Aprons For Gayle Ch. 09

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Gayle is the young American woman who has taken on a six month contract to be a submissive maid to Hamish while living in a Scottish castle. This is in order to pay her mother's medical bills.

We left our heroine on Wednesday night after recouping from stinging nettles and a disheartening call home for the first time.

*****

CHAPTER NINE

THURSDAY, AUGUST 8TH, 2013

Thursday started off great. It was how it ended that made Gayle fight the urgent need to jump Hamish and ride the hell out of him.

She finished the large drawing room, straightened the small drawing and morning rooms, swept the floors and hovered the carpets. By the time she was done it was only quarter 'til three. There was nothing left to do because the floors needed time to dry if she mopped them, so she decided to do all three rooms first thing in the morning.

So she put the cleaning supplies away, let Bessie out and played with her for almost fifteen minutes. Then she put some toilet paper and tissues in the bathrooms that needed them, emptied the trash cans and dressed her hand, which was looking better already, though it was still quite red. The chastity belt wasn't bothering her as it was before because she kept putting powder on it, which helped a great deal with the chaffing.

Grabbing his dirty laundry from his bedroom and making a quick visual sweep to make sure everything was in order, she suddenly noticed a photo on the fireplace mantel. Getting closer, it was a family portrait of three people.

The man was incredibly handsome but had a stiffness in the way he held himself, very stern facial expression and a brooding presence. His face was etched so tightly she wondered if he had ever smiled in his life. The woman was a total knockout: tall, thin, dark, sun-tanned skin with a beautiful soft, warm, genteel smile.

There was a little boy in her arms, about a year old. His light, ginger hair did nothing to hide the devilish yet angelic mischievous cuteness in his big, blue eyes. But didn't he say he had a brother? Where was he? She set her mind to look for more photos of him, not wanting to brooch a touchy subject.

She put the clothes by the machines, got his mail and newspaper and set them on the coffee table. Downing a small glass of orange juice, she set her phone alarm for four and looked down at the

dog. "Well, Bessie, girl! Let's get this party started!"

She grabbed some CDs from the large drawing room that had caught her attention and went to the small drawing room. Putting in The Bay City Rollers, she turned to Bessie and started to dance ...

CUPAR TOWN CENTRE, Hamish's Office

Hamish had just gotten out of a very long, boring and non-productive meeting when he sat behind his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. The highlight of his day was when he turned on the camera to his home and searched which room Gayle was in.

The headache that he'd been fighting off instantly evaporated when he saw her by the couch dancing around like she was a hippie child -- her hands were way over her head, making her breasts appear firm and so damned squeezable, and they, too, danced lusciously. She swayed her hips to the beat, back and forth, back and forth, so enticingly sexy as hell. He could see she was singing along with the song, so she was familiar with the lyrics, and the title was easy to catch.

"'Shang-a-Lang?!' Bloody hell!"

"Mr. McD? Did you want me to call Buddy Bell?" Neill asked from just outside his office.

Gayle then got down on her knees and took Bessie's paws carefully then started to knee-dance while singing. He turned on the audio so he could hear her sing along, and he started to sing it softly right along with her.

"WE SANG SHANG A LANG AS WE RAN WITH THE GANG!

DOIN' DOO WOP BE DOOBY DO AY ..."

Hamish was sure he'd blow a load straight through his pants if she continued to shake her shoulders, making her breasts shake so fast he could barely keep his bulging eyes focused.

"WE WERE GROOVIN' IT.

WE WERE MOVIN' IT.

PUSSY FOOTIN' AND BOOTING IT 'ROUND."

"Oh fuck," growled Hamish while frantically massaging his cock over his trousers.

"BOSS?! You need me to ring Buddy Bell?" his assistant hollered again.

"What?" He never took his eyes off of the monitor. "Oh, no, no, Neill!"

She stood back up and twirled and flailed her arms theatrically throughout the room, her ponytail whirling around her face; a few strands loosened and framed her face magnificently.

"SHANG-A-LANG

SHANG-A-LANG

SHANG-A-LANG!"

She belted out at the top of her voice having skipped around the room and grabbed a candlestick as a microphone as she sang.

"Oh, fuuuck meee!" he growled, readjusting his hard, aching cock to prevent it from bending in half from the exertion.

Apparently the music stopped because she started moving slower, gracefully, like a ballerina. Her face had softened and exuded emotion, as if the words had a personal meaning to her. Suddenly she stopped, wiped her eyes and turned off the CD.

She was crying. His stunning, prancing fairy was crying! He picked up his phone about to call her when she sat down, took a long, deep breath and started to press the phone's keyboard. A second later he got a message.

'Done working Sir. Will do floors & start laundry 2morrow'

Hamish shook his head and grinned. "Good girl."

He texted back, 'Fine. Meet me at Tithe barn 6 nekkid. leave bessie in house. forego whisky'

She patted the canine on the top of her head when she got his message back. She replied, '10.4 over and out.'

Frowning at her text, his balls screamed at him for some relief, so he headed to his private bathroom, closed the door and took care of business, his penis detonating with the force of ten Hiroshima explosions.

Before she headed upstairs to clean up, she grabbed a banana and spent the extra time to put on make-up, though nothing heavy. As she finished putting on the eye shadow and eyeliner, she stood in front of the mirror and stared incredulously at the woman staring back at her.

"Why the hell are you doing this? You're here for six months, that's it. Enjoy it while it lasts, kiddo. You are nothing but his employee, his maid, his sex toy. You signed up for it. Live with it."

He wasn't all that bad, not really. He did take care of her, feed her, was being thoughtful and considerate in that he allowed the music to be on as she cleaned and wearing the sneakers. While he was very hard and crass the first few days, she'd come to realize that he was just teasing her or being playful, but he also made it known that he wouldn't put up with her smart-assed, disrespectful mouth. He never hurt her, not really. Not yet.

But she was scared, not so much about having sex with him but about being bound and flogged or whipped or both at the same time. That alone was enough to give her nightmares for the next fifty years. I have to talk to Hamish about it. He wanted me to, right? she thought.

-----------------------

By 6:20, Gayle could no longer sit still and had been pacing back and forth for the past ten minutes at the barn, making another path that would surely last for the next couple of centuries. She burst out laughing.

"And this path, folks," she said in a British accent and waving her arm out at the flattened grass, "was made by a forlorn girl waiting for her long-lost love after he'd been away almost a year fighting off the Roman vagabonds attempting to --"

"Did he ever come home to her?" came an unexpected voice from behind her.

She twirled around so fast her bare feet got twisted again, sending her backward. "Ow!!" she cried out then flipped over on her hip. "Fucking plug! I seriously need to stop falling on my ass like this!" She laughed.

Hamish laughed back and put out his hand. "Let me help you up, Grace."

"Haha," she grumbled as she stood, wiping the grass off her butt.

"Damn. I wanted to do that," he chortled.

"And you would have spanked me just because you could."

"Yep, that sums it up nicely. How was your day?"

"It was fun. Bessie and I won the Dancing With the Stars Trophy." She suddenly grew tense and her eyes grew solemn. "I think I chose the wrong song, though. Mom and I used to dance to that when I was a kid. Just made me sad."

Well, that answered my question why she was crying, he thought.

Suddenly he noticed there was something different about her. She looked absolutely ravishing with her make-up, not to mention how the breeze blew her hair about, softening her face. He couldn't think of a damned thing to say, so he sipped the whisky he'd brought with him and stared.

Glaring back at him, she wondered what the hell was wrong. She was on time. She was naked. His mail and newspaper were on the coffee table. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscience.

"Nngth." He cleared his throat. "Nothing. It's just ... nothing." He had to stop himself because she'd caught him stuttering like an idiot.

I look like a tramp! I knew I shouldn't have done the make-up, she thought. Her shoulders deflated as they had when he criticized her at breakfast. She turned and walked away, but he caught up with her quickly.

"Hey, hey. What is it? Come sit."

She followed him to the ruined brick wall and just before he sat down put his hands on her hips, and she took a deep breath to think before she went off on him like she had before. "I didn't mean to overdo the make-up. I had some extra time and just wanted—"

Looking into her face tenderly, he told her, "You didn't. You are lovely." She blushed wildly. "How's your hand?"

Showing it to him, she replied, "It's still a little itchy, but the antihistamine has worked."

"Looks better. And your blood pressure?"

"That's normal too. I guess I shouldn't take it before you threaten me or after you, um ..."

He laughed. "That might be wise. Let me take the belt off. It must be uncomfortable to sit on this."

Nodding, she stood patiently waiting for him to remove it. She sighed in relief then sat beside him.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him, he said, "You seem ... out of sorts. Tell me what's worrying that pretty little head of yours."

"I don't know. I liked the bondage. That was fine, as are the toys you bought, and with your ... equipment in the dungeon, god only knows what you plan to do with me. Seeing the people in The Crucible with the woman's back all welted and bloody kinda left a bad taste in mouth. I've never been on the receiving end of that. I want to trust you, I do. But ..." Sighing heavily, she looked away.

"Ah. I think I understand. Would you like me to explain to you what I'm doing for a few weeks? I wouldn't want to give away all of the tricks up my sleeve though. Would that make it easier for you?"

She looked at him hopefully. "Um, would you mind? I've never been one to trust a ... stranger so soon and with something so ... personal."

"I certainly don't want you afraid of me, little fawn."

She chuckled. "I'm not sure whether I like you calling me that."

"I could always call you little salmon, but they're all squishy and wet and stinky and that's definitely not you, except for the wet part."

She burst out laughing but blushed at his truthfulness. "Yeah, yeah. I get your point. Sir, I don't think I like not having control. That surprised me. At home I was responsible for Mom and Catelyn and worrying over Dad, so I made a lot of decisions, not just for myself but for the family. Here, I don't have that. Handing that over isn't ... easy."

"No, it's not. But you are trying. You've proven that to me." He sighed, sipped his drink then ran his hand through his hair. "Gayle, I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I know exactly what you are talking about. Mum died when I was almost two years old when she bled out birthing my little brother. They couldn't bring her back. I basically had to raise him, considering my father was so fucking wrapped up with his business he didn't have time to raise two rambunctious boys. I called the shots. I got on Ian's case if he fucked up. I even got ..." He took another long swig of whisky; his face contorted from the burn.

I even got what, Hamish? she asked herself. He'd opened up to her now, and she didn't want to push him further and stop him from sharing with her again.

"So, you're saying you have control issues too?" she asked light-heartedly.

He looked at her with a small smile. "You could say that. Father made all the decisions in my life, and I mean all. I rebelled, a LOT ... drank, women, you name it. A uni mate was a Dom, and the way he described it just made sense to me. I realized that's what I was, what I needed.

"I wasn't expecting someone as ... strong as you are, Ms. Boyce. Some subs I've been with just roll over, have no passion. I don't want a doormat in a roman ... any relationship." He was glad he covered himself quickly, not wanting to give her the impression he was referring to her.

"When you asked me the size of my cock at lunch I all but choked on my drink. I like your feistiness and your sass -- most of the time. And you've not lacked in your responsibilities ... yet. Seriously, I should have considered having you do a bit more research. I'm sorry if ... you feel you are in over your head."

"No, no! I never ... well, yes, I did."

He grinned. "It is absolutely, perfectly normal to feel what you are right now. As far as your concern when we scene, just know that in D/s everything is a process, for both the Dom and submissive. I'll start off light, just to give you a taste. Eventually, you will tell me when you're ready for more. I go at your pace, Gayle, not mine. I do understand this is new for you."

She nodded. "Going to one D/s 101 class doesn't make me a good submissive, huh?"

"That's what you don't see. From your responses to my touch and commands, I am reaching you on some deep level. Am I not?"

Shyly, she replied, "You have. And that's what scares me. I like ... taking care of you and your home, and Bessie, except when she farts." She chuckled softly. "How far will you take me before I ... break?"

"I won't let that happen. The Dom's responsibility is to help the sub tap into that innate part of herself; it's already in her. It's not something he or she can force, either. It certainly won't happen overnight. But just continue to talk to me, ask questions, as many as you need."

"I guess I forgot that. You can be kinda ... Sometimes I don't know if you're being serious or just teasing me and I get defensive and ..."

He was thoughtful for a moment. "Gayle, I don't mean to be a prat. It's all or nothing with me. For some reason I seem to have forgotten that you've no experience. I've been stern with you, and I will continue to do so. But you have to remember that I will not hurt you."

For the first time, ever, Hamish realized that he might be in over his head. He was afraid he had pushed someone into doing something that she couldn't do ... or was denying or fighting what she was feeling. But she had talked with him, and that was all that he could have asked.

"Let's get supper. I'm starving," Hamish announced as he stood and put out his hand.

"Sir? I am curious. Seeing the submissives and the expressions on their faces, like they were happy being at their Dom's beck and call was ... I liked that. I like making those around me happy."

He bent down and kissed the top of her head. "You've made me happy thus far, my little kumquat."

"Oh, god help me. Can you stick with 'little fawn,' please?"

He chuckled. "I will consider it. And by the way, I realized I was wrong in leaving you handcuffed all night. I meant to remove them as soon as you fell asleep, but I think I fell asleep before you did. I'm sorry. I will not happen again. I can assure you."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you, Sir. I mean, what if there had been a fire? Technically, without a proper window for escaping I shouldn't be sleeping in that small, cramped room. Maybe you should give me the nicer bedroom that you promised me?"

He gave her a nasty look. "Ms. Boyce, I never made such a promise. I said I don't like doormats. I didn't mean I like brattiness."

"I wasn't being bratty. Just making a point." A teasing smile slowly crossed her lips.

"You might have been trying, but I'm your boss, and if I say you were being bratty then you were."

"So, if you say my hair is purple than I'm not allowed to argue with you?"

Hamish was fighting back a smile himself. "No. Now stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop arguing with me."

"I'm not."

He opened the back door, and as she passed him, he said, "I get the last word as well."

"Okay."

"Enough. That was my last word!"

"Yes Sir."

"Gayle!" he bellowed then laughed. "Shut UP!"

"Okay." She snickered; she couldn't help it.

He growled, shook his head then laughed, causing her to laugh along with him. When Bessie joined them she started to bark as well.

"Ms. Boyce, how do you feel about trying out the St. Andrews cross tonight after dinner?"

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him with her mouth wide then closed it quickly.

He laughed again. "I win."

"Hmm mmmm," she mumbled negatively.

They had just passed a chair in the long, narrow hallway, so he grabbed her elbow, though not roughly, sat down, threw her over his knees and smacked each ass cheek before she even realized what happened.

"Agggh!" she screeched, but he hadn't slapped her hard enough to hurt her.

SMACK. SLAP! SMACK!

"Okay! Okay! I get it!" she screamed and kicked her feet. She laughed and squealed the entire time.

SLAP! SMACK!

He then helped her to her feet and turned her to face him, keeping his hands on her hips. "Now, who gets the last word?"

She stared at him for a moment, grinned then pointed her finger at his chest.

"Exactly. You should remember that."

He gently took her face, pulled her to him and kissed her softly. She moaned and took a step closer, attempting to put her hands on his shoulders for more.

He pulled away. "As much as I would love to keep kissing you, dinner will burn."

Her lips formed an 'o' before she loosened them and nodded.

"That's more like it."

Walking toward the kitchen, she took his hand. He squeezed it back.

Hamish suddenly grew somber when he realized it had been a while since he'd laughed as much as he had since Gayle had been there. I'm in some deep shyte, he thought.

While they were eating, Hamish asked Gayle, "With our little trip on Saturday, think you can come up with a picnic basket?"

"Hmm, I guess so. But wouldn't it be better if I put some food in it?" she grinned sheepishly.

"Smart arse." He chuckled. "Just for that, I think you'll prepare the food. What would you make for a picnic at home?"

"Um, fried chicken, potato salad, maybe macaroni salad, deviled eggs, that kind of thing."

"That sounds delicious. Why don't you take a look in the cupboards and make a list. I'll have Jessie come by in the morning so you can give it to her. That should keep you busy tomorrow."

"Shoot. I'd have to get the potato salad recipe from Catelyn."

"No worries. You can email her after you clean up."

After they finished eating, Hamish sat at the table watching Gayle clean the dishes at the sink. "Ms. Boyce, if I haven't told you already, you've done well this week. You got a lot accomplished."

He hadn't mentioned that while she was waiting for him outside he checked out the rooms she'd cleaned, and for the most part she reached most of the difficult hidden areas, but there was nothing he felt he had to punish her for.

She turned from the sink smiling at him. "Thank you for saying that, Sir. I was going to ask if you want me to do the upstairs bedrooms next week."

He smiled. "That would be good."

Turning back to the sink, she made more noise than she had to and said softly, "I ... won ... if you'd ... want to ... just to ... what it ... have to." The plates clean, she put them in the dish rack.