“You’ve got work to do, nanny. Get your fuckin’ ass outta bed!”
He was out the door and gone seconds later.
While it wasn’t immediately apparent, life did change for Alexa following that night, but slowly; there would be no quantum leap. Two steps forward with Luke, always led to one step back. The submissive resignation that saw her through her life with Warren was back in place again. She let any change in the nature of her relationship with Luke unfold without comment, being too afraid that anything she said would force him to retreat and she’d be back in the hated storeroom every night forever.
As it turned out, she rarely slept in that hated room after their first nighttime odyssey. Even when the swaggering boy announced with his puffed-up bravado that he was ‘banishing’ her to the storeroom, he rarely followed through for longer than a night, if that. She might lie in the stuffy room for a few hours, but once his libido kicked in – the most faithfully consistent thing about him – she was back humping across the bedsheets of the master bed, his favorite sport.
On the occasions when he passed out from liquor before his lust kicked in and he had a chance to snatch her away and screw her, she spent the night alone in the narrow bed, a stark reminder that her life was not her own. She belonged to the boy.
If nothing else, the first two months of the new arrangement had taught her the depth of her feelings for Luke, feelings powered by a dreadful longing she couldn’t shake.
Chapter Seven
One afternoon Alexa was working in the kitchen, her head in the old oven, cleaning grime that likely hadn’t been touched since she cleaned it months before Warren died. She wore an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts she’d fished from a cabinet of her old clothes, which now constituted the bulk of her meager attire. She’d thought she’d never see the shabby remains of that tattered wardrobe, her slave clothes, as Warren called them. Shifts, shorts, threadbare leggings, scanty tops; she’d championed the sloppy unkempt look far before it became fashionably chic. These clothes had seen her though six years of slavery. Warren liked her so attired. He liked seeing her in rags like a street urchin begging at the corner for nickels or a quarter. There was a second set of clothes, the presentable ones that had been hers to wear when Luke was home; for those brief summer months her status was raised from slave to employee. When she played the part of Luke’s nanny, she performed only light housekeeping chores, leaving the winery staff to do the grunt work that was normally hers to do.
“Nice pose. Hinting at something, are we?”
Hearing Luke’s voice behind her, she tried pulling upright and ended up bumping her head hard on the edge of the stove. “Dammit!” she muttered under her breath. She raised up and pulled out, looking like a frumpy kitchen wench, while Luke stood just a few feet away with Bo at his side.
“Hint of what?” she gazed at the pair baffled. “I’m just cleaning the oven.” She took a deep breath of clean air.
“You know that your ass is a perfect heart shape when you’re bent over like that?” Luke said.
She shook her head nonplused.
He chortled a bit. “So, stand up, wench, and let me see you.”
Though suddenly rattled by the order, she managed to rise to her feet and present the two men with a rare and strangely erotic sight. Yellow rubber gloves that reached nearly to her elbows were the most obvious feature of her attire, and hardly sexy at all, but combined with the cut-off short-shorts, the loose-fitting tank, and her hair in a tangled disarray, the natural eroticism made her difficult not to stare at. She blushed with the realization that her nipples had hardened in to tight knots, and two pairs of eyes had noted the fact. Luke licked his lips in a deliberate taunt; while Bo’s smirk was far more subtle, focusing her arousal on him and the fact that his presence nearby had been haunting her for days. True to his word on that first day back, he remained on the outskirts of her life with Luke, popping up at the house only to discuss business matters. She was still angry with him for bringing her back to the winery in the first place, but seeing him now suddenly recalled her old desire for him, which seemed as fresh and real and vital as it had ever been. He produced a visceral feeling in her like no other man could.
The force of her desire shocked her, and for a moment, she was afraid that she’d give her feelings away to both men. Thus, she turned her attention back to Luke – the far safer choice of the two. She was his, not Bo’s. To entertain Bo in her mind was crazy stupid. Despite Luke’s claim that his winery steward had the right to take her on demand, she knew the boy would be jealous if Bo exercised that right, or she showed him any favor – perhaps the reason why the man had been so scarce.
“You look like a serving wench,” Luke noted with immediate disgust.
“I suppose I am.”
“Well, not to me,” he announced with a scowl. “Those shorts and that t-shirt are about as sexy as the old dishrags you wash with. You may be a scrub girl but you’re still the nanny to me. This needs to change.” He thought a moment, then spoke again. “Keep the rags to clean in, but as long as you’re my sex toy, my slutty nanny, you’re going to need some decent clothes when I want you looking sexy.”
“Yes, well, this is all I have,” she spoke quite frankly. “At least they’re clothes I’d dare to clean in. Certainly you don’t want me wearing my ‘nanny’ clothes for that…although if you really insis…”
“Fuck no!” he cut her short. “You’re not a school marm either.” He laughed. “And forget that nanny thing! What a hoax you two sluts perpetrated for my benefit. You and dad pretending to be the picture of decorum, while you’re crawling for him on hands and knees, and spreading your legs for him on demand. Now that I’ve had you for myself, I know what a trampy slut you were,” he chortled darkly, “all the while playing the innocent and respectable nanny. You were brilliant!” The accusations were like acid rain in her gut, punching holes in what little self-esteem that remained.
“I did what I was told to do,” she said, as the blush of embarrassment reddened her pretty face.
“Of course, you did,” he came back flippantly.
“It wasn’t appropriate for your father to parade me about as anything other than your nanny. Neither your father or I would have done anything to expose our relationship to you.” How the conversation had morphed to this topic was baffling.
“Well, I’m tired of seeing you in rags. And your body is too fucking hot to hide like this. Next week. That changes next week.”
He stared at her enough to make her shudder, although he’d seemed to make up his mind about something at that point. Then the conversation abruptly shifted back to the reason the two men were at the house in the first place. Bo was looking for something, something about a manual, his needing the original instructions for a broken machine. Alexa suggested that he might find what he wanted in the downstairs closet where a stack of owner’s manuals were stored.
Luke walked away once the conversation was over, Bo gave her a polite nod, and Alexa was left to stew about what ‘next week’ would bring.
***
Two weeks later, Luke called Alexa into the living room, where among the usual furnishings were stacks of boxes, and shopping bags from Nordstrom, Macy’s, and several upscale San Francisco boutiques, all names she didn’t recognize.
“Not much in off-the-rack merchandize, but I did find one off-beat designer who does a lot with restrictive corsetry, and another with zipper skirts. Try them on.”
Alexa stared at the pile before her not knowing whether to be curious or scared.
“Try them on here? Or should I take them to my room.”
“Of course here!” he shot off. He plunked himself down in the only empty chair in the room, and put his feet on the coffee table while shoving a box or two on the floor. He waited cockily for her to begin, smiling broadly, in response to which a shot of desire raced though her crotch causing her whole body to shudder. She trembled as she reached for the nearest box sitting on the edge of his des
k.
“No, not that one! This one over here,” he pointed to the stack of boxes on the sofa directly in front of him.
Each box was striped in pale grey and tied with a neat pink bow at the top, the signature design from one of the upscale boutiques. Alexa picked up the first, pulled away the ribbon and opened the lid; then from the mountain of pink tissue inside, she pulled out a cream-colored corset that made her shiver the moment her fingers touched the silky surface. Thoughts of Warren and corsets and visions from her past rose up like an angry tidal wave, but she threw them off, and zeroed in on Luke’s studied glance. Her body and its womanly assets had been displayed numerous times for Warren and his friends. She’d endured their stares, the degrading comments, even a few brusque catcalls that made her wince. Usually there was some liquor in her system to soften the sting, and after a few years, the incidents were no longer a big deal. The fact that the exhibitions actually titillated her to a startling degree had been her little secret. Few realized that her blush was in truth a flush of desire, and that her panting breath was more about arousal than fear. Warren knew. He knew everything about her, or so he claimed, but he let her have her secret. While she was pawed at, slapped and generally manhandled by his friends, he sat back, remote and observant, preferring to take his own pleasure afterwards when he used her arousal for his own sexual satisfaction in private.
Luke wasn’t interested in subtleties and secrets – although at least for now there was no one around to enjoy the display his sex slut was about to give but himself.
He sensed her arousal was on the rise; he loved observing how it made her blush, and milked the moment for every ounce of sadistic pleasure he could enjoy. She fussed with the corset for nearly a minute, becoming thoroughly rattled by the hooks and eyes, the dangling laces, the unique whalebone construction. This wasn’t the lacy lingerie version of corset Warren liked.
“I-uh, I’m not sure I can put this on by myself,” she finally blurted out in frustration.
“Really? I thought you’d have something as simple as a corset mastered by now,” he spit out sarcastically. He popped to his feet, grabbing the garment from her hand. “You start by taking off your clothes…which go right to the burn pile…” he looked around the room for a spot, “over there,” pointing to a far corner.
“But these are perfectly good clothes…” she objected.
“And you’re stalling. I’ll give them to the poor if that makes you happy. Now strip.”
Minutes later, the old clothes lay in a heap and the creamy corset was tightly cinched around her waist. Luke had assisted, pulling the rear lacing more tightly than Alexa ever could have herself. His warms hands made her tremble more, and she could sense his domination of her with every tug of the satin strings. This was new. A sudden desire for him careened through her with a wild sweep of passionate longing, an entirely submissive longing that fed off his newly found authority. She fended off the feelings. Not with Luke. Never with Luke, she tried telling herself with some insistence. But even then she feared the seed of submission had already been planted, and that it would grow and come to full flower before it finally died.
“Luke please!” she gasped. She swore the laces were much too tight.
“Get used to it!” he snapped.
“Used to not-breathing… !” she snarled back.
He gave her ass a hard smack, then seemed to back the laces off slightly, but hardly enough to make a difference in her breathing. Moving in close, Luke’s crotch brushed against her naked rear, as he whispered softly in her ear, “You’re just out of practice, nanny.” Though she remained still as a scared mouse, her body trembled from within; and as Luke’s fingers began a delicate journey down her arm…to her waist…to the warm flesh of her ass where he had just delivered the stinging smack, her inner trembling turned to overt shivers. The light touch and his hot breath gave her crotch a sudden fierce jolt, then he grabbed her sex in his hand and held it fast as he gave it a rude shake.
“Now we’re getting down to the truth about you. I didn’t realize the effect a pretty corset makes on the submissive psyche. But I do now.” His mocking words ripped right through her with the truth.
Turning her about with his hands, he stepped back to study the look of her hourglass figure, then smiled with admiration.
“Strange little lady in the store. She promised the fit would be perfect. She didn’t lie.”
The corset was sleek, without ornamentation, fitting snuggly about Alexa’s body like a glove. No fancy brocade. No lace trim. Yet every feature of her exquisite body vibrated before him with submissive lust. Her waist was tucked in tight, her belly smooth below, while the corset cinched her torso stopping just beneath her breasts. With her body so constricted, her tits plumped to nearly double their size while bouncing softly with every move. An eye-popping sight for a boy of Luke’s years, and like any red-blooded male, he took time to stare admiringly at the sexy vision before him, the jiggling mounds of flesh and nipples hard as knots. Perhaps more satisfying to Luke was the curious change in attitude. Alexa didn’t like revealing herself to the boy, but after weeks of holding back, containing her physical desires, and stomping out the fantasies breeding recklessly within her thoughts, the submissive within her could hold little back now.
She watched his eyes, how they moved from her breasts and traveled to the bottom of the corset. The garment ended just below her hips, leaving her cunt naked for an observer’s eye. Along the bottom edge were six substantial garters for securing nylon stockings.
He nodded, pleased. “Yes, perfect!” he smiled. “Now, the skirt.” He grabbed for the second box in the stack and tore from inside a dark length of material with no shape at all. “Buttons at the waist, zips down the back and locks with a key,” he explained in response to her bemused gaze.
Although he thrust the skirt into her hands, Alexa needed help with the zipper and lock. She managed the button at the waistband, but after several embarrassingly awkward attempts to lower the zipper over her behind, she looked at Luke in frustration.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he chortled.
“I don’t think it’s possible—” she started.
He stepped forward and placed his palm against her face, a claiming sort of gesture that made her feel owned when she allowed herself to feel that touch. The sensation of being owned was inside her now. Her rising emotions leapt to the forefront and her surrendering self emerged as if it had been reborn. Aware of this, she shivered anew. She was embarrassed to be reduced so easily, to be taken in by a corset and a young man’s fantasy with so little resistance. She should have seen through his game, been more contained and less vulnerable to his charms. Weak and behaving like a silly schoolgirl enjoying her first crush, she’d collapsed any barriers remaining between them. She was no longer ‘better’ than his game; she was part of it, relishing the way she wanted him when she should have let that desire die.
“Don’t think it’s possible? Everything’s possible,” Luke shot back. “Just like your submission to me has gone from the realm of possible, maybe even unlikely, to fact.” He paused to let his words sink in, “I never would have thought it possible that the sexy nanny who took care of me all those summers would become my personal property…but she has. Today she’s realized that her submission to me is indisputable, no matter how she may rail against it.” He stepped back, mocking her with a smug grin. “If I can realize my fondest desire, certainly you can figure out how to zip a skirt. Now let me see you do it.”
Her lips were parted and her breath uneven as she reached behind her to draw the zipper down. This time when she tugged the slider, the zipper pulled down over her rear without a hitch.
“Wait! Not that far!” Luke stopped her midway. Taking over, he jerked her around and determined how far down her ass to set the lock. Pulling out a small silver padlock, he thread it through the appropriate holes and secured it in place. The padlock rested at the base of her ass, though not far en
ough down to be considered modest. He made certain when she walked in the skintight pencil skirt, that one could see the bottom of her ass and the two plump cheeks pressing against the fabric. Not sufficient cover in public, but perfectly fine within the confines of Luke’s winery and house, and he was pleased.
He paired the skirt with a sheer grey blouse that fit loosely over the creamy corset. There were others, tighter, button-up blouses, that would stretch across her pushed up tits and restrict any movement, but for now, he liked seeing her proud beauties bouncing freely beneath the filmy fabric.
For the next hour, she continued the fashion show of clothes, with Luke tossing some out as unacceptable, though most he kept. When they were finished with the clothes, she tried on shoes, stilettos and boots, and practiced a graceful walk, while Luke looked on critiquing her style. She did this in an almost trancelike state, taking orders from the young master without even a second’s hesitation. Once she had the look he wanted perfected to his satisfaction, he motioned to his purchases. “Bring it all upstairs – but just the clothes – hang everything in the back of my closet. You’ll see I’ve cleared out a space. As far as the clothes you wore for my father, get rid of them. Bo can take them to Goodwill, whatever you like; but I want them gone.”
“The cleaning clothes, too?” she wondered aloud.
He met her objection with a cool stare. “Yes. Everything.” She looked at him doubtfully and could feel his ire begin to rise. “Yes, Alexa. Everything. Every rag, every stained tank top and torn up pair of shorts. You’ll either clean the house in clothes like those you’re wearing now” – referring to the tight skirt and thin blouse she wore at the moment, – “or nothing at all.”
“But—!”
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