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Authors: Claire Thompson
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ankle cuffs with the hobbling chain between them.
“Walk toward the bathroom and back to me,” he instructed Carly. She looked incredibly sexy in the outfit as she took careful, mincing steps toward the bathroom, her gait limited by the chain between her ankles, as was the intention. She had tied the apron’s sash in a floppy bow behind her, the loops of which hung over her shapely ass as she walked.
When she returned to him, Adam instructed Carly on how he required the bed made, watching her execute a hospital corner and smooth the sheets just so before showing her how he liked his pillows. “You’ll find fresh sheets in the linen closet,” he informed her as he pulled away her handiwork, tossing the bedding onto the floor. “I like the sheets changed every two days. Today is a changing day.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He took her to the bathroom, showing her the hamper for the soiled sheets, the linen closet and where the cleaning supplies were kept. “You will clean out the shower and the Jacuzzi if it’s been used. You will wash down the sinks and counters, make sure the towels are fresh and properly folded, clean the mirrors, scour the toilet, wipe down the baseboards and mop the floor. When you think everything is done to my satisfaction, you will press this button here.” He showed her the intercom that was set into the wall above the light switch.
“You will wait in the bedroom at attention, arms behind your back, legs spread as far as the chains will allow, until I come to you. You will accompany me during my inspection, and if your work passes muster, all to the good. If not, well…” He shrugged. “Take all the time you need,” he added. “It had better be done right.”
Adam savored the flash of fear that moved through her pretty blue eyes, his cock swelling at the thought of the delicious punishments he had already devised when she failed to satisfy him, as she invariably would.
“Are we quite clear on this?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Adam left her looking through the linen closet for the bedding she would need and headed down to his study. Once seated behind his desk, he logged on to his computer and answered several emails. He started to open the feasibility study file one of his vice presidents had prepared, but instead found himself reaching for the Erotica Auctions contract, spreading it flat on his desk and turning to the second page to examine Carly’s signature.
Carly Abrams
Her handwriting was clear, the slant slightly to the right, the press of her pen confident and flowing. She was beautiful, sexually responsive, obviously masochistic, possibly submissive. What else did he know about her? Damn little, other than she was willing to sell herself for a few dollars.
Well, not a few, he conceded, though he wasn’t sure what percentage of the amount he’d bid for her actually went into her pocket, and what percentage the auction house kept for themselves. Still, it had to be enough to give up whatever you were doing for a month, enough to sell yourself to a man you’d never met. What kind of employer would allow you to take a month-long leave of absence?
Maybe she was independently wealthy, a trust fund baby with more money than sense—overeducated and overindulged. Somehow he doubted this. More likely, she was a checkout clerk at a supermarket or the assistant manager of a hardware store—definitely not the sort of woman who moved in his social circles.
Even if she’d finagled time off from her menial job, if she were involved with someone, especially someone dominant, how could that man allow her to sell herself the way she had? Adam barely allowed himself to acknowledge the satisfaction he felt to realize the odds were excellent that she was unattached.
What do you care?
“I don’t,” he said aloud, turning toward his computer screen. “Just curious.” He typed in Carly’s name to see what would come up. A few Twitter and Facebook accounts, a massage therapist in Vermont, none
“Walk toward the bathroom and back to me,” he instructed Carly. She looked incredibly sexy in the outfit as she took careful, mincing steps toward the bathroom, her gait limited by the chain between her ankles, as was the intention. She had tied the apron’s sash in a floppy bow behind her, the loops of which hung over her shapely ass as she walked.
When she returned to him, Adam instructed Carly on how he required the bed made, watching her execute a hospital corner and smooth the sheets just so before showing her how he liked his pillows. “You’ll find fresh sheets in the linen closet,” he informed her as he pulled away her handiwork, tossing the bedding onto the floor. “I like the sheets changed every two days. Today is a changing day.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He took her to the bathroom, showing her the hamper for the soiled sheets, the linen closet and where the cleaning supplies were kept. “You will clean out the shower and the Jacuzzi if it’s been used. You will wash down the sinks and counters, make sure the towels are fresh and properly folded, clean the mirrors, scour the toilet, wipe down the baseboards and mop the floor. When you think everything is done to my satisfaction, you will press this button here.” He showed her the intercom that was set into the wall above the light switch.
“You will wait in the bedroom at attention, arms behind your back, legs spread as far as the chains will allow, until I come to you. You will accompany me during my inspection, and if your work passes muster, all to the good. If not, well…” He shrugged. “Take all the time you need,” he added. “It had better be done right.”
Adam savored the flash of fear that moved through her pretty blue eyes, his cock swelling at the thought of the delicious punishments he had already devised when she failed to satisfy him, as she invariably would.
“Are we quite clear on this?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Adam left her looking through the linen closet for the bedding she would need and headed down to his study. Once seated behind his desk, he logged on to his computer and answered several emails. He started to open the feasibility study file one of his vice presidents had prepared, but instead found himself reaching for the Erotica Auctions contract, spreading it flat on his desk and turning to the second page to examine Carly’s signature.
Carly Abrams
Her handwriting was clear, the slant slightly to the right, the press of her pen confident and flowing. She was beautiful, sexually responsive, obviously masochistic, possibly submissive. What else did he know about her? Damn little, other than she was willing to sell herself for a few dollars.
Well, not a few, he conceded, though he wasn’t sure what percentage of the amount he’d bid for her actually went into her pocket, and what percentage the auction house kept for themselves. Still, it had to be enough to give up whatever you were doing for a month, enough to sell yourself to a man you’d never met. What kind of employer would allow you to take a month-long leave of absence?
Maybe she was independently wealthy, a trust fund baby with more money than sense—overeducated and overindulged. Somehow he doubted this. More likely, she was a checkout clerk at a supermarket or the assistant manager of a hardware store—definitely not the sort of woman who moved in his social circles.
Even if she’d finagled time off from her menial job, if she were involved with someone, especially someone dominant, how could that man allow her to sell herself the way she had? Adam barely allowed himself to acknowledge the satisfaction he felt to realize the odds were excellent that she was unattached.
What do you care?
“I don’t,” he said aloud, turning toward his computer screen. “Just curious.” He typed in Carly’s name to see what would come up. A few Twitter and Facebook accounts, a massage therapist in Vermont, none
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