The Old Slave

The Old Slave

My father died of a heart attack at age 46. I was 21, just as I was finishing my junior year in college. My mother had died in a car accident 10 years earlier. I was an only child, and I was now completely on my own. Not that this was so much different. After my mother's death, my father always made sure that we were financially secure, and that my education and every day needs were provided for, and while my daily activities were never of much interest to him, he did demand that I try to keep out of trouble. And to keep such things in my favor, I did my best to comply. He otherwise remained emotionally distant until he passed. I always felt that in many ways, this worked out for me. It forced me to become independent, to know who I was, and what I wanted to be and do. And over time I developed the ability to act upon it all.

Our modest house was fully paid for, and the small life insurance policy he had left would provide me with living expenses for at least some period of time. The only debts he left me with were student loans he had taken out that in large part had paid to send me to the elite college I was attending. They were substantial. And I still had another year of college to complete my degree in business. And I'd always desired and planned to go on immediately after that for my MBA.

Now those plans were in serious jeopardy, as I had no obvious way to pay for them, let alone for the three years of loans already used. The good news was that they were obtained from a special program set up by the company where my father had worked, and were interest-free, and could be paid back over an extensive period of time. This didn't solve of course, the problem any future expenses my education would incur, but I was determined to at least complete my college degree in any way that I could, even as it likely also meant forgoing, possibly forever, my quest for an MBA.

The interest-free student loan program was one of a number of very nice employee benefits developed and offered by the owner and president of the company, Roland Anderson, where my father had worked. He was the same age as my father, and in his early 20s had taken over the struggling family import-export business when his own father had died, and had, over 25 years, developed it into a thriving and hugely successful several thousand employee business, with multiple offices around the country and the world. I had met him a number of times over the years, at company picnics, and was ever astonished that he knew my name, and always asked about myself. He had attended both of my parent's funerals, and at the latter one, he seemed particularly sincere in the oft offered, 'If there is anything I can do, please let me know.'

Well, in this case, there was something I hoped he would do for me, and several weeks after the funeral I called to ask for an appointment to see him. I was gratified and pleased that it was immediately arranged.

I had practiced my presentation incessantly in my head leading up to the meeting, and steeled myself for the disappointment if my request was denied. But Roland Anderson put me at ease from the start

"I'm so glad you've come to see me, Anise. What is it that I can do for you?"

Here it went.

"Well, Mr. Anderson, I know my father, unfortunately, no longer works here, but I was wondering, and hoping, that I might still be able to avail myself of the student loan program you set up for employees and their families. My father used it to help me with my first three years of college, and I would be very thankful if I could use it for my final year to complete my degree."

"And what are you studying, Anise?"

"Business" I replied.

He smiled. "And what are your plans after you finish your degree?"

I paused, a bit in sorrow. "Well, I had intended, and hoped to go on for my MBA, but that will obviously have to be put on hold now, but maybe later in night school after I've started working."

"I see. And what do you hope to do with your degree, and then the MBA?"

I wasn't sure that I wouldn't sound ridiculous to this highly successful, and almost self-made businessman, but I didn't lack for my own confidence.

"It's always been a dream of mine to set up and grow my own business, of being in charge and responsible myself for everything in it from beginning to end. And I wanted to have the most tools and learn the most that I can to achieve all of that."

He nodded, then sat there silently and stoically as if pondering what I had said. After many long moments, during which I came to the conclusion that I really had made a fool of myself, he finally responded.

"I'm not going to grant the loan, Anise."

I had geared myself up for the disappointment, but I can't claim that my spirits didn't begin to plummet at that moment.

"Instead, my company is going to completely pay for your senior year." He then went on to continue. "On the condition that you take a part-time internship during the year with our company"

I was stunned, but he wasn't done.

"And if you perform well in the internship, and graduate with honors, we will pay for your MBA, and wipe away the first three years of your loans."

When I rediscovered my voice, all I could do was ask, "Mr. Anderson. Why?"

He looked away for a few seconds, then back to me. "Your father was more than employee. He was a friend. We started working in this company at the same time, and were growing in it together. When your mother died so tragically, your father was never the same, and then he died far too young. This may be some small way that I can do something, anything, about that. But it's also more than that. In this very short time today, I could see and sense something in you, Anise. Something different and special. And I just feel that you will prove me right. And you won't be getting anything for free. You'll be expected to work very hard here as an unpaid intern, and even harder, I suspect, to garner the honors that are required by my proposed deal." He paused again. "So, what do you say?"

What could I say. No one had ever said such things about me, or offered me anything of such value. And I knew I would not fail. I would become all I was meant to be, and I swore to myself that Roland Anderson would come to know that.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Anderson. I will do everything that it takes."

And he was true to his word, every step of the way, as was I. Everyone agreed that my work as an intern was exemplary, and I graduated Summa Cum Laude. He attended my graduation, and I was very happy to have someone there to celebrate it with me. My previous student loans were erased, and the company funded my MBA studies, and even offered me a higher level paid internship to help with my living expenses during that time. He attended that graduation as well, and at a celebration dinner he treated me to that night, he made his pitch.

"I know that having done so well, Anise, that you are fielding offers of any number of very exciting opportunities. But let me also throw my company's hat into the ring. I'm opening a new office in the city, importing a new product, and would like to offer you a position there to help get it off the ground. In no way though do I want you to consider taking it out of any sense of obligation. What you've been able to achieve so far, is more than enough recompense personally for me. But this is a chance for you to put your mark on something new and help it grow and succeed. It's up to you, and I will be happy for you and supportive no matter what you decide."

He was right that I had more than a few very interesting and lucrative offers on the table. But there were all in middle-management positions where I would initially just be another cog in the machine. And I needed to be so much more than that. As he pointed out, this would be an opportunity be involved in something at its beginning, and playing a vital role in its development. It was indeed very enticing, and though it hadn't been often so far where I was ever in direct contact with him, it was comforting to realize that he always seemed to have his eye out for me. I accepted his offer.

Over the next several years the new endeavor became a big success, and I was amply rewarded with promotions, pay raises and bonuses for my part in it. And I loved working in the city. After selling my old family house in the suburbs, and with my increasing salary, I was able to afford a lovely little condo in midtown. I would have periodic contact with the big boss, Mr. A, when we had division meetings at company headquarters in the countryside. While he would never overtly praise me more than anyone else in public, in private asides he would always laud and encourage me on my progress and performances. I'm not sure that he ever fully understood how much all of that inspired and spurred me on to be who I have become.

********

As my public professional life prospered my private socio-sexual one also flourished. I'd known for quite some time that my particular interest and nature lay in proclivities involving dominance and submission. And I was most definitely a Dominant. While not considered a traditional beauty, I knew that I was regarded by many as quite winsome. But I wanted to win-it-all, not just some. I had to have total control, and needed to be showered in it, and also revered for it, by someone who not only hungered for, but also appreciated and gloried in my dominance.

As I experimented, my nature evolved over those early years, I found that I had no interest in whips and chains, bondage, or pain for pain's sake, and only a little in mild forms of playful humiliation. My obsession was in adoration and obedience, unconditional, unquestioning, and complete. I would be worshiped, by someone whose only purpose would be in providing for my pleasure, with no consideration for their own. If there might be occasions when I would also desire the latter, it would only be because that would also please me, and only when I so wished. I didn't want some obsequious drone though, except perhaps for some playtime together now and then, but never towards anyone else. I wanted an Alpha for my beta, whose more than evident worth, apparent to all, would serve to make my position above, only known to the two of us, all the more valuable and supreme.

In the beginning, my dabblings with subs were usually one offs, where I was learning what I wanted, with my pleasure as a bonus. As my tastes and desires became more refined and specific, my dalliances would at times become more prolonged. But they would always end when I realized that a particular sub would invariably begin to try to top from the bottom, and put his needs equal to mine, and sometimes even above. This could never be allowed. I did recognize that submissives also had wants and needs, and expectations. But I wanted none of that. I needed more than that. I fully wanted a slave. Someone whose only wants, needs, and desires were to provide for my pleasure and my happiness, and who only lived for all of that. Once that was offered and rendered, I would see to his own care and needs, but only on my whim.

A tall order, I knew, and as I approached my 30

th

birthday, I had yet to form any longer-lasting relationships or attachments. I would still frequent events on the scene, prowling for one night stands for some fun that would temporarily quench my carnal wants, but never, it seemed, my emotional needs.

It was one such time when I ventured one Friday night, to one of the popular alternative clubs in the city, which was having one of their twice monthly Femdom Nights. These were usually very popular and well attended, with a large number of Dommes, dressed in a wide variety of regalia, from full Catwoman leather, to various fashion statements of latex and rubber, to some like myself, who had no desire to preen for others, in every day clothes. There were an even greater number of prospective subs, and, of course, the usual voyeurs. There would likely be some juicy pickings for me to select from for another solitary moment of intense, but shallow kink.

As I made my rounds, accepting drinks and complements, and the obsequious banter and by-play before I made my choice for the evening, I saw him sitting alone in the corner, looking like a fish out of water, a deer in the headlights, and all the other clichés that fit so perfectly then. And he saw me at the same time, and turned white, before a very deep shade of red. My benefactor, my mentor, my boss... Roland Anderson. There was nothing else for me to do but approach him. Which I did.

"Mr. Anderson, how unexpected and delightful to see you." There wasn't any easy way to try to relieve the awkwardness.

"Anise," he stammered desperately, "you must believe me that I didn't think... here in the city... that I would ever meet anyone... that I knew." He was totally flustered.

"This is your first time here, then?" I offered encouragingly.

"Ever... Anywhere... I just wanted, I thought... " He looked at me imploringly, hopelessly. "Please, Anise, excuse me... I have to go"

As he started to rise, I put my hand on his arm. "Roland. Stay."

That he instantly obeyed told me all that I had needed to know. It was my turn to be the mentor. "We need to talk." I added, and after a stunned moment, he reluctantly nodded. "Not here, though." I continued. "I want you to take me back to my place."

I had taken an Uber to the club, and he had driven into the city, and now with my directions, he drove me back uptown to my condo. We both otherwise remained silent on the trip, no doubt each wondering and ruminating on, in our current positions, what we would say. Upon our arrival, he initially suggested that he would just drop me off at the entrance to my building.

"No, Roland. I said we needed to talk, and we do. I want you to come up to my condo."

He parked, and we went. Upon entering I first offered him a drink, and poured one for myself to try to lessen the tension. He tried some small talk, complementing me on how lovely my place was. I allowed this for a period of time to help calm him even more. I had never seen him like this before, and it was oddly touching. And thrilling. It was time.

"So, Roland." I began intently. "How long have you wanted to do what you did tonight?"

He looked down at his glass, sighed, and came to a decision. "All my life. I never married, as you may know, and have never even had a serious relationship."

"And you thought you might find something like that in a place like tonight?"

"No, of course not. Not really. I just needed to see for real, whether there were truly people about whom I have fantasized forever, who really want what I so desperately need to give. And the few times I've tried elsewhere, it was never anything anyone ever seemed to accept from me."

"And what is it, Roland, that you so want to give?"

He looked up from his glass, started, then stopped, clearly struggling with the prospect of exposing himself so, especially with someone he knew. I tried to help him along.

"I think you can see that my presence there tonight shows that I have some experience in this area, and I do want to help." He nodded again, trying to be resolute, and looked down at his glass again, and came to a decision. I prepared myself for any number of possible fetishes and kinks he was about to reveal.

"Myself" he began. "I want to give myself. Fully and totally. For as long as I can remember all I've ever yearned to do is to lay myself at the feet of a Woman, who will want to accept what I have to offer, to venerate her as a goddess, to be allowed to care for her every want and need, with no thought to my own. To be whatever she desires me to be, and to live my life only as she sees fit and is pleasing to her".

I was utterly staggered. There was no doubt in my mind that he meant every word of what he said. As if coming out of a trance, he looked up from his glass again and saw the utter shock reflected on my face. And he misunderstood.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Anise... Please forgive me... This wasn't right of me... It's never right... I should go."

And, as before, he stood up to leave. I had only seconds to decide, but there was never really any question.

"Roland. Stop."

This time he more visibly fought to obey. But obey he did. He stood, Stock still, waiting. I took several moments before taking the next very important step. I slipped my foot out of my shoe.

"Kiss my foot, Roland."

A look of wonderment crossed his face, as if he couldn't believe he had heard correctly.

"I never expect to be kept waiting when I've given an order, Roland, but I'll forgive you this once. Kiss my foot"

This time there was no hesitance. He slowly went down to his knees before me, lowered his face down to my foot on the floor, and oh so gently, so reverently, brought his lips to the top of it. I had had my feet kissed so many times before, but never had it felt like this. Never had I felt like this. And I wanted more. I shimmied out of the shoe on my second foot.

"And now my other" I commanded regally.

He moved his face over, and again so softly, with even more seeming sacred devotion, placed his lips to the tops of my toes. I almost shook in my exhilaration.

"Thank you, Anise." He whispered.

I strove to collect myself. There are still so many things that had to be done.

"Would you like to kiss my feet again, Roland?"

"Oh God, yes, Anise."

"Well, you will have to earn that privilege. This was a gift tonight. You are going to have to work very hard for the right to lay yourself at my feet, to kiss them again, and offer yourself up to me."

"How" he breathed.

"You're going to have to woo me, of course, silly boy. Like anyone else. And you're going to begin tomorrow night by dressing up in your finest clothes, and taking me out to the swankiest restaurant in town for dinner."

This clearly wasn't what he was expecting to hear. A simple date. With me. A worried realization came to his mind.

"Anise, I'm 25 years older than you. As old as your father was"

I smiled. "And you have been like a Sugar Daddy to me all these years, so now you will be a real one. Age doesn't matter when you're trying to seduce a Goddess. And to prove that you truly mean what you say, you will start by giving up a very small part of yourself to me. You are to remain completely chaste... including any and all self... manipulations, until I say otherwise." I gave him a moment to take this in. "Also, I do believe that at this point when we're alone, it should be Miss Anise, don't you think?"

It took his own moment, but he came to his conclusion.

"Yes, of course... Miss Anise."

"Good, I'll expect you at seven tomorrow night then."

********

He showed up promptly on time the next evening. He looked quite dapper, wearing a three-piece suit. I don't think I had ever gone out with anyone wearing a three-piece suit, but then again, I had never been on a date quite like this. Actually, I had never been on many regular dates at all, and I found that I rather liked it. I myself wore a simple little black dress that I owned to wear to company, or other public affairs. His eyes showed that he not only approved, but was truly appreciative of being in my company. He had procured an almost impossible to get reservation one of the most exclusive restaurants in town. It was a wonderful meal, and we had a wonderful time, laughing and conversing about any number of topics. It took him a while though for his nerves to ease. I wanted them to ease so I allowed them to ease. And they did, which greatly added to my enjoyment.

Over the next several months, I allowed and expected him to take me to a variety of different places and outings, and he never failed to impress. Every Friday and Saturday night we attended a number of different shows, concerts, major cultural events, always preceded or followed by dinner at some of the best restaurants in the city. It was a social strata where I had had limited exposure and experience before, and I found it a very heady and delightful experience. But even more enjoyable was the time I was getting to spend with this increasingly fascinating man, and getting to know him far more fully.