I began to moan softly from the pleasure.
“Yes, a bit naughty,” I mumbled through my heavy breathing.
“What else?”
I pictured the memory in my mind and I was still unsure if I should go on confessing to him. I was afraid that he just wanted to discover if I was an outright slut so he could throw me out. At that point, though, I really didn’t have much to lose. We were already well on our way into an unforgettable first impression of each other.
“Well, the next day, during another meeting, I slipped him a note across the table that said I wasn’t wearing any panties.”
“You weren’t wearing any?” he asked.
“No, Mr. Norton,” I replied through a heavy moan. The pleasure was beginning to radiate through my body and I closed my eyes for a moment. Suddenly, his hand lifted from between my thighs and quickly landed with a sharp snap.
“Very naughty,” he whispered deeply in my ear after I gasped from the sting. While at first I was shocked from having my cunt spanked, it was now beginning to become a thorough turn-on.
“Yes,” I replied. “Very naughty. But not as naughty as when we fucked in the restroom on the way out,” I told him.
“In the restroom? At the client’s office?”
“Yes, in the building, I mean. Down the hall from their office.”
He snapped his fingers between my legs once again and I gasped from the mixed sensation of pain and pleasure. My cunt was tingling with warmth. I had never felt so exposed and open to being punished for my desires. My legs were still fully open and my thighs tightly constricted.
“This is very naughty,” he whispered to me as he slid his fingers up and down between my thighs. I began to moan deeply and he refrained from further questioning for a few moments. He delicately fondled my clit and I wanted to squirm from the raw pleasure. I felt like I could be moved to an orgasm in a matter of seconds. My eyes fluttered open and shut while I moaned with increasing volume. His lips were pressed against my ear and I could hear every breath he took. Suddenly, he moved his hand from between my legs and shifted away from me.
“Very well, then, Natalie. Please return to your seat so we can finish the interview.”
I sat there in disbelief for a moment, in total shock that he had just taken me to such a raw moment of pleasure and then just stopped. My legs were still spread open when he sat back down behind me in his chair. As I slowly closed my legs, they were still trembling from the tension of being held in such an extreme position. I cleared my throat and tried to gather my composure. I stood up and my dress dropped back down to where it was before the whole scenario had begun. My panties were still on the floor but I decided to just leave them there. I turned around and sat back in my seat. I could hardly think straight and my emotions were still caught in an aftershock of erotic energy.
“So now that we got that out of the way, tell me how you would balance the role of the good wife and the naughty wife.”
He asked the question in the most casual manner, as if he had not just finished spanking my cunt in the most perverse way.
I was so thoroughly turned on by how he methodically controlled the whole moment that I was ready to tell him anything.
“Well,” I began, still trying to catch my breath, “I guess I would have to learn…uhmmm…I guess I would have to learn…”
“Yes?” he said to me as he raised his eyebrows in expectation of my response.
My mind was sparking in all directions in its search for the right words.
“Uhmmm…well, I guess I would have to learn when it was proper to be a good, clean smiley housewife and when it would be proper to suck and fuck like a dirty housewife.”
I couldn’t believe the words came out of my mouth like they did. He just nodded up and down as he processed what I had just said.
“I see. That’s a very good response, Natalie.”
He picked up my resume once again and examined it.
“So are there any other skills you have that would be beneficial to this position?”
The only position I had in my mind at this point was the one in which I was riding on top of him in his office chair but I was quickly learning how to keep my composure in the way he desired. His repressed personal feelings following his wife’s passing had been so fetishized into intense moments of control that I felt like I was dealing with a warrior of martial arts eroticism.
“Yes, absolutely,” I retorted. “I think that I have both particular skills that would be beneficial to this position as well as a general sense of awareness about what makes a man like you tick.”
Anderson eyed me up and down, trying to get a sense if I was bluffing my way into his heart or if I had some caliber of expertise that I had yet to display.
“Go on,” he said in a simple tone of a seasoned mind.
“Well, there are certain things a woman has either learned or will never learn at this point in her life,” I told him.
“Such as?’
“Such as the extreme care that must be taken not only of her man but of his relations with the world around him. Men thrive on power and power they must have.”
His eyes fixed intensely on my own before they darted away to the far end of the room as he let the cogitations simmer in his mind.
“Yet, certain erotic proclivities often distract him from the task at hand,” I told him. “I would make sure that your distractions were reduced to mere white noise on a muted TV.”
He ogled me again as he began to understand how extreme my mental disposition could be altered.
Anderson sat back in his chair and eyed me from a more distant perspective. He knew when he had met me that he had stumbled upon a special women but he hadn’t realized how eclectic I truly was in my acute perspective.
“Anything else you would like to add before I conclude this interview?”
I thought for a moment if I should add anything else to my previous diatribe but I believed I had gotten my point across. I wanted to leave a little dap of whipped cream, though, to make sure he understand how sweet of a cunt I truly was.
“Well, I can drink like a lady, fuck like a slut and cook like a chef.”
He glanced at me as it tried to take all the words in.
“That’s all. Maybe there’s more, but I’m sure your experience will tell you if there is, Mr. Norton.”
Anderson nodded up and down methodically. He was still in firm control of the interrogation but he was definitely taken back by how thorough I was in my profession of my skills and experience. He rose from his chair deliberately and I followed his lead. He quickly extended his hand.
“I’ll look over your qualifications, Miss Natalie Cinderella, and I’ll be in touch.”
We shook hands, or at least I placed my hand forward and he proceeded to engulf it in his own potent grip.
“I just want to thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Norton. I hope I have made a good first impression.”
He simply glared at me with a fresh sense of reserve.
“Yes, you have performed well. I’ll be in touch. Let me lead you out.”
He passed by me and unlocked the door to his office. It was only once I was at the threshold of the door that I realized that my little black g-string was still on the floor. I glanced at it out of the corner of my eye but thought it might be best just to leave it there. Anderson led me back out into the main part of the house. I could hear the roar of the crowds from the football game on the television in the living room as the announcer made the call on the play. Our quick exchange of eyes communicated that his sons were occupied with the game. He led me out to the front entry way and opened the door for me.
“Thank you again for meeting with me. I’ll be in touch,” he told me. The tone of his voice had grown exponentially more formal in the short distance from his office to the exit.
“Thank you for the interview, once again, Mr. Norton. I hope this is the beginning rather than the end. I have barely met your sons.”
> He smiled reservedly and extended his hand once again.
“Drive safe, Natalie.”
“Thank you.”
Before I knew it, I was sitting in the quiet comfort of my car and the reality of what just happened hit me. There was still a strong tingling sensation between my legs. I looked around to make sure no one was watching and then lifted up my dress to take a look. The sight of my reddened, enflamed cunt instantaneously turned me in the rawest of ways. I had never had a man do that to me and the fact that this was the only thing this man had done to me made it seem especially deviant. I ran my fingers between my legs. It felt incredibly sensitive but almost numb at the same time. A car suddenly passed by and I quickly pulled my dress back down over my legs. I started the engine and headed back home. As I drove, the erotic images of what had happened saturated every one of my thoughts. I began to ask myself how far I really wanted to take this wild and outrageous housewife situation. Was something like this even possible? Was this my idea of settling down? Could this really happen? I hadn’t even been offered the “position” yet, but I wondered how long I would be considered the “hired housewife” if things moved forward? It all sounded so outlandish, but it was certainly more interesting than corporate work. There was no doubt about that.
Ivy Glen Academy
from The Slut List
Valentina never imagined that her 18th birthday would end up like it did, much less the rest of her senior year at Ivy Glen Academy. She always had a view of the school as this pristine private institution in the heart of white-washed suburban Mariposa. It was the type of place that was always receiving blue ribbon awards and at the top of the list of America’s best high schools to which parents were just dying to get their kids accepted.
She had felt like an outsider since her first day there. Most of the other girls thought of her as rebellious and free-spirited, but she thought it was simply a matter of not fitting in. She detested all the school’s strict rules and had migrated from one group of friends to another as the years had passed. She planned to go art school when she graduated. Maybe Parsons in New York or the Art Institute in Chicago, she thought. Getting into an elite art school was everything in the world to her, but it would all depend on the usual prerequisites- stellar recommendations, a brilliant portfolio and some kind of scholarship or financial aid.
Valentina never imagined her entire world would come to revolve around “the slut list” nor that her step-mother would do everything in her power to keep her on the list. It was not at all how she imagined her senior year was going to turn out.
She had spent months planning her birthday celebration. It felt like it was finally going to be her coming out party into adulthood and the beginning of a new life. She was so sick of all the immature cliques of high school kids who tried to exclude anyone who didn’t fit into their stereotypical image of perfection and who didn’t conform to all those rules of perfection. She didn’t mind some of them, such as the emos, the goths and the skaters, but it was that group of preppy girls who got under her skin with their obsession over wearing the latest couture brand of clothing and their fixation on only dating a practically inbred group of guys from other wealthy families.
The “goodies” were this select group of girls that seemed to hand down their feeling of superiority from one class to the next, with each higher class deciding who would be included in the coterie of the cool ones and who would be relegated to lower regions of the pecking order. When she was a freshman, she immediately was cast as one of the “dirties.”At first, she couldn’t figure out why anyone would call her that, but after the first few weeks of school, she pieced it all together. She dressed differently, lived in an average neighborhood, had a step-mom and looked too foreign to fit in with the elite white girls and the other girls who tried to be white. She was a bit of an exotic ethnic mutt with a mixture of Italian, Spanish, French and African heritage. Her olive colored skin and green eyes made her feel like a foreign exchange student among the homogenous collection of typical-looking white girls. She was thin but she had what her friends called a “butt made out of bubbles” and enough cleavage since she was a pre-teen to make even old men take notice. She quickly got used to the girls sneering at her and making up things about her behind her back. It was just how it was- the “goodies” on one side of the teenage planet, the “dirties” on the other and everyone else in between.
For the first three years, the conflicts were fairly innocuous. There was name calling at lunch, minor scuffles at parties and a general ostracizing of her and her few friends at all school functions. When “the slut list” came out, though, everything exploded. It was if the “goodies” had planned it all along and were just waiting for her 18th birthday to really start the hazing rituals. What really triggered it, though, was when the school decided to institute school uniforms for every student. It sent a ripple of confusion through the entire social order. No longer could all the cliques show who they were with their choice in clothing. Now they had to up the ante with harsher talk and real actions.
She had no idea that Tyler Rothschild was going to show up at her party. She didn’t even know how he had heard about it. She had saved up money for months at a part-time job in order to rent out this local club so her friend’s band could play. She even got a friend’s older sister to buy a bunch of bottles of liquor to sneak in to spike the drinks. Tyler was the one who came up to her to wish her a happy birthday. She never believed that he would really ever be interested in someone like her, but she didn’t really care by the end of the night. It was her 18th birthday, she was drunk and she ended up hooking up with him in the back room of the club. First they were just kissing, but then he began to fondle her stealthily underneath her clothes and after that, it just turned into a drunken blur. The last thing she remembered was the two of them sneaking up to the roof where no one could see what they were doing. Even at her young age, she knew that life was short and she didn’t want to waste a single moment on it because of fear of what other people thought. Not everyone else, though, had the same perspective.
It was early on Friday morning when she got the list. She was walking up the broad cement stairs in front of the school. She had finally gotten used to wearing the regimented blue and green plaid skirt, the white button-up and the white socks that the private school had decided was the way that school girls should look. She was beaming with excitement that she had finely turned 18 and the whole world was going to open up for her.
It must have been that gleaming smile spread across her face that caught the attention of the goodies. The unquestionable leader of the clique was Brittney Van Slauson. She looked like a blond-haired Amazon goddess of white girls. She was nearly six foot tall, had the slender curves of a model, possessed a pair of blue eyes as pure as the sky and walked around like she was going to step on you if you didn’t move out of her way. Her father had also donated so much money to the school that they named the library after her family name.
When Valentina entered the central hallway, it was as if time suddenly went into slow motion. Brittney’s eyes locked onto her in a hard, cold gaze and a devious smile spread across her seemingly angelic face. Brittney moved immediately toward her and Valentina’s body tensed up as she waited for Brittney to accost her with some new insult. She never understood why but just being in the presence of that Nordic-looking goddess made her tremble. She always got the sense that she was going to do something physical to her. It was inexplicable but the mere sight of her brought butterflies to her stomach. When their two bodies met this time, though, Brittney merely stopped in front of her, took a folded piece of paper from her bag and handed it to Valentina.
“What’s this?” she asked defiantly.
“I think you know, Valentina,” she replied with a haughty smirk.
“No, I don’t,” she said to her coldly.
“Well, you should have known it was coming and you were going to be on it.”
Valentina unfolded the small piece
of torn notebook paper and looked down at what was written on it. There were eight names, scribed in Brittney’s elegant handwriting, with her name at the top.
“It’s the slut list,” Brittney told her, “and you’re the number one slut.”Brittney looked her up and down, and then just laughed.
Valentina’s heart beat heavily for a few quick seconds, trying to figure out what this meant.
“You’ll be on it for the rest of the year so you’d better get used to it,” she sneered, and then just walked away with her books held adroitly in her folded arms like a model student.
Valentina just shook her head in disbelief and kept on walking down the hall. At first, she didn’t think anything of the stunt but it didn’t take long to figure out that she wasn’t the only one who knew about the list. When she turned the corner and headed toward her locker, a wave of eyes descended on her. They giggled or snickered to each other before they motioned toward her so their friends knew exactly who they were talking about. The blood flushed through her face. She wanted to run away then and there, but she held strong and marched on to her locker. She quickly took out the book she needed, slammed the locker shut and rushed off to her first class.
When she entered the class, the eyes cascaded toward her once again and she rapidly slipped into her seat, opening her book to pretend to read. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She still had the list in her hand and she stealthily took it out to read it. She placed it on the fold of her book and opened it. At the top of the paper was written, “The Slut List,” underlined in thick black pen. She read the list of names:
Valentina Sintora
Lucy Chow
Torie Monroe
Rachel Schultz
Lakeesha White
Maria Mendoza
Liliana Ortega
Sara Worthington
She tried to figure out if there was any rhyme or reason to the list. She knew many of the girls on the list in a casual way but not all of them. A few of the girls on it did have a reputation for liking to sleep around but some of the others didn’t. Half of them were some kind of ethnic minority, including Lucy Chow and the two Mexican girls. There were rumors that both of Maria and Liliana’s parents were illegal immigrants. She was surprised to see Sara Worthington’s name on it as she thought she and Brittney were good friends.
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