Maid For His Submission (3 page)

Emerging from the dormitory bathroom, Tosh made her way back to bed, thankful for her forward thinking to pack an overnight bag just in case her interview ended in her favor. She was now soft and warm in her PJs, and after a warm shower her knees were finally feeling a little better and the inviting give of the narrow mattress left her a pile of Jell-O.

Closing her eyes, she welcomed her sleep…until the noise began.

No doubt the club was in full swing and so were the whips. Tosh had expected something more along the line of thumping music to set the rhythm, but it didn’t take much imagination to guess the moves they were making.

Tossing from one side to the other, she tried to find peace, but there was none to be had, and she was ready to scream. This wouldn’t work, her curiosity was killing her, and she had to see who was calling out those mind-blowing moans and what was causing them. If she could be driven to such ecstasy, then there would never be a reason for anyone to call her a postulant again.

The tile floor was cold to Tosh’s bare feet, and she took several small steps to make her way down the hall. If her memory served her correctly, then she was only a door away from where the noise should be coming from, but stealth was required. After Mr. Richard’s threatening “is that clear,” she didn’t want to know what would be facing her should he catch her.

A vibrant red butt was playfully swishing in the air, teasing the riding crop that was pulled back ready to strike. Tosh couldn’t make out much from the narrow crack of an inch she had pulled the door open, but seeing what swung with a whoosh, the moans she had been hearing were a man’s and they grew louder every time the woman in black snapped the crop down on him. Her red hair was pulled back tightly in a ponytail and without a word or look at her face, Tosh could guess who the woman was.

Tosh’s breath was cut short with every blow the woman made. She had never seen anything so terrifying or erotic before, and she had never been more turned on in her life. The teasing that she had endured from Mr. Richard’s touch didn’t leave her as wet as she was now. Every time her thighs flexed together, she could feel her own juices dripping down.

“See anything you like, postulant?”

Startled, Tosh looked over her shoulder the same moment Mr. Richard pushed the door closed and spun her around to pin her against the wood door with his body. She gasped in fright when he thrust his rock hard erection into her stomach, but there was no air. She was terrified beyond words.

“You don’t seem to heed my warnings, my little postulant.” His eyes were a fury while his voice was calm and steady. “In fact, it seems the only time you can listen and take orders is when I have you on your knees. Now, if I have to punish you to make you listen, then so be it. You will learn to listen and obey me.”

She had no chance to fight or argue, but in her fright surrendered willingly from the pressure of his hands on her shoulders and fell to her knees, wincing in an aggravated pain for her poor knees. Licking her lips, she reached up for his zipper, but he met her action with a clicking sound and a shake from his head.

“I never said to use your hands.” Making a lizard swipe of his tongue over his top lip, his eyes darkened and his voice dropped into a deep rumble. “Now…get to work...postulant.”

Her chest rose and fell with every nervous breath and dropping her eyes from his face, she looked at the impressive bulge that was fighting its way free. One whiff and she was addicted, even through his slacks she could smell his sex and it was catnip. Nuzzling her face into his groin, Mr. Richard braced himself with a hand against the wall and let out a hoarse moan. His postulant was a born lioness meant to serve in his pride.

Down went his zipper, one-zipper tooth at a time gripped between her teeth. She worked at a painfully slow pace that could make him explode, but instead kept his mind alive with thoughts and images. Her breath over his dark curls was electric and filled him with dread over the lack of control he would have once she freed him entirely. When he at last sprang free from the restraint of his slacks, a breath of relief escaped his lips, and Mr. Richard was taken for a sensual loop when his new delightful maid wasted no time with him.

Tucking her nose at the apex of his strong cock and sack, Tosh nuzzled a bit in his heat before slowly licking him from base to tip. Round and heavy, his testicles swelled, and she liked the feeling of them against her face every time she licked her way down to the base. It was Mr. Richard’s turn for his legs to turn to Jell-O while she tasted, nipped, and teased him. She was no expert in her skill, but her curious innocence made it all the more erotic for him. He had never seen innocence as a turn on and nothing wasted his time more than training a new submissive, but this one was special. Her innocence was more of a loving offering to him.

Circling the tip with her tongue, Tosh gave herself a moment to find her strength before taking him in completely. Swallowing him back, she fought the insecurities of her youth and tried to focus on the erotic delight in pleasuring a man with so much strength. Despite the claustrophobic gagging, she kept going until at last she could feel him at the back of her throat and the strong sense of accomplishment and pride came over her.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, Mr. Richard began to pump her head to his pleasure. She was so warm with a tongue that wouldn’t quit, he knew he wouldn’t last for long. Every moan sizzled up her throat and through him. No man could endure this pleasure for long.

“Stop…” he breathed, struggling for air. He tried to pull her free, but she wouldn’t have it and with every tug of her hair, she attacked his sex with gusto. “…I can’t last much longer...” Licking his lips, he squeezed his eyes shut. “You need to stop or…else…I’m...” There was nothing left in him to keep from surrendering to the orgasm. Shooting his release into the paradise of her mouth, and she took it…every drop, sucking him clean and empty.

Sitting back on her heels, Tosh’s brow creased from the pain in her knees while she licked her lips with pride and looked up at the Greek god who looked down at her with a heavy-lidded gaze of fulfillment. Not certain where all her courage came from, she began to struggle to hold on tight to it and could feel herself implode with embarrassment. Rolling her shoulders down, her head soon fell, ducking low, allowing her to discretely wipe away the dribble from her chin.

“No!” he corrected her, lifting her head up by her chin. “Take pride in how you pleasured me and don’t hide from me…ever.” Lifting from her chin, Tosh’s legs followed, standing up for him. “My pleasure is a gift from you, postulant. Do not be ashamed of that.”

Tucking an arm under her knees and the other behind her neck, he lifted her in his arms. She was light, pliable and soft to his chest. Burying his face in her neck, he was treated to her sweet scent before he turned back into her cell and laid her on the soft bed. The bounce quickly came to a halt while she looked up in shock. Following his every movement, she prepared herself for his attack, but there was nothing. Not a single advance on her or an attempt to remove his clothes.

Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, he withdrew a small plastic jade colored jar with a black lid. Jiggling it in his hand, he eyed her with a smirk.

“I returned to give you this.” Tossing the jar into her hands, she saw a picture of a tiger, whose tail curled around the word Balm.

Kneeling at the side of her bed, his fingers began to crawl up her thighs to the drawstring of her Pajama bottoms. A smile played at his lips no doubt from the humor in the contrast of her earlier work uniform to these oversized comfy pants. She was so cute and sexy. Pulling the loops free, he loosened the waist and pulled the cotton bottoms down her legs and over her feet. She was half-naked and warmed in his attention.

“I couldn’t help but notice that your efforts on my bathroom floor left you with a bit of a limp.” Plucking the jar from her limp grip, he spun the lid free and dipped his fingers in.

Her nostrils stung from the potent scent, but her skin sizzled under his touch. Soothing under the touch of his strong fingers rubbing the ointment into her sore knees, her eyes followed his. Intense and focused, she watched his fingers caress her tender and red knees. She tried her best not to jump from the pain of his strong fingers and tried to wait for the expected soothing relief, but it wasn’t coming soon enough.

“Relax.” His voice was low, soft, but stern and it was warm and comforting.

Meeting eye to eye, she was chained by his chocolate stare. Feeling her pain rub away from under his touch, she began to wonder what brought her to this. Why would she ever allow any man to treat her like this and why did this feel so natural?

“If you must choose to sleep down here, then you must adhere to my rules.” Consuming her knee in his hands, he held her firm. “You will not explore the club. You will not go beyond that door, nor will you linger in hopes to breathe in the corruption.”

Stuttering to her defense, she was stopped abruptly with a finger over her lips.

“There is no room for argument.” Timing out a moment’s breath, he softened his voice. “You will take your meals upstairs in my kitchen and you will at all times be dressed in proper attire.” Dropping his eyes to the open collar of her nightshirt, he found that little peek-a-boo or cleavage to be sexier than any corset and thong he could dress her in, and wanted to limit who would view her in either forms of attire. “I will see that you receive a proper change of clothes.”

Tongue-tied, she gaped at him. Where had this tenderness come from, his secret possessive and nurturing nature? Was this the same man who only a couple minutes ago forced her on her sore knees? There was no longer a sign of the over-powering dominating brute who had stoked himself with pride as she scrubbed his bathroom floor.

But, despite all those arguments, he was still the same man whose essence was still tingling her taste buds. Never had she felt such a thrill and desire to perform for a man. It didn’t feel like a duty, but rather a reward. Suddenly the need to fight him filled her with excitement because she knew that with the greater the struggle, the greater the passion.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed and it didn’t take much for her to follow instructions. Focusing on his kneading hands, she began to feel the long draw of sleep. With a final flutter of her lashes, Tosh surrendered.

Mind crushing screams ripped Tosh from her dreams. Reaching across the bed to hit the
Snooze
button on a non-existent alarm, it didn’t take long for her to realize that nothing was where it should be. Opening her eyes, she was pulled back to last night and awakened in her new room, covered with an afghan on top of a naked mattress.

Bobby Darin’s voice invaded her room with a song she had always loved, Mack The Knife.

“I hope you rested well,” came a familiar deep voice over the music. Circling the room, she didn’t see the wicked Mr. Richard, or where the music was coming from. “I took the liberty of retrieving your uniform from last night.” Then she saw it. A speaker inlaid in the wall and framed like a work of art. “You will find today’s uniform as well as some nourishment in my living room. You have five minutes to be present.”

A click ended his transmission, leaving the song to finish playing out and leaving Tosh to waste valuable seconds trying to understand what she had just heard. Instinctively, she stood to obey, only to fall back down on the bed, pulling the afghan to cover her naked limbs. She had been stripped bare and a quick glance told her that he left nothing on her.

Holding the afghan tight to her chest, she scrambled around the room, looking in drawers and her closet, trying to find her belongings or just one stitch of her own clothes that she had left there the night before, but there was nothing. She had been cleaned out. Either she was a victim of a theft, or a victim of Mr. Richard.

Storming down the hall and punching the call button, she boarded the lift and was greeted with a ding before she knew it. Stumbling for a steady footing, her rage pushed her out of the floating box and into the lobby. One hand held a white-knuckle grip of the afghan and the other pushed the glass door open.

“Mr. Richard, you bastard!” Her voice rang through the empty penthouse. There were no footprints on the mirrored polished floor and light beams cut through the room from between the vertical blinds.

Leaving the entryway and living room, she made her way down a hall, past the bathroom with the well-polished and buffed floor. She was on a mission, and she wouldn’t stop until she had her clothes or his blood.

“Mr. DICK!” No reply. “I want my clothes and I want them now!” Still no reply.

Stopping abruptly at the closed door, which she assumed to be his bedroom, Tosh took two self-affirming breaths before taking the next aggressive step forward. Giving her shaking fingers a few self-assuring flexing grips, she shook off whatever nerves were stopping her and charged forward.

Posh gray walls surrounded a minimal supply of dark wood furniture and a black metal framed bed. The bedding was black satin and the shams were white crushed silk. This was not just any bachelor pad, this was a cliché.

Then she saw it, how it had passed her sight at first glance she did not know, but draped over the end of his bed was a leather French maid’s uniform. Much like what she’d had on the night before, only minus the rough sack she had worn underneath. It looked more like a gift rather than a uniform and butterflies fluttered in her belly just thinking about the care he took in placing it on his bed for her.

Walking her fingers over the erotic label of servitude, she straightened the note to face her better. His penmanship was every bit the man he presented. Precise, calculated, sterile and… perfect.

Good Morning,

Everything you need to shower and dress are here. After you have done so, I want you to sit on the end of the bed and wait for me.

Mr. Richard

His orders seemed innocent enough, and there was something in how he’d taken care of her the night before that told her he could be trusted. But, how far should she let that trust go?

Gathering up her things, she went to what she expected to be the master bath door. Another gray, black, and white gothic room furnished with an oversized glass walled shower, black toilet, ivory colored urinal and a pedestal sink. There was a wall of frosted windows that lit the room with the morning light, giving the room a sterile hospital feeling and it was in the light that she saw her personal effects displayed on a marble vanity. There were toiletries she had retrieved from her car the day before, the ones that were missing from her room. Taking what she needed, Tosh went on to follow the instructions.

Fresh from the shower and clothed the best she could, Tosh now sat in place of where her cloths had been only minutes ago. The leather corset did little in holding her bound breasts in. She had done her best to secure the ties, but inexperience played out against her. Was this something she would become accustomed to or was this to be short lived?

What was this?

Was she starting a job or a love affair?

Never shit where you eat, that’s what everyone always says, so was she going to risk it and start her new job on the wrong foot? However, if offered the choice, would she be able to pass it up? Mr. Richard was most definitely attractive and from the appearance, he was someone Tosh would consider for herself. But, what about him? What type of man was he? What type of place was this and who would own such a place? After what she had witnessed last night, Tosh had spent several hours wondering if she would be lost in the middle of a shoot 'em up raid she had only ever seen in the movies.

The questions never stopped for her, and soon Tosh heard a door open and the shuffling of footsteps muffled from a pair of comfy slippers. Was it the dragging steps of an executioner or the calling of a lover? Holding her breath, she waited as his steps grew closer, heightening the anticipation. Tosh struggled with herself over her rising heartbeat and her frustration. This should not be tormenting her so. She was a strong independent woman and not one to take commands from any man...no matter how enjoyable they could be.

Silence beyond the door and a tapping at the door announced her new employer. Almost floating, the door opened with serenity and there he stood, haloed with the early morning light, leaning against the doorframe with legs and arms crossed. Broad shoulders hidden under a black terry robe cinched at his narrow waist. What little of his chest left exposed from the open collar of his robe was dusted with black curls and revealed enough skin to tell her there was nothing else. His legs were otherwise draped in black silk pajama bottoms. Steam coiled up from his plain coffee mug, giving his look the finishing touch of a bachelor.

"Did you have a good night’s sleep?" His deep voice awakened the hair on the back of her neck.

Fighting to shake away the thrilling attraction she had for him, Tosh tried to compose herself. This was a job, not a dating opportunity...and judging from his appetite—that she’d gotten a glimpse of last night—a committed relationship was the least of his interests.

"Yes, thank you."

"Why you chose to sleep downstairs in one of those cells is beyond me. The mattresses are not good for the back and the rooms are depressing. Tab calls the décor Medieval with a touch of asylum.” He turned his head to give the room a once-over. "Perhaps you have changed your mind now?" A smile played at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m quite comfortable, thank you. If you don’t like how they look, then why don’t you change them yourself?” Had she had enough courage to look him in the eye, she might have seen a snicker on his lips.

Fighting to pull her eyes from his exposed chest, she rolled her shoulders back only to be reminded of her nearly undressed state. The ill fitted corset let her chest slip out a bit more, and she quickly moved to cover her now exposed breasts. This was far out of her comfort zone, and she hoped there would be no more floors to buff.

Pushing away from the doorframe, Richard was reminded why he insisted on these ridiculous costumes for her. Perhaps this was asking too much, but until she submitted fully to him, he had to be strict in her introduction. Soon she would discover her natural flow in king play. However, he couldn't let his new "maid" walk around his apartment with her breasts falling out when anyone could come by. That was a privilege he was going to insist was only for chosen company. For now, he would get to enjoy the task of dressing her delicious body.

Crossing to her, he couldn't ignore how her shoulders stiffened and her body was in defense when he came close. Biting the corner of her lower lip, she was the perfect combination of adorable and irresistible. His lioness was feeling a bit vulnerable this morning. Perhaps this really was all in the timing?

"What are you doing?" Her voice broke and her eyes widened as he approached her.

He ran a finger from her collarbone, over the rise of her breasts, over and under perfect round and bountiful breasts. Cupping her creamy soft flesh, his morning wood was now a sequoia, and he had no hope of finding release until he could put her at ease. Training a new submissive was never simple, but this was going to be a long and painful process.

"Merely trying to help keep you clothed before you start your day at work." He folded her breasts back into the corset and with a turn of his finger he signaled her to turn around, but she only blinked at him. "Though I’d much prefer to have you clean my place in your birthday suit, I don’t think it will be appropriate since I never know when work will drop in.” Taking her by the shoulders, he spun her back around. Reaching over her shoulders, Richard tucked her back in and then began to lace her up with force. While he instructed her with a more business attitude, he worked the laces, pulling and tugging and straining to bind her in, pop her out and straighten her up. She soon morphed into a seductive goddess. She was his walking fantasy gift wrapped in Patten leather.

"Now for the shoes."

Click, click, click...

The echoing sound of his new "maid" balancing in her four inch high heels as she walked behind him was a mating call to his throbbing shaft. How could a man think...much less command and dominate when there was no blood left in his head—the one above his shoulders. Finding solace behind the black kitchen counter and breakfast bar, he gave himself a quick firm stroke, adjusting himself and trying to ease some tension. The attempt was pointless.

She stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, fidgeting with her hands and swaying back and forth. There was no question as to whether this was her first domestic job. His dear self-assured Tosh was not accustomed to taking orders, nor did she know how to keep herself busy, and every attempt she made warmed his cold heart to her even more.

"Have a seat." He motioned to the stools that lined the counter. "I’ll fill you in on your daily tasks while you have a little breakfast."

Fighting against the stiffness of the corset, she lost her footing on the stool, making her slide off. He had expected it and was not disappointed in the show. Perhaps it was cruel of him to enjoy himself so much, but since her pains were only in his presence and for his pleasure, they felt all the more innocent and playful. However...

"Here." Reaching over the counter, he held a hand out to her.

Looking between Richard’s hand and face, she looked like he had offered her a weapon or a raw steak. Trying his best to hold back the laugh that was fighting its way out, he kept his hand steady. Perhaps it was fear and not attraction that he had seen in her eyes the night before? Or her arousal had cemented over night?

"It's going to take some time to figure out how to maneuver in your new skin." Wiping away his smile, he tried again, and offered her his hand. "Please, let me help."

Stray dogs sniffing a stranger’s hand moved quicker, but nevertheless she finally accepted his hand. He took a strong hold of her hand, and she matched his grip. With luck, she would never submit completely to him and keep a spark of her fire after she was broken. For now, Richard was determined to enjoy the ride. Pulling her toward him, she lifted herself on her toes, gaining what little height she had left off of the four inch heels, and was immediately leaning straight back into the stool. Tosh winced at the pinching in her waist, but at least now she was off her feet long enough for some nourishment.

"Now that you have begun to learn to trust me, I think it’s time for a little breakfast." Clapping his hands, he turned to the stainless steel and black granite kitchen. It looked similar to any upscale kitchen in a magazine. The counters were clean and sharp, a few stainless steel pans hung off of hooks over the counter and the stove had a large stainless steel range-hood over it. The Fridge and dishwasher matched all the other surfaces. Sealing this dark, but stylish picture was the black and blue glass back-splash wrapping around the kitchen. “You’ll find that we’re fully stocked and all you have to do is let me know what you like, dislike or can't eat." Pulling a large wooden bowl from the fridge, he carried it to the kitchen island with a chopping block top. A magnetic strip along one side held a selection of knives at a convenient reach. Choosing a small paring knife, he began to cut the hearts from the bright red strawberries with precision that didn’t leave a single red smear on the wooden top. "Every morning after you have showered and dressed..." He paused to look her in the eyes. "Up here,” he clarified before returning to his task with precision and focus, "you’ll find your breakfast set out for you here. Come lunch instructions will be left in the same guest room down the hall, where you showered and dressed this morning, after you have taken your midmorning break.”