Mastered by the Hired Man

by Melissa Harlow

  Carlos shrugged. "I saw him earlier going up towards the house. I thought maybe he was going to clean the pens in the calf barn."

  Lenore barely heard him. She was too busy staring. Carlos' white shirt was plastered against his dark skin, sticking to his chest, emphasizing the taunt brown nipples beneath. The muscles in his thick arms rippled as he began dragging hay bales down from the wagon.

  She was glad he'd stayed on because she needed the help, but the package that the help came wrapped up in was a definite bonus. She still couldn't find a single fault with Carlos Ortiz. He was, without a doubt, the best-looking man she had ever seen. Looks had never been at the top of her list of important things, but with Carlos it was impossible to deny that the man was pure perfection.

  He had the body of a man who had worked his whole life. Muscles and scars, large hands, with calloused fingers, that had picked fruit, dug post holes, and done hard labor since the time he'd been old enough to pick up a shovel or a hammer. There were a lot of men like him, those who broke their backs long hours for measly pay, those who didn't complain that the sun was too hot, or the job was too hard, but there was also something else glaringly obvious about Carlos. She loved him.

  James could never be replaced, but his memories weren't nearly enough to keep her going. She needed a man, a flesh and blood man, not the ghost from her past. She'd dreamed the old dreams a thousand times, but now she had new ones and it felt like the fog of depression was beginning to lift for good. Her mind replayed over and over his hand slapping her ass, his mouth suckling her clit.

  She could help Carlos unload the wagon. She was strong enough to throw a few bales, strong enough to do a lot of things, like keep this place going since James' death. The whole town said that was the reason why she'd married James anyhow, to get this farm. They didn't know a damn thing. She'd never been with James to take; her place with him had been to give.

  James had been her everything. Yes, he had been almost twenty years her senior, and maybe to some people he wasn't terribly attractive, but Lenore had seen James with her heart, and she had given to him all that she had to give. Before James she'd never had an orgasm, other than the ones she had given herself, but James had taught her things about herself that she would have, otherwise, never known. He could be mean, he could be unreasonable, but Lenore had learned that pleasing him was what she needed.

  With James she had learned how to let it all go. She learned to forget her own desires, and let his needs become hers. Pleasing James had brought her more pleasure than anything ever had. It had annoyed her at first, his pushy ways, his demands, and his force, but she soon learned that he'd been right all along. Lenore craved a man with power, a man who dominated. Soon after they became one, Lenore learned she could become aroused just by kneeling before him, waiting, anxiously, to see what he ordered her to do next. Whatever it was, James would have it, and she would be happy to comply.

  Carlos was the polar opposite of the man James had been. Carlos wasn't pushy; Carlos was polite, almost to a fault. He was a little bit shy, and a whole lot sweet. She sometimes wished he was like Santiago, because while she did not have a physical attraction to Santiago he had a commanding personality that she found exciting.

  Lenore put her hand on Carlos' broad shoulder, grateful for just the opportunity to touch him, to feel him under her palm, although it would only be for a few seconds. The muscles beneath his slick, wet skin were tight. She wished she could rub them, massage away the knots and the aches. Anything that she could do, no matter how small, to make him happy, or to make him feel good, would be satisfying. Softly she brushed away a few wisps of hay that stuck in his hair, wishing that she had the freedom to run her fingers through it.

  "I'll help you unload the wagon, Carlos" she offered, moving close enough to him that she could feel the heat of his body radiating to hers. Lenore often looked down when Carlos looked at her, an old habit, but now she met his eyes silently begging him to forget about this damn hay for just a little while.

  He shook his head. "No Ma'am, I wouldn't feel right letting you do that. I'll get it myself."

  She hated him calling her Ma'am. It seemed a reminder that he didn't see her as a woman, because she was too old, or she was his boss.

  "Hey, what's the matter?" Carlos' concerned voice interrupted her brooding thoughts. His hand rested on her forearm and she looked down at it, at the long fingers tipped with blunt, dirty nails, and his thumb with the blackened fingernail from when he'd crushed it while he'd worked on the tractor. She wanted to kiss his bruised thumb, to take it between her lips and soothe any pain that Carlos had ever experienced. His hands were beautiful, powerful and strong. Lenore's body tingled imaging how rough they would feel on her skin, how hard they would be if he laid her over his lap and spanked her again. She shivered.

  "I don't really like being called Ma'am," she admitted, although she didn't want to correct him. It was very difficult to have him working for her because she was uncomfortable giving him orders. More than once she'd done jobs that she knew he would have done for her, but she was too afraid to ask. She didn't want to be Carlos' boss, and in that role she felt terribly out of place. Every dream, every desire she had screamed out that this man should be the one in control of her.

  "What would you like me to call you?"

  Your slut. Your dirty little whore. Just the thought of that made her knees weak.

  "Lenore is fine. Please? Ma'am sounds ... I don't know, so old."

  He smiled. "You're not old, Ms. Lenore."

  Ms. Lenore. Well, hell, that was almost as bad as Ma'am. He went back to his work as if she weren't there. She watched him for a few more minutes, and then decided to go back to the house. There was nothing else she could do for him today. She'd already brought him lunch; standing here staring at him was only going to make her look more foolish.

  "Carlos, Henry Blevens is supposed to come by sometime this week. He wants to look at one of the horses. Would you mind taking him up to the stables and showing him around?" she asked as she went towards the door.

  Lenore had always hated Henry. He wasn't shy about making it known that he liked her though. A real touchy, feely creep. He was repulsive, both to look at and to be around. It seemed that nature should have been kind enough to give a man who was so ugly a nice personality, but Henry hadn't been blessed with that either.

  Carlos shook his head. "I'm sorry Ma'am ... I mean, Ms. Lenore. I tried last time he was here, when he came to buy that bay horse. He said he would not deal with the help."

  Knowing Henry the way she did, and based on the way Carlos said the help Lenore suspected that Henry had used a far more derogatory term to describe Carlos. He was just like James used to be in that respect. She had always been grateful that Master James had never insisted on her doing anything with Henry.

  "I'm sorry," Lenore sighed. "I suppose if he shows up I'll deal with the asshole."

  Carlos laughed. "I'm surprised to hear you speak like that, Ms. Lenore."

  "Just calling it the way I see it. I hate him."

  "He likes you," Carlos remarked. He didn't sound pleased about that and it made Lenore happy.

  Lenore smiled back at Carlos and turned to leave the barn.

  "I like you, Carlos," she whispered on her way out the door, without turning back around.

  The rain was relentless, and icy cold. Lenore's clothing was soaked, her t-shirt heavy and wet. She went up on the porch and glanced back down at the barn. Carlos was only a shadow from this distance, but she squinted and peered through the rain watching him unloading the hay.

  Shivering, she pulled the screen door open and went into the house. The house that seemed so empty now, the house that belonged to her and that she didn't want.

  Santiago was standing inside, motionless in the foyer, almost as if he'd been waiting for her. Lenore felt a twinge of fear as she faced him – that same fear that he had accused her of liking: fear that made her legs weak, and her body hot. She hadn't sp
oken to Santiago for a long time, purposely avoiding him even when she started going outside again. While she had feelings for Carlos it was hard to suppress the effect that Santiago's imposing presence had over her. In so many ways he reminded her of Master James.

  "What are you doing in here?" she asked.

  "I thought maybe there was some work you'd need done inside."

  Lenore shook her head. "No. Please, go and help Carlos unload the hay. He wouldn't let me."

  Santiago smiled. "You sound disappointed. Why would you want to work when you don't have to?" He waved his hand as if shooing a fly. "Carlos is strong as a mule, let him do it himself."

  "He's been working all day," Lenore said. "I'm sure he'd appreciate the help."

  Santiago took a step closer and Lenore began to feel more uncomfortable. He had an eager expression on his face, and his dark eyes glittered with excitement.

  "I'll help you get those wet clothes off," he offered.

  "No thank you," Lenore took a step back.

  Santiago took her roughly by the arm. "You're going to get sick standing there all wet like that. Let's get you out of this wet shirt." He grabbed the bottom of Lenore's t-shirt and pulled it over her head.

  Lenore trembled when the air hit her bare, wet skin. Her bra was wet too, and she shivered.

  "Such a big bruise!" Santiago said, caressing the spot above Lenore's breast where one of the heavy fence gates had hit her a few days ago.

  "I bruise easily," Lenore said, awkwardly aware that Santiago was even closer to her now. He touched her boldly and Lenore's eyes drifted closed. She liked the way it felt, his rough hands on her tender skin.

  "Because your skin is so fair," Santiago said breathily. His rough hand slid into Lenore's bra, and Lenore felt his fingers slip beneath her breast. Santiago cupped it softly, and then lifted it, until Lenore's bare breast spilled over the cup of her bra.

  "Your nipples are already hard," he said, licking his lips. He lowered his head and caught one in his mouth. She expected him to be rough, but he was not. His mouth was hot on her chilled skin. He sucked softly, distracting her from the way he was insistently unbuttoning her worn Levi's.

  She gasped at the sudden and unexpected touch of his hand sliding down her belly. He worked it beneath the elastic band of her panties, and when his finger slipped between her pussy lips she shook, wanting him to stop, but needing him to continue. Almost involuntarily, she ground herself against his hand.

  Santiago laughed, a deep, pleasant rumble in his chest. "Somebody's a horny girl, isn't she?" he said, his index flinger expertly flicking her clit.

  His fingers moved down, one probing inside of her, making her moan. A second finger then, and Lenore rocked forward, rewarded with the brush of her clit against his rough palm.

  "No," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Be still. You get only what I give you .No more," his fingers pushed further inside of her. "No less."

  The authority in his voice was captivating. She stood as still as possible as his fingers probed her with agonizingly slow movements. His thumb leisurely rolled over her clit until she whimpered. She clenched her teeth, conscious that she was close to pleading, begging Santiago to give her release.

  "Please..." she finally whined, unable to remain silent a second longer. She pushed herself tight against his hand teetering right there on the edge of a powerful orgasm. "Please?"

  "That's a good girl – that's what I want – I want to hear you beg. This is what you need, isn't it Lenore? You need a man who wants to fuck you, who wants to use you." He jerked his hand away and pressed his wet fingers to her lips. She could taste her own arousal as her pushed them into her mouth. His hand slipped back between her legs and began tormenting her again. "A man like me – who wants to master you, not some fool who works in your garden."

  Carlos. Lenore waivered, torn between the feelings she had for Carlos and the aching need she had for fulfillment. She closed her eyes tightly, trying not to think about Carlos and how wrong this felt. How can you cheat on a man you don't have? A man who might not even want you?

  "No, I can't do this, Santiago!"

  Lenore struggled to pull away from him as Santiago's fingers closed around her clit and pinched it sharply. Lenore's whole body responded to the pressure of his fingers sending a gush of warmth between her thighs. Her whole body ached with the need to come.

  Angered at herself, Lenore jerked backward, but Santiago didn't let go. His fingers tightened, squeezing harder, until Lenore whimpered with pain. His expression changed, he was smiling, but his jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. "You like that don't you? Pain. It took me a while to figure you out, but that's your thing, isn't it honey? You like some pain."

  She did like it, but she slammed the door hard on the thought of doing anything further with Santiago. She had failed James and fantasized about Carlos, but she would not fail Carlos. He didn't know it, but she already belonged to him. She pulled back further, away from Santiago's grasp.

  "You ready to suck my cock, Lenore? Kneel down and I will let you." Santiago roughly grabbed a handful of Lenore's wet hair. "You do a good job for me and I'll let you come. I'll slap that sloppy wet cunt of yours until come like the slut you are."

  She batted his hand away, glaring at him, aware that if it were Carlos standing there she'd already be on her knees for him.

  "Don't look at me like that," Santiago said sternly. "We're going to have a lot of fun together. Come on, quit pretending you're my boss. You know you aren't. You're going to be my slut."

  She would be allowing him into some dangerous territory if she gave him control over her, and she was tempted to give in, because this was the kind of man that she needed. Lenore made an attempt to put him in his place. "What's wrong with you, Santiago? How dare you talk to me like that!"

  Santiago stared at her, half a smile on his determined face. "I felt how wet you were the night your old man brought you to the trailer. You wanted it then. You still want it. I let you grieve that miserable old bastard, now I want what he had. All of it! You know, I didn't remember you when I first came here, I was only a kid the first time I saw you, but you were already a slut."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "My cousin, Miguel."

  Her mouth went dry at the name.

  "Miguel is your cousin?"

  "Yeah, is it all coming back to you now? He fucked you in the back of his buddy Rico's car; you put on quite a show for us. You would have fucked Rico when Miguel was done, but the cops came. I was only about thirteen, but you would have fucked me too, wouldn't you?"

  Lenore shook her head not even wanting to think about how much it had hurt her that Miguel didn't care. No one had ever cared until Master James. "I didn't want anyone but Miguel."

  "Liar! It didn't matter anyway, Miguel didn't like you. He called you the specimen cup. He said he'd get all excited thinking about girls who were really pretty and then he'd dump his cum in you." Santiago shook his head. "Miguel thought that you were ugly, you wore clothes like a boy."

  Lenore swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way that made her feel.

  "Funny how your old man spent all these years paying for something Miguel didn't even want! Miguel shoveled horseshit for a living and he didn't even want you! Acheson did, though, didn't he? Yeah, that old fucker dropped a fortune to keep you around, gave you the fucking world on a silver platter all to get your slutty cunt. But you didn't love him, did you? You really wanted the one who shoveled horseshit, the one you couldn't have. You know why? Because you wanted to be treated the way you knew you deserved, not like some high-class bitch – no, you wanted to be a specimen cup because that's all you know how to be."

  "I think you should leave, right now," Lenore said.

  Santiago persisted calmly. "You know I'm right, Lenore and I saw what's in your dresser drawer. Those pictures of you."

  Lenore felt the color draining from her face. The pictures. James had taken thousands of pictures of her, tied
up, on her knees, in every conceivable submissive pose that he could think of.

  Santiago grinned at her. "You like being on your knees, don't you? It's okay, baby, you can be my specimen cup, my slut. Hell, you can be my girlfriend's slut too. She'll let you lick her pussy, she loves that shit. She might even do you too if you're real good."

  " I saw you in those pictures, you like having your cunt full of a big fake dick?" He laughed, "What drawer are your dildos in Lenore? I couldn't find them. Go get me a nice big one and I'll put it in your ass while I fuck you."

  An intense rush of anger tore through her at the thought of Santiago snooping through her belongings. No one had ever known everything that had went on between her and James, and Lenore could just imagine him telling Carlos about the things he'd seen in those photographs. They'd probably laugh about it. She'd never be able to face Carlos again if he knew. She'd never be able to take him a sandwich or a drink again without being embarrassed.

  "You had no business looking through my things! Don't you tell Carlos about those pictures!" She could hear the panic in her own voice, and she realized that she'd just given Santiago more ammunition to use against her.

  Santiago chuckled. "Oh, I see what's going on now. You still want Carlos! Do you think about Carlos tying you up like in those pictures?" He laughed harder. "Do you play with yourself at night and imagine Carlos is fucking you?"

  "Carlos is just my employee," Lenore said, trying to sound convincing.

  "And you like him, don't you?"

  She wanted to lie, to deny it, but found she was not able. Although he was not present to hear her, Lenore couldn't deny Carlos anything.

  "Yes, I care about him." Lenore said, and then she tried desperately to smooth it over. "He's a hard worker, and he's very helpful around here."

  "You don't care about him anymore than you did Miguel. Always ready to spread your legs for anyone who wanted to use it!" He leaned his face so close that she could smell the cigarette on his breath. "I want to use it."

  She ignored what he'd just said and softened her voice. "Don't tell Carlos about those pictures. Please Santiago?"