"Would you like to live here in my house with me?"
"Oh, yes, Master, if you'll have me." Two more days had passed since Dr. Grant had left my master's house. Since that time my master had given me further instruction in the joys of anal intercourse. He determined that I was becoming sufficiently expert in oral sex to be able to expand my horizons, (and, incidentally, my anus), and receive His pleasure rod in my nether orifice on a regular basis.
Although I derived a great deal of masochistic enjoyment from judiciously administered doses of pain, I found that dry-ass butt-fucking was simply too unpleasant a sensation to be able to withstand it on a regular basis. Now my master allowed me to keep a quantity of K-Y jelly in my rectum so as to be ready for Him in case He should grace me with the pleasure of an ass-reaming. I enjoyed the cool, gooey sensation I got when inserting it into my rectum. I would slip my finger in and out several times, just to remind myself of the lovely feeling of my master's cock, fucking me there.
When this conversation took place we were lying in bed together. We had just woken up a few minutes earlier and I had just finished giving my master His early-morning blow-job. His come was still fresh and warm on my tongue.
"Since you've been here for a few weeks already, and since I've had to seriously discipline you on only two occasions, I think we can take a chance and try you out as a live-in maid." He always talked like that, pompous and self-important, but I didn't mind. I was willing to forgive Him many things, in light of His wonderful handling of me.
"Thank you again, Master," I said. "It seems I'm always thanking you for one thing or another. I hope you don't mind my sounding like a broken record."
"It's all right, my dear." He stroked my hair and scratched me lightly behind the ear. "You're still a little unsure of yourself. You still have some adjusting to do, I understand."
"My summer school class ends in two weeks, Master, then I'll have to register for a full class schedule for the fall. That won't interfere with my working for you will it?"
"I don't think so. I'm sure we can find time to let you attend class and do your homework without neglecting your duties here, don't you?"
"Oh, yes, I'm sure of it." I wrapped my arms around His waist and kissed His penis up and down, using just my lips, the way a little girl would kiss her daddy.
"That's enough, Jodie. Now, get up and get dressed. You have a lot to do before I leave." He swatted me playfully on the behind and sent me back to my room.
Once there, I showered and dressed quickly in my standard black-and-white: heels, hose, garters, and uniform in black; collar, cuffs, and apron in white. I gave my butt a fresh squirt of K-Y jelly and examined the finished product in the mirror.
There was no question in my mind that I was looking healthier and happier than ever before in my life. My new regime of service and discipline was agreeing with me profoundly. My cheeks, (those on my bottom as well as those on my face), had a rosy glow to them and my eyes sparkled with clarity and aliveness. There was a spring in my step and I woke up each morning with new energy and enthusiasm.
The door opened and He entered the room.
"Ah, Jodie, you look marvelous in your uniform," He said. "It really does suit you, don't you think?"
"Yes, it does," I answered.
"I'm glad you're fitting in so well. I will miss you while I'm away."
"Will you be gone long?"
"Just two days, but what will you do while I'm gone? Would you like to go home or would you prefer staying here?"
"I… I'd like to stay here, Master. Would that be all right?"
"But what would you do, my dear? You will have no one to keep you company."
"I feel so safe here, so secure. I'm afraid if I leave something will happen… I don't know… I'll get lost, or you'll find someone else. Please, Master, just let me stay."
"There, there, my dear," He patted my arm reassuringly, "you may stay if you wish. However, the cleaners will be here tomorrow and I'm afraid they would not understand our arrangement. Do you comprehend?"
I nodded my head.
"So, it would better if they were not to see you, yes?"
"Yes, Sir."
"So you will spend all of tomorrow in the pleasure room."
"Yes, Master. I understand."
He left that afternoon after packing some clothes and His papers from His office. I said good-bye to Him at the front door and He kissed me on the mouth. I was too thrilled for words. He had never kissed me before. I took it as a gesture of acceptance as well as affection. My life and relationship with Him were both looking up.
I spent the rest of the day in my room, preparing my French homework. The irony of my studying the French language at the same time that my master was giving me such painstaking instruction in French love was not lost on me.
That night I made myself a light supper in the massive downstairs kitchen. Just a little salad and cold cuts was all I could eat. As happy as I was living in my master's house, I nevertheless felt a little intimidated being in it alone. It was so big, so forbidding, I was afraid of breaking or spoiling something by accident.
I quickly retreated back up to my own little quarters. I felt safe and secure there. I felt as though they were my own home, my own little nest. I got undressed and snuggled down in my bed to watch a little television before drifting off to sleep. I was as happy as I'd ever been.
The next morning I got up with the sun. Bright, clear rays of sunshine were slanting into the room, the clock said six-thirty and I felt marvelous. I yawned, stretched and jumped out of bed. I pulled a soft silk robe over my shoulders and skipped down the stairs to fix myself some coffee and cereal for breakfast.
The house seemed less intimidating in the daytime, more manageable. I munched a bowl of cold cereal while the coffee was brewing. Absently, my hand cupped my breast and tweaked my nipple while late.
My new-found sexual freedom was a revelation to me. I had always enjoyed sex before, but it was like dessert, something special that I gave myself only occasionally. Now, under the tutelage of my new master, sexual pleasure was quickly turning into the main course of my life's banquet. I was becoming a hedonist, a libertine and I liked it. It was completely against all my training.
Like most girls my age I had been taught that sex was something dangerous and dirty. If you did it too much you either got pregnant, venereal disease, or, at the very least, a bad reputation. This new freedom my master had given me was intoxicating to me. I wondered if, as it seemed, He was willing to let me fully explore this new freedom, or if He wanted to fully control me.
I went to the front door and retrieved the morning paper from the stoop. I peeked out through the peep-hole before opening the door. I was still naked and didn't want anyone to see me. There was no one in sight. I brought it back in and was just sitting down to read it over my second cup of coffee when a sudden noise made me freeze.
I listened carefully. An automobile was pulling into the driveway. I looked out the window. Of course! It was the cleaning crew. He told me they were coming that day, I just hadn't expected them to be so early. I ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, just as they were coming through the back door.
I ran to the pleasure room and locked myself in. Leaning against the door I tried to catch my breath and be completely silent. My pulse was racing. I don't know why I was so scared. I had every right to be there. I belonged in that house as much as or even more than they did. Nevertheless, my knees were shaking as if I were a thief.
Gradually I calmed myself down. I decided to try to distract myself until the cleaners left. Unfortunately, there were no books in the pleasure room, only some magazines.
I sat down in the armchair and leafed through the magazines. I had never seen anything like them before. There was no text, only pictures. They showed men and women, mostly women, engaged in love-making. They were doing things I was familiar with, some other things I had only just learned about from my new master, and some other things I had never even imagined.
In one magazine, beautiful young women were shown making love to one another. I thought about my afternoon with Mandy. I was pleased and relieved that my master apparently enjoyed seeing women loving one another. I wondered if Mandy would like to come for a visit, probably not. I wondered if He knew any women like Mandy, probably.
A second magazine had pictures of what I would call "straight" sex, men and women exploring each other's bodies in every conceivable way, with their mouths, with their genitals, everything. I had never considered feet to be particularly erotic, but one series of pictures showing a young man kissing and sucking his partner's toes got me very excited. I was intrigued, I wondered how it must feel to have a warm, wet tongue playing in the cracks between my toes. In the final picture of that particular series, we were shown the woman masturbating the man with her feet. There was no mistaking the look of pleasure on her face as she manipulated, (podipulated?), him to orgasm. There was equally no mistaking his obvious pleasure because the camera had caught him in mid-ejaculation.
Another magazine had pictures of other women, these were not so pretty as the first two. In fact, they looked like what I imagined whores and prostitutes must look like, tired and uninterested in what, to anyone else, would be either fascinating or disgusting. I was torn between the two emotions. The women were, how can I describe it, making love to animals. I wanted to put the magazine down, tear it up, burn it, anything, but I could not. I was held in awe. How could anyone do such a thing? What looked natural and exciting between two women, or between a man and a woman, in this context was repulsive, and exciting, nevertheless. I was horrified at my fascination with this perversion.
I put the magazine down and went to the window, wanting to clear my mind. Outside, it was clear summer day in Southern California. I opened the window and drank in the cool morning air. Goosebumps prickled on my skin and I crossed my arms over my breasts. Birds sang their sweet serenade oblivious to civilization and its discontents and uncertainties. I leaned back against the window frame, enjoying the sun and air on my skin and face.
My mind drifted back to morality, what is perversion? How much is too much? What is normal? If I had already drifted this far into the realm of the senses, what was my destination? When and where would I stop? Would I one day enjoy what I now despised?
I tried to will my consciousness to drift out of my body. I wanted to fly away with the birds, to have no thought but to live my life with no control, no thought, no judgment. I closed my eyes and concentrated my attention on the feel of the sun on my skin. I relaxed into the nurturing warmth of it. I heard my breath sighing in my ears, the wind rustled the trees. I let my vocal chords hum with my breath.
Another humming crept into my consciousness without my awareness, a soft, steady, droning hum. Gradually it increased in volume until I became aware of it as an intrusion. Simultaneously I had the sensation of being watched. I felt someone's eyes on me.
I opened mine slowly. I peered through the narrow slits of my eyelids at the shimmering green lawn before me. Near the house, holding a pair of electric shears, was a young man with dark skin. He was looking directly up at me. I froze there, numb and startled. For some reason, unknown to myself, I was afraid.
He was just the housekeeper, after all. I was a guest more than an employee, wasn't I? Didn't I have a perfect right to be there? Why was I edging slowly away from the window? Why was he watching me like that? Why, oh, why had I let him see me? Why did I stand in the window?
I pulled the curtains shut and leaned against the wall, trembling. I was breathing hard, as if I had just run around the block. With shaking knees I walked back to the chair and curled up with my knees to my chest.
In a few moments I heard the sound that I had dreaded, and expected. Footsteps softly climbed the stairs and padded down the hall. They stopped at my door. The doorknob turned silently. The door rattled softly, telling the intruder that it was locked.
The turned back and I heard a scratching sound, then a click, then the knob turned again. This time the door opened. He had a key! I knew it must have been him.
"Go away!" I screamed.
He jumped into the room and closed the door. At first I thought he was Latino but he had an oriental look about him as well. He was bare-chested and his skin was streaked with dirt. The muscles on his chest and arms shone with sweat.
"Get out of here or I'll scream!" I said.
"Scream your head off, no one will hear you." One corner of his mouth turned up in a leering smile. "This room is virtually soundproof."
"I'll tell your boss, he'll fire you."
"Tell him what you want, lady. He sent me here."
"But, but… I'll call the police."
"No one will believe you."
He strode directly toward me.
"What do you want?" I was still curled up in a fetal position and felt the fear that my body reflected.
"What I want is the only thing you're good for, bitch."
I got up and ran to the wall, trying to evade his approach. He spread his arms and continued advancing, grinning all the while.
"Don't try anything," I tried to sound as threatening as I could, "I know Karate."
He kept on coming at me. I tried to dodge around him to his left but he just reached his arm out and grabbed me, effortlessly, as if this were something he did every day.
I tried to pull away from him but he just laughed at me. He held me around the waist with his left arm while he grabbed my jaw with his right hand. It was rough and callused, there was dirt under the nails.
He brought his leering face down over mine and our lips met. The sweet smell of fresh sweat filled my nostrils while he pried my jaw open and forced his tongue into my mouth.
I was terrified. Was it just sex he wanted? No, he was lying when he said my master had sent him. He lied when he said the police wouldn't believe me. He didn't want to just rape me, he intended to kill me as well, I was sure of it.
I reached up and dug my nails into in face. I drew down and left four parallel trails of blood from his cheek to his chest.
He screamed in pain and pushed me back, away from him.
He touched his cheek, looked at the blood on his hand, looked at me, down on the floor where he had pushed me. He grabbed me by the lapels of my robe and pulled me to my feet. I tried to kick and scratch my way free of him, but to no avail. He balled his fist and punched me, once, in the mouth, hard.
I tasted blood. Pain shot through my head and took all my strength away. I looked at him in horror. He was grinning again.
"So the bitch likes it rough," he said. He hit me again, not as hard this time but in the same place. It hurt even more. My knees gave way completely and I collapsed on the floor at his feet.
He reached into his pocket and took out a six-inch buck knife. He opened the blade and held in his mouth, biting on the blade like a grinning pirate.
He opened his pants and kicked off his shoes, in a moment he was standing over me, naked, the knife in his hand, laughing at me. I could see now he wasn't Latino, he was Polynesian. Almost six feet tall, with muscles like a body builder, he was a good-looking boy and under other circumstances I would have enjoyed getting to know him, maybe even this way. But not now, not like this. His cock was hard and stuck straight out, pointing at me like an accusing finger. He looked at me with hate and anger in his eyes and voice. He ran his thumb over the blade of his knife.
"So this is the bitch who looks down on poor honest people working in the garden."
"No… I…"
"Shut up!" He reached down and slapped me across the mouth with the back of his hand. "This bitch thinks she's better than other people. She thinks she can order them around. She's not so high and mighty now, is she?"
"Please… don't hurt me. I was just looking… I didn't…" I felt a trickle of blood and saliva run down my chin.
"You didn't. You wouldn't. I shouldn't. Fuck you, bitch!"
He knelt down and touched the knife to my throat. My body went stiff, rigid, as if I had been touched by an electric wire.
He laughed at my terror, a quiet, monotonous, crazy, keening sound. He pressed the blade against my larynx, the cold, sharp steel pinching my flesh. My breath shook in my lungs and my arms trembled. He pushed me back until I was lying on my back on the floor.
"Go ahead, bitch, fight me. I like it when they struggle." He laughed a little louder, a little more sanely, I thought.
He let the point of the knife rest on my throat under its own weight. He drew it down from my throat to my chest. My skin trembled and shook under the cold steel. He traced the inner curves of my breasts. Then he pushed the robe open, exposing my breasts to his leering gaze. I could see the appreciation in his eyes.
He held the knife more gingerly now. He traced the full roundness of both my titties. He flicked my nipples ever so lightly with just the tip of the knife. A cold, burning sensation, I had to look to make sure he hadn't drawn blood.
Despite myself, I was beginning to get aroused. My nipples crinkled up and got hard under his wicked play.
He turned the knife and with a flick of his wrist cut the sash of my robe. He slipped the robe away from my body.
"Look at the little whore!" he laughed loudly, "the bitch shaves her pussy."
I pressed my legs together. "You have no right to…"
"You know what you're gonna get, don't you, bitch?"
"Please, don't."
He slapped me again, the pain flashed warm through my head and chest. It started to reach down into my stomach. My blood was salty in my mouth. I licked my lip and tasted more.
He leaned over me menacingly. He pressed the knife under my chin. I stretched my neck, retreating from the weapon.
"You're scared, aren't you?"
I nodded.
"Think you can get away from me?"
I shook my head slightly, trying to move as little as I could with the knife still pressed under my chin.
"What if I didn't have this knife?" He took it away and laid it on the floor next to my head.
I breathed a little easier, but not much. It was still right there where he could reach it. As if reading my mind he pushed the knife across the carpet, sending it eight feet away. One of us could lunge for it and get their before the other. He was toying with me.
"Go on, get up," he said.
I got on my knees next to him. The robe was an encumbrance so I let it fall from my shoulders. My pale skin contrasted sharply with his.
"If you had the knife, what would you do? Would you cut me?" He said it mockingly, as if I were incapable of such a thing.
I looked at him. Maybe I would cut him, I thought. He has no right to terrorize me. He should know what it feels like to be scared.
"Go on, I'll give you a head start."
He was looking me up and down, imagining fucking me. When I saw his eyes drop to my pussy, I lunged for the knife.
He laughed and grabbed my left arm, twisting it behind my back. I made a fist with my right and landed a solid punch on his eye. His grip on my arm slipped and I made another try for the knife.
This time he knocked me down with an open-handed chop to the side of the neck. He dragged me back away from the knife and threw himself on top of me.
I squirmed and twisted under him. He had to hold both my wrists to keep me from scratching and hitting him. I had my legs together and wouldn't let him get his knees between mine. I started feeling cocky, like maybe I could take this bozo. I brought my leg up sharply and kneed him in the balls.
He doubled over in pain. I tried to get out from under him again, but couldn't. He was stronger than me. He reared up and gave me a stinging blow to the side of the head. Then he reached down and with his strong right fist, punched me squarely on the pussy!
The pain exploded all through my body at once. A great red halo enveloped me, paralyzed my body, and filled my senses with ringing, stinging pain.
He fell on me. I was limp, stunned beneath him. He penetrated me in an instant. With no thought of me or my pleasure, he pushed his prick into me to prove his dominance over me. He didn't even want sex, he just wanted control.
My pain concentrated itself in my cunt. Its heat warmed my vaginal walls as he pushed his prick into me. I got wet again, against my will. This pig had won. He had beaten me. Now he was using sex to degrade me. I hated him. And at the same time, no matter how much I willed not to, I was getting aroused by him.
His cock wasn't as long as my master's but it was thicker, and wedge-shaped. The head was only about an inch across at the tip, but the base looked like it was three inches in diameter at least, if not four.
My cunt was still sore from his punch, the humiliation of having him jerk himself off in me, just using me like an object, sent burning waves of shame through me to mix with the pain. And both of them combined with sensation of his cock sliding in and out of my cunt, got my orgasm started.
I couldn't stand the added humiliation of having him know I was enjoying him, so I took my pleasure and turned it into struggles. I fought and twisted under him. He held my arms and laughed at me.
"Fight all you want, bitch. I like the way you move."
I twisted and pulled back and forth. Each movement forced his cock in and out of my cunt. I couldn't disguise the hot wet pussy juice that was flowing from my cunt all over his cock.
He pressed further in, stretching my pussy lips apart. I pulled away, almost dislodging him. He thrust in. He put all his weight on my chest to hold me still. He shoved himself all the way in me. His cock stretched my pussy lips painfully. Tears formed in my eyes.
He pumped in and out, hard, fast, insistent. I turned my head to one side and started crying. Sobbing in great gasps, tears splashing on my cheeks, wailing my humiliation to the world.
His cock throbbed and spurted, filling my cunt with his hot, creamy come. I sobbed and moaned and let my own orgasm flow through me at the same time. I was relieved, embarrassed, appalled, ashamed, filled with satisfaction.
I was still lying on the floor, crying, when he put on his pants and left the room, locking the door behind him.
I cleaned myself and the room so there was no trace of him or what he had done to me. First I vacuumed and shampooed the rug. Then I drew a bath for myself in the master bathroom. The huge tub allowed me to thoroughly submerge myself in warm, healing, sudsy water.
The pain of the rape, the violation, was too deep, too agonizing to be pleasurable. I tried to wrap myself in healing water, to soothe my pain and regroup my forces.
My tears ran down my race and into the water. I sobbed uncontrollably, abandoning myself to the mind-numbing agony of my humiliation. I sank beneath the surface and contemplated drowning. I doubted that I could drown then, I was too angry.
"How are you, my dear?"
"Very well, thank you, Sir." I curtsied for Him in my dress black uniform. I had gone to great pains to do my hair and make-up just right. I wanted just the right blend of innocence and lewdness with which to greet Him on His return. "Welcome home."
"How did you spend your time while I was away, my dear?" He asked.
"I did some homework, and I did some housework," I said. I was following behind Him into the living room, carrying His jacket and briefcase. These I took to the closet, from which I got His slippers and went to Him where He sat in His easy chair.
"That's nice, my dear." He was looking through His mail and giving me hardly any of His attention.
I took His shoes off His feet and kissed His toes before covering them with His slippers. "I met your gardener as well."
He looked down at me. I had His attention now. "How did you happen to meet Kimo? I thought you were going to remain in your room."
"I was in the pleasure room when He came in after me. He had a key."
"He did what?" He looked intense, but not surprised or upset. Yes, I thought, He might have orchestrated the entire incident. He might even have video-taped the entire episode and already reviewed it before seeing me. He was capable of anything, I thought.
"Sir, do you remember," I said, changing the subject slightly, "when Dr. Grant offered to teach me greater discipline?" I took His shoes to the closet and deposited them inside.
"Yes." He was non-committal.
"I wonder if she would be interested in performing that same service for Kimo?"
My master gave me a long, slow, knowing, accepting smile. "She might be, I'll have to ask her."
"That would be nice," I said dreamily. I knelt at my master's feet and caressed His thigh with my arms. "I might even have another friend who might like Dr. Grant."
"Really?"
"Yes, I think so," I was drifting off into a haze of sensual fantasy. I rubbed my master's cock gently through His pants, feeling it grow stiff and rigid. "Maybe Dr. Grant will let me learn from her as well. I'd like to be her apprentice, in case I ever have servants of my own that I need to discipline."
"My dear, you reveal undreamed of depths." He placed my hand on His zipper. "We may have to take you shopping very soon. I think you may need some new outfits, something more… severe… shall we say?"
I took the hint and undid His pants. His cock sprang forth, long, smooth, and hard. I put the top half of it in my mouth, savoring the taste.
Yes, I was looking forward to getting together with Dr. Grant again, especially now that we'd be on a more nearly equal basis.
I was looking forward to introducing her to Mandy. I wondered if they'd hit if off right away. I wondered if Mandy would like the disciplining Dr. Grant was certain to want to give her. Would she submit or would she resist.
If she fought back, would Mandy overpower Dr. Grant? And if she did, what would happen then?
Oh, yes, I was looking forward to getting together with Dr. Grant and Mandy, and I was especially looking forward to seeing Kimo again, in circumstances of my design.
Yes, a new wardrobe was definitely called for. I was learning more about myself by the minute.