Summer Hire Ch. 13

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A graduate student's summer job leads her into a new world.
20.1k words
4.81
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Part 13 of the 20 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 02/08/2015
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brentaden
brentaden
271 Followers

Pony Ride

Melissa walked out of the exercise studio with a towel around her neck, her martial arts jacket bundled up under her arm. Mike had told her it was called a judo-gi and had shown her how to tie it into a tight bundle using the long cotton belt.

She was tired, but not as exhausted as she had feared. In fact, she realized she felt energized. Learning from Mike was very different than the session with Amy. "Mistress Amy," she quickly corrected herself.

Walking back to the house, she considered the question Mike had asked her. Was she really willing to kill another person, in order to save her own life? When the question was put so bluntly, the obvious answer was, "yes." But such a simple answer somehow didn't feel comfortable, and she wasn't sure why.

Mike was such an easygoing person. She had a hard time believing that he had killed people during his years in the military, although she knew that he must have. She was having difficulty reconciling all of her perceptions. Mike wasn't at all what she had expected. She had thought that a man with his background would have had a darker, brooding nature, with much more of an alpha-male dominance.

Instead, he was polite, open, enthusiastic, and attentive. "That's it," she said as she suddenly realized what seemed so weird about their interaction. The whole time she had been with him, his focus was only on her. His attention hadn't wandered at all. His focus hadn't felt threatening, and she didn't have any sense that he had been trying to seduce her or play mind games with her. He had simply listened to her, with total interest. He had talked a lot too, but she realized that when he told her something, he had always waited to see if she understood. It had been spooky.

She felt relieved that she had figured out what had been bothering her about their interaction, but that knowledge still didn't help her with the question of whether she was willing to learn how to hurt or kill someone. Mike and Erik did have a point, she thought; she was going to be spending at least some of her career in poor, backwater places -- where she knew life could be violent and cheap. She rationalized to herself that, just because she knew how to be violent as well, didn't mean that she would have to be. Learning what Mike had to teach her seemed like it was probably a good idea.

Entering the main house, she laughed to herself. The reality of how she was struggling over her decision had nothing to do with the 'girl-with-a-gun' image of Lara Croft. Nodding to herself, she realized that the contrast between movie fantasy and her reality was just like how Mike wasn't the Hollywood version of a super soldier or how Erik wasn't some whacked-out sadist. Reality and fantasy were such distant companions, that it seemed to require deliberate stupidity to confuse one for the other.

Looking at the divide between fantasy and reality in that light made Erik's attitude of treating fantasy as though it were a play toy seem like really good idea. By carefully labeling it 'play,' their fantasy life was kept separate from reality. She reminded herself that she had to keep this distinction clear while she was exploring the kink world. "Weird shit indeed," she told herself.

Erik walked out from his room, looked up at her, calling out, "How'd it go?"

She moved down the steps to join him. "It wasn't at all what I expected. Mike's a lot more... thoughtful than I would have guessed. And he's got this weird intensity. I mean, it's like he's really low key and all, but it's also like there was nothing else in the world but me. I didn't notice it until afterward, but it was kind of spooky."

Erik grinned as she joined him. He gave her a quick, unexpected kiss on the lips, and then led her over to a pair of overstuffed leather chairs and ottomans that looked out over the patio and meadow.

Sitting down, he said, "As far as I can tell, it's a Special Forces thing. It must be part of their training. When an SF guy is talking to somebody, that SF guy is really, really listening. I think it's like that whole 'mindfullness' thing that you hear being promoted in seminars on 'being a more effective person,' or some such crap. Only it really seems to work for them.

"Through Mike, I've met some other SF guys, and they're all like that, at least with outsiders. With each other, it's the usual macho, joking-around shit. But even then, when somebody says something important or new, they all stop and listen. No judgmental stuff or one-upping. They just seem to want to take it in and consider what the other person said."

He shook his head. "It's kind of wild. I don't know how they train that behavior into somebody, but I sometimes wish more folks had it."

Melissa nodded, "It was kind of weird... and amazing. I wouldn't have thought that having somebody really listening to you was such a big deal, but it definitely felt... different."

"Yep. So what else wasn't what you expected?"

"Mike was a lot more... gentle... and serious than I expected."

She paused, thinking back over her time with Mike. Erik cocked his head, inviting her to continue, so she did. "We talked about how violent some parts of the world can be, and whether learning to be violent in return was a good response. I don't know. I guess it is. But I'm not completely comfortable with it."

She shrugged, then continued, "What surprised me, though, is that Mike was completely okay with my doubts. He's not all macho about it. I don't know... I guess I'll learn what he has to teach me, and then figure out what to do about it when I've had a chance to think everything through. In the meantime, though, I guess I'm grateful for the chance to learn how to protect myself, even if it is feeding some twisted adolescent fantasy of yours."

Erik put his hand over his heart, feigning injury. "Forsooth, cruel and vicious woman. You accuse me most heartlessly of foul intent. My twisted adolescent fantasy was the most trivial part of my motivation."

Melissa laughed, "Yeah, and what was the other part of your motivation?"

"Pure, unadulterated lust." His gaze suddenly bore into her, and she felt her heart skip.

She struggled to regain control of her powerless response to his commanding gaze. She took a deep breath as stealthily as she could, trying to hide how much he had thrown her off center. Without any conscious intent of speaking, she found herself countering with, "So what was that kiss all about? Are we girlfriend and boyfriend, or slave and master?"

Erik smiled, seemingly unperturbed by her question. Watching him, Melissa squirmed inside, not believing that she had just blurted out something so direct. Then he answered, "All of that, I hope. Boyfriend and girlfriend, master and slave, plus there's the whole boss and employee thing. I know it's a bit of an uncomfortable mix. Sort of a hobgoblin, really. But it's like I told you, I'm committed to making it work, feeling our way through it, together."

Melissa countered, "If we're boyfriend and girlfriend, at least if that's part of it, then why do I have a separate room... like the maid?" Once again, she was internally appalled at her lack of control, especially in tacking on a barb about living in the maid's room. She gritted her teeth in frustration that she couldn't seem to start speaking without letting an angry comment slip out sideways.

Erik paused again. He had clearly noticed her anger and frustration. "I'm sorry. Giving you your own room wasn't meant to push you away, or demean you. I just... I wanted to give you a place of your own, a space that was yours. I know that I can be intense and that I often move too quickly."

He looked out the windows, across the meadow at the late afternoon sun. Then he turned back to her, "It's your choice, where to sleep, where your clothes are. I would love for you to share my bed, my room. I just wanted to make sure you knew you didn't have to. It seemed important to give you a room of your own, so you had a safe place that was yours."

"Okay. I guess... I understand. Sorry for being all pissy. It's just that I'm sort of scared. Off balance. Not sure where I fit in."

He nodded and smiled. "Right here, on my lap, enjoying a quiet moment at the end of the afternoon."

She felt the tension she had been holding in her shoulders seep away. "That sounds nice." She got up from her chair and stepped across to his.

"Sure you don't want to get those sweaty clothes off first?" His tone feigned innocence, but the twinkle in his eyes made his true intent clear.

She sighed, "Yes Master." She peeled the sports bra off her chest, over her head, and tossed it into the chair behind her. She held his gaze as she reached down and untied the drawstring on her heavy cotton judo-gi pants, letting them slide down her legs. Stepping out of the pants, she straddled his legs that were stretched across the ottoman. "Is this better, Master?"

He smiled, simultaneously contented and hungry, seeming to drink in her beauty. Almost to himself, he quietly replied, "Infinitely better." Reaching forward, he traced a slow, lazy line down her left thigh.

Her sex clenched and moistened at his touch. She continued to be amazed at how he could command her instant arousal. Letting her eyes half close, she swayed closer to him. He reached up and pulled her down to him, his lips brushing softly against hers. Her mouth parted slightly open. He held her motionless above him as he traced the opening of her mouth with his tongue.

As she leaned forward, the softness of her labia pressed hard against the denim fabric of his jeans. She shuddered, feeling her building need. Erik lifted her higher, pulling her forward so he could nibble along both sides of her neck. As she slid forward, she left a wet streak along his pant leg. The weave of his denim sliding against her clitoris had nearly pushed her over the edge. She gasped with a sudden intake of breath as the sensation threatened to overwhelm her.

He chuckled at her response, then kissed and licked along the soft curve between her shoulder and neck, slowly reaching upwards toward her ear. She found herself panting, fighting the urgency building within her pelvis. He chuckled again and raised his leg sharply up, pressing against the heat of her sex, which sent her unexpectedly spiraling over into a pulsating orgasm. She arched her back, throwing her head up, her hair whipping past his face.

When her shudders finally faded, she collapsed, limp against him as he lowered her torso down onto his chest. She snuggled into the clean cotton scent of his camp shirt and murmured, "How can you do that? How do you make me come so quickly?"

His only reply was a gentle stroking of her hair.

She turned slightly to kiss his chest, then laid her head back against him. Whispering, as though to herself, she speculated, "Must be some evil spell."

He laughed quietly, the soft motion of his chest rocking her head. Reaching down, he kissed the top of her head and replied, "No, the only spell is the one you weave around us. You are so full of life, so amazingly connected to your own sexual energy. I love to play with your body. You could be a Stradivarius violin. The feelings you evoke are so very potent and wonderful."

She whispered back, "I loved being played. You are truly a master. My Master."

He shifted a little underneath her, finding a more comfortable spot against the overstuffed leather cushions. Then he whispered back, "Don't forget, boyfriend too."

She lay quietly against his chest, slowly being lifted and lowered with his breathing. A tear trickled down her cheek, gathering for a moment before falling onto his shirt.

She wiped the tear streak from her cheek, hoping he wouldn't notice, then said, "Yeah, and boss too."

"Yes, tis true. And as your boss, what are you doing, laying around? It's nearly time to get ready for this evening."

"But... isn't there something I can do for you?" She felt embarrassed that he had so deftly brought her to yet another orgasm while she hadn't done anything in return but enjoy it.

Still lying against him, she felt his laughter rumbling in his chest. She lifted her head to look at him as he replied, "Dear one, simply playing with you gives me such pleasure. You never need to worry about what I want." He grinned evilly, "After all, I will simply take what I want, when I want it. You are, in case you've forgotten, my sex slave."

She protested innocently, "But Master, I need to practice my deep throating. You did tell me that I had to practice every day."

He looked at her, disapprovingly. "If I didn't know better, I'd say my little slave girl was trying to manipulate me."

"Oh no, sir. I should never do such a horrid thing. I only seek to make myself a better sex toy for your amusement. Please sir, can't I practice just a little bit?"

"Oh, you are a dangerous one indeed." He sighed deeply. "Very well, you may unzip me."

"Thank you, Master, thank you," she said as she slid eagerly down his body until she was nuzzling his obviously rigid penis through the straining fabric of his jeans. She slipped open his belt and unbuttoned his waistband. Seeing that his zipper had a fabric pull tab, she used her tongue to lift the tab to her teeth, then she bit down on the tab and slowly drew his zipper open.

With her nose and chin, she nudged his penis out from where it had been trapped by a fold of his pants. He groaned with a deep, satisfied sigh as she took him into her mouth. She remembered to spend some time getting him wet first, before taking him in deeply. When she slid him down to the back of her mouth, she flinched a little bit as her gag reflex kicked in.

He told her, "Just hold it there awhile. Breathe around it and let your body get used to the pressure. Don't hurry your gag reflex. Just relax into it."

She concentrated hard on being able to breathe while the head of his penis filled the back of her mouth. After a minute, the panicky sense of not being able to breathe ebbed away. Her fear of imminently gagging also subsided. She began to slowly draw him in and out, each time pressing him more firmly against the opening to her throat.

He slipped his head back against the cushions for a moment, "Oh God, that's so good. I really love watching myself disappear into your mouth."

She tried to smile, but her mouth was so full of him that only the corners of her mouth quirked upwards.

She could now press him more forcefully against the opening to her throat, although the size of him seemed to make it impossible to go any further.

He noted her difficulty and said, "Remember to straighten out the line of your mouth and throat. If you slide yourself down a little further, that'll tilt your head up a bit."

She wriggled down, feeling a little awkward in how she was half draped across the ottoman. Although the angle had improved, she still couldn't get him past the constriction of her throat.

"When you're ready, yawn. That'll stretch your throat open."

She paused, took a final deep breath, and then made a yawning motion. His penis suddenly slipped past the back of her mouth and into her throat. She fought down the rising panic caused by feeling such fullness intruding into her throat. She was only dimly aware that Erik had tensed up and was now breathing in shallow, jerky breaths.

As she gained control over her panic, she slid him deeper in, wanting desperately to match Deborah's ability to press her lips up against his torso. As she got close, the feeling of fullness overwhelmed her, and she had to pull away, drawing him back into her mouth.

She swirled her tongue around his head while breathing deeply, making up for not being able to breathe while he was in her throat.

He groaned contentedly. She was proud of the effect that she was able to have on him. He seemed so much less guarded as he gave into just enjoying her attentions. Determined to keep him in that place, she held her mouth in a yawn again and took him back into her throat. It seemed easier this time. There was definitely less of a panicky feeling, although she was also starting to feel very sore from having her throat stretched.

She didn't want to go much longer, but she also wanted to have him cum. For the moment, ignoring her increasing soreness, she started to rapidly move him in and out, taking him as deeply into her throat as she could. She could hear his rising gasps and groans as his orgasm built. With a loud groan that was nearly a roar, he orgasmed, shooting pulsating jets of semen deep into her throat.

She pulled him back into her mouth, breathing hard. A final few spurts of his cum filled the back of her mouth. She still could barely stand the taste, but she made herself roll her tongue over it, knowing it was important to him that she at least pretended to like it. She did feel a deep sense of satisfaction in being able to make him cum this way. She now truly appreciated Serena's joy this morning at being able to make Erik cum when he had been trying to keep on a schedule.

Erik slid his penis out of her mouth. He seemed protective of it, as though it was overstimulated. She knew that her clitoris often got overly sensitive right after an orgasm. Of course, her clitoris could easily be overly stimulated by a clumsy boyfriend rubbing directly on it. She often wondered what the hell they thought it was, perhaps some sort of button they were supposed to keep on pressing like a monkey trying to get a reward?

Erik looked down at her, his eyes still half closed in refractory bliss. He lifted her chin up, to see her face better. She smiled. The motion made her realize that some of his cum must have dribbled down her chin when he pulled out. Feeling self-conscious, she wiped it off with her hand, then wondered where to wipe her hand clean. She didn't want to use his pants or the leather ottoman.

Remembering Serena's admonitions, she tilted her head down to lick her fingers clean. Erik groaned his approval as she feigned savoring her task. His clear enthusiasm actually made it easier to ignore the taste and honestly enjoy the process. Perhaps he was right, and she really liked being a sex slave. All the evidence seemed to point in that direction.

She looked back up at him. "Thank you, Master, for letting me practice. Your slave is grateful." As she spoke, however, she realized that her throat was quite sore. It felt as though she had been shouting far too long at a football game.

He hummed his approval, still enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm too much to speak. She slipped back up to lay her head on his chest once again. He put his arms around her and snuggled deeper into the chair.

Sore throat aside, she decided that she was very contented to be his sex slave for the summer. She didn't see how it could keep on going once school started, but it certainly was nice for now.

* * *

She hadn't even realized that she had fallen asleep when the "bang" of the screen door swinging shut startled her awake. She looked up bleary eyed as she heard a British-accented woman's voice calling out, "Hello dearies."

Erik stirred underneath her, then called out, "Down here, Mrs. Grady."

As Melissa's eyes regained focus, she saw a small, dark-haired woman with a picnic hamper coming down the steps from the upper level. She seemed younger and fitter than the stout, gray-haired matron that Melissa had envisioned. Mrs. Grady smiled at her with a broad, welcoming grin.

With a start, Melissa suddenly remembered that she was sprawled naked across Erik. She slid off, scrambling to snatch her judo-gi pants from the floor and her sports bra from the chair.

"Don't worry about me, dear," Mrs. Grady called out from above. Melissa looked up. The housekeeper had set the basket down on the counter and turned away to give them some privacy. Melissa hurriedly stepped into her pants. She struggled to pull up the stiff cotton judo-gi while she was still crouched over and trying to hide her breasts behind the crumpled-up sports bra she had clamped across her with one hand.

brentaden
brentaden
271 Followers