Mastered by the Hired Man

by Melissa Harlow

  "There's a whole drawer of pictures like this up there in her house. Apparently her husband was into photography ... among other things. She's a hot little slut, isn't she, Carlos?"

  "Why do you talk about her like that? She's been nothing but nice to us," Carlos said, trying his best to do the right thing. It was the truth, she had been nothing but nice to them, although it was also the truth that Lenore Acheson was hotter than hell.

  Santiago sat down at the table across from him and pulled the rest of the photos from the envelope. "Look at all these, these are just a few of them, there is a whole drawer full."

  "Why were you looking through her things?"

  "I wanted to see what she had. It's obvious the bitch has money."

  "She's not a bitch," Carlos snapped.

  "You know what I meant Carlos," Santiago sighed. "But think about this: she was her husband's little slave." He held up another picture of Lenore bound in ropes. "Look, she's got both fucking holes plugged with dildos or something. She was her old man's fucking sex toy. Now, she could be ours ... and this whole fucking place would be ours, and she'd be doing whatever you tell her to! Keep that bitch naked, cooking for us, washing our dishes, and sucking our cocks." Santiago stopped talking and stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You're too nice, Carlos. She needs it a lot rougher than you'd give it to her. Don't get me wrong, I would have no problem sharing her with you, but she needs a firm hand, if you know what I mean."

  He shoved a picture across the table of Ms. Lenore's pretty round backside, covered with red handprints. Marked ... in exactly the way Carlos had marked her, except in the picture she wore the mark of James Acheson.

  Carlos picked the photograph up and stared at it, imagining how warm those pink welts must have felt on her smooth skin. His hand trembled remembering the feeling of her silken skin beneath his palm, the way she raised her ass up to his hand.

  "Ms. Lenore is a nice lady," Carlos said, in one last attempt at casting the demon of James Acheson from inside of him. He pushed the picture away and tried to ignore his swelling cock.

  "Look at her, Carlos!" Santiago insisted, pushing the whole pile of photos towards him. "Tell me you don't want her. Tell me you don't want that pretty, rich bitch on her knees swallowing your cock!"

  "I do want her!" He twisted his hands in frustration. "You wouldn't understand and she wouldn't, either. I just can't..."

  "Well, I want her," Santiago announced. "And I made a little progress with her this afternoon." Santi grinned.

  "What did you do to her?" Carlos asked angrily.

  "Nothing, just felt her up. Nothing at all really, listened to her pleading with me not to tell you about these pictures." He shook his head. "She would have went for me a long time ago if it wasn't for you. You know, a long time ago I got her off in the stable. She laid there and gave me that pussy, came all over my hand! Now all of a sudden she's more worried how you feel about her than anything else. She's being stupid, telling me no because of you. She should know you don't care if I fuck her or not. Hell, we've already shared her."

  "You shouldn't have ever touched her," Carlos snapped.

  "Why not, Carlos?" Santiago said defensively. "You haven't even tried! She does everything but throw herself at your feet and you do nothing!"

  "You don't know anything!" Carlos said, rubbing his temples. "I'm afraid of what I'll do to her! Her fucking husband, he's done something to me!"

  Santiago's brows knitted. "What are you talking about Carlos?"

  "He's cursed me."

  Santiago stared at him solemnly. "Carlos, do you know how crazy you sound?"

  "You haven't had the dreams I've had, Santi. You don't know the things I have imagined doing to her." He swallowed hard, ready to confess all the horrible things he imagined. "I want to whip her. Beat her, leave marks on her skin. I want her to kneel, to crawl, to give to me all of herself..."

  Santiago's eyes glowed in the dim light of the small kitchen. "Carlos, look at these pictures ... that's what he did to her. That's what she wants!"

  "No, she doesn't! And I am not like him!" Carlos said, wishing he could convince himself of that. "I'm nothing like him! Why would I want to hurt her?"

  Santiago smiled. "I am like him – I want to be exactly the way he was. I want to be the man who is respected, the man who can have whatever he wants. This place, his money, his woman. I want it all."

  Santi frowned and looked at Carlos. "You don't really want to hurt her," Santiago said. "You want to own her, you want to control her. Between the two of us we can have that."

  "What do you think Carlos?" Santiago said enthusiastically.

  Carlos shook his head. The more he thought about Santiago with Ms. Lenore the angrier he got.

  "I want her, Carlos. I don't care if you have her or not, but I'll have her. Thanks to you, I'll get her," Santiago said confidently.

  "What do you mean, thanks to me?"

  "She wants to protect you, and now she knows you're here illegally. I gave her until tomorrow to give me what I want."

  Carlos swallowed hard. "Or what?"

  "I told her I'd make a few phone calls and have you sent back."

  Carlos stared, shocked by the thought of Santi betraying him. "Why? Why would you do that? I thought you wanted to help me? I thought you were my friend!"

  "I am Carlos. Chill. Don't worry about it. She'll take care of things, I won't call anyone. Christ, do you really think I would? I just want to fuck her." Santiago smiled at him. "Why don't you help me? Tell her that you want her to. Tell her you'd like watching me fuck her. She'd do it for you."

  Carlos clenched his fist. "I care about her."

  "And I don't," Santiago said coolly. "I just want to fuck her and I want a little cash – what's the big deal?"

  "I don't want you to touch her, ever again!" Carlos thought aloud." You have your own women. I won't let you have her. You want to fucking call and report me, Santi? You go right ahead. You'll never have her, do you understand me? Not ever! I'll fucking kill you first!"

  "What's wrong with you? You're as crazy as she is!"

  "I love her." Out loud those three words sounded huge, but as huge as they sounded they were tiny compared to the actual feeling.

  Santiago laughed for a moment but when Carlos didn't smile, Santiago's face instantly sobered. "You can't be serious?"

  Carlos remained silent but he could feel his whole body shaking.

  "You're not kidding? You just told me that you want to whip her, beat her, and leave marks on her skin? What the fuck is that? How is that love?"

  "I don't know! Can't you understand that's why I'm confused? Don't you think that he did?"

  "Who did what?"

  "You don't think Mr. James loved her?"

  Santiago shrugged. "I suppose. He married her."

  "He whipped her, he did anything he could to humiliate her! So why did he do those things to her?" Carlos asked.

  "Because he wanted to. And he could. I think that's why he did everything he did – because he could. He was a rich bastard who could do whatever the fuck he wanted," Santiago said.

  It came to Carlos in a moment of clarity like he'd never known. "Maybe he did those things because that's what she wanted. Maybe he did those things because he knew that deep down inside of her she really wanted to do those things. He did those things because he loved her."

  Santiago shook his head. "You can't really believe that."

  "Santi, you have been my friend for a while. Let me ask you something. How would you feel if I was your boss?"

  Santiago laughed. "You?"

  "Yes, me. Why is that funny?"

  "I don't know Carlos. It just is."

  "It won't be, Santiago! It's not a joke! When I am Ms. Lenore's master I will be your boss, you know? You'll work for me then. For us – me and Ms. Lenore."

  "Carlos, you can't even talk about the woman without calling her Ms. Just seduce her, get it over with, and let me handle the rest."

  Carlos
hook his head. "I'm not kidding, Santiago. Where Mr. Lenore is concerned, I am dead serious. She is mine!"

  Santiago stared at him, seeming unconvinced.

  "Perhaps you won't keep your job," Carlos said. "You are right about one thing: she will do anything for me, including firing you! Maybe since we aren't the friends that I thought we were I shouldn't worry about that?"

  "Listen Carlos ... I want to keep this job." There was a pleading note in Santi's voice. "I need to be straight with you ... I wanted her, Lenore. I wanted her because I wanted to be like James Acheson. I don't need her to have that now. I have my own woman. I'm just ... well, I'm afraid that I'm not enough for her. I'm nothing but a hired man. She's a classy lady."

  "There's no shame in being a hired man. No shame in hard work," Carlos said. "A true woman knows that. If she is such a classy lady she will understand that it's not what we do for a living that makes us who we are. It's who we are inside."

  "What are you inside?"

  Carlos smiled. "I am Lenore's master. I just need to show her that, to teach her what it will be like to be mine."

  CHAPTER TEN

  Coffee. The smell drifted through the air and Lenore opened her eyes a little. James had made coffee. She smiled and snuggled beneath the blankets and then she remembered. James wasn't here anymore. She sniffed the air again. That was definitely coffee.

  Lenore flung the covers off. The wooden floor felt cold beneath the soles of her bare feet as she hurried up the hall to the kitchen. If Santiago thought he could just barge in here anytime he pleased he had another thing coming.

  Lenore rushed into the kitchen, and was stunned to see Carlos sitting at the table with a mug in his hand.

  "Good morning, Ms. Lenore." He seemed so casual, as if he were exactly where he belonged.

  "What are you...?"

  "I'm sorry. I just thought maybe you'd like to have coffee with me. The back door was unlocked. I hope you don't mind."

  She didn't mind, but as she ran her hand through her tangled hair she realized what a mess she must look like. The old cotton nightgown she wore was threadbare, nearly transparent it had been through the wash so many times. It was old and ugly, but it was comfortable. She hadn't cared about what she looked like for a long time.

  She saw his eyes; he studied her in a way she had never seen him do. Lenore felt naked before him, and she stood as still as she could. The only movement was the slight jiggle of her breasts as she trembled.

  Something had changed; Carlos seem different. Had he watched her though the window last night? She wondered if Santiago had told him about the pictures. If he really had stolen some, Carlos probably had seen them by now. The idea both humiliated and aroused her.

  "That's a pretty nightgown," he remarked casually, and then took a sip from his mug. He stood up and approached her slowly, stopping only when her breasts were pressed against his lower chest.

  "What do you like in your coffee?" he asked.

  "Oh, I'll get it. Please, sit back down."

  He shook his head. "I want to get it for you." He brushed her hair from her face, and his hand rested on the back of her neck. Slowly, his fingers curled softly against her skin.

  Lenore's heart pounded, she somehow knew that he was going to kiss her, yet when he did, her legs nearly gave out from beneath her.

  She responded with the same hunger and urgency that she had the first time he'd kissed her. She clung to him, desperate and needy, aching for more, as his tongue slipped between her lips. She could taste the bitter coffee in his mouth and she sucked at his tongue, never enjoying the breakfast blend flavor more than she did at this moment.

  He jerked his head back hard, breathing heavily.

  "You are lonely," he said softly, sounding almost sad.

  She nodded, her tears blurring his face for a moment. "Very lonely."

  His arms slipped away from her, and he took a step back, his eyes seeming to blacken with anger. He kicked the kitchen chair, hard, and it flipped backwards smashing loudly onto the floor.

  "Fuck!" he cursed. "I hate this! I don't want to do this!"

  Lenore was startled by the outburst and wasn't sure what to say. She had no idea what he was talking about.

  "What's wrong?" she finally asked. He appeared to be shaking with rage.

  "I don't think I want to do this, I don't think that I can."

  "I didn't ... I didn't ask you to do anything," Lenore said.

  "No. I don't want to take advantage of you because you're lonely! Santiago said that..."

  Lenore felt a stab to her heart. Santiago, that's why he was here, that's why he'd kissed her, this was some kind of a game that Santiago had put him up to. She turned and ran up the hall, back into her bedroom. What a stupid fool she was being! This man didn't find her attractive at all, and why would he? He was at least ten years younger than her.

  Lenore hugged her pillow, wishing that she could still smell James on the sheets, wishing that he was still here to tell her what to do, to tell her how she was supposed to go on with her life without him. He'd left her ... like her mother, like her father. Everyone who was supposed to have loved her just left her!

  Carlos filled the doorway of her room, looking even larger than he did when he worked outside. Lenore rolled onto her other side, looking away from him. She didn't want him to see how much he'd hurt her. It was only a kiss, and yet, somehow, she'd thought that it meant something, or at the very least he was attracted to her. Knowing he'd only done it because Santiago had asked him to was like a knife in the heart.

  "Ms. Lenore, please. Can we talk?" He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and the mattress sagged beneath his weight.

  "Why are you crying?"

  "Because I just made an ass of myself ... I thought you wanted to kiss me, I thought you ... Please, Carlos, just go away!"

  "You don't understand."

  "I do understand. You're here because Santiago asked you to do this! This is some kind of sick little game, to the both of you! Did he threaten you? Tell you he was going to have you sent away?"

  "No, listen... I need to explain. Santiago did ask me to come here but he wanted..."

  "I knew it! And those times in James' office, he paid you. You never wanted me!"

  "Ms. Lenore, I never took his money! And I'm not going to lie, Santiago did ask me to do this, but that's not why I am here. He had this idea that he would be with you too. I can't ... I can't stand the thought of you with anyone but me. You don't know how many times I had thought about us, the things I imagined doing with you."

  Lenore rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. "You've thought about being with me?"

  "Many times. Too many times. I tried not to, it was wrong, you are my boss, but I still could not help myself."

  "So if you aren't here for Santiago, what did you mean when you said you can't do this?"

  "I just ... I don't want to hurt you, because I feel how lonely you are, how sad that you are inside. I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm afraid that I'm going to hurt you and I don't want that."

  "Why would you worry that you would hurt me?" Lenore asked.

  Lenore heard him take a long ragged breath.

  "Because I want to."

  Lenore was certain that she hadn't heard him right. "You want to?" she repeated.

  He nodded. "I've had dreams of it."

  "What kind of dreams?"

  "I can't say. They are wrong, Santiago made me believe that maybe they are not, but they are."

  "Carlos, please tell me what you're talking about? What kind of dreams?"

  He swallowed, his Adam's apple moving slowly. "Dreams of hurting you. Wh ... whipping you, doing other ... bad things."

  Her body tensed with the same erotic fear that it did when she was near Santiago. What would make him dream of that? He must know, somehow. Lenore wasn't sure how, and she'd never admitted to anyone that while the first few times that James had beaten her with the crop she'd hated it, she'd soon learned t
o enjoy it. James knew she liked it, and he often was a little rougher than she preferred, but still when he got ill and weak, she missed it.

  Carlos' eyes caught and held hers. "Did your husband whip you, Lenore?"

  "Sometimes," she whispered. She could feel her heart beating more rapidly, and she saw things in his eyes that she was sure were never there before.

  "And you liked it," Carlos said.

  He wasn't asking a question, his voice suggested he was stating this as a factual piece of information. James had never asked her if she liked it, he had just done it. She'd never had to admit that she liked anything. This was new and unfamiliar territory, not only for her, but for Carlos as well. She could tell he was confused by the things he was feeling.

  "He didn't do it very hard," Lenore hedged, avoiding directly addressing his question.

  "He did it as hard as he wanted to do it," Carlos said, as if he knew that were true. "I feel like he's inside me, telling me to do things to you. I never wanted to do anything like that before. I never even thought of these things. Now I think of that, and I get ... I get excited.

  "This is not me," he said softly, "not how I am, or how I was taught to be. I don't understand why I feel all of these things!"

  The pain in his voice made her heart ache for him, because she understood how he felt. There was a time when she'd been confused, a time when she'd been angry that James was the way that he was. Lenore suddenly realized that just as James had freed her to be submissive, she could free the man inside of Carlos, the dominant man who was struggling to surface.

  He lay down on the edge of her bed looking dangerously close to tears. Lenore stroked his hair, feeling incredibly protective of him.

  "It's alright, Carlos," she said softly. "No one ever understood why I loved James. People thought I married him because he had money. Maybe that's why I considered it in the first place, but I was young, and stupid. James gave me all the things that I needed. I don't mean finically, I mean physically, emotionally." Lenore let her fingers run through his hair, touching him the way that she had always dreamt of. His long black hair slipped softly between her fingers. He tilted his head towards her hand like a cat eager to be petted. "Most of all sexually."