Summer Hire

Afternoon

After lunch, they walked for a few minutes around the village, looking in shop windows. Erik checked the time and said, "We've got a little while longer before we're supposed to meet Cathy. Let's walk a bit more."

Melissa laughed, "Assuming my legs keep on working, after my morning session with your personal bitch goddess."

Erik was quiet for a moment, and then said more seriously, "Let me caution you. In the world you now inhabit, comments like that are not considered courteous. Mistress Amy is a far more traditional domme, certainly compared to how I conduct myself as a dom.

"She agreed to train you as a personal favor to me. From her general point of view, my approach to being a dom is... well, offensive, to tell the truth. She believes that I encourage lazy, sloppy habits in a sub. And she has told me, in very direct language, that she thinks I ruin subs by spoiling them."

"But why did you want her to train me?"

"Because I'm convinced that you are truly a sub, down to your bones. And I think that you will eventually find your home in this world. Plus, I think Mistress Amy is right, at least in part. I am a very lenient dom. If you only learned from me, you'd be poorly prepared for doms like Mistress Amy."

"I don't think I'd like to be a sub to anyone like her. Besides, I'm with you, remember?"

"Yes, but we will spend some time in the wider world of my BDSM friends. You'll need to learn how a sub is expected to behave."

"Okay. I guess. But, well, can you give me an example?"

"Sure. Last night, you wore my collar and leash. That is a traditional way of marking a sub who is owned, who has a master. The leash, however, was short, and I left it loose most of the night. It was more symbolic. Traditionally, I would have led you on the leash. If I had let go of the leash at any point in time, you would have immediately gone to a kneeling position and waited for me take the leash again."

Melissa listen, simultaneously horrified and aroused by his description.

"The other big difference about how Mistress Amy would have expected you to behave last night is how you looked all around you. A slave attends to her master, and nothing else exists. When we were walking, you should have only looked straight ahead, never focusing on another person or thing. A slave relies on her master to lead her on a clear path. You simply follow. When we stop, you should cast your eyes down.

"To be a slave is to step outside of normal human interaction. A slave is something 'other,' something special. In the BDSM world, it is considered very impolite to talk to somebody else's slave, unless you have the owner's permission. If somebody tries to talk to you, you should ignore them. You only exist for your master."

Melissa was amazed, "Wow, that seems pretty loaded."

"It is. There is a surprising amount of sexual power in the rules for formal BDSM social interaction. My guess is that the first time we go to a scene like that, you'll be drenching wet the whole night."

Melissa shot a shocked look at him, not sure how to feel about his prediction. He grinned and chuckled, "You'll see. I bet you're wet right now, just listening to me talk about it."

Melissa opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, he grabbed her hand, saying, "Let's go in here." They entered a vintage clothing shop. There was only one salesperson and she was helping another customer. Erik gave the young woman a friendly smile and led Melissa toward the back of the shop. With his free hand, he picked a yellowing linen lace blouse from a rack as they walked past, saying, "See, here's the one I was telling you about." Then he ducked into the dressing room vestibule, with her in tow. There were two small dressing rooms, both open. He pulled her into the far one, closing the door behind them.

He hung the blouse on a hook, then gathered both her hands in his. Pulling her wrists together, he took them in one hand and lifted her hands up above her head, pinning her to the wall behind her.

She moaned softly in protest. He commanded her, "Spread your legs apart."

She was too dumbfounded to immediately comply. He repeated himself, slower, his voice dropping to a much lower pitch. "Spread. Your legs. Apart."

This time she followed his instructions. With his free hand, he reached under the front of her dress and plunged a finger directly inside her. As he had predicted, she was slippery wet. He pressed his finger upward against her G-spot, lifting her onto her toes. A shaky moan of desire escaped her lips. To silence her, Erik kissed her full on the mouth, his tongue insistently probing her mouth. She responded energetically, arching into him and pressing back with her tongue, searching out the inner reaches of his mouth.

Then his finger was gone. She whimpered with desperate need. She felt, rather than heard, his zipper being drawn down. Suddenly, he was inside her. Pinned against the wall, she was lifted up off the floor. She wrapped her legs around him, locking one one foot around her opposite ankle, so she could hold onto him. He pushed her back into the wall in a steady, rising rhythm.

Her breath shortened, heart pounding. She only wanted him deeper and deeper. Their motion grew too frenetic to maintain a kiss. He broke away and clamped a hand across her mouth, keeping her quiet. His other hand still held her arms, pinned above her.

She exploded into a climax, screaming against his palm, while her hips bucked against him. She could feel his jetting release, pulsing into her, each spurt lengthening her orgasm.

Finally, they collapsed against each other. He let her slide down the wall, until she slumped, half sitting, half kneeling in front of him. He leaned hard against the opposite wall, catching his breath.

He was startled when she took his spent penis in her mouth, licking and sucking it clean.

He chuckled, "See. I was right. You were wet."

She popped his clean penis out of her mouth and replied, "Yeah, well now I'm really wet." She looked down and laughed briefly. "And I'm leaving a big wet spot on the carpet. Well, at least it's their carpet and not the back of my dress -- which is quite lovely by the way. Thank you."

"The pleasure is all mine."

She leaned her head back against the wall, looking up at him. "You sure about that? I kind of recall having my own orgasm just now."

"Ah yes, and a splendid thing it was. But you see, it was an orgasm I deigned to give to you because that gave me pleasure as well." Then he pushed away from the wall, giving her a hand up.

Melissa took a step toward the door and stopped as she felt a rush of warm liquid running down the inside of her thigh. "Oh! I really am soaked. It's pouring out of me."

Erik reached down and wiped his hand up along the inside of her thighs, scooping up their combined juices. He raised his hand to his face, breathing in the fragrance of their sex. "Now that is perfectly wonderful." He offered his hand to her to smell, "Here."

Somewhat dubious, she bent forward to sniff the wetness of his hand. The smell was lighter than she had expected, very earthy, salty, and perhaps even a little sweet. She sensed that the pheromones wafting out of that wetness were making a deeper, more primitive connection somewhere inside her. Smelling their two juices mingled together gave her a feeling of connection and strength. She was suddenly flooded with a feeling of being special to him. Her heart yearned for yet a deeper connection.

She quickly steeled herself against being carried away. "Down girl," she told herself firmly. She smirked at her teenaged infatuation, glad that he couldn't see her expression while her face was still tilted over his hand. Sternly, she reminded herself, "I'm his sex slave, not his girlfriend." Knowing what a sex slave should do, she reached up and took his hand in hers, licking him clean while she turned his hand back and forth.

The taste wasn't terrible, but her emotional state was deeply bittersweet. Forcing herself to adopt a lighter mood, she looked up at him. "There you go. All ready?"

He smiled, although an edge of concern was evident around his eyes, as though he had sensed her mood. "Almost." He reached down to zip himself up, and then he snatched the linen blouse off the hook.

They walked out of the dressing room together. She was grateful the vestibule of the dressing room was still empty. Walking back into the main part of the shop, they saw the sales clerk waving goodbye to her other customer. The clerk turned, "Oh there you are. Did you find what you wanted?"

Erik handed the saleswoman the blouse and reached for his wallet, "Yes, it's perfect. Just what I've been looking for. For a long time."

* * *

When they stepped out of the shop, Erik looked around and then checked the time again. "We still have a few more minutes, let's go this way." He took Melissa's hand and set off down the sidewalk. She walked quietly alongside, soaking in the sunshine and trying to settle her feelings.

After a couple of minutes of walking, Erik asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, just trying to get used to all this."

"It's a lot, I know. Hopefully, your shopping trip with Cathy will be relaxing. Do you like shopping?"

"I'm a girl. Recreational shopping is a favorite way to decompress. Of course, I'm not used to actually being able to buy much."

"Well, I hope that coming back with full bags won't be too traumatic. Since we're killing time in the village, are you up for one more thing that might stretch you a bit, or do you really need to have some downtime?"

She pursed her lip, considering. "As long as it's not to intense, I guess it might be a fun distraction."

Erik nodded thoughtfully. "We can keep it lighter." He pointed at the saddlery shop down the block. "Let's get you fitted for some leathers."

She wasn't sure what all would be involved, but trusting his promise to keep it lighter, she said, "Sure."

When they walked into the shop, a little bell tinkled over the door. She was immediately aware of the smell of leather. The front room had several saddles displayed on stands. One side wall held a wide variety of boots. The opposite wall had bridles, harnesses, and all sorts of equipment she couldn't identify.

A young man came out from the back room. He was gorgeous, in a lean, dark-haired, elfin sort of way. His movements were unselfconsciously graceful. He seemed to almost flow to a stop in front of them, ending in a brief half-bow. "Hello, Master Erik. I'm afraid Master Drexler just stepped out for lunch. Shall I call him, or may I be of service to you?"

Erik replied, "I'm confident that you'll be able to assist us. I only need to get my new slave measured for a harness, and possibly a cuirass with pauldrons, vambraces, and greaves."

Remembering what Erik had told her about etiquette, Melissa squelched her reaction. Instead of turning to look at him in puzzlement, she stayed quietly by his side, still looking ahead, not focusing at anything in particular.

The young man came forward. "Certainly Master Erik. I would be happy to help you. Please, come this way."

Even though Melissa kept her eyes straight ahead, she could sense in her peripheral vision that the shop worker had only looked at Erik. The clerk had only spoken to Erik as well, as though she didn't exist. Ordinarily, if a salesperson treated her this way when she was out with a man, she would get very irritated. Today, it felt somehow very different. "Perhaps," she wondered, "it's because they're talking about me." Even though she was being treated as an object, in this context, it was somehow really arousing.

"God," she thought, "I'm still dripping down my thighs from the other shop. This is embarrassing. How could I ever hold my head up around Professor Macklin again?"

Her undergraduate Women's Studies class with Professor Jill Macklin had really opened up her eyes about all the sacrifices women had made to reach their present level of equality, and how fragile that position could be. At this moment, she felt terribly guilty for betraying women, and even more shameful because it made her feel so horny.

Erik asked, "I forget your name, slave?"

Melissa's eyes flew open, angry. The clerk answered, "Joseph, Master Erik."

Melissa froze her angry reaction, forcing herself to continue walking with Erik into the back room. "Joseph is a slave too?" she asked herself. "Of course, he is. He called Erik 'master,' plus he was so deferential. Not just a fawning salesperson. A slave. Somebody else's sex slave. Wow."

Melissa took a quick peak to double check that Joseph was really a man. He seemed so beautiful and graceful, she hadn't really been certain. A close inspection of his butt as he walked in front of them, however, convinced her that he really was male.

Then she saw Erik noticing how she was staring at Joseph. She quickly fixed her eyes blankly ahead. In her peripheral vision, she caught the beginning of a grin on Erik's face.

Joseph led them into a large dressing room, which had a raised dais in the middle. It reminded Melissa of a wedding shop that she had visited when she was a bridesmaid. This dressing room, however, was decorated in browns and tans, and decorated with horse prints.

Once Joseph pulled the door shut behind them, he gracefully sank to his knees, clasped his arms behind his back, and bowed his head. Melissa struggled not to gape at the fluid beauty of his movement, along with the strangeness of seeing a man in this submissive pose.

With his head still bowed, Joseph addressed Erik, "Master Erik, your slave will need to be undressed."

Erik nodded in agreement, "Of course. Please assist her."

Joseph rose effortlessly, "Yes Master Erik." Joseph walked behind Melissa. She stood very still. Joseph's touch was so light that, at first, the only indication she had of being unzipped was the sound of the zipper. Then she felt the slight give of the fabric around her bust as the back of her dress fell open.

Joseph ran his fingers up under the dress's shoulder straps and she couldn't help but shiver. He lifted the straps from her shoulders, easing the dress forward and down, carefully gathering it up so that it did not fall on the floor. He held it for her, letting her step out of it.

Melissa stood naked in her wedge sandals, while he carefully hung her dress on a clothes rack. She was very conscious of dribbles of moisture running down the inside of her left thigh. She suspected it was a little bit of Erik's remaining contribution, reawakened by the sudden increase in her own juices. Surprisingly though, rather than being embarrassed, she found herself standing proudly. She was Erik's submissive, marked by his semen and her own arousal. In this moment, the combination felt right.

Joseph walked back between them, kneeling down again. "Master Erik, your slave will need to stand in the middle of the dais."

Erik crossed to one of the leather chairs along the wall and sat down casually. "Yes, yes, of course, but before you measure her, clean her up, will you?"

"Certainly Master Erik."

Melissa stood still, uncertain what she should do. Erik made a waving motion to her, indicating she should step up on the dais, so she did. Her movement caused a fresh run stream of moisture to drip down her thigh, nearly reaching her knee. Now she began to feel a little embarrassed. She carefully looked straight ahead, keeping her vision unfocused.

Joseph knelt in front of her. She was surprised that she had not even seen him stand or get a cloth. When his tongue reached out to gently caress the inside of her leg, she realized why. Startled, she looked over to Erik. He grinned, seeming for all in the world to be a contented male lion, watching the rest of his pride feast on a gazelle that he had brought down. He waved his hand lazily side to side, indicating that she should spread her legs. She looked back in uncertainty, then resolved herself to gaze blankly ahead, complying with his wishes. She fought to suppress a tremble as Joseph's velvet tongue inched higher.

All too soon, he reached her labia. Rather than stop, his tongue slid inside of her. She gasped, shuddering.

Joseph paused. Melissa forced herself to remain still, her eyes blankly looking ahead. She would not let herself look back over at Erik. She did hear him, however, dismissively say, "Continue."

Joseph did, plunging his tongue deeper, before sliding it upward, past her aching clitoris. She couldn't stop her groan of pleasure. She was unaware she had even made a sound until it had already escaped. His tongue came back, circling her clitoris, teasing her, bringing her agonizingly close to the edge of a wonderful orgasm.

Just as she was about to cross over into an orgasm, she dimly was aware of Erik saying, "That's good. I'm sure she's clean now. You may continue with measuring her."

Slowly, the meaning of his words penetrated through to her awareness. She realized that Joseph's tongue was gone. He was once again standing beside her, measuring tape in hand. She felt frustrated and foolish. Her chest still heaving, breathing rapidly from the nearness of her orgasm. Ignoring her state, Joseph began to take measurements.

In five minutes, he was done. Her breathing had stilled and her aching need for release had faded to a dull frustration. He helped her dress again, then Erik stood up to offer her his arm. She stepped off the dais to take his arm, letting him lead her through the shop. As they passed through the front room, he asked airily, "Enjoy yourself?"

She quietly whispered, "Asshole," carefully looking straight ahead with a pleasantly blank face.

He laughed out loud. As his amusement quieted to a chuckle, he asked, with feigned sternness, "I must have misheard what my delightfully obedient slave said -- could you repeat that?"

"I said, 'Thank you, Master Erik, for such a fascinating experience.'"

"Ah, that's what I thought you said. You're certainly most welcome."

They stepped out of the front door and Erik laughed again, "Okay, you can relax back to your normal, semi-slave self."

"Gosh, thanks. How could I ever repay you for that incredibly frustrating encounter?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of ways. But truly, part of being my sex slave is being toyed with. You won't always be allowed to cum. Sometimes, it's just for my pleasure, not yours."

"So you enjoy tormenting me?"

"Absolutely. It was... very enjoyable. And it gave me lots of ideas for other games to play."

"I don't think I like the sound of that..."

"And well you shouldn't." Erik gestured ahead of them, to where the car was parked. "Ah, here you go. Cathy is waiting for us."

Melissa saw a well-put-together woman in her fifties sitting on a bench shaded by a tree. She was wearing a summer suit with a white jacket and tan lace pencil skirt. As they got closer, Cathy stood to greet them. Melissa was both relieved and slightly disappointed to see that her lace skirt was lined, and the black and tan pumps she wore had moderate heels, not the six inch stilettos that Erik seemed to prefer.

Melissa was perplexed about why she had felt a fleeting disappointment that Cathy wasn't dressed in some over-the-top sexy attire. After a moment's reflection, she realized that being with Erik had already created a warping of what felt reasonable to wear, both in private and in public. Seeing Cathy dressed more conservatively made Melissa feel more self-conscious, even though she hadn't been the least bit self-conscious while walking around the village the past hour without underwear, in a dress that was at least mildly sheer. She knew that anyone who had seen her backlit by the sun would not had needed much imagination to see everything they wanted. She felt a little unsettled that being with Erik made her so casually comfortable with being publicly erotic. It was disconcerting to discover that what felt 'normal' could be so easily changed.