His face blanches and he raises an eyebrow. “Why does a respectable looking lady like you want Suite 001?”
I play with my pearls and almost consider telling him I’ve made a mistake. I contemplate this and leaving, but the dollar amount in the ad flashes in my mind again. “I’m here about the job advertised.” I point to the classified I’ve circled with yellow highlighter.
His bushy eyebrows climb higher. He clears his throat and straightens his navy blue uniform coat. “Lady, that job is not for you.”
Now I’m getting just a little miffed. No one tells Carrie Brannigan what to do. And when someone tells me no, I just get all the more determined. “I think I’ll be the judge of that, thank you. Now, if you don’t mind?”
With a disapproving scowl, he directs me to an elevator with ugly orange doors. Someone really needs to paint that, I think.
“Basement,” the security guard says, and as the doors close he adds, “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”
“Not exactly a confidence booster,” I mumble to myself before I hit the button indicating lower levels.
When the elevator slides open, I find myself in a drab, narrow grey hallway lined with white doors with gold numbers and keycard slots on each one. I locate Suite 001 and ring a doorbell situated near the keycard slot. A brief moment passes before someone swings it open.
The man standing before me has an aura of danger and mystery that instantly puts me on guard. “Hello,” he says, letting his thick, pouty lips curl in a sensuous smile full of lecherous intent. I detect a slight British accent. Then he steps back from the threshold, still not inviting me in as he gives me a bold up and down perusal while stroking his trimmed goatee. “Yes… as long as you’re not as good a girl as you look, I think you’ll do quite nicely. Come in.”
He takes my hand and I feel an instant spark. I study his face briefly as he leads me into the room. His eyes are ice blue, like slivers cut from a glacier, and set wide apart, which gives him a deceptively innocent look. His nose is wide at the nostrils, tapered as it moves toward the bridge, and his cheekbones are not too defined but still prominent. He reminds me of a man found in paintings of old world nobility. He’s slender and not much taller than my 5 ft. 6. With my curves and heavy breasts, I feel fat next to his proud figure with spiked hair that isn’t quite sure if it’s meant to be brown or golden blond.
The retort I had ready dies in the back of my throat when I glance around the room I’ve entered. Stainless steel tables are strategically placed close to stark, black leather couches and chairs. And on these stainless steel tables are dildos and assorted sex toys like I’ve never seen. At least, I think they’re sex toys. In my marriage to Colby, the boys’ father, we experimented—I even proposed an open relationship when I found he’d cheated on me for a third time—but our tastes had been fairly vanilla compared to the assortment I gaze at now, mouth hanging wide open.
He gestures for me to sit in a chair opposite a plain, wooden desk. “As you can guess, I’m not big on subtly,” he jokes, indicating the toys on display. “But I believe in giving full disclosure to all applicants as soon as they walk in.”
With a slightly shaking hand, I give him my resume. “Exactly what position am I applying for?”
Giving a vulpine grin, he ignores my question at first and extends a hand. When I take it, he brushes those soft lips just below my knuckles before he introduces himself. “Luke Wesley, but my good friends call me Dom Luke.” He used my hand to tug me closer to the desk. “And you’re applying, my dear, to test out designer sex toys.”
At this point, I’m sure I’ve given him my deer in the headlights stare.
His smug expression lingers as he scans my resume. “Tell me, Ms. Carrie Brannigan.” He tents his fingers in front of his face and stares at me with acute scrutiny. “How do you feel about that?”
“You design sex toys?” I blink at the instruments of pleasure surrounding me before I quip, “That last question makes you sound more like a psychiatrist.”
He laughs—a deep, throaty laugh that sounds like velvet to me. Yet still it holds that lingering danger I saw in his eyes when he opened the door. “I simply want to ensure you’re 100% comfortable with the job before we begin.”
My heart pounds like the feet of a scared rabbit fleeing a predator. But I bluff calm composure. “When would you need me to begin?”
His white teeth show wide between those pouty, sexy lips. “Well … immediately, if possible.”
The ad had also insisted that any applicants must prove their sexual health when applying. Which meant I had to go for an array of STD tests before I could vie for the position. The paperwork indicating I’m clean and disease free is attached to my resume. So, other than my reservations, there is nothing stopping me from saying yes.
Except for the knot of fear twisting in my guts.
I stall for more time and information. “Exactly who do you design these toys for?”
His slim, spidery fingers push a brochure across the desk towards me. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of Surrender Inc.?”
“No, can’t say I have.” I frown as I remember I still have to text Jake again to let him know all is fine. But I’m not entirely sure it is just yet, so I wait on that while I scan the information he’s just given to me.
Surrender Inc., I learn, is an exclusive, elite sex club and resort franchise. They cater to some of the richest people in the country, in the world, according to the pamphlet, and their clubs are open to people from all walks of life, assuming you can pay the entry fee, which is more modest than the resorts price tags.
Feeling intrigued, I ask, “How do you pull this off? Last time I heard, the sex trade was still illegal.”
He gives that wolf smile again. Stretches like a panther before he leans over the desk, drawing closer to me. “And do you agree with that, Ms. Brannigan? Outlawing the sale of pleasure?”
I shrug. “No, to be honest, I don’t. Everyone’s got to make a living somehow. I think if they legalized it there would be more protection for the workers. It would make the industry safer.”
His obvious approval shows. “I like the way you think.” He shakes a finger at me to add emphasis to his words.
He stands then, walks around the front of the desk in his simple white striped shirt that is untucked from tight leather pants. Staring at the way the leather molds to his lean, corded legs, I wonder how I missed those when I entered.
“And to answer your question as to how we get away with it.” He bends his head, narrows his eyes at me, and I feel like a dove trapped by a fox. “The people who run Surrender Inc. are some of the richest individuals in the world, darling. When they want something, they get it. But, be assured, play is kept safe and clean. We value the well being, along with the pleasure, of our customers.”
I nod, and just then my cell phone vibrates in the pocket of my white cardigan. My gut flipflops as I remember I was supposed to text Jake again to let him know I am all right.
“Excuse me a moment?” I mumble, embarrassed by this interruption and my getting so caught up in this man’s sexual aura I forgot to let Jake know I’m okay. I type out a quick text saying I’m fine and get back to my job interview, hoping my would-be employer isn’t annoyed.
He simply looks amused when I face him again. He offers me his hand and says, “Now, Ms. Brannigan, shall we begin?”
I swallow, inhale and exhale deeply. “I’m hired?”
He simply wears a look of self satisfaction as he guides me from my chair and kisses my hand again. This time, he suckles my pinky and ring finger, making me grow wet quickly.
“Yes.” His voice has gone raspy and wanton. “I think you’ll do very nicely, my dear.”
Briefly, as he leads me to a steel table full of what I assume are assorted dildos, I almost lose my nerve. But then I think about the leaky roof, Preston wanting to play hockey, and I stop being afraid and start being brave.
“First, I’ll need you to get
naked,” he tells me, giving my generous curves and teardrop shaped breasts another bold perusal. I feel as if his stare has already disrobed me. “You can use a change room.” He indicates two white doors down a short hall to our right. “Or you can take them off right here.” His expression shows he’d prefer the latter.
I get antsy, sensing this challenge. If I choose a change room, will he think I’m the extreme good girl he pegged me for when I first walked in and then rethink employing me? My skin tingles with nervous energy. Because of my extra weight, which I put on with each pregnancy, I’m not entirely comfortable with my body. What was once a svelte cheerleader’s form has now become pleasantly plump. Despite what television and movies would have you believe, not every woman stays a six three after two kids.
Still, I might as well get used to being naked around my new boss, and there’s no time like the present. “Right here will do fine,” I say, bluffing a confident smile.
He returns this with a Lothario’s leer. “Promising.”
My cheeks heat as I shed my modest white pumps and peach colored stockings. Quickly, I shed my cardigan, but my fingers fumble when I start to unbutton my dress.
He draws closer and his warm, smooth hands cover mine. “Here, let me help you.” His voice is like caramel poured over chocolate.
“Thank you.” The words emerge a raspy whisper, and my skin feels like it’s aflame as his fingers brush over it.
He stares deep into my eyes as he slips the garment off my shoulders, along with my bra straps. Then, after he unfastens my bra and lets it and the dress fall to the floor, he places tiny kisses on each of my nipples. Lastly, he slips the pins from my hair and lets my loose curls fall to my shoulders.
I inhale sharply. “Is this part of the job?”
He gives a throaty chuckle. “I’m just trying to help you relax, darling.”
I stand in nothing but my high cut, silky panties and he moves back to inspect me. If I were a buffet and he were a starving man, I’m sure he’d eat me whole. The look in his eyes is ravenous. It makes me move to cover my breasts, but he shakes his head and finger at me.
“Why would you hide such loveliness?” he inquires, cupping both full, firm mounds and gently massaging them, teasing the nipples again.
A gasp escapes me this time, which just earns more amusement from him. I feel my sex grow so wet it begins to pool in the crotch of my underwear. Then, swiftly, he yanks these down to my ankles and tells me to spread my legs. I hope I’m not blushing as much as the heat in my face indicates. I’m incredibly pale, as redheads often are, so embarrassment shows on me easily.
I finally gather my thoughts enough to answer his question, while he slowly squats before me. “I haven’t thought of myself in that way for a long time.”
His hand, now caresses a path over my stomach and faint stretch marks, stops just above my now tingling pussy. “Why?”
I shrug, try to avoid his penetrating gaze. “I’m not as thin or as young as I used to be.”
He squints up at me, and his fingers trace over the trimmed patch of hair between my legs. “Carrie, you have a very narrow view of beauty. We’ll have to fix that.”
He parts my inner labia and my stomach tenses, my pussy pulses. A finger runs up my wet slit and he smiles.
“Ahh, already aroused.” He looks like a pleased cat who’s just finished dinner. “Very nice. You’ll do well.”
Then he brings his lips to my clit and licks, just once, over this throbbing bud. A low moan escapes me and my head falls back.
“Very nice,” he intones again, while stroking a slippery thumb across my swelling clitoris.
Sensations I haven’t felt in a while unfurl and slither through my body. Part of me is terrified of being so uninhibited in front of a stranger, but another part of me is thrilled in a way I’ve never been before.
His hands leave me and I’m disappointed at the withdrawal of his touch. My eyes snap open as he grips my shoulders with long, warm palms.
“Now, Carrie, we’ll start light since you’re new to all of this. Today, I’d like you to pick your pleasure.”
He laces my fingers with his and leads me down the hall he’d indicated earlier. I’m led into a room on the right, at the very end of the corridor. Inside, I find more tables filled with toys and other sex devices I’m not sure I even want to test, let alone know about, but I put my anxieties aside and gaze at a device he points to.
It looks like a massive oven of some sort to me. It’s grey, with two doors at the bottom and a large, domed cover that has a plastic window you can peer through. This flips up, and he sweeps a hand over the innards of the machine, smiling proudly as he does so.
“Do you know what this is?” Dom Luke asks.
I feel my eyes widen and I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
He anxiously tells me, “It’s a 3D printer, and it is my most prized possession. This beauty allows me to invent any sex toy I can dream up.” He gestures for me to follow him with a finger. “Come here.”
Tentatively I step closer and he motions for me to follow him to a computer. He explains the 3D modeling software I see on the screen, then he opens files filled with a variety of sex toys, indicating I should choose whatever I wish.
I’m amazed, embarrassed, and enthralled all at once. There are vibrators that look like lipstick! Ones that could easily be mistaken for a rounded hairbrush, and yet others that look like innocent childhood toys. He tells me these ones are made this way so they can be easily concealed by the user.
“Just think,” he says. “Your friend tells you she’s going to the bathroom to freshen her lipstick, and…” He points to one ruby-red vibrator that looks like a tiny tube of makeup.
“That’s amazing,” I say, truly impressed.
He opens more files to reveal dildos and dongs molded from just about every type of penis you can think of. There are ones shaped like wolf and horse penises, even one shaped like a giraffe’s!
I give him a curious frown at this.
He shrugs. “What? It isn’t bestiality. It’s just a replica, after all.”
Finally I make my choice, selecting a dildo that looks like a child’s toy. It’s a royal purple color, and it’s base is made up of four stubby legs that make the toy easier to grip. Tiny diamond shaped bumps line its body, and these massage inside the vagina when you play. It’s head also wears a raised smiley face, which adds extra stimulation for the g-spot. As well, the toy is flexible, so you can bend it into any pose that better achieves orgasm.
Dom Luke pats a leather couch. “Get comfy and we’ll begin.”
My legs are slightly trembling as I sit then recline on a long black piece of furniture that reminds me of a psychiatrist’s couch.
He sits on the end and once more spreads my legs. Electric sparks seem to shoot up through my thighs at his touch. He’s shed his shirt now, too, and I can see the corded, lithe muscle carved into his chest, arms, and stomach. He’s lean and positively beautiful.
“Now I’m going to make you come, and you’re going to give me an honest appraisal of this toy.”
I swallow hard, force a smile through my nervousness, and remain quiet as I wait for his touch.
First he teases my tingling clit with his thumb, watching me all the time for reactions. I’m beyond embarrassed at this point, but the desire he also brings to life is undeniable. He dips his head and licks all the way up my now soaking pussy, then he tongues my clit until the pleasure tightens my stomach and forces me to moan.
“Very nice,” he says, his face shadowed with intense lust that makes my heart beat faster. “You react so well, so quickly.”
I almost blurt, Well, it’s been a while, but when he places the cool, plastic-like toy between my inner labia and starts to rub it back and forth the words are lost.
He turns on the vibration once he reaches my clitoris, and I gasp and grip the side of the leather couch as pleasure rockets through my pelvis, making my hips buck up to meet his sensual care
sses.
“Like that?” he whispers, still watching me closely with those icy eyes.
“Very much,” I breath, humiliated by my wantonness but enjoying it all the same.
He slips the toy closer to my pulsing opening then nudges its bumpy head and body inside. My cunt walls grip the toy tightly as soon as it enters, and each thrust creates an amazing friction that is almost mind blowing. The raised diamonds tease and titillate, urging me nearer to orgasm quite quickly. The bumps that create the happy face on its head tickle my g-spot perfectly, and the mounting pleasure pours liquid warmth through my muscles and bones, turning me to goo.
I inhale sharply and groan when his tongue flits out over my clit again. Part of me thinks, This wasn’t in the job description. But while I should probably be worried about letting this stranger touch me so intimately, I simply don’t feel threatened. Dom Luke makes me feel secure, safe, despite his aura of mystery and eccentricity.
Between the toy, the length of time it’s been since I last had sex, and his skilled licks, I soon climax, shuddering and letting out a loud moan as I do so. He purrs his approval, but he isn’t done with me just yet.
“One more,” he tells me, his voice gravelly and low. “Then I’ll take down your assessment.”
While he still fucks me with the flexible vibrator, he dips his head lower between my legs. Now he sucks and nips at my perineum, then uses teeth to tug on my extra-sensitive labia. I cry out and go to touch his silken hair, burying my fingers in its short length while he pleasures me.
“I want to make you squirt,” he growls. “Have you ever ejaculated before?”
“N-no,” I manage to get out in my throes of passion.
He thrusts deeper, moving the toy faster inside of me while he takes my clit deep into his mouth and sucks hard. Another orgasm swiftly climbs inside me and I hook my ankles around his neck.
Just as I let my head fall back on my shoulders and completely relax, the door swings open.
“Wesley, there’s another one here to see you,” the security guard from downstairs says before he notices our compromising position. “Oh, Jesus! What’re you doing to her?”
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