Summer Hire

Lazy Afternoon

Melissa walked back into the house, the screen door banging shut behind her. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the house, she wandered over to Erik's study on the top level, to see if he was there. In the yellow pool of light from his desk lamp, she could see that he was sitting in his chair, talking quietly with a woman standing next to his desk. She wore high heels and a pencil skirt, and she stood with a hand on her hip.

The woman was facing away from Melissa, and the situation felt a little tense, so Melissa started to step back, to give them some privacy. Erik looked over at her, however, and smiled, "Back already?"

The woman turned, and Melissa suddenly realized that it was Mistress Amy. Melissa hadn't ever seen her dressed in non-exercise clothes before. Without thinking, Melissa immediately dropped to her knees, head bowed, hands resting on her thighs. "Mistress Amy," she said in greeting.

Through her lowered gaze, Melissa saw Amy legs as she walked over to her. She noted that Amy's shoes had a built-up platform of at least an inch and heels that must have been over six inches. Melissa wondered if Amy was compensating for being shorter.

Amy stopped in front of her and reached down with one hand to stroke her cheek. Melissa steeled herself not to flinch or pull away. Amy's hand slipped under her chin and lifted her head. As Melissa looked up, she could see Amy closely inspecting her.

Then Amy turned her head and told Erik, "I suppose she

is

capable of learning."

Turning back to Melissa, Amy suddenly slapped her hard across the face, "But she still thinks she owns you."

The side of Melissa's face stung. She was shocked, unsure what to do. It took her a moment to realize that Amy had walked past her, headed toward the front door.

Melissa looked over to Erik. He shook his head softly at her, so she waited quietly until she heard the screen door bang shut again.

Erik grimaced apologetically and shrugged his shoulders in frustration. "I'm sorry. By making her officially your trainer, she has the right to do that... at least according to the rules she lives under. I don't like it."

"Then why..."

"Amy really likes you. I know that sounds weird, and trust me, she'd be really upset if she knew I told you that, but the truth is that she thinks you're doing well. You're doing a good job of learning what she's trying to teach you."

"What the hell?"

"She's worried for you. When she looks at you, she sees someone who's a natural submissive, with enormous potential. But she thinks I'm not teaching you any of the skills and rules you need to function in the larger BDSM world, and she probably has a point. There are many people out there in the larger BDSM community with more formal expectations."

Erik sighed, grimacing as he continued, "Amy has little faith in my... track record of maintaining relationships. She's worried that I'll bring you into this world in a half-assed sort of way, then abandon you. Her fear is that on your own, you'll get into trouble because I'll have taught you such bad habits. That's why she's being such a hard ass to you. She's trying to compensate for my... softer approach to being a dominant."

"Okay, that's all pretty... uncomfortable. But... I guess I understand." Melissa said, not very happy. She reached up to gingerly probe her check.

Erik stood to walk in front of her. He bent down to look at the reddening of her cheek, then straightened again, thoughtfully. "You don't have to continue with Amy. I can find someone else to help you work-out in the morning."

Melissa felt an enormous weight lifted off her. Gratefully relaxing, she took a depth breath. Before she could agree, however, she stopped to think about what he had said. It was true that in just a couple of days, Mistress Amy had taught her an amazing amount about how a formal submissive behaves, in addition to giving her some of the weirdest and most punishing workouts she could ever imagine.

Finally, Melissa asked, "Can you let that offer stand open?"

Erik thought for a moment, then nodded, "Sure. Any relationship between dom and sub has to be mutual. So, even though I told you that you had to accept Mistress Amy's instruction, it wasn't really fair. I shouldn't have implied it was a condition of our relationship... our agreement. You can decide whether or not to continue with Mistress Amy at any time."

Melissa took another deep breath to steady herself. "Alright, I'll stay with her for now. I know she can teach me a lot, mostly though, I think I'll learn what kinds of doms to avoid."

Erik laughed at her observation, but after a moment, shook his head in caution, "In truth, Mistress Amy is a good dom, at least for subs who are into that sort of obedience. The doms you really want to avoid are the posers, creeps, and wannabes. They're bad news. That's the scuzzy underside of kink, which is a lot of why I asked Mike to teach you how to defend yourself.

He cocked his head, "How's that going, anyway? I didn't ask you after your second day with him."

"Yeah, we were a little busy last night."

"You were sort of 'tied-up.'" He reached down to caress her other cheek.

This time, Melissa did flinch a little bit. She trembled for a moment under his gentle stroking. As she took a deep breath to calm herself, the pull of her dress fabric against her expanding rib cage suddenly made her aware of how taut her nipples had become. In puzzlement, she slightly shifted her hips. The movement confirmed her suspicion that she was thoroughly wet.

Her eyes flew open. "You're doing that on purpose! You knew... God, it really is like I'm some kind of sex toy, and you know where my fucking goddamn on/off switch is. Shit!"

Erik knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I'm guilty, as charged. But truly, this is a game we play together. A couple of days ago, you wouldn't have wondered if what I was doing was... keying off your mental state. Now, you can see it. In awhile, you'll also be able to play with these sorts of... reactions. Then the fun escalates."

Melissa looked at him, not sure whether to be angry or excited. "Okay... I guess I get that you just got me all turned on, but... what the fuck? How?"

"When Mistress Amy slapped you, was that arousing?"

"No Goddamn way! It hurt!"

"That's good. It means you're not a total pain slut."

"But you spank and whip me."

"And it feels good?"

She hung her head a little and hesitantly answered, "Yes."

"But not when it's too intense, too fast?"

"Sure."

"When Mistress Amy slapped you, though, that was meant to hurt. That was supposed to be a punishment, not fun."

"Right. Bitch."

"Ah, if you're going to keep working with her, remember to be respectful, even when she's not around. Those are her rules -- the rules of formal dominance and submission."

"Bullshhh..." Melissa's voice trailed off. After a moment, she reluctantly nodded and said, "Well, okay. I suppose so."

"Anyway, a hardcore masochist would have loved being slapped like that."

"Oh."

"When I spank you or whip you, I try to be careful to keep in a zone where the sensation is more of a growing intensity of submission and stimulation, rather than just outright pain."

"What about Monday afternoon? With Serena and me? That was... kind of on the edge."

"Yeah. I don't do that often. It was more about submission, reminding you that I'm your Master. But even then, I was watching your responses carefully, calibrating my intensity. And, as I recall, you both came pretty quickly. But that's what makes you a sub, not a hardcore pain slut. You didn't get aroused by the pain; it was submitting to your Master that was arousing."

"I guess so..."

"And that's sort of what I was playing with here."

She cocked her head at him, unsure of his meaning.

"I caressed your cheek, knowing it was scary, because of what Mistress Amy had just done, but also knowing that you would submit to me because you would ultimately trust me not to hurt you. That fear, though, your fear, and then overcoming that fear to submit, that what was so powerful for you. That was the rush."

"God, do you just sit there the whole time and figure this shit out? I mean, don't you sometimes just, I don't know, go with your feelings?"

"By now, most of what I do operates at the level of instinct. I don't have to think about it a whole lot. At the same time, though, it's my responsibility to be the Dom -- to always be watching and making sure that you're safe. Of course, that doesn't mean that I can't just go with my feelings sometimes."

Without any warning, he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her, passionately and deeply. After a moment's startlement, Melissa let herself melt into him. Inside, she heard a small voice saying, "Okay. It's official. I want to have his babies."

After a long minute, he gently pulled away from her lips, kissing her along her jawline, then down her neck. She shivered, in spite of the warm day. Groaning softly, she leaned her head away, exposing her neck further to his gentle attention. He smiled and kissed his way back up to her ear, where he nibbled softly on her earlobe. She murmured another quiet groan, pressing herself forward against his firm torso.

Gathering her hands in his, he pulled her arms crisscross behind her back, causing her to arch slightly backward, lifting her breasts even more firmly against his firm chest. She gloried in the feeling of being trapped by him.

He shifted his attention to the other side of her neck. She didn't have to wonder if she was wet. She could feel damp beads of her juices gathering on her pouting labia. The merest shift in her kneeling pose caused one part of her sex to slide smoothly past the other.

Erik sat back on his heels with satisfied hum, studying her as she swayed, without full control of her balance. Her eyes were half-lidded, all of her focus turned inwards. A satisfied, proprietary smile spread across his face. He continued to watch, drinking in her beauty and arousal with a quiet pride of ownership.

Rocking back on the balls of his feet, he rose smoothly to stand over her. After a long moment to admire her submissive kneeling posture, he reached down and lifted her up into an embrace, kissing her deeply once again.

Melissa wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself fiercely against him, greedily exploring his mouth with her tongue. Erik responded to her assault with equal fervor, wrapping his arms low around her to firmly grip her buttocks in each hand, then lifting her feet off the floor and pulling her hips tight against his own. She instinctually wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles behind him.

Still kissing her passionately, Erik looked around, his eyes sweeping back and forth. Spotting his relatively uncluttered desk, he carried her other to the flat top of the desk and set her on the edge. Leaning her back, he supported her with one arm and swept the desk clear with his other.

She reluctantly broke away from him and laid back across the desk, bringing her arms up past her head, letting them fall down onto the polished wood, with her wrists crisscrossed. Her eyes were lightly closed; her face was suffused with erotic pleasure.

Erik lifted her legs up to rest on either side of his chest, her strappy high-heeled sandals stabbing in the air on either side of his head. As he lifted her legs, her dress had fallen away, revealing her smooth, glistening sex. Driven by hungry impatience, he yanked open his pants, freed his straining penis, and plunged its full length directly into her. She shuddered in response, arching her back and thrusting herself against him as hard as she could, trying to shove every last bit of him inside of her.

With one hand, Erik grasped her shoulder and helped pull her tight against him. He pressed his other hand down on her smooth pubic mound, his thumb laying directly over her clitoris. As he began to slowly slide in and out of her, he let his thumb softly circle her clitoris.

"Please, please," she begged, desperate for him to be more forceful. "This teasing is torture."

He laughed, then thrust hard into her, asking, "You want more like this?"

"Yes!"

Resuming his slow stroking, he asked, "Yes, what..."

"Yes, Master. Please, Master, let me come. Please, Master, please."

"Ha! Mistress Amy's right. You are a spoiled brat. I should deny you, just to teach you a lesson." He shook his head sadly. "Alas, I desperately need to fill you with my cum... right now!" He abruptly increased his pace, thudding into her. She felt his fullness surging in and out of her, his pelvis slamming against her raised buttocks at the end of each stroke. The aching sensitivity of her clitoris was trapped between the steady pressure of his thumb from above and his engorged penis filling her below.

Suddenly, his other thumb was pressing against her puckered opening below. Her sphincter gratefully relaxed under his gentle pressure and allowed his thumb to penetrate her, all the way to where the web of his hand finally prevented any further movement.

The feeling of pressure and fullness sent her flying over the edge of her orgasm. Her head whipped back and forth, spittle flying, growling guttural non-words. Locked in the intensity of her orgasm, what remained of her conscious brain only barely registered as his ejaculation spasmed deep inside. Her body, however, certainly responded to his cum spurting deep within her, as she threw herself harder at him, desperate to have every last drop as far inside her as possible. Her orgasm raged on and on, vibrating and messy, completely blotting out the external world.

Slowly, the intensity ebbed. As she came to a foggy awareness, she realized that Erik had collapsed across her. He seemed hopelessly spent as well and his weight pinned her against the desk. He was breathing deeply. The rise and fall of his chest felt comforting and warm.

She lay there, fully satisfied, while his breathing slowed to a steady rate. She chuckled quietly. He stirred slightly in response. After a false start, she found her voice and said, "That's the most vanilla sex we've ever had."

She felt his chest rumble in his responding amusement. Then he said, "My dear one, I'm afraid vanilla will never be truly satisfying for you, ever again... if it ever was."

"It wasn't," she agreed. Tears flowed from her eyes, seemingly of their own accord. He propped himself up on his elbows and wiped her tears away. She told him, "I don't know why I'm crying."

He nodded, saying nothing, although his gentle presence and strength felt very reassuring.

She mused, "I'm really happy. It could just be that."

After a while, she added, "But it's more. I'm scared. You're right, vanilla was never enough. I was always looking. Now, I've found it, but how do I keep it? You've got me cocooned in this wonderful fantasy world right now, but I know that can't last. At some point, I've got to find my own way, and it's scaring the shit out of me."

He grimaced slightly. "It is a scary thing. But we all felt that fear as we admitted to ourselves that vanilla was no longer possible. And we got past it. Almost everyone found somebody to be their guide. I'm incredibly grateful, to this day, to the wonderful woman who taught me on my first introduction to this world."

"What's her name?"

"Darcy." He was quiet for awhile, somewhat pensive. "Since then, I haven't had many opportunities to repay her kindness, I mean, by passing on her loving introduction. That's why it's so important to me to do this right, with you. It's not just that you are a precious, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves the best of me. It's also that I owe... something..."

He shook his head in frustration. "I'm not communicating this well."

She reassured him, "I'm getting it, I think. Darcy sounds pretty special."

"Yeah, she was."

"Was?"

"She died of cancer two years ago." He paused to steady himself. "We had both sort of moved on, but we still kept in touch. We'd have dinner together every couple of months, sometimes something more."

"What happened to her? How did she..."

"Pancreas. Pancreatic cancer." He paused again, his voice catching, "She refused chemo." He paused again. She could see him forcing back his pain. "Three months and she was gone. She was barely in her forties."

Melissa reached up to stroke his face. "I'm so sorry Erik. Darcy... your parents... no wonder this is hard for you."

He closed his eyes and took another deep breath to steady himself. Melissa watched as his normally closed nature seemed to fold back in around him. He was still there, but his vulnerability was once again hidden away. She felt sad and sorry for him.

He reopened his eyes, with a thoughtful sadness that she now knew was only the faintest echo of what lay inside. He nodded, "Yes, we all play the hand we're dealt. There's nothing else to do." Then he straightened up to stand in front of her, his diminished penis sliding out of her in a gush of fluid.

Taking her hands, he pulled her up to sit on the edge of the desk. He gave her a light kiss and slid a finger under the thin strap of her sundress, saying, "We'd better wash this out before it stains."

Melissa pushed aside her disappointment about the shift in his mood. It was clear that he wasn't comfortable with his pain. Knowing he wanted to change the tone, she decided to take a new direction. Grinning mischievously, she unzipped her dress's side seam. She slid forward off the desk, then lifted her dress's straps from her shoulders, letting it skim off her to land in a crumpled circle on the floor.

Standing only in her blue five-inch sandals, she asked innocently, "You mean, like this?"

He growled, "Harumph! Turn around, you merciless harlot. Lie across the desk and take what you deserve."

She turned slowly, fluttering her arms in mock panic. "Oh but Master, whatever is it, in which you believe me culpable?" She leaned face down across the desk, spreading her arms out past her head and arching her back to raise her buttocks in the most provocative way that she could manage. "I do protest; I am but an innocent waif."

Smack! Erik's hand left a reddening spot on her right butt check. She gasped at the intensity of the pain and pleasure, both mixed together. In a low, menacing tone, he said, "Innocent my ass! I'll teach you." Smack! Her left butt cheek gained a matching spot of deepening redness.

"But that

is

my ass, Master!" she protested.

His voice came from just behind her ear, low and foreboding. "Who owns you?"

"You do Master."

From further away, he followed up, "Who owns your ass?"

"You do Master." On the other side of his office, she heard a cabinet door close. He walked back to her, and she could hear leather slapping against the palm of his hand.

From his position behind her once more, he told her, "This is a Lochgelly tawse. It is an antique, of sorts, but still very serviceable. In fact, frequent use is crucial to its preservation."

She shivered as he drew the two leather tails of the tawse across her already sensitive butt cheek. "It was used to discipline generations of young women at Miss Emily Middleton's Academy in Stirling." He drew the firm leather across her other cheek, continuing, "Most public girls' schools in the British Isles only used the tawse on outstretched hands, which is indeed most cruel. Miss Emily's was, thank goodness, was a far more enlightened establishment. Misbehaving girls were sent to the headmistress, who administered six strokes to their bare buttocks, as they leaned over her desk..." He drew the back of this fingertips along the length of her spine, "Just so."

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Are you ready for your six?"

"If it would please my Master." She was a little afraid of how much it might hurt, but she wagged her butt in what she hoped looked like eager anticipation.