Kat
I arrive at the mansion, which is set on the hillside above Monte Carlo. It's
not one building, but a complex, filling the terraces and slopes. There's a
pool, of course, and pavilions in the gardens. I've never seen such wealth,
but then I've never met a billionaire before that night in the hotel. But I
only get as far as the gatehouse and the security man on duty.
Aleks remembers me. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm delivering a bag of kibble for the dog. I work at a pet shop. I need to
see him."
He leads me to a small office and takes the dog food from me.
"You'll not get near him that way," he says dryly. "Deliveries go to the
kitchen, no further."
"How then? Can you introduce me?"
"I get how desperate you are, but I'm not Leon's man anymore. I'm just a
security guard until I work my way up the ranks again." Alex tells me what
went wrong that day as he swings the bag of food from side to side. "He
sent me to get the car, so we could take you home."
Yes, I remember him asking you to collect the keys from the room. He left
them up there."
"Because I wasn't there in the lobby, I didn't see the gunman. The police
nearly arrested me for collusion."
"I couldn't tell them about the keys. If I put myself there, they'd think I was
working with the assassin too."
"It doesn't matter. Unless Leon can remember, he thinks I'm covering my
tracks. He doesn't remember you either, so he thinks I've made the whole
thing up."
"Doesn't remember me?" I nearly sink into the floor.
"Sorry. I told him that he'd spent the night with this hot date and planned to
take her out. He said he'd never do that. He never takes girls out on dates."
"Oh," I say faintly. "Then what's the point… I thought… Oh, God. I really
like him." I wipe my eyes.
"You like him that much?"
"Yes." I do. A crazy part of me loves all those things we did together. Even
the rough parts. I want more, so much more. Now I'll never get it. He is
barricaded in his mansion until the assassin is caught. The exact motive for
the murder attempt remains unclear.
"Look, you know Leon likes to fuck, with no strings attached."
"Yes," I say disappointedly.
"He has maids. They're not typical maids though. They're sex maids. You
know? Personal service maids. They're practically his slaves. The last one
left just before he spent that night with you. He needs another one to keep
him company. He's bored. He's got a lot of time and energy on his hands.
He's fit, back in good shape, and wants to fuck."
For a fleeting second, Leon is standing before me, naked and smiling. It's a
good memory. "What are you saying, Aleks?" "The only problem is his memory. But maybe you can help him get it back.
Then he'll remember he ordered me to get the keys when I told him I
shouldn't leave him in the lobby. He'll reinstate me then."
Aleks won't need to do much while I do all the hard work to get Leon's
memory back. The idea of being entirely submissive unnerves me.
"You want me to pretend to be this maid?"
"Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I think it might work. You turn up,
and do what he likes, and maybe, just the sight of you undressed will bring
it all back," Aleks says excitedly.
"And if it doesn't?"
He smirks. "Well, you'll get his full, undivided attention."
I have to admit to myself, that part is extremely tempting. There's a familiar
tingle in my belly. My emotional butterflies are ready to be unleashed. I
yearn for intimacy, yes, but the kind of unbridled fucking that Leon
practices is on a different level. Can I cope with it? More important, can I
fake submitting to it?
"I have a job." It isn't the best job in the world. I smell like animals all day.
"You'll get a place to sleep, food, anything you want… he wants… I mean,
you'll be taken care of."
I smile. That simple, hey? The stupid, crazy part of me agreed.
A few days later I turn up at Leon's house in a maid's uniform and put
Aleks's plan into action. Aleks leads the way, and I follow in my maid's
black and white uniform, one that barely covers my ass and tits. Will Leon
recognize me? Will just one sight of me bring back his memories of that
night we spent together?
Aleks touches my elbow. "This way. You will be confined to his private
quarters for the most part because he rarely goes out, and that's usually
because of a medical appointment. He's a virtual prisoner until his doctor
thinks it's safe for him to leave."
Aleks parts company with me by the double doors leading into the main
salon that Leon uses for meeting people. I bet Leon Murati meets lots of
important people, but most of them won't be dressed like me: half-naked in
high heels.
"I can't go any further. Good luck." He raps on the door.
A yellow-faced man with bulging thighs opens it, smiles awkwardly at
Aleks, and glares at me.
"New fuck girl for the boss," Aleks says, his voice stripped of any kindness.
"She's been checked out."
"She's not brought any luggage with her?" The other man looks me up and
down.
"What the hell does she need?" Aleks grins, and winks at me. I know I'm
blushing, my cheeks are blazing.
It's only dawning on me now that I might be staying here, perhaps even
living here. I'd not thought through the consequences. What about my
apartment? How will I pay the rent without a job? Mikal, the pet store
owner, won't hesitate to fire me when I don't show up for my next shift. I
have gambled on Aleks's plan working but the spontaneity of my decision
will have repercussions beyond today. If I'm looking nervous, it's very
justified.
I follow the burly man dressed in black along a corridor into darkness. He
opens another set of doors and I'm presented with a living space with soft
furniture, artwork that belongs in a national gallery, velvet curtains trimmed
with gold, and a long table of marble. The opulence would be tasteless if it
wasn't for the man sitting in the center of the room. Lounging on a sofa,
watching the TV, is Leon. He doesn't even glance in my direction.
"What, Bernard?" he snaps.
"New girl for you, boss. Just arrived. She's been checked out." Bernard
backs out of the room. "I'll be out—"
"I know. Get lost. I don't need you."
The door closes and Leon still hasn't looked up at me.
"Go over there," he says curtly. "Get undressed, bend over the table." He
glances over to me, not long enough for eye contact, but it's enough for him
to acknowledge me properly and when he speaks, there is less urgency. "It's
been a while since I've had the pleasure of a pretty girl like you."
Of course, he's been convalescing for three months, which means… my
mouth goes dry. "Don't you want to know my name?"
"Name," he snorts. "You're not here to socialize, doll. You're here to please
me, like a good submissive. I take it you've been picked especially for me."
He fiddles with his shirt buttons. "Come on, don't be shy."
I move, stiff legged. He hasn't even recognized my voice. "Well, I'm
Katrina," I say loudly.
"Whatever, doll," he says. He switches the sports channel off. "My team
has just lost. I really need ass to punish. I bet a fortune on that game."
He rises and I face him, full on. I freeze there, praying, hoping.
Leon looks right past me to the table. "You're slow, aren't you. Nervous?
Don't be. Just be a good girl, and you'll get to enjoy it, eventually."
"Leon—"
"No, you call me master, or sir, remember your training." He undoes his
belt and then his pants. His erection springs out.
I'd forgotten what a huge, splendid thing he keeps hidden away. I gush,
both mentally and physically. I'm thoroughly uninhibited and also
conscious of my wet pussy.
"Yes, sir," I say. It's not what I'm thinking. I can't just end up being his
slave. I have to make him remember.
I take everything off. My pubic mound is bare, just as he likes it, my
asshole bleached, which is something new; I hope it will impress him. I
bend, grasp the table edge, and spread my legs. My heart is pounding in my
throat. The setup is clinical, like a medical exam, and debasing. Yet, I can't
bring myself to admit it—I'm fucking turned on by his demeanor. "Good." His footsteps approach. There's a rustle of clothing being moved
and altered, then two firm hands grip my waist. They're warm and strong,
and uncaring.
I expect something, a touch, a caress, maybe a simple acknowledgement
that I'm giving him what he needs. But this Leon isn't the man I met in the
hotel. This Leon is emotionally different, damaged and yearning for
something that reminds him he's alive. I get that. What still shocks me is
the thrust of his cock in my pussy is unyielding, impatient, and desperate.
Whatever we did in that hotel is such a distant memory. He's not going to
offer me one inkling of respite or compassion.
God, the man can fuck. How I missed this.Leon
I stop. I'm close to completion, and then it hits me how off-kilter I am. I'm
not myself. That bullet damaged me more than I thought.
She whimpers as I pull out of her wet pussy. The way she looks over her
shoulder, begging with her eyes for more, almost brings me full circle.
What the hell does it matter if we haven't formalized the agreement
between us?
But this isn't the way I do it. I have standards of decency, admittedly far
below other people's, and they might be crude and selfish, but I will stick to
the protocols or I will become at best an automaton, and at worst, a rapist.
"That was a try-out, okay?" I say. "I like you. But we need to do the
paperwork."
I zip up my flies.
"Paperwork?" she says, twisting around. "Up, come on. Let me find a copy. You can write in your name. It's a
standard setup. What is your full name and date of birth?" I rummage
through a drawer. There's a file somewhere.
"Katrina Duvall." She reluctantly offers her date of birth. I pause; she's
young, but no younger than most of my maids.
She's moving slowly to pick up the pen. "I thought I signed the work
agreement when I arrived earlier."
"That's not what I'm talking about. That will get you compensation for loss
of income. This will ensure you know what I expect of you."
The file is at the bottom of the drawer. I open it and take out an unsigned
agreement. I hand it to her, the new girl, Katrina Duvall.
She stands there, red-faced and dripping cunt juice down her thighs. Damn,
I want her again. Seriously, she is beautiful.
"Well?" I ask impatiently.
She reads it, blushing redder with each page. I know the document by heart.
It's reasonable in some respects. I'm the dominant, she's the submissive.
She signs it, and I get to do what I like based on what I've listed. There are
get-out clauses, of course. She's not my prisoner, and she has her own room
that I mustn't enter—it's a safe zone, I suppose, but mostly it's for privacy
and sleeping. There are things I don't do, nor expect her to. There's plenty I
do require from her, and frequently.
"I'm effectively your slave," she says curtly.
"My maid," I say judiciously.
"Who waits on your cock day and night."
"Absolutely." More than waits on, she worships it.
She's not in a hurry. Strange, because most maids I employ simply scribble
their name down and get to business.
"I'm paid to have sex with you."
"You're paid to clean this house. That's what's on the official contract. This
is an agreement just between us two. It's a sanity check. Is there anything
there you particularly disagree with?"
"I'm reading this part… the Object of my Desires will always be punished
if disobedient. But nowhere does it say what disobedience is." She holds up
the page.
We're having this conversation with her naked. It's driving me crazy. "It's
whatever I decide it to be."
"Uh-huh. And the punishments too?"
"Yep. They're the usual, spanking, denial of orgasms, forced orgasms,
nipple clamps… as I say, the usual."
She's not budging from the spot.
"The pen is over here." I point to the desk.
"I can see it," she says. "I'm still reading."
I put my hands on my hips and sigh. "Do you usually critique agreements
like this?"
"This is my first."
I lower my arms. "Your first?"
"Yes." She turns a page over. "It's my first proper job as a… maid."
Where the hell has she come from? A girl's college? A convent? "Who
suggested you took this job?" She's hardly a virgin, but I know conventbred girls don't obey the rules any more than high school girls.
"Uhm, one of your guys. He knew me… when I worked at a pet store, and I
thought it would be good to branch out into new things."
I blink. A fucking pet store? It's not exactly training ground for my needs. I
give her some slack, because I'm intrigued by her novelty. "New things?"
She thrusts the paper under my nose. "What is wax play? Is this hot wax on
my pubes?" I nod, slowly, tingling all over. She's something of a virgin after all. I don't
want to put her off. She might strike it out. "It won't burn you. It heightens
the senses." How the hell would I know; nobody has done it to me. All I
know is that my other maids whimpered appreciatively if I mentioned it.
I wonder, does Katrina understand the nuances of communication? Will I
interpret her tells correctly? Going by her flushed cheeks, she's probably
not a good actress. She's not capable of hiding what she's thinking.
"Better not burn me. I don't like fire." She licks her forefinger with her
gorgeously pink tongue, blatantly curling it as she does it, and then turns
another page with the tip of the moist finger. "And then there is this. I will
suck your cock in the morning?"
"It's a good wake-up policy."
"Especially, as… Object of my Desires will be leashed to the bed
throughout the night. What if I want to pee?"
"It's a long leash. The purpose is to remind you that you are mine."
"Symbolic then?" She purses her lips. "I suppose that's acceptable. Now, I
don't like this bit about enemas and douches."
I close my eyes. My cock is exploding and she's dragging this out for an
eternity. "They are good for humiliation. I take you like being humiliated.
You are, after all, applying for the position of a sex maid."
"Mmm. The euphemism of 'sex maid' isn't really working for me."
"It's what you are." Which she would know if she'd done this before. I find
her frustratingly attractive and just want to get back to fucking her, a
punishing hard fuck for making me wait. It will be the last time she does
make me wait.
"I'm sure. But what about—"
I grind my fingernails into my palms. "There is no what about, unless you
don't want to be called my slave."
She lowers the papers. "It's just… it states here that I have no say on when
or where you fuck me, and it could be any time of day, or night…
I rise to my feet and snatch the papers out of her hands. "You will have the
most amazing orgasms of your life, trust me. You'll want my cock so badly,
you'll beg for it. You'll kneel at my feet and come just at the thought of it."
She blushes deeper. "I… didn't mean to imply you can't please me… sir."
"Better." I relax. Defiance only works up to a point, and she's already
learning to tame it.
"I only want to know if… things aren't working out, I can walk away."
"I'll say it again. You're not a prisoner. I'm not into controlling your entire
life or taking you out on the town for a good time. I don't date you, I don't
care what you do when I don't need you, as long as I know that you're
somewhere I can find you. Now, sign it and bend over."
She bites on her lip and lowers her eyes demurely. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't
realize it was hurting you. I will just put my name here, yes?"
I nod. She bends over the desk to sign it, sticking up that pert bottom and
wriggling it provocatively. She stays right there, legs parted, swollen pink
labia flirting with me. The sheen of her sex is perfect, telling me everything
I need to know about her readiness.
"Do not move," I say. I stride over to her, circle her little waist with my
hands, and do what has to be done. I ram my hard cock into her dripping
pussy. She yelps once, tenses under my touch, and jerks as I penetrate,
occupying her fully to the point I'm balls deep and encased in wet warmth.
I savor the moment, her surrender to my cock. It's beyond glorious to fuck
like this. No need for foreplay, kissing, the tedious buildup to make sure
she's able. A girl like this is always ready.
I pound her pussy with a pace that knocks the breath out of me. I'm out of
practice.
My new maid, Miss Duvall, screws the contract up in her hands and exhales
noisily with each of my thrusts. The paper is twisted and nearly shredded by
her claw-like fingers. I bounce off her bottom, smacking into it, then
withdrawing to see my cock glistening with her nectar.
I want to see her face. I flip her over, draw her legs up, and re-enter. Her
face contorts, eyes shut and one hand still has hold of a piece of the paper.
She slides up and down the polished wood as I move in and out of her
pussy. Her knees are bent toward her shoulders, pinned down by my
weighty hands. I will enjoy looking at her breasts jiggle and her trembling
lips when she comes.
"Oh, God," she murmurs.
"Don't come yet."
"I have to," she squeals, and I slap her thigh, hard.
Her eyes spring open, reminding me of a full moon, bright and expansive.
Any minute now, I'll be ready to pump her full of cum. I slap her thigh
again, and her pussy clenches even tighter. It's a good sign. I tweak a
nipple, and she groans.
"Please, I need to come," she pleads, so pleasingly and it's enough to
trigger my waiting orgasm. It starts as it often does, with a flash of energy
that bursts out of me, halting my breath.
"Now!"
I spurt my load into her contracting pussy while she moans and writhes
beneath me. I'm dazzled by her orgasm, the strength of her spasms, the way
they squeeze every last drop of cum out of my cock.
"Fuck, doll, this feels good." And it does. It's quite exquisite and focused,
as if I'm more than in her; I'm part of her.
She goes quiet and motionless; her legs flop down after I let go of them. I
step back and she stays there, messy and well used. Things will have to
change, I decide. There will be protocols, ways to make her understand
what is expected of her. I wasn't sure at first whether I liked the idea of
having a maid with little experience. While I'm stuck in the house, though,
I'm going to enjoy her.
Finally, her hand relaxes and she lets go of the paper. The crumpled sheet
floats onto the desk, right on top of the other pages. She opens her eyes and smiles. "Do we go again, sir, or do you need a
break?"Kat
I know I used the agreement to test him. I had to know if Leon is the same
man I met in the hotel, a man who treated me like a plaything at the
beginning but admitted he had different feelings by the end of the night.
How could I tell if he was that same person? Do head injuries change
people's personalities?
The document proves a point. He expects my obedience, but there are
boundaries he has to operate within and I can walk out of here with my
head held high if I choose. The trouble is, I have no idea what my
boundaries are and if I can do half the things listed on the agreement, I will
be amazed. But all I have to do is get Leon to remember me, remember that
night. It might take a few days, perhaps. He should remember by then,
surely?
I rise on shaky legs, the signed agreement now seemingly forgotten by him.
"Break?" he snarls. "Are you accusing me of negligence already?"
"Oh, no, sir. I'm just conscious you're recovering from a nasty injury, and I
don't want to tire you."
I admit I'm enjoying this role as his maid. Yes, I'm his, and must expect all
kinds of strange requests from him, but that doesn't mean I don't have the
opportunity to apply my own initiative.
"Tire me?" he growls softly. His cock is twitching, rising once more.
I guess what I'm saying is working. "I could help you relax if you want to
sleep?"
"Sleep?"
"Or perhaps I should retire to my room and leave you to unwind. You look
very tense, sir. Where is my room?"
"You want to go to your room?" He looks taken aback.
"Only if you need to rest. I wouldn't want to make demands of you. Perhaps
while I shower, you could recuperate on your bed."
Slowly a smile of understanding creeps across his face. "You would like me
to rest, eh? I think not."
"I only wish what is best for you, sir."
He slips his half-mast cock back into his pants. "I tell you what, Object of
my Desires, why don't I give you a tour. Then I can decide which of the
rooms I should take a rest in."
"Rooms?" I stutter slightly.
"I have a suite of rooms solely for the purpose of entertainment. Follow
me."
I patter behind him, still stark naked, and feeling now a little foolish. "Can I
dress?"
"You read the agreement. Nudity is a requirement at all times."
"Even after sex?"
"Especially after sex. It's when you are at your most humble." He glances
over his shoulder and smiles.
We walk through the house to his suite. I carry my clothing, trying to hide
behind it, unsuccessfully, but thankfully we meet nobody. At the end of the
mahogany paneled corridor is a double door, and it leads into a lobby area
with a solitary antique lampstand.
"This is where you may wait for me when I arrive. Here, on this spot, and
kneeling."
I look at the rug. At least it is a thick pile and kind on the knees. I was used
to kneeling when I cleaned out the pet cages. "Very good, sir."
"When you walk with me, you walk behind and keep your eyes downcast.
You don't speak unless spoken to."
I nod obliquely. I'm sure I will break these rules all the time. They won't
come naturally to me. I'll have to take the risk he won't dismiss me. I need
time. Maybe more time than I, or Aleks, first realized. This arrangement is
not like the one in the hotel room. There he only wanted a pretty girl in his
bed for a frivolous night of fun with no strings attached. A nameless,
forgettable girl, except he shouldn't have forgotten me. Not Katrina Duvall.
I'm the one he just has to remember.
He grasps my arm, and I jump. "Follow me."
We enter a bedroom. It's huge, beautifully decorated, and yet unremarkable
in other ways.
"This is where I sleep. Sometimes I'll keep you with me, other times you
will sleep alone." He walks to a door. "Bathroom."
I peep my head around the door. White marble, glass, gold fittings, and a
monsoon shower and Jacuzzi bathtub in the center. "Very nice."
"I'm so glad you like it," he says dryly.
We return to the antechamber and the door opposite his bedroom. It's a
spacious room decorated in striking scarlet and black, and occupied by
numerous pieces of soft velvety furniture: stools, chairs, and chaise longue.
It reminds me of a boudoir.
"Rather elegant," I say.
"It's functional," Leon says simply. "This way."
Through a joining door is a kind of gym with a treadmill and weights.
"You work out here?"
"Sometimes."
"I'll work out too. I'll be busy cleaning when you don't need me." He laughs and crushes my hand in his. "Oh, Miss Duvall, how sweet. No,
you don't actually have to clean. Forget about that. I have real house maids
for that job."
I feel foolish. "What else do you want to show me?"
He drops my hand, as if he's just discovered he's been holding it.
We're back in the lobby and he opens another door, next to his bedroom.
This one sends a shiver down my spine. There's a sawhorse, the kind my
father used for carpentry, an X-shape cross attached to the wall with straps,
and a simple wooden table with more bindings. Against one wall is a line of
drawers and plenty of storage. For what?
"I keep equipment in those," He reads my mind. "Some might like to put
things on display. I prefer to keep them tucked out of sight. There's an
element of surprise if you can't see what's coming."
"What things?"
"Implements. You'll find out when I punish you." He winks at me.
When, not if. My legs are not functioning fully, and the knots in my belly
are starting to dance with each other.
The last room he shows me is my room at the end of the corridor, right by
the fire exit. I wonder if this is the door where his previous maids escaped
when they could take no more of his demands. My personal room is
generous but lacks personality: a single bed, a closet, and a small bathroom.
No other furniture, not even a bookcase. Not that I plan to move anything
in. This is a short-term project, I hope.
"You can choose some clothes to wear. There's a few things left over from
the last maid."
I open the closet door. Hanging from the rails are jeans and t-shirts of
different sizes. More than one maid left these. I wonder why they didn't
take them.
I close the closet door and turn to face him. "I would like to shower."
"Ask properly then."
I think for a moment, manage not to roll my eyes in a spectacular fashion,
then kneel and ask again. "Please may I shower, sir?"
"You may. You've an hour. Then join me."
"Where, sir?"
"I'm not planning on sleeping. So where do you think I mean?"
I swallow a lump in my throat. He's not a glamorous lover with ideas of
passionate pillow talk and leisurely foreplay.
"You want me on the bed?"
"Put some pillows under your hips, face down, ass up. I'm going to fuck it
hard with you tied to the posts, gagged too."
My heart skips several beats in rapid succession, and I feel the dizziness I
felt in the club when I saw him for the first time.
I rally. "That's it?"
He stares piercingly, and I flinch. "No. But you don't need to know what
I'm going to do to you. You'll just do it, or else you're in trouble, doll."