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Summer Hire Ch. 04 Part 1

"A graduate student's summer job leads her into a new world."

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Interlude

Erik pulled out of the parking lot, absently noting the traffic conditions as he reviewed the morning’s events. The meeting with Gavin had gone about as he expected. She wasn’t going to turn down the money. He know that what made his offer irresistible was his willingness to fund something risky that nobody else would touch. Every professor worth their PhD was certain have some secret passion, some long shot that they never thought would see the light of day.

Erik laughed. It was like throwing chunks of raw meat to starving dogs. While it might turn into a real fur ball, some great ideas would hopefully come out of it. He loved finding people’s secret motivations and then aligning their passions to his purpose. His skill in doing that was a large part of his success in turning around failing companies.

For the last few months, however, he had been without an assignment. He was bored. Scuba diving in the Maldives had been fun, but he had discovered that vacation travel without someone to share the experience was lonely. Even though there had been plenty of willing bed partners, none of those women had filled whatever it was that was missing for him.

He came back vaguely dissatisfied and eager to begin the new assignment that had been waiting for him. Once he dug into the numbers, however, it quickly became clear that the owners had been lying to themselves and everyone else. The situation was impossible. He told them that their only option was to close it down and walk away.

Then he went back home and looked for something to do. The next possible assignment would start until the fall. In the meantime, he built a new kitchen table in his wood shop. The Archaeology project had been fun to get started, but now he had two months until the proposals came in.

That train of thought brought him back to Melissa. He felt a warm sense of hope that grew bolder as he drove home.

She was very attractive. From the way she had carried herself when she first came into Gavin’s office, he had immediately sensed a strong and lively intelligence. Very soon after, he had realized there was a mutual sexual attraction.

He had, however, pushed that attraction away. He needed to focus on the meeting with the department chair. Even though he had been doing his best to ignore it, the intensity of the feeling had constantly nudged at him, hinting at something deeper. There seemed to be some connection, a compatibility of natures, as though there were two parts coming together to make a whole.

He had finally tested the connection he was hoping to find in the room upstairs. Her response had made it clear that despite her headstrong nature, a current of submissiveness ran through her sexuality. What surprised him the most was that she seemed completely oblivious to her hidden passion, even though all her responses had been powerful and immediate.

He took a slow, deep breath to relax the tension that had been building inside. He really hoped that Melissa would be more than a one week fling. It would be nice to have something to do until the next assignment came along in a couple of months.

Job Offer

Melissa glanced down to check the map on her phone. The blue dot showed she was still on the correct road, just as it had when she last looked at it less than a minute ago. She chided herself to relax and enjoy the drive.

The sun flickered through the deep green trees lining the street. The warm fragrance of early summer rushed in through her open window. It was a beautiful day, so she hardly minded not having the money to fix her air conditioning.

Ever since Erik’s call two days ago, she had been distracted and nervous, trying to figure out how she wanted their date to go. Except it wasn’t a ‘date,’ she reminded herself. She had insisted on something neutral, something during the day, simply because she didn’t trust herself alone with him at night. She didn’t want to have their first date turn into one wild night of sex and then have him disappear forever the next day.

They had agreed on a walk along a creek in a park near his house. She had worn a one-piece bathing suit under her jeans and shirt, just to slow things down if she somehow did wind up with her pants down around her ankles.

She told herself that choosing to wear a one piece bathing suit didn’t mean that she lacked trust in her resolve, but the scene in the seminar room kept playing back in her mind. Once her post-orgasmic bliss had faded, she had been incredibly embarrassed that she actually had an orgasm with someone she just met, while they were both still fully clothed. Fortunately, he hadn’t said anything about it on the phone.

She checked her map again. The blue dot was coming up on his house. The properties she was driving past were at least several acres each, with big houses set well back among large trees. Some houses, she couldn’t even see from the road. “Definitely old money territory,” she muttered to herself. “Sure, I’ll fit in here, just like the hired help.”

Up ahead, she spotted a mailbox with his house number on it. Slowing down, she turned into his driveway. She couldn’t see a house. The driveway disappeared into the woods.

She slowed her car to a crawl, pondering the wisdom of continuing. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going. She was too embarrassed to be dating a VIP donor. Trying to break the tension that had suddenly gripped her, she joked to herself, “But it’s not a date.”

She snorted at her sudden fears. “Come on. He’s a big deal muckity-muck. It’s not like he’s going to tie me up and rape me.” She found her thoughts slipping into a fantasy of that image for a moment and was annoyed to feel her sex clench tight in pleasure. She was always embarrassed by how much rape fantasies turned her on.

As her thoughts had wandered, her car was still slowly drifting forward. She snapped her attention back to the driveway and sped up. “Yeah, no sex. That’s why I’ve got a bathing suit underneath my hiking clothes, and it ain’t coming off. Hear that Mr. Rich Guy? I’m a good little Catholic girl… well, I was… once… long ago… and it still ain’t coming off.” She laughed at her bravado, knowing her horrible track record with keeping those sorts of promises.

Around the bend, the house appeared. Getting closer, she could see it was actually a gathering of low structures, spread out along the brow of a hill, overlooking a meadow and stream. The buildings all seemed to be made of stone and weathered wood, with slate roofs. It reminded her of something that might have been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

The driveway ended in a courtyard. The main house was on the downslope side of the courtyard. It looked as though the front door of the main house was on what must be the upper floor. The rest of the large building flowed down the slope, with its broad roof sweeping toward the meadow. On the other side of the courtyard was a wood and stone retaining wall. The top of the hill rose up behind the wall. At the far end of the courtyard, a pathway curved around the brow of the hill, running between several smaller wood and stone buildings.

She parked her car and looked around, not sure if she should get out. Behind her, she heard a screen door screech open, then bang shut. Looking back, she saw Erik coming out of the main house. He was dressed in blue jeans that clung to his form, with a simple white button-down shirt and rolled-up sleeves. His shirt had a rumpled look of a cotton-linen blend that hadn’t been ironed. He was wearing hiking boots that had clearly seen plenty of use.

He waved to her, “Welcome!” She got out as he walked toward her, saying, “I see you found the place. It’s great to see you again.” He casually halted several steps away, which removed, she realized, any question of whether he would shake her hand or kiss her. In all her obsessing about how this ‘not-a-date’ would go, she hadn’t even considered how he would greet her. She tried to tell herself that she felt relief, not disappointment, that he hadn’t greeted her with a kiss.

“Great to see you again too. You’ve got a really beautiful place.”

“Thanks. Well, come on in. We can grab some water and head out towards the creek.”

“Ah, okay.”

She followed him toward the front door. He paused so she could catch up and they could walk together. Erik opened the screen door, gesturing her in. The inside of the house looked cool and dim.

Melissa stepped inside, surprised to see that most of the house was one large open space, which stepped down the slope in several levels. They were standing on the highest level. A long sloping ceiling stretched down across a large expanse of space spreading out below. Half a level down, in front of her, was a large country kitchen, with a big dining table off to the right. Another half-level below that was a living area. The far wall of the living area was lined with sliding glass doors, leading out onto a terrace. Beyond that, the slope continued down across the meadow to the creek. On the far side of the creek, a wooded slope rose beyond the view of the windows from where she stood. Through a small eyebrow window at her level, she could glimpse far off trees and blue sky.

“Erik, this is gorgeous!”

“Thanks. It’s always wonderful to come back here, especially when I’ve been living in some dreary rental apartment on an assignment.” He smiled at a memory and said, “You should see this place in the snow.”

She nodded, seeing a large stone fireplace on the left side of the living area and imaging lying intertwined with him on the thick rug that lay in front of it, illuminated by a glowing fire while a winter storm howled outside. She quickly shook away the image and asked, “But how do you take care of all this, if you’re away for months at a time?”

“There’s a wonderful couple who lives in one of the guesthouses. They take care of almost everything around here. Mrs. Grady even cooks for me sometimes, when I’m around, and I’m too busy to cook for myself. She’s quite good. She’d spoil me rotten if I let her.”

“You call her ‘Mrs. Grady’?”

“Well, she’s British. It just seemed like the thing to do. I admit that I call her husband Chuck, but he’s an American.”

She cocked her head at him, still puzzled.

“Oh, she’s sweet enough. Very kind, really. It’s just that she has that gray-haired British sense of reserve. She first introduced herself to me as Mrs. Grady. It seemed wrong to call her anything else. Thankfully, she doesn’t call me ‘young Master Erik.’ That would be embarrassing. Anyway, let me grab some water and then we can head out. Do you want me to bring along any snack bars?” He started down a half flight of stairs into the kitchen.

“Ah, no. I just ate. Water will be fine.” She looked around as she walked to the steps. To her right was a study lined with bookshelves, which shared the top level with the entry. Erik had set the study up as a working office for himself.

In the kitchen, Erik opened up a black anodized aluminum refrigerator door and pulled out a small CamelBak day pack. Slinging it over one shoulder, he joined Melissa to head down the next half flights of steps to the living area. She noted the comfortable overstuffed leather couches and chairs as they passed through and out onto the terrace. Erik gestured down to the creek, “Across the stream is state park land. Upstream, it’s parkland on both sides. They allow hunting in the fall. The woods are crawling with hunters for a few weeks. Other than that, though, it’s pretty quiet. Well, except for daisies running riot.”

Melissa looked at him puzzled again.

“Sorry, just a bit of song lyric I’ve always liked.” As they walked to the steps down to the meadow, he started singing in a soft baritone.

By the time he finished singing, they were down to the creek. He gestured upstream, and they walked together. Melissa said, “That was really lovely. I think my dad sometimes used to listen to that song. He likes jazz.”

“Yeah, me too. The song’s an old show tune, though. I just like the jazz version of it. So what does your dad do?”

“He’s got a heating and air conditioning business. He does pretty well at it. He never went to college but sent all of us through. He’s even helping out with my grad school, although grant money covers a lot, plus I worked for a couple of years before going back.”

“Have you got a lot of brothers and sisters?”

“Two older, one younger. Joe, Liam, me, and Sean.”

“An’ I’m guessing that’s it’s an Irish Catholic lot,” he intoned with a soft Irish lilt.

“Aye now, from County Kildare.” She laughed, “Actually, both sides of my family have been in the States for a couple of generations, so I’m not entirely sure where we all are from. Mostly Brooklyn and St. Louis.

“How about you?”

He looked pensive for a minute before answering. “My mom was first-generation Ukrainian Jewish. Her parents were smuggled out just before the Second World War. My dad was a Mayflower blue blood mutt.”

She asked, “Was?”

“Yeah, they both died in a car accident when I was young. I lived with my dad’s parents, but my uncle, my mom’s brother, really raised me.”

He saw the curiosity in her face and continued, “My grandparents had a big house and servants, but my grandparents weren’t around much. Nearly every day, my uncle would come over and eat dinner with me in the kitchen. We’d do homework together. I spent a lot of my weekends with him too. He’s a college professor.”

Erik paused, seeming unsure whether or not to say more, and then he continued, “I didn’t realize until a few years ago that he’s gay. He’s from an older generation and not really comfortable with it. I think he liked helping raise me because then he had an excuse not to date. I razz him now about finding a nice man and settling down. He’s still embarrassed to talk about it, but I think he’s loosening up. He’s truly an awesome guy. I want him to be happy.”

The trail they had been following along the creek petered out into a fierce looking thicket ahead. Erik pointed at the rocks that littered the creek bed along this section. “Here. Follow me.” Then he started hopping from rock to rock, crossing to the other side. Once reaching the far bank, he turned and called out, “It’s easy.”

Melissa snorted, “Ha, that’s what you say. You just want to see me get wet.” She looked carefully at the rocks, retracing in her mind the path he had taken. Then she set out, not as swiftly, but making steady progress. She only wobbled once before making it to the last rock, which was a little further from dry land than she realized.

Erik reached out and took her hand to help her jump across. “See, I told you it was easy.” He loosened his grasp but did not entirely let go of her hand. She let her hand stay in his as they set off along the path on this side of the creek.

She asked, “So what got you into rescuing companies?”

“I guess I’m good at it. Not sure why, but I’ve been doing it since I got out of school. My uncle hooked me up with a group that specializes in turnarounds. At lot of folks in this line of work are just ‘turn and burn.’ They work out favorable liquidations or asset sales. It’s an easier payday that way.

“I like to take on companies that have a real shot at working it out. Usually, they’re in over their head with debt, and their productivity is in the crapper. It’s a death spiral. But if I can rework the management team, lean on the debt holders, and get the workers going again, I can usually get a business back up on its feet. At that point, I get a big payout. I do well enough.”

“Sure looks like it.”

Something in her tone made him stiffen, “There’re a half dozen companies and hundreds of jobs around today, that wouldn’t have been otherwise.”

“Sorry Erik, I really meant that in a positive way. I mean it’s clear that your values aren’t just about money. I could see it in your house. It isn’t some McMansion that screams, ‘look at me – I’m successful.’ Sure, your place is big, but it’s also warm and cozy. Beautiful, even. There’s a sense of goodness in it.”

“Ah, sorry I snapped. Lots of people think I screw over vulnerable companies to get rich. It’s sort of a sore point. I, um, thanks for what you said.”

Distracted, Melissa exclaimed, “Hey, what’s that?” She pointed ahead where some large rocks had tumbled together in the creek along with a log, creating a blockage where water spilled over the top and through the gaps.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t been up this far since winter. It looks like one of the storms must have rearranged the flow. I’m always amazed at how much a creek can change from year to year.”

They walked up to inspect the accidental dam and discovered a deep pool on the upstream side. “Wow, that’s awesome,” Melissa exclaimed as she kicked off her sneakers. She stuck one foot in and said, “Hey, the water’s nice.”

Erik looked dubious. “You sure. It’s a little early in the season. The water’s usually warmer later in the summer.”

“Wimp,” Melissa said, pulling off her shirt. Erik looked a little surprised as she started unzipping her jeans, then he saw that she was wearing a blue one-piece bathing suit underneath. She gathered up her clothes and set them on a rock, then stepped into the water. “Oh, that’s wonderful.” She continued wading in, until the water reached her waist, then she knelt down, letting the water flow past her shoulders.

She gestured with a teasing grin, “Come in, you big sissy.”

“Humph!” Erik crouched down to unlace his boots.

Melissa watched him, wondering if he wore boxers or briefs.

With his boots off, Erik quickly stripped off his shirt. When he unzipped his pants, Melissa realized that he wore neither boxers nor briefs. He slid his pants down as she looked away, somewhat embarrassed, from the sight of his semi-erect penis. He stepped into the water to join her. She looked back up to him, trying to keep her eyes focused on his head and torso.

She was happy to take in the magnificence of his body, even from the waist up. He was sculpted and lean, without a body builder’s bulk. His skin was smooth, without much body hair. She wasn’t certain, because she had looked elsewhere so quickly, but she thought that his crotch area was also shaved smooth of hair. Now, he was waist deep in the water, wading over to her, so she couldn’t tell for sure if her glimpse had been accurate.

He stopped in front of her. “What do you mean, ‘it’s nice’? It’s freezing!”

“Well, I’m warm in my bathing suit,” she said coyly.

“I see. So this is all a put-up to lure me naked into this icy water. Well missy, that simply won’t do. It just won’t do.” He crossed his arms and looked down at her with mock sternness. “You must be punished.”

“Oh no!” She gasped in feigned horror. “Whatever shall I do?”

“You will go to that rock over there.” He pointed at a smooth boulder a few feet away. “And rest your forearms on it.”

He remained standing, pointing at the rock, as she realized that he wasn’t entirely joking. He really wanted her to go over to the rock and lean across it.

“Well go on.” His voice was even and measured, but there was a command within it that both thrilled and scared her. She hesitated.

He lowered his chin, glowering a little now. She was still mostly certain that he was play-acting, but the effect was powerful. Even in the cold water, she could feel the warmth of her juices start to flow.

Hesitantly, at first, she swam over to the appointed rock. Rising out of the water, she turned and leaned across the warm smooth surface of the boulder, resting on her forearms as directed.

Erik came up from behind her. His hand traced the arch of her back from her shoulders to her bottom. Then he reached down and lifted her hips a little higher. His hand caressed the small of her back again, encouraging her back to form a deeper arch, leaving her buttocks feeling very high and exposed.

He intoned, “Very good of you to have assumed the correct position. You must keep that pose until I release you.”

She heard the words, amazed that someone was commanding her about how to bend over a rock, and even more amazed that she was so willing to obey.

With his left hand resting lightly on her back, he brought his right hand down into a sharp smack on her bottom. She felt a flare of anger, expecting the slap to hurt. Instead, a jolt of pure sexual energy shot through her. There was a stinging feeling as well, but the raw burst of arousal that accompanied being spanked was something she had never experienced before.

He lightly ran the back of his right hand across where it had landed on her left buttock. As the backs of his fingernails drifted across the blue nylon covering her bottom, she sucked in her breath, her sex clenching tightly.

Then he drew his hand away. After an interminable moment of anticipation, smack! This time his hand landed on her right cheek. She gasped again at the jolt of arousal, followed by a tingling sting.

Then his left hand reached under the edge of her swimsuit, where it was pulled tight across her buttocks. He gathered the fabric together in his fist and gently pulled this gathered material up along the cleft between her buttocks, turning the back of her suit into a thong, exposing the smooth skin of both cheeks. Before letting go, he tugged upwards, pulling her the crotch of her suit tight across her sex. She shuddered.

Without warning, he began spanking her again, this time without pausing between strikes. With each blow, she found herself ratcheting to a higher and higher level of sexual intensity. She held motionless, receiving every stroke with greedy anticipation, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t stop until she orgasmed.

Even as she climbed higher and higher, the crest still didn’t appear in sight. Her sense of time dilated and her rear seemed on fire. Suddenly, she was wracked by a shuddering orgasm, which had overtaken her as a complete surprise. The orgasm went on and on. Finally spent, she slumped, breathless and dazed, across the smooth surface of the boulder.

Erik stood beside her, his hand resting softly on the small of her back. As her breathing slowed, she sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position, draped across the sun-dappled stone. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling, seeming pleased that he had correctly gauged her and the moment.

Melissa let her eyes close, drifting along the edge of something that was not quite sleep. The warm hardness of the stone supported her from below while the light touch of Erik’s hand contained her from above.

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She was grateful for his steady presence. Otherwise, she felt as light as a leaf, ready to spin lazily downstream.

Gradually, she came back present. Lifting her head slightly, she asked, “What was that?”

He sat down on the boulder next to her, shifting his hand to gently stroke her outstretched arm. “At a guess, I’d say it was pretty wonderful.”

She hummed her agreement.

After a final moment to collect herself, she rolled onto her side to look up at him, propping her head up on her arm. “So… what can I do for you?” She looked down suggestively, her eyes sweeping across his naked form.

He laughed softly, “You can relax; enjoy the moment. I’m fine for now.”

She felt simultaneously relieved and puzzled. It seemed strange that he didn’t expect some sexual favor in return. She tried to relax again, but couldn’t. She realized that his refusal left her feeling awkwardly off-balance and even a little resentful, as though she owed him a debt. She asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he responded with a certainty that was at once gentle and absolute.

Looking at his face again, she saw his eyes intently focused on her. A self-conscious embarrassment began to grow within her. It suddenly seemed impossible that he had just spanked her. It was even more impossible that she had enjoyed it so much that she had one of the most intense orgasms she could remember.

He noticed her shift in mood and said, “I’d guess that was a different sort of experience for you.”

She didn’t answer right away, thinking about what he had said. His words were both a statement and a question. He was right, it had been completely different from anything she had experienced before.

Some past boyfriends had given her a spank or two, but it had never created the sort of reaction that Erik had stirred in her. Something about being commanded to submit had made the whole experience incredibly erotic before he even touched her.

Trying for nonchalance, she replied, “Well I’ve been spanked a little in play before, but I never… I mean, well, it didn’t do a whole lot for me, before…”

He nodded in understanding. “But now you seem a little embarrassed.”

She still felt off balance. His repeated habit of making a statement that was really a question left her feeling cornered and angry. “Yeah, what’d you expect? You just ordered me over here and then spanked the shit out of me. That’s… you know… demeaning. Is that what you get off on?” In spite of her genuine flare of anger, she was startled to feel her sex clench wetly.

He nodded thoughtfully in response to her outburst, which caught her off guard. Her past experience was that boyfriends, especially those that were bad boys, would respond angrily when challenged.

After a moment, he said, “The thing is… I think there’s a huge difference between fantasy and reality. For me, and I hope for you, what just happened was about exploring a fantasy, hopefully, a shared fantasy. If it had been reality… if I really thought I had the right to order you to be punished, against your will… and if you really thought you had no alternative, other than to accept that punishment… then yeah, something would have been seriously wrong. But I don’t think that either of us feel that way. I certainly don’t. And everything I know about you tells me that you’re a strong and competent woman. You’re not someone who’s going to put up with shit from a guy.”

“Um, not for very long.”

He gestured at the rock she was laying on. “Case in point. You didn’t hesitate to confront me when you thought I was demeaning you, which is really important to me. I know I can steamroller people. I don’t always like it, but it’s who I am. It seems that whatever I do, I bring a bunch of energy to it. That energy can intimidate people into going along with what I say, even when I’m wrong. That’s why it’s hugely important to me to have friends who aren’t afraid to tell me that I’m full of shit.”

She nodded slowly, then asked, “Okayyy, so why isn’t spanking a grown woman ‘full of shit?’”

“Well, first off, you liked it, right?”

“Uh, based on some of my past choices, that’s no guarantee it wasn’t full of shit.”

He laughed, “Good point. Me too. But I’m reasonably sure this wasn’t one of those things. We both really enjoyed playing out the fantasy of a spanking. As a guess, I’d say that right now, you’re hearing lots of messages, somewhere inside, saying what we did was wrong, or bad.”

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, but why aren’t those messages right?”

“It goes back to that fantasy versus reality thing. The messages would be true if what just happened was about reality. But I think what just happened was about fantasy – and fantasy has a different set of rules.”

He looked off into the distance for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then turned back and said, “You see, people are these insanely complex creatures. We overcomplicate everything, including sexual feelings. To deal with these feelings, we have managed to create a nearly infinite variety of fantasies and fetishes. For instance, some women get wet, just from the smell of latex. Some guys can’t orgasm unless they’re wearing a baby diaper. We’re just weird.”

“Yeah, I agree that’s weird, and kind of gross.” She shook her head, “ I don’t think that diaper image is helping your case for why fantasies are okay.”

He laughed, “Good point, but did you ever stop to ask yourself, why do we have all these strange fantasies? What gives them such power over us?”

Melissa shrugged.

Erik nodded, “Here’s the best answer I’ve worked out so far. Having sex with another person is incredibly intimate, which is awesome and scary, all at the same time. The thing is, I think all of us struggle with how vulnerable that intimacy makes us feel. Our fear of being vulnerable can paralyze us. For instance, many people have a hard time taking the lead in sex because they worry that the other person won’t like what they’re doing. ‘What if I’m rejected? What if I do the wrong thing?’ That kind of fear can steal all the fun from sex.”

He chuckled, “So at the end of the day, there’s this thing we really want, which is having satisfying sex, but getting it makes us feel vulnerable, and that’s really scary. I think the way we deal with this problem is by creating all these fantasies. For instance, some women fantasize about a man who ties them up and rapes them. Now, on the face of it, that sounds truly insane. The reality of rape is horrific and ugly, but the thing is, we’re not talking about reality here; we’re talking about fantasy, and that’s a totally different thing. I think that ‘rape’ fantasies exist as a way of dealing with all those fears about doing ‘the right thing’ in sex. For a woman who can’t enjoy sex because she’s too worried about doing the right thing, fantasizing about a man who ties her up is a perfect answer. In her fantasy, she’s physically prevented from taking any initiative. She’s forced to let go of all her worries about what to do, because there’s nothing she can do. Her partner has all the responsibility for satisfying her. Poof! Problem solved.”

Melissa stared at him in amazement, “That’s a really… interesting way of looking at it. You sort of turned the whole thing inside out.”

Erik nodded, “For me, the key to understanding someone’s fantasy is understanding how their fantasy helps them deal with their fears while also helping them get the sexual satisfaction they want. Since everyone’s fears and desires are different, we have created this astonishing array of fantasies.”

“Okay, but you’re still avoiding the whole issue of why spanking is a good idea.”

He laughed, “You are persistent, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Well, first off, remember we’re talking about fantasy, which means it doesn’t have anything to do with the reality of spanking. For instance, I’m pretty sure that if I had just started spanking you out of the blue… well, that wouldn’t have gone over very well.”

“No shit.”

“That’s what I thought. So, I tried to step away from ordinary reality into the realm of fantasy by ordering you to submit.”

“Humph!”

“You could have said no, but you didn’t. Instead, you seemed willing to step with me into the fantasy, so I took it up a notch by actually spanking you.”

Melissa looked down at the rock and asked, “But why did it feel good? Getting hit is supposed to hurt. This is all screwed up.”

“Part of getting sexually excited is a rush of endorphins, which is our own little opium factory. That makes our pain threshold go up, which is why when you’re just about to orgasm, you can ignore a nasty couch seam that’s digging into you. It’s only afterwards that you realize that you’ve been scraped raw. While everyone is different, most people seem to have a crossover point where the incoming pain signals turn into pleasure signals. For the vast majority of folks, that only happens at a fairly low level. For other people, it’s a bit higher.”

“So what? Now you’re saying I’m a masochist?” She felt herself getting angry.

“No. Your response was definitely within the range of ‘normal’ – maybe a bit on the high side, but a full-blown masochist has a very high top end for pain, which can be a scary thing. They need a very careful dominant – someone who will help keep them safe.”

“So is that what you are? A dominant?”

“Yes, but I’m not a sadist, at least I don’t enjoy playing with a true masochist. I really don’t like inflicting that much pain on someone. It’s… well, it makes me very uncomfortable. Instead, I like playing with dominant and submissive roles. Spanking, or other corporal punishment – for me – is part of that dominant/submissive dynamic.”

“Dominant/submissive… then you’re saying I’m submissive?”

Erik held up his hands to forestall another reaction from Melissa. “Go back a minute to that submissive fantasy about being tied up and helpless. Remember, it’s the dominant who is actually totally focused on meeting the submissive’s needs. That’s the exact opposite of what dominance and submission look like from the outside. The same thing is true here.”

“Yeah, I don’t care how you try to spin it. I’m not some wimpy, helpless, submissive girl!”

“Wimpy and helpless – absolutely not. But in real life, most submissives are strong, competent people. Lots of them are managers or bosses. Again, that’s the difference between reality and fantasy. The reality of a someone’s daily life can be about being in charge, but when it comes to their fantasies about sex, they don’t want to do all the work. They want somebody else to take charge, so they can relax and enjoy the intimacy. Most female dominatrixes will tell you their typical male client is an upper-level manager who’s so damned tired of being in charge during the day that he really looks forward to being told what to when it comes to sex. It’s a vacation for him. It recharges his batteries.”

“That… sounds pretty crazy. But okay, I guess I get it. Um, if you’re a dominant, is that, like, a professional thing?”

“No,” he laughed, “I’m not a professional. I have different priorities from someone who’s that hard core. Being a dominant isn’t my whole life; it’s only part of who I am, mostly just the sexual part.”

Melissa looked at him doubtfully, “Not the business side too?”

Erik laughed again. “It’s true that I’m pretty head-strong on the business side. But a lot of what I do in business is really about the other side of a dominant’s skill: I listen carefully to people, try to figure out at a very fundamental level what motivates them. Then I have to decide out how to rework the broken systems around them and get those people, who are capable of changing, to work together in new ways.”

“What about the ones who don’t want to change, or can’t?”

“I get rid of them.”

“Just like that? Thunk, off with their heads!”

“Yep, just like that. Look, when I’m brought in, the situation is generally far past desperate. If I don’t make really tough decisions right away, everything’s going down the tubes. Nobody’s got a job then.

After a pause, he continued in a quiet, reflective voice, “And that isn’t fun. Firing and laying off people is miserable, but it’s usually the only shot I’ve got at saving something worthwhile. So I do it without mercy or hesitation. The longer the problem rots, the less chance there is of anything surviving to come out the other side.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I can imagine you doing that.” She pointed to his chest, “There’s a certain… ruthlessness in there, n’est-ce pas?”

He grinned, “Guilty. I’m a thorough-going asshole at times. But hey, sometimes, I’m just a big softy.” She snorted in doubt. He laughed with her. “Truly, I can be.” he protested playfully. Then he turned more serious, “But no matter what, when it’t time to make the hard choices, I don’t flinch. It constantly amazes me, how far some people will go to avoid difficult decisions. The wild thing is, at least for the companies that I get called into fix, that’s how almost all of them got into trouble in the first place.”

“Anyway,” he continued, “we’re pretty far afield from figuring out whether or not you’re a sub.” He smiled down at her teasingly, “You’re not trying to avoid anything, are you?”

“Maybe,” she teased him.

He thought for a moment, then asked, “What’s that word mean to you, ‘submissive’?”

A thrill shot through Melissa. She fought hard to ignore, but her buttocks had clenched tight before she realized it. Erik noticed her response. He said, “Well besides that. I mean, beyond that immediate jolt of arousal. There were all those negative messages floating around in there too.”

Melissa’s heart was beating quickly. His ability to read her reactions left her feeling naked and a little trapped. She took a deep breath, putting her fear aside to concentrate on answering him. “Yeah. Sure, there’s all sorts of stuff. I mean, like, ‘submissive’ is all about some mousy, timid, lame-ass wife, whose husband probably beats her up.” She paused, then continue more forcefully, “It’s about being weak. Having some ‘big strong man’ make decisions for you.” She snorted angrily, “That’s bullshit.”

He nodded thoughtfully, “Agreed. It’s bullshit, which is why it’s important not to mix up fantasy and reality. The thing is, I think you already understood that difference, at some level. I saw you get into the fantasy and enjoy it. Then, wham, it was as though the negative messages took over and you shut down.”

She grimaced, “That’s exactly what happened. I mean, there was this wave of shame…”

He asked, “Raised Catholic, evangelical?”

She laughed, “Recovering Catholic.”

“That’ll do it, every time. If you like something deviant… then it’s bad… which means you’re a bad person. Was it something like that?”

“Something like that,” she slowly agreed. “And when you put it that way, I see why those messages mess everything up.”

“It’s hard to enjoy your fantasies when those messages are attached. Screws up relationships too. If the sex is bad, it doesn’t matter how great everything else is, it’s going to be hard to make the relationship work.”

She jumped in, “Sure, but on the other hand, the sex can be great, and it’s everything else that sucks. That doesn’t work either.”

He smiled in agreement, “Ah, I see you’ve been there too, and got that t-shirt.”

“A drawer full of them… um, not that I sleep around a lot,” she added, a bit embarrassed. “But it sure is hard finding a guy where the sex is great, and he’s actually fun to be around. Seems like I have to pick one or the other.”

“I’ve been there too. Fortunately, I got a much better sense of which way was up one summer during college.”

She saw a wistful expression flit across his face, “Oh do tell…”

He laughed, “Another time, perhaps. For now, let’s just say it was an older woman and a wonderful summer.”

“Do you keep in touch?”

“Another time,” he repeated more guardedly. Then, with a lighter tone, he added, “Meanwhile, I should get dressed, and we should head back.” He pushed off the rock, standing in the middle of the creek.

She sat up, letting her gaze drift over his naked, lean, well-muscled body. In a more playful mood, she asked, “Sure there isn’t something I could do for you?”

He smiled, “Well now that you mention it… I am feeling positively abashed at the disparity in our clothing.” As he spoke, his accent had drifted toward the cadences of Wuthering Heights and his smile slid into a wolfish grin. “And you, you tawdry vixen, you are shamelessly overdressed. Clearly, you must be scheming to gain some cowardly advantage over me by retaining those, those….” He stabbed in the air, gesturing at her bathing suit, “…those ill-conceived coverings. You shall pay a penance, I tell you.”

Melissa hid her growing smile by ducking her head demurely and protesting, “Oh my, whatever do you mean to do with me, sir? I protest that I am purely innocent, nay even virginal.”

Her assumed accent owed more to Gone with the Wind than the Yorkshire moors of nineteenth century England, but even so, the moment proved powerfully effective for both of them.

“I mean to instruct you in the proper way to be with me.”

“But sir, I fear the harshness of your discipline.” As she spoke, Melissa was surprised by the moist heat pulsing between her legs. She could see his growing erection as well. She dropped her gaze lower, so she wouldn’t be too obviously staring at his generously sized penis. Staring down at her lap, however, she was surprised to see a thin dark vertical line of wetness forming against the blue nylon of her bathing suit, where it was stretched tight across her shaved mound. She blushed, realizing the obviousness of her arousal.

His wolfish grin became even more masterful as he walked around behind her, tracing the tip of his finger up her arm and across the back of her neck, as she sat on the rock. Leaning in close behind her, he whispered, “Whatever shall we do with you?” She felt a shiver run up her spine as he swept her hair over her shoulder. He bent down, brushing small kisses along the back of her neck as he undid the fastening holding the top of her bathing suit closed.

Pulling the loose ends forward and down, he peeled the bathing suit downward, away from her skin. Her breath caught as the fabric hung, caught for a moment on her nipples, before springing away to expose their erect tautness. He continued to slide her suit down past her waist. As he reached her hips, she pushed her hands down against the warm stone, arching back and lifting her bottom so he could continue. “So much,” she chided herself, “for slowing things down by wearing a one-piece bathing suit.” She knew, however, that she was much too excited to even consider saying no at this point.

He slipped her bathing suit past her feet and turned to face her, letting his gaze sweep slowly up her naked form. Continuing in a somewhat subdued English accent, he said simply, “So there you are. Flaunting your outrageous beauty.”

Stepping back, he considered her carefully. She looked up, meeting his eyes as he seemed to drink her in. She expected to feel self-conscious under such intent inspection, but his expression was so clearly delighted that all she felt was a sense of powerful desirability. The myriad of self-doubts she usually felt about her body, when men looked at her, had simply vanished. Being the object of his arousal was intoxicating.

She found her entire body thrumming with arousal. She had never felt so beautiful.

He asked, “What indeed could you do for me? Something, I am sure… On your knees.”

She looked at him, puzzled. He repeated, “Come on. On your knees.”

Understanding now that he was serious, she complied, shifting to her knees on the warm stone. He reached out to reshape her form, “Sit back a little bit, keep your back straight. Not on your toes, tuck your feet underneath. That’s right; now sit back on your heels. Don’t let your feet splay out; keep a nice clean line. There you go.

He inspected her approvingly, then continued, “Now cross your arms behind you. Hold the opposite elbow in your hands. That’s right. Remember, keep your back straight. That‘s a little too arched. There, that’s it. And tuck your head down a bit.

“So, that’s perfect. That is how a submissive waits for her Master.”

Her pulse quickened at his words. She still felt uncertain about being a submissive, but she could not deny the throbbing ache coming from her clitoris. She was sure that her juices must be running down her thigh at this point.

“That’s a proper slave pose. When you are being displayed, however, your pose is slightly different. Raise your head up. Yes, arch your back so. Don’t look at me; look straight ahead. No one exists. There is only you, on display, for others to marvel at. They can walk around you, discuss your finer points with each other, but they do not exist. There is only the fire of your own arousal, and the certainty of your own perfectly unattainable desirability.

“When you kneel to receive, it’s also slightly different. Move your knees apart. A little further. Lift your haunches up from your heels a bit. Not too much, just enough to give access to any part of you that I may desire – to touch, to tease, to play with.” Reaching down, he slipped a forefinger deep inside her, curling his finger up to press against her G-spot.

She gasped, then closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation that was quickly driving her over the top.

“No,” he commanded. “Stare straight ahead. Remember, you are not allowed to orgasm until I give you permission.”

“Uhhh…” She protested urgently, shifting her hips against the unrelenting pressure that was driving her quickly over the top.

“Don’t move!” Then he added pressure from his thumb, which had captured her clitoris by pressing down over the hood of her clitoris while his forefinger pulled firmly up against her G-spot.

“Oh God! Oh God! Please, I need to come!” She tried as hard as she could not to squirm.

In response, he slid his middle finger inside to join his forefinger, but he also slowed his stroking of her G-spot, holding her just on the precipice of her orgasm, rather than pushing her over. Once his middle finger was slick with her juices, he eased it back out and used it to caress the tight puckered outside of her anus.

“Oh, oh, please! Oh, oh!” She was not sure whether she was begging him to penetrate her rear, or if she was asking him not to. Her body, however, had already decided. Her stiff ring of muscle encircling her anus relaxed, opening against the pressure of his finger. He slid his finger all the way in, twisting it gently back and forth, while also increasing the firm stroking of her G-spot and clitoris. She responded with an inarticulate, “Aieee…”

He said quietly, “Now you may come.” She immediately began bucking hard against his hand, while her body arced in tension as the pulses of her orgasm swept through her. He reduced his pressure, but continued with gentle stimulation, extending her orgasm until she finally collapsed forward. Carefully, he extracted his hand, then stepped back to admire her slowly twitching form as she sprawled face down across the flat top of the boulder. Slowly, he drew his hand along her naked form, tracing the curve of her back down across her buttocks. She moaned incoherently in response.

Published 
Written by brentaden
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