Samantha Knocks at the Door Ch. 01

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Housekeeper finds her employer's door.
3.5k words
4.45
50.6k
2

Part 1 of the 4 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 01/13/2005
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MrBlanik
MrBlanik
11 Followers

The house was quiet. I made my way around, checking the doors and making sure the house was set for the night. I'd never been told to or assigned this task; I assumed it, as I had quite a few of my tasks. When I started, he had a list of tasks and duties. We walked through the house, room to room, going over the list, adding things, clarifying things. My previous job as a hotel housekeeper helped. I knew things to look for and had a standard to meet in doing them. Still, over time, there were other things that I picked up and assumed the responsibility of. Doing the rounds of the house for the evening was one of them.

The early spring evening was fading quickly into night. At the front door the only light left in the house came from the hall and his bedroom. He was reading, his habit after dinner. I turned the dead bolt slowly. As it clicked into place, I smiled in satisfaction. Ana, his daughter, would not be home until Sunday.

For the weekend, I was alone with him. I'd been waiting for this. Though quiet at dinner – he was quiet most of the time - he seemed in an upbeat mood. There had been some kidding from Ana as she said good bye and left. I feigned embarrassment. I thought he enjoyed the ribbing from his daughter. Tonight would be a good night I thought as turned from the door.

I turned off the hall lights and the built-in night lights came on, spreading their soft glow across the stone floor. I'd fallen in love with his house. It was simple, clean, sparsely decorated and very heavily influenced by the Asian aesthetic. I'd even come to terms with beautiful Shoji that separated the bedroom from the hall. He'd joked many times that I was taking his house from him. Maybe I was. It was my job to make sure his house ran as efficiently as I could make it. I guess I did think of it as mine.

He was a quiet and private man most of the time. Still, I enjoyed being around him. His kindness and gentleness was always around Ana and me. I was still getting use to it. Nothing would be said, and he expected no thank yous, but I would find some special, little thing done for me – quietly and privately.

Almost from the beginning I found myself curiously attracted to him. As I became more comfortable living with and working for him, I found that I was very concerned that what I did was perfect for him. He noticed too. I began to do small special things, just for him.

Over the last month or so, I caught myself now or then looking at him and wishing for him. I knew there was interest; I could see it in his eyes sometimes, particularly if Ana was not around. I did my best to let him know I'd accept. The time or moment never seemed to be there. Then Ana brought up this weekend school trip – thank you Ana! I hoped beyond hope that this weekend would be right.

I paused by his open door and looked into the semi-darkness of his room. From where I stood, I saw him from the side, legs stretched out on the hassock and head bent just a little as he read. The lamp between the chairs made a small circle of light around him.

"Are you going to stand in the hall all night or are you going to join me," he asked quietly with a little twist of sarcasm.

I smiled and checked my giggle, answering by walking into his room and around the other chair. I knew I couldn't have stayed watching him long. He had an uncanny ability to know whenever I was near.

He looked up as I came around the chair. "Is there something special I can do for you, dear?"

I smiled shyly and shook my head no. After the first week here, the only time I heard my name was if he needed to get my attention, or had something really important to say, otherwise, as with his daughter, I was dear – or love – depended on his mood. He motioned for me to sit. I slipped from my shoes and sat with my legs folded up under me leaning my elbow on the arm and resting my chin in my hand. He smiled at me, but with a bit of puzzlement in his eyes.

His expression changed slowly, like he was at a loss as what to do or say next. Not at all unusual for him, I'd seen him many times when he would just forget what he was saying mid-sentence, or not know what to say at all. Sometimes he just seemed uncomfortable around people. I'd gotten very use to it and it didn't bother me. He move and put his book aside.

"What are you thinking," he asked in a very low, soft whisper, as if afraid to disturb the night's quiet.

"Nothing really," I answered. "I'm not really thinking – feeling maybe, but not thinking, sir."

He chortled to himself, "Then, what are you feeling?"

"Contented," I paused, "and what a lucky young woman I am."

"Contented – lucky?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay . . ."

That comfortable feeling I often had around him started to envelope me. It was like a warm blanket that wrapped around my shoulders, a cloak that protected me, making me feel warm and loved. When I first started working for him I felt shy and hesitant around him. One night at dinner, just he and I, this feeling began to grow in me and around me, from then on I knew I was where I should be, doing what I should be doing.

"You're thinking too much."

"Excuse me sir," his words had startled me from my thoughts.

"You're thinking too much," he repeated.

I turned away from him shyly. "I am, sir."

"About?"

I caught myself in time; I'd almost blurted out that I was thinking of him. Instead, I shrugged and shook my head. My thoughts were scaring me a little.

Something made me look back at him. He was smiling again with his warm gentle half-smile. I felt shy and slightly embarrassed. In my mind I knew the littlest hint, slightest gesture, the smallest smile and I would be given everything I could want. I didn't have the courage to do it. He was right there for me. I stole a glance. He'd laid his head back and closed his eyes, hands folded on his chest. I sighed. Something held me from just blurting out that I wanted to be his, needed to be his. I turned my head with another sigh – oh, how I wish . . .

"You're upset about something?" His voice was soft, tender, sweet and concerned.

I shook my head, hoping he would hear my thoughts. I felt his hand surround mine, his thumb gently caressing the back of my hand.

"What do you wish for, dear," his voice barely above a whisper.

Sighing dreamily, I turned toward him.

He looked directly at me and spoke softly and tenderly. "You have taken over my house and made it yours. You have taken my heart and made it yours." He paused and took a deep breath. I watched as his chest rose and fell. "Do you want my bed also, dear?"

Slowly, it dawned that I was to answer. I couldn't any more now than before. Once again, I shied my face from him.

"Samantha, my love, stand for me please." The gentle softness of his voice hadn't changed, but I moved as though it were the strongest command ever given me. Without hesitation, I stood, his hand leading me to stand next to his legs. He dropped my hand. "Please, dear, for me, would you undress?"

His eyes held mine, willing me to comply with his request. My fingers began unbuttoning my blouse without any thought from me. Slowly, as I thought would please him, I unbuttoned and removed my blouse. I let it float to the floor and reached back to undo my bra.

"No, please dear, your skirt next."

A slight nod and I moved my hands to the waist button and zipper of my skirt. After pushing it from my hips, It fell on it's own to the floor. I stepped from it. I felt embarrassed in only my bra and panties. Not because he was looking at me, I found myself turned on by undressing in front of him. No, I was embarrassed that my underwear wasn't sexy and provocative, but plain white cotton. I felt as old and uptight as my mother, not a young attractive and sexy woman.

"I'm sorry sir," I murmured, barely audible. I glanced quickly expecting to see disappointment in his face. I didn't find any, instead he was looking at me warmly, pleased and appreciatively. I was happy. I took my bra and panties off a little faster than I think he would have liked, but I wanted out of them so bad. I felt so unattractive in them.

Naked, I stood with my head bowed, feeling exposed, nervous, tense, and more aroused than I'd ever felt before.

"Samantha, dear, would you go kneel on the bed and wait for me, please?" His command, given as a sweet request, sent a tingle thorough me. For all the times I'd played this out in my head, what was unfolding was not one of my scenarios. No falling into each others arms, embracing in mad, wild passion, no subtle dance of seduction pushing him to the point where he takes me in fevered lust, no, his voice commanded me, controlling and willing me to do its bidding, as it always did, whether asking if I'd accomplished some errand, or would I mind refilling his coffee. I am his to command and would obey – and more than happy to be in that position. I couldn't help a little smile as I turned to go to his bed.

I kept my eyes down as I waited. In my mind I watched as he went to his closet – it served also as his dressing room – and undressed. I sensed he was standing next to the bed and raised my eyes. I never got further than his loins. He was enlarged but not yet to full erection. I stared at him. He seemed to grow as I stared.

"Turn around for me please dear," he asked.

Without hesitation or thought I turned, kneeling with my back to him. I tensed and shivered feeling him gathering my hair together and folding it up against my head. He held it there with a clam-shell comb, under me the mattress shifted from his weight.

His breath warmed my ear when he whispered, "I would like you to reach back and take hold of your ankles, please." I did and immediately notice how exposed it made my breasts. My nipples had swollen and become erect. Between my legs, I was becoming moist and tingling. "Very good, dear," he whispered. "Now, I would be very pleased if you did your best not to move no matter what I do you. Try not to react, but feel and let the feeling flow through you."

I breathed deeply, having no idea what he had in mind, but I closed my eyes and nodded. Tensing, I waited for his touch – or something. The mattress shifted again as he got off the bed. I waited, none to patiently. It seemed like forever before I felt him get on the bed again.

He touched me – and I nearly jumped from the bed. It was the lightest, barest touch possible, just every so slightly touching my skin. His fingertips felt slick, oiled like. He started by touching me right where the cheeks of my ass meet the small of my back. Very slowly – oh god, too slowly – he traced my spin, sending shivers and shocks of pleasure in his trail, like an advancing wave pleasure followed his fingers up my back. No matter how hard I tried, my body shook with delighted excitement.

Continuing up my neck until he came to my upsweep hair, there he removed his finger. Just as lightly as he did with his fingers, he brushed his lips across my neck. My head fell forward, presenting as much of my neck to his lips as I could. I began to breathe in heavy conscious rhythm. He kept moistening his lips and brushing them across my neck. At the same time, he moved to be behind me and to caress my ass. My pussy was now very wet and aroused. I could feel my blood rushing into my clit and labia, engorging and swelling them with heated excitement.

"Spread your knees for me please." I sensed more than heard his whispered request and my knees obediently opened. One hand slipped around me and slide down my belly. Oh yes – please, slip your hand between my legs. My wish turned to titillated disappointment, his fingers stopped just reaching the bottom of my mound. He stroked and massaged my mons, staying teasingly above my clit.

Down between my ass cheeks the fingers of his other hand slid, oiled and slick, sliding down underneath me to my asshole. He began to massage me, my thighs tensed instinctively with my ass squeezing his fingers. He continued and my hips and thighs relaxed. I never realized the pleasure that could come from having my asshole played with. Rapturous sensations emanated from his fingers. I could feel my asshole relaxing and slowing opening for his finger. I willed myself to simply let it happen. Every touch, every sensation that he did to me down there was so new to me. It felt so strange and so good to be touched there. His finger slid inside my ass. He stopped. He had maybe the first joint of his finger in my ass. It felt strange, weird – and oh so wonderful.

He stroked and twisted his finger inside me. With each stroke he slowly pushed deeper inside me. My breathing became shallow and rapid. Oh god – what he was doing with his finger – oh please don't stop – please, I begged in my mind. I felt his hand against my ass telling me his finger was as deep into me as it could go. I shifted and leaned forward a little hoping he could get deeper into my bowels. He stoked his finger its entire length, slowly out and then in, agonizingly teasing me.

His rhythm was steady and constant. I began to roll my butt from side to side in time with his strokes. He would twist his finger in one direction on the way in and in the opposite on the way out. I moaned softly. The hand that had been kneading my mons, now simply gave me support. Oh god – I'd never been pleasured like this before and was completely blown away by the sensations being created inside me. It was so different and strange – not at all like have something in my pussy. Occasionally he would push against the wall of my bowels and I would gasp as an intense pulse of pleasure coursed through me. I was about to have the most unique orgasm of my life.

"Please, sir – please," I begged him. "Let me cum, I need to cum . . . please"

His voice was soft, but mocking, "Such impatience, dear – do you really want to cum so soon?"

So soon - I thought, for god's sake I've been ready to cum for forever now! "Yes . . . yes . . . I want to cum now." God, did I want to cum! He rammed his finger deeply into my ass. I gasped. Over and over, he slowly withdrew only to slam it back into me. By the third time I was convulsing uncontrollably, moaning and gasping. I felt sweat breakout on my face. I fell face down on the bed and screamed into the comforter as I came. Wave after wave washed through my body pounding my brain with sensational pleasure. As the last wave of ecstasy subsided, I felt his finger slip from me. My asshole felt battered and sore. I felt gratified and exhausted and was happy for moment's respite.

I lay face buried in the comforter, ass still in the air. His fingers touched my clit and I winced, still so aroused it was painful to have him touch me. He must've known as his fingers left my clit, but enter my pussy. He easily found that spongy spot inside me and began to rub it. My body, still coming down, shot right back up again. Immediately, I was panting again. My pussy contracted around his fingers. He stretched me open with a third finger and continued to rub me. When his fourth finger entered me, I felt more stretched and filled than I ever had. I was trembling, moaning and crying softly. Why did he have to know how to do this to my body? I never had a chance, my second orgasm hit me and I cried out. In a chorus of wails and moans I writhed through the exhilaration.

He stayed with me through out the whole thing, slowly as my convulsions settled down, withdrawing to gently caress my mons and the outside of my pussy. I collapsed completely, sprawling over the bed. I felt him get off the bed. I laid there only semi-conscious of what was going on around me. I felt his hands on me again, helping me to roll over and sit up. He handed me a glass of water and I drank it in large gulps.

Finishing the water, I handed the glass back. His face looked soft, gentle and tender, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Fuck me please," I asked in a hoarse whisper. "Fuck me – get it over with and make me yours."

As I was speaking, he was delicately caressing my breast, considerately staying away from my nipple. I felt its sensitivity radiating through my breast. Never had my body become such a bundle of nerves from a man's touch.

His expression changed to concern. "Are you sure you want me to? You've had a hell of a night already."

I lay down on my back and opened my arms and legs to him. "Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me. I need to know that I'm completely yours." I wasn't even sure I would cum if he fucked me. I didn't think I cared either. I knew one thing; he had just given me two of the most incredible orgasms I had ever had. I knew something else too, if he didn't fuck me tonight, I would be able to face him in the morning, feeling that I'd let him down by not giving him pleasure.

He leaned over me, placing his lips to my throat. I shuttered at their touch. With the same excruciating slowness of everything else, his lips made their way down my throat and then my chest, down between my breasts, down my belly, down my mound. I was breathing again rapidly in short, shallow spurts. I gasp and cried out when he took my clit between his lips. Damn him – why could he just shove it in me and get it over with? Why did he persist in this torment of pleasure?

He lifted his mouth from me and put his hands around my hips, lifting them from the bed. Kneeling between my legs, he lifted my hips and guided them toward his erect, waiting cock. I gasped again, and he moaned lowly as he entered me. True to the night, he slid inside me slowly, turning my gasp into a long moan. I felt my hips touch his and he pulled me tighter to him, grinding his pubic bone against my clit, forcing an impassioned wail.

Rather than move his hips, he pushed and pull mine with his hands. I opened my eyes briefly to see he was looking down watching his cock appear and then disappear in side me. His rhythm was steady, not slow, but not fast either. Each time he pulled me to him he made sure to grind his pubic bone against my clit, sending intense pulses through me. I began to knead and squeeze my own breasts, tweaking and pinching my nipples. Their hypersensitivity caused painful pleasure.

"Oh – god – not again," I moaned with ecstatic agony.

His pace quickened and I felt him begin to swell inside me. I clenched my eyes tightly, my face contorting, my cunt contracting around him, and my body erupted again. Somewhere in the middle of it all I felt him filling me with his cum. All over, I felt this prickly numbness.

He rolled us over, together, never coming out of me and gathered me to him tightly in his arms. We lay together while I felt him soften and slip from me, his cum oozing out as he unplugged my pussy.

MrBlanik
MrBlanik
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AnonymousAnonymousabout 19 years ago
Sweet beginning

Soft and erotic. I liked the tension in her anticipation. I'm very much looking foward to chapter two; hoping to read more compelling domination and submission.

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