, but saying 'yellow light' will hit the pause button on anything, so we can talk about it, and saying 'red light' will always shut everything completely down."

He grinned wryly, "A safe word is essential because I don't know if you'll wind up loving to yell, 'Stop! Don't do that!' as part of being in sub head space. If so, then that's part of the game. 'Red light,' on the other hand, means the game is over. If you have to use your safe word, then something I've done has pulled you out of the scene, which means I've screwed up. So while there's going to be lots of stuff that's challenging, and probably even uncomfortable, the point is, all of it should pull you into the scene, not push you out. If something isn't working and I don't notice, you can also say 'yellow light.' That means that you're starting to pull away from being in the flow of what's going on. It can be as simple as a restraint that's too tight. Or it can be finding yourself drifting toward a head space that's not present. That's a problem because when there's a lot of intensity going on, you're safest when you're present. Drifting away is generally a no-no." He paused to see if she had questions.

She nodded slowly, "Okay. I think I get all of that. I'm just not so sure I signed up for being available to somebody else simply because you say so."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I don't think it's going to be as horrible as you might fear. If it is, you can use your safe word. And if that's not enough, you can always quit."

After a thoughtful moment, he continued, "Look, no matter what, if we really aren't in the same place, if this simply isn't working out, I'll let you know, and you can go your own way. The good news is that you've already made the money you need for the summer. So for the rest of your summer break, you can just do whatever you want."

She took a thoughtful breath. She didn't really want to be fired. That felt like failure. At the same time, she realized the truth of what he was saying. If she didn't want to do what he told her to do, she could simply leave.

She looked up at him and nodded again.

"Good. So, you should know that Mistress Amy, Serena, and Cathy are all part of the scene, at least to one degree or other. I've told Mistress Amy and Serena that they can have free rein with you. I didn't say anything to Cathy either way. She's a submissive, so I'm sure she wouldn't do anything without asking in any case. Mistress Amy, on the other hand, is definitely a dominatrix. Serena enjoys both top and bottom. I'm pretty sure that all of three of them are primarily hetero, but I also know each of them enjoys women as well. For tomorrow though, I don't think any of them will be too aggressive with a newbie. They're all good people. I trust them."

"Ah, you

are

kind of assuming that I'll make out with another woman..."

"Yep. It's part of the job." He looked at her carefully for a moment, then continued firmly, "Remember, you're

my

good little Catholic girl now. You have to do what I tell you."

Melissa took a breath to remind herself that it was indeed her job. "Okay..."

"Or do you want a spanking?"

The possibility of being ordered to have sex with another woman, combined with the threat of punishment quickened her pulse. By this point, she wasn't surprised to feel her sex clenching as well. It seemed to be the new normal for her. She decided not to fight it, at least for the time being. Taking another deep breath to steady herself, she answered with a sly grin, "That's always your option, Master."

Erik laughed. Gesturing at the table, he said, "I guess we're mostly done with dinner. Let's go out to get desert." He stood up and offered his hand.

She slipped her hand into his and stood to join him, discovering that with the outrageously high heels he had selected for her, she was glad for the support. As they walked away from the table, a cool breeze of air slipped through her lace dress, reminding her how exposed she was. She couldn't help but glance down. She saw, with no great surprise, that her nipples were prominently erect. As they walked away from the table, she also felt her wet labia sliding past each other.

Betrayed by her body, a brief flash of anger shot through her, upset that her arousal could be caused by the thought of being with another woman. When a boyfriend in her senior year had suggested a ménage à trois, she had broken up with him. "Of course," she told herself, "that guy was a complete asshole anyway. I was looking for an excuse to dump him. And even if Erik is a bit full of himself sometimes, well, he's not an asshole -- at least so far. Plus he's right, my job description is being his sex toy. I signed up for it. If it gets too weird, I can always use the safe word thing, or just quit. I'll be okay. In the meantime, I guess it won't hurt to explore. I was thinking about trying out dating a woman anyway, the morning I met him. Besides it's not like being with Jill was horrible or anything." She felt herself growing warmer and even wetter at those memories. "Damn, shaved and no undies. I'm going to be walking around way too slippery. This is going to be annoying if it lasts all summer. It can't, can it?" A grin curled her lips, as she decided it might be fun to find out.

When they reached the door to the courtyard, it suddenly dawned on her that Erik had said "go out" for dessert. She suddenly froze. "Uh Erik, you mean go out in public, with me, dressed like this?"

He grinned, "Don't worry. This is one of those 'trust me' moments. You'll be fine." He pulled something black from one of the coat hooks near the door as he led her outside.

The sun had set during dinner, and the evening was noticeably cooler. Erik paused, shaking out the black silk wrap he had taken from the coat hook. She realized that the wrap was surprisingly long, almost like a cape. He set it on her shoulders and fastened a small tie in front. The front panels of the wrap perfectly counterweighted the rear draping, so it rested evenly on her shoulders. Then he lifted the chain of her leash out from under the wrap's tie and used the leash to lead her around the asphalt perimeter of the courtyard that surrounded the paving stone center.

She was amazed at how being led on a leash could be so arousing. Her heart wasn't quite pounding, but she knew it wouldn't take much to get her wound up even tighter. She barely noticed when he punched in the garage code. The inside lights flickered on as the doors swung silently inwards.

He led her over to a black Porsche 911. "Here," he said, "this should be a good way to start."

His voice broke her out of her reverie. Looking down, she saw the car and laughed. Erik looked at her puzzled. Embarrassed, she quickly explained, "Ah, the last time I was in a Porsche with a guy, it didn't work out so well."

He nodded his understanding. "Well," he waved his free hand at the rest of the cars, "we could take something else."

"No," she replied quickly. She looked back at the black sports car. "This will be imminently satisfactory."

He chuckled, and then he led her to the driver's door. Unsnapping the leash from her collar, he reached down to open the door for her. She looked at him puzzled. He said, "You said you drove a stick."

"Ah yeah, but with these heels..."

"You can step out of them before you get in. I'll keep them with your leash."

She looked down at her shoes, realizing that her attempted excuse had failed. "Well, I guess I could try driving in them, but don't blame me if I wrap this thing around a tree."

"Try not to," he said, handing her into the car. She slipped into the low seat. He waited while she adjusted her dress and wrap, then gave her the seat belt to buckle. As she turned to take the seat belt from him, she found herself eye level with his crotch, encased in buttery soft, smooth leather. She smiled at the contrast from her last ride in a sports car. Then she turned the other way to fasten the seat belt, and he closed her door.

While he came around the car and got in next to her, she took the opportunity to examine the gauges and controls. The high-priced unfamiliarity was unsettling. She located the headlights and turned them on.

After he had gotten settled, he nodded to the dashboard and said, "The keys are in it. Why don't you ease it out of the garage and get a feel for the clutch?

She pressed the thin leather of her sandals down on the clutch and the brake. With a quick breath, she started the engine. It revved into life behind her. Having the engine sound in the back of the car confused her for a moment. She put that feeling aside. Looking around one last time, she reached down to release the parking brake. Then she worked the gear shifter to make sure it was in first. She was grateful that the front of the car was facing towards the door.

Worried she was looking too hesitant, she let out enough on the clutch to let the car slide through the garage doors and out into the courtyard. Erik reached up to punch a button on the small console above the rear view mirror. Looking into the mirror, she saw the garage lights flicker out, and the doors start to swing shut.

She looked back to Erik. He smiled and gestured down the driveway. "Ready?"

After a few miles, she found herself really enjoying the experience of driving such a responsive car. It was a thrill to zoom around corners on the Parkway into the city. She had to be careful not to let her speed creep too much up past the speed limit. Only halfway to the city did she remember that she didn't have her purse or driver's license. After that, she was careful to keep her speed moderate. The traffic was growing thicker in any case.

Erik directed her through the city to a restaurant she had never been to before. As they drove up the street to the valet stand out front, he reached out to lay his hand on her arm. "The trick," he said, "is to be utterly unselfconscious and normal. This is a frequent hangout for folks who... live a different lifestyle. It doesn't matter what shows or doesn't show. All that matters is total confidence in yourself."

She glanced over at him, thinking, "That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who's half-naked." But she said nothing, only giving him a quick nod before bringing the car to a complete stop for the valet. The uniformed young man opened the door for her, and she carefully swung her legs out, not wanting to snag a heel and look like a klutz. She stood up, pausing for a moment to be certain of her balance with her new height. Despite knowing that she was nearly six inches taller, she was surprised to find herself looking down at the valet. In turn, he seemed a little startled looking up at her. She noticed his eyes were dilating wider. In a sudden flash of realization, she realized that he was dumbstruck by her appearance, as though she was some sexy, supermodel unexpectedly emerging from an expensive sports car. "Hey," she said to herself, "I am. Own it bitch. I'm hot!"