Julia and Mr. Page

by Serafina Conti

  At home that evening she read her email over a microwaved dinner—some frozen curry thing. There was a note from Eric (whose last name, she now learned, was Hairston):

  Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I’d like to get to know you better, and I’ve got the impression that you wouldn’t mind getting to know me.

  She still felt bound by her contract with Mr. Page, which did not permit her to have sex without his leave, but it wouldn’t be a violation to talk to him. Besides, she really needed some pleasure in her life, and just looking at Eric was a pleasure. So she wrote back that she’d be glad to have lunch with him.

  She met him the next day at a charming little restaurant in SoHo. He was already there when she came in at precisely twelve thirty: He smiled brightly as she walked in and rose to greet her. “Thanks for coming, Julia,” he said.

  “Thanks for inviting me, Mr. Hairston,” said Julia.

  “Call me Eric. Did you notice the building this restaurant is in?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but rushed on. “It’s one of the cast iron buildings SoHo is famous for. I’m completely mad about cast iron.”

  Julia hadn’t noticed, but she smiled politely and said, “They’re beautiful buildings.”

  “And practical, too,” he said. “In the nineteenth century, cast iron was an architectural innovation. It was great for factories and stores because it enabled big windows that let in lots of light. That’s why these buildings make fantastic apartments now. I’ve got a loft in one of them.”

  Julia found herself wanting to see his apartment. She coyly said, “Have you got a playroom there?”

  “No room for it, I’m sorry to say. In Manhattan you’ve got to be mega-rich to have that kind of space. But I make do with the space I’ve got. There’s lots of compact bondage furniture you can get. Mostly it folds up so you can hide it from from vanilla visitors, but it’s great for people in small apartments too. Now Arthur’s got an amazing dungeon.”

  Julia shivered. “I don’t like it much.”

  “Not into bondage?”

  “Not into pain. It looks like a torture chamber.”

  Eric laughed. “And Arthur does a good impression of a medieval torturer. He’s not, though. There’s no shortage of sadists in this city, but he’s not one of them. Bit of a dry stick, though. How did you hook up with him?”

  “I answered an ad in Craigslist,” said Julia.

  Eric laughed. “Figures that’s how Arthur would operate,” he said. “I don’t imagine the girls line up at his door.”

  “He’s kind of sexy, in a way,” said Julia, smiling politely but bristling a little inside.

  “Yes, I can see that,” he said. “And you’ve got to excuse me. I’m crazy about Arthur, really. He took me under his wing when I was just a student and introduced me to the lifestyle and some really important architects. I owe him a lot. But I’m kind of envious just now. I feel like I’m in a movie where a high school boy spots the girl of his dreams, the prom queen, but she’s already going out with the quarterback.”

  “I know that movie,” Julia smiled, “but you’ve got it wrong. The prom queen is the star, and she likes this boy, but she’s made promises to the quarterback, and she won’t break them.”

  “The movie sounds sadder than the way I remember it,” he said. “What kind of promises did she make?”

  “She belonged exclusively to the quarterback till graduation day.”

  “Wasn’t there some kind of escape clause?”

  “I don’t remember one.”

  “Something about always doing what he told her to.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know that you’d call it an escape clause.”

  “Check your email, prom queen. Maybe there’s a note from your quarterback. Have you got your phone?”

  She stared at him briefly, and then, with shaky fingers, she retrieved her phone from her bag and opened the email program. The note from Mr. Page was at the top of the queue:

  Julia,

  For this afternoon, you will obey Mr. Hairston as you would obey me, consistent with your limits. He will use protection as appropriate.

  Mr. Page

  She felt queasy. “He’s giving me to you,” she said.

  “Lending. You have the right to refuse, of course. This kind of thing is among your soft limits.”

  “No,” she said.

  “No?” He looked disappointed.

  “I mean, I know I have the right to refuse, but I can’t say no to Mr. Page.”

  “So you’ll do this?” he asked, incredulous.

  She looked down at the table and said, “Yes.”

  A waiter came and said, “Are you ready to order?”

  Eric stood and fished a twenty out of his pocket. “I’m sorry,” he said, handing the waiter the bill, “but our plans have changed.”

  Eric’s loft, just a few blocks from the restaurant, was a studio whose open floor plan and big windows gave it a spacious feel, though it was small. The furniture was modern without giving an impression of comfort, and the art on the walls was abstract. In the middle of the floor was a device that looked like a cross between an exercise bench and a sawhorse: it had solid sides with straps attached here and there.

  Eric bustled about in the kitchen area, fixing sandwiches, which he brought to the table along with some glasses of water.

  While they ate, he talked cheerfully about his apartment building, which had been converted from an old factory. Julia found it interesting, and his animation as he discussed his favorite topic made him more handsome.

  Soon the lunch was over. Julia had eaten only half of her sandwich, but didn’t want any more. Eric wrapped it and tossed it into the fridge, then turned to her and said, “Now.”

  She had risen from the table and stood facing him with her hands at her sides. “I’m yours to command, Sir,” she said.

  “Still just Eric,” he said, walked over to where she stood by the table, and undressed her—blouse, slacks, shoes, underwear. He stood back to admire her. She liked his stare, and she liked it when he undressed himself and stood in front of her, body solid and muscular, cock stiffening. She could hardly catch a breath.

  “Don’t tell me what you’re going to do,” she whispered. “Just take me.”

  He approached her and put his hands on her breasts. He had big hands, and they covered her almost completely. He fondled and squeezed for a few seconds, and then, quite suddenly, reached down for her pussy with one hand and thrust two fingers into her while with his other arm he pulled her to him and kissed her—a fierce and hungry kiss. His hard lips crushed hers, his strong tongue invaded her, and sensation blasted from below, where he was finger-fucking her roughly.

  Oh, why had Mr. Page never kissed her like this? Was she so repulsive to him—perhaps because she so readily did what he demanded of her? She wondered if he’d kissed any of the other girls he’d hired. The mere possibility made her mad with jealousy.

  She was recalled to the moment when Eric picked her up and carried her to the strange bench. With strong arms he positioned her on it face down: there were rests for her arms and legs, and straps for her ankles, thighs, wrists, and upper arms. Soon she was entirely immobilized, head not quite three feet from the floor and bottom a little lower.

  It was a perfect height, she quickly realized, for cocksucking, because as soon as he had attached her to the bench, he approached her from the left side, seized her head in both hands, turned her face towards him, and thrust into her mouth.

  Julia had learned during her first few hours as Mr. Page’s sub that she loved being restrained. Eric’s cock in her mouth brought back the vivid memory of Mr. Page driving into her while she was cuffed to the bed: how hot that had been! Thinking of that was doing as much to arouse her as what Eric was doing now, though he was thrusting deeper than Mr. Page had ever done, banging her throat till she thought she’d faint from the pure intensity of her pain and pleasure.

  Oh, but Eric was good, and he was gorgeous. From her posit
ion, she could see one powerful thigh, muscles rippling as he thrust—he was wielding so much force to fuck one slip of a girl! It was a thrill to be the object of such an expenditure of energy.

  Julia let herself be in the moment, savoring the sensation, the sweaty, musky smell of him, the beauty of his dark skin—she didn’t care if he never stopped.

  But he did stop, and he moved around to the other end of the bench, where her ass and dripping pussy were exposed to his view, his touch, and his cock. She heard a buzz and felt something pressed against her pussy. At first it was pleasurable, and then it was intense stimulation, but soon it was way too much, and she whined “Oh, God! Oh fuck!” and tried to writhe away. But she couldn’t move even an inch—there was no escape. The more she wriggled, the harder he pressed the vibrator to her clitoris.

  Should she safeword? She didn’t like the pain, but she wanted to obey. She remembered what Mr. Page had said about obedience being most meaningful when it was hard, and with the thought she located the pleasure inside her pain—the joy of submission. She still squirmed and moaned, but she glowed with happiness, understanding the happiness she was giving Eric and, through him, to Mr. Page, who had ordered her to obey him.

  The vibrator stopped buzzing—she heard it clatter to the floor—and Eric’s tongue was in her pussy, jamming into her clitoris and licking from there through her slit and up to her anus, which he sucked and prodded. She’d never have suspected that she could feel so much pleasure there—she wiggled her bottom, and he gave her a little spank in reply.

  Soon his tongue was gone, and she heard a condom wrapper torn open, and seconds later his hands were on her hips and her pussy was full of him. The bench groaned as he fucked her—he was so forceful! Her arousal was like a wildfire, burning her up: how could she bear it? She longed for more: an ass-fuck, more of the vibrator, a mouthful of cum. She was near climax with anticipation of it.

  But there wasn’t any more. He came with a groan, pulled out of her, and set to work releasing her from the bench.

  Julia didn’t want to be released. She said, “I thought you were going to fuck my ass and come in my mouth.”

  He smiled and said, “Gotta save something for our next date.”

  She said, “Get real, Eric. You came in my mouth the last time we saw each other.”

  He said, “Women don’t really like those things, do they? Anal sex and a mouth full of cum?”

  “Anal sex hurts, and cum in your mouth is gross,” said Julia. “But that’s why you’re supposed to do it. If you stop and think about what I like or don’t like, you’re not actually considering my feelings.”

  Eric stared at her, puzzled.

  11. Friday the thirteenth

  At home that evening, Julia ate from cans and watched TV. She had no idea how to extract Laura from her life of prostitution: maybe it would be better just to leave her there. At least she was bringing in enough to live on. Or maybe she should kill her with a heroin overdose, because sometimes the world was just that fucked up. She’d think more about it next week.

  The next day, Friday the thirteenth, she would have to have dinner with Hamilton and let him fuck her. The prospect filled her with gloom. In the afternoon she made some effort to pull herself together. If she was going to get the benefits Hamilton had promised her, she ought to look good. So she picked out a nice dress and took some care with her makeup and hair. She fished Hamilton’s card out of her purse, checked his address, and calculated when she’d have to leave so that she could be knocking on his door precisely at six.

  It was two minutes before six when she was buzzed into his apartment building. She rode the elevator to the eighth floor, located his door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

  It was Ms. Kim who answered the door.

  “Come in,” she said. “Don’t be afraid; this will only take a minute.”

  She led Julia into the living room, where Mr. Hamilton was standing in the middle of the floor. His granite handsomeness was gone: he had the look of a whipped schoolboy.

  With the air of a child who had memorized a poem for class, he looked at her and said, “Ms. Lindstrom, I wish to apologize for my inappropriate behavior, and for the liberties I took with you earlier this week. I assure you that anything I may have said that sounded like a threat was entirely empty, and that you have nothing to fear from me. From now to the end of term, you may attend class meetings or not as you please. Ms. Kim has agreed to read and grade your work for my course. If I am ever asked for an opinion of your work, I will refer the questioner to Ms. Kim or someone else better qualified than I to give an opinion.”

  With that, Mr. Hamilton looked down and studied the pattern on the carpet.

  “Do you have any questions, Julie?” asked Ms. Kim.

  Julia had many questions, but she shook her head.

  “Then we can go,” said Ms. Kim, and with that they turned their back on Hamilton and showed themselves out of his apartment.

  When they were in the hallway, Julia said, “What happened, Ms. Kim?”

  “The affair came to the attention of someone who was in a position to find out about the youthful trouble Hamilton mentioned to you. That person contacted Hamilton through a lawyer who negotiated the statement you just heard him make.”

  “Was it Mr. Page?” asked Julia.

  “It was a person who insists on remaining anonymous,” said Ms. Kim. “I suggest that you not go to Hamilton’s remaining classes. Instead you can discuss your stories with me, like an independent study—I think we’ll both enjoy that.”

  By now they were standing in the lobby of Hamilton’s apartment building. “Thank you, Ms. Kim,” said Julia, flung her arms around her, and hugged her.

  They parted on the sidewalk, and Julia went home and poured a glass of wine to celebrate the end of her crisis. She settled herself on her sofa and pulled out her phone to check her email. There was a note from Mr. Page which read:

  Five o’clock tomorrow. Don’t be late.

  She wrote back:

  Thank you, Sir. I’ll be on time.

  She could hardly sleep that night for excitement.

  12. Valentine’s Day

  The next day she decided she had to have a new outfit and, after some quick internet research, ventured out to a sex shop called Naughty Limited.

  A clerk approached her and said, “Something for Valentine’s Day, dearie?”

  Julia stared at her in astonishment. She’d forgotten about Valentine’s Day! But of course, something pink and sexy would be perfect. She picked out a skimpy pink fishnet dress with a mesh so wide that it hid nothing—the perfect outfit for a sex-toy.

  She had just time to race home and apply some makeup: she made her lips a more vivid pink than usual, applied pink eye shadow, and drew a little red heart on one cheek. She regarded herself in the mirror. She could do better, but she mustn’t risk being late. She threw some things into an overnight bag, put on a coat over her new dress, and left to find a taxi to take her to Gramercy Park.

  At five o’clock exactly she knocked on Mr. Page’s door. Suzy answered, shooed her in, took her coat, and whispered, “There’s three other people here.”

  Julia’s heart raced: she was sure she was in for another evening of humiliation and double penetration—she could handle it if Mr. Page was there.

  In the living room she found Mr. Page, Eric Hairston, Mistress Ai, and Inkei, all wearing grave expressions. Julia felt a tightening in her chest.

  “Sit down, Julia,” said Mr. Page, gesturing towards an overstuffed chair. Julia perched nervously on the edge of the cushion, feeling foolish. She had completely misjudged this occasion: something serious was going on, and in her pink fuck-me outfit, she looked like an idiot.

  “Mr. Hairston has approached me,” said Mr. Page, “with a proposition. He feels an attachment to you, and he asks me to terminate our contract so that you will be free to join him. I am willing to do this, but as I explained to him, I cannot terminate our contract unilaterall
y: you must consent. I also solicited the opinion of Mistress Ai, who agrees that you and I can do this by mutual agreement. As for the separate financial contract we have made, that will continue in force.”

  Julia glanced at Eric, who was beaming with pleasure, and then stared at Mr. Page.

  “Why, Sir?” she demanded.

  “Why what?” he replied.

  “Why are you dumping me, Sir?”

  “I am not dumping you. I am enabling you to take a lover who is more suitable for you than I am.”

  “Bullshit, Mr. Page. That is a transparent lie. You haven’t let me near you since way before Eric talked to you about this. You decided weeks ago that you didn’t want me, and before I agree to what you’re asking, you’re fucking well going to tell me why.”

  He bristled, but then got himself under control. “I’m forty-one years older than you, Julia, and as you know, I’m not well. I will not have a submissive who pities me.”

  “I have never pitied you, Mr. Page,” said Julia hotly. “I just wanted to know what was going on in your life. I will never pity you.”

  “You asked about my condition—”

  “That’s not pity, Mr. Page, but just human decency. I respect you, Mr. Page. I’m afraid of you. I need you . . . the way you exploit my body.” Julia turned to Eric and said, “I’m sorry, Eric. You’re really gorgeous, and you’re really nice. You have a beautiful face and body, and if Mr. Page ever wants me to have sex with you again, I’ll do it happily. But I won’t do it because you’re gorgeous. It’ll be to please him. I love him.”

  She was in tears now. She turned back to Mr. Page. Her words spilled out in a rush. “I’m really sorry, Sir. I know this is a big inconvenience for you. You don’t want a sub that’s in love with you, but one that just holds up her end of a business agreement. I can’t do that, Mr. Page. I can’t help it. I’ve probably broken the contract, falling in love. You can get out of it if you want. And you can keep the money, I don’t want it. There are plenty of things I can do. I’m not going to starve. Just tell me honestly that you don’t want me and I’ll go. But I don’t want to go, Sir. I want to stay with you.”