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.
