Unknown - Her brute master

Brad relaxed above me, releasing the last of his come into my mouth, before climbing off and turning around, finally lying beside me to drop off to sleep. I tried not to move too much, I wanted him to sleep soundly, but even though I had managed to have an orgasm, I wasn't completely satisfied. I still felt a stirring, burning sensation in my loins, a wave that wanted to break, a volcano waiting to erupt, why was I destined to be unfulfilled, I wondered. What was wrong with me that I couldn't be satisfied like other women?

Trying not to make any noise or move any more than was absolutely necessary, I reached my hand down and fingered my clit until I came again, and again. I stayed up half the night masturbating myself, striving for but never quite achieving complete satisfaction. I looked over at Brad's sleeping body. I imagined him standing over me, dominating me, controlling me. My finger moved faster and faster, my orgasms came hot and heavy. Why couldn't my real life compare to my fantasy life? I asked myself. Why does life have to be so unfair, so hard?

I cried myself silently to sleep, my hand on my pussy, wishing for satisfaction.

Monday June fifteenth was the start of a new era in my life. I kissed Brad good-bye while I was still in bed, he had to catch an early flight to San Francisco, and went back to sleep. When I finally got up at ten thirty I felt refreshed and alive, better than I had felt in weeks. I think it was just because I was starting a new phase in my life.

I was in UCLA on scholarship. It was my first time away from home and this summer, since I didn't have to attend classes full time, I could explore the city and get a job and just be an adult in one of the biggest, most exciting cities in the world. The prospect thrilled and excited me.

I got up and took a shower. The warm water felt good and tingly as it poured down over my breasts, I soaped and rinsed myself, slowly, enjoying the sensations. I got out and toweled myself off, looking in the mirror. I liked watching my breasts move and jiggle as I rubbed the towel over my body. The nipples were hard and crinkly, pink and sensitive.

I dressed in a conservative summer outfit, with a loose, full skirt and comfortable cotton blouse. I applied a little light make-up and brushed out my long, blonde hair. This was going to be a new and exciting experience for me. I was on my own for the first time and looking forward to whatever the world might have in store.

My plan was to take one class over the summer quarter, thereby continuing my eligibility to collect scholarship money and qualify for living in the dormitory. My dormitory room cost about half of what I would have to pay for a similar apartment off campus. But since I'd only be taking one class I wouldn't get enough scholarship money to cover all my living expenses. I figured I could get a part-time job to bring in the rest of the money I'd need, and since I'd only be taking one class I'd have enough time to myself to enjoy my summer and almost have a real vacation.

I left the dormitory and walked down to the croissant shop in Westwood Village. On the way I picked up a newspaper from a vending machine on the corner. Once there I ordered coffee and opened the paper to the classified ads. Nothing looked as interesting as I had hoped until I came to this one: PART-TIME HOUSEKEEPER No experience necessary.

Ality to follow orders a must!

Flexible hours, live-in possible.

Pay commensurate with ability. (213) 555-3825 "Ability to follow orders a must!" That phrase made my thighs tingle and gave me the sensation of having butterflies in my stomach. I went to the pay-phone at the back of the shop and dialed the number. A man's voice answered.

"3825," he said, non-committally.

"Hello," I stammered a little, feeling more nervous than the situation called for, "I'm calling in response to the ad for a part-time housekeeper."

"Do you have any experience?"

"No, but I'm a fast learner and I'm very thorough," I said.

"Are you presently employed?"

"No, I'm a student at UCLA. I'm taking a summer class and need to supplement my scholarship. I'm very good at taking orders."

"I see. Can you come for an interview this morning?"

"Yes, I can." I was getting excited by the possibility of finding a job that fit my schedule so quickly.

He gave me directions to the house and I hung up. My palms were moist. The address was in Bel Air, just five minutes from UCLA. I ran back to the dorm and jumped in my car. The appointment was for eleven o'clock, I got there at ten forty-five. I rang the bell.

"Yes?" The disembodied voice came from a small loudspeaker just over the door-bell button.

"My name is Jodie Cramer. I have an eleven o'clock appointment for a job interview," I spoke into the speaker.

"You're early," came the reply, then silence.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't want to be late."

There was no response for a few moments, just the faint hum of electricity in the speaker. The sun was bright and birds were singing. The house looked airy and well kept. I wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to get the job, but I seemed to be getting off to a bad start.

"Should I leave and come back at eleven?" I asked.

"That will not be necessary. Come in." The door buzzed and I pushed it. It swung open easily. I stepped inside.

The entry-way was large and bright, with marble floors and mirrored walls. Skylights and indoor plants contributed to the illusion of space. I closed the door behind me and waited.

Minutes passed and nothing happened. Tentatively, I stepped further into the house, toward the massive curved staircase at the end of the hall. "Hello?" I called out.

There was no response.

"Hello," I called again, walking further into the house.

"Is this how you follow instructions?" The voice came from behind me. I turned with a start. He had come from one of the doors that opened off the entry-way.

He was a good looking man, not quite middle-aged with slightly graying dark hair and pale blue eyes.

"Oh!" I was so startled I nearly dropped my purse. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you wanted me to wait."

"Had I wanted you to do anything I would have told you so." He clasped His hands behind His back and walked slowly toward me, looking me up and down appraisingly.

I felt myself starting to blush. "Please, I didn't understand."

"Do not apologize, Miss, just try to relax." He walked slowly around me, examining me like a side of meat.

I looked down at the floor. I could tell that He was the kind of man that likes to be in charge. He was using this technique to intimidate me, to establish His dominance over me. I realized all this about Him in just the few moments I had been in His presence. I realized all this and I liked it.

I know this is not the way most modern, liberated women think or feel, but sometimes, most times, in fact, I don't feel liberated. I like to feel that someone else can tell me what's best for me, can look out for my best interests.

So, I acted more unsure of myself than I really felt in order that He would feel superior to me and maybe want to hire me.

"Come into my office," He said, finally.

I followed Him through the door through which He had come. He had broad shoulders and a trim waist. He moved with a lithe grace and assurance that I could not help but admire. If this was His house He was fabulously wealthy and acted as though He deserved to be.

"Have a seat Miss Cramer," He said, sitting down behind His desk.

I sat down facing Him, sitting up straight, on the edge of the chair, not leaning back, looking as expectant as I could.

"As I stated in my advertisement, Miss Cramer, an ability to follow instructions is more important to me than simply having experience."