In Chapter 1, a billionaire, J.R. Crowley, and his wife, Elizabeth, offer a job and a free apartment in their luxury high-rise to Carol, a young woman who is breaking up with her boyfriend and has no place to live. It soon becomes clear what Carol will have to do in return, but that's no problem for the sexually submissive hottie.
In Chapter 2, Elizabeth takes Carol shopping for sexy outfits at a special boutique owned by the Crowleys and managed by their friend, Harold. Private fittings turn into an opportunity for Elizabeth and Harold to enjoy Carol's submissive sexuality. The chapter ends with Harold taking Carol into the backroom, where he can torment and have his way with her.
In Chapter 3, Carol is introduced to BDSM pleasures in the backroom of the boutique. A bond develops between handsome Harold and Elizabeth's new sex toy. The chapter ends with sexually satiated Carol dropped off at her apartment.
In Chapter 4, Carol is taking a bath when J.R. comes boldly into the bathroom. Her bath turns into an orgy of sex, with J.R. taking advantage of the special features of the tub. When he's finished with her, she must recover and hurry to get to her first real estate showing appointment.
In Chapter 5, Carol uses her sex appeal to make her first big sale as a real estate agent for The Crowley Company. The customer, a wealthy bank manager, makes it clear what he expects in return for signing the lease. She plays him to the end.
The characters speak for themselves in the story.
Chapter 6
Carol
It's been two weeks since I made my big sale. The girls in the office couldn't believe I'd closed a lease on a penthouse on my first meeting with a client. The office manager was a bit suspicious, especially after she met Bruce Henderson, the leaser. The man radiates strength and sex appeal. She's pretty sexy herself, and probably has made sales just the way I did.
Life in the apartment continues to be exciting. I used some of my commission to purchase some modern art, including two life-sized bronze statues of curvy women. J.R, and Elizabeth dropped by to see them, and were very complementary of my taste. Elizabeth had the bright idea of having me strip and assume the poses of the statues. J.R. then maneuvered my limbs to get it exactly right, and it wasn't long before the three of us were in my king bed.
Other than that episode, however, they have left me pretty much alone. J.R. travels a lot, and Elizabeth seems to like to play with me only when a man is present. That may happen tonight. She's invited me to dinner with Harold, the manager of their boutique. It will be just the three of us.
I've thought a lot about Harold since my eventful visit to the that naughty shop. The mutual attraction was palpable. But it was more than that. Harold wasn't just out to get laid. He was clearly interested in my reactions. I could tell he was turned on when I showed excitement at the way he was treating me. And he picked up on the things that really got to me and built on them. On top of all that, he's handsome and intelligent. What's not to like?
Elizabeth has been trying to get us together. She finally gave up on coordinating with J.R. and arranged tonight's private dinner.
How should I dress? Definitely not slutty. I don't want him to see me as a bimbo, even though I was such an easy lay on our first meeting. On the other hand, I don't want to be in Crowley Realty business attire. He's well aware of the manipulation tricks in those outfits. One thing for sure; my underwear must be sexy. No doubt he and Elizabeth will have me out of my clothes before the evening is over.
At six o'clock I leave my apartment to go to the lobby to access the private elevator to the penthouse. I've chosen an ankle-length black party dress with a high slit up the front of one leg. The silky fabric clings to my figure from the low-cut bodice to the tops of my five-inch heels. The slit goes up to almost midthigh, flashing enough flesh to distract attention from the revealing cleavage above. It's elegant and expensive-looking, which it is.
Harold is already there when I arrive. He looks me up and down, smiling his approval. Elizabeth stands to the side, like she's about to direct a play.
"How lovely," says Harold. "Not one of the dresses from our shop, but stunning. Where did you find it?"
"Online, if you can believe it," I say. "I tried a whole bunch, and this fit me the best. You don't think I'm overdressed for a dinner party?"
"Oh no. I believe a woman should dress to look her best and not worry about protocol. Don't you agree, Elizabeth?"
She laughs. "Absolutely. We've had women come to dinner in bikinis. Although I'm not sure it was their choice. J.R. sometimes likes to show off his power."
I feel a twinge of excitement and the thought of being ordered by J.R. to do such a thing. What's the matter with me? I can't let feelings like this rule my life.
Elizabeth hands me a tall glass. "Sex-on-the-beach," she titters. "Remember that from your first dinner here?"
"Oh, yes."
"My goodness," says Harold. "You are blushing like a schoolgirl caught reading a sexy novel. What happened at that dinner?"
"Never mind," Elizabeth says, rescuing me. "J.R. is not here to order us around, and I've planned a traditional dinner party where people can get to know each other. Let's take our drinks out on the balcony and enjoy the sunset."
Harold
The atmosphere is electric. I know what lush body is under that five-hundred-dollar dress. And I know Elizabeth will arrange for me to enjoy it before the night is over. Being a helpless submissive, no doubt Carol knows the same thing.
We spend half an hour sipping our alcohol-laden drinks and pointing out landmarks. Carol is charming and a good conversationalist. She's quick witted, obviously a very intelligent woman. Isn't it amazing that even the smartest, most self-possessed women can have such hot fires smoldering inside.
"Time to go in for dinner," Elizabeth announces. "My signature pasta casserole is ready and waiting. Harold, if you will please open the wine. Better do two bottles. We'll need a few glasses of the dry white to cut through the sweetness of this sex-on-the-beach."
Elizabeth leads us to a small square table set with three places. Two opened bottles of wine stand on ice in a silver bucket on a pedestal.
"You two sit down while I finish up in the kitchen," she says.
Taking her time, Carol arranges herself in one of the chairs. It takes some maneuvering in that tight dress with the slit up the front. I take the seat opposite. My foot brushes up against hers.
"Whoops, sorry about that," I say. "Didn't mean to step on your toes."
She smiles and punches my leg with her shoe. "Not much room under here," she says. "Better keep those long legs on your side."
I'm intrigued by her spunk. Here's a woman I've recently spanked and fucked, who's now telling me to keep my feet to myself. As if she has any choice in the matter. I make the point by extending a foot between hers and pushing her legs open.
"You know better than to tell me what to do," I say. "Now keep your feet apart in case I need space to stretch my legs."
Carol's demeanor suddenly changes. No longer the chatty dinner party companion, she becomes quiet and subdued. I glance toward the kitchen area. Elizabeth is standing there, watching, listening.
"Our hostess will want you to behave," I say to Carol. "You know that, don't you."
"Yes, sir," she responds, her eyes glued on mine.
Carol
Harold has me back on my heels. One moment he's acting like any intelligent, attractive man you might meet at a party, and the next he's asserting his dominance over me. How easily I succumbed. Moving my feet apart has opened the slit in my dress, and I feel cool air on my thigh above the top of my stocking.
