Help Wanted

by Meg Silver

  They’d arrived at a pair of large bamboo huts, far down the shore from the other buildings. The huts were joined like an eight, two round sections joined by a single doorway. Inside, she found the first hut had been divided by a wall, one side walled off. Thomas sent her into the dressing area and she quickly stripped, braided her hair, and tied on the mask.

  It surprised her how nervous she’d become, faced with the idea of being alone with clients, especially with Thomas lurking nearby, probably hoping she made some stupid mistake so he could report her to Steph. He hadn’t even told her where the captives might be, or where she might find the things she needed to wash, oil and massage them.

  Then again, she wasn’t helpless, and ignored her nerves long enough to open the doorway into the next half of the hut. There, she found her answers: Her observer, an older man in a plain gray mask stood just inside the door and, shackled to the far bamboo wall, were the clients. On the floor nearby was a large old-fashioned steel pail filled with steaming water, and on a table awaited towels and several bottles of oil.

  Finding everything turned out to be the only easy part. She’d never done anything like this before, never been the Corset to anyone else’s prop. Never mind that she was only a secondary character in this couple’s fantasy, the clients were completely at her mercy right now, their pleasure at risk for her slightest mistake.

  Amanda grabbed onto Thomas’s warnings. Well-meant or not, he’d told her exactly what to do. Wash them. Oil them. Tease and arouse them, but don’t speak.

  Easy enough, really, but it still took more bravery than she thought she possessed to move closer to the captives and attempt to slip into the role of a handmaiden preparing sexual blackmail victims for her master. As a submissive, she figured she’d keep her eyes down, slightly fearful, yet envious of the captives who would enjoy her master’s attentions.

  The question became which captive to wash first, and she decided to start with the man, who would likely enjoy watching his wife be touched every bit as much as being touched himself. She plucked a sponge from the tabletop and dipped it into the tub of warm water. She started simply by squeezing the sponge against his back, and he surprised her by giving the shackles a forceful tug.

  Taking a startled step back, she realized the man was in character, probably more than she was herself. After that, it became easier to revision herself as an aggressor, a seductress, stroking him with the sponge. She took special care around his genitals, paying them much more attention than the task required, standing close up against and behind him, wrapping an arm around and down to grasp the inside of his left knee and lift his leg up and out, making him feel more vulnerable to her hands, and cupping his balls at first, then stroking up and down his shaft.

  He enjoyed it, his heavy, shallow breathing telling her she was doing her part to tease and arouse, but she had a good deal of the show to put on yet. The oil would give her more and better opportunities to incite his desires.

  She turned her attention then to the wife. Never, with the exception of Corset and Steph, of course, had she had any kind of sexual contact with another woman, and certainly not as the instigator. It troubled her that a strong blast of repulsion was her first reaction. Only natural, she supposed. She had always been strictly hetero, yet this job would require her to create pleasure for any client, no matter their sex. Curiosity would have to serve as motivation. Could she arouse another woman the way Corset had aroused her? What would please her?

  Unable to think of much else, she repeated the same actions she’d used on the husband, squeezing the sponge against the woman’s back. She was met with no resistance this time, no defiance. The woman’s slow, languid movements betrayed an already aroused state, and it had a strange empowering affect on Amanda. She dragged the sponge across the woman’s breasts, then allowed her hands to wander lower, playfully whispering around the apex of the legs, but never making solid contact.

  The woman whimpered and tiptoed forward, chasing Amanda’s hand, which seemed a good instruction to abandon that captive for a while and begin to oil the other.

  Many lessons were learned in the next several moments. First, that oil was incredibly messy, and that even older, married men could be sexy as hell. His skin beneath her oiled hands was smooth, sheathing a muscular, fit frame. His erection was firm as marble and hot to the touch, and she passed a good several moments stroking him, thoroughly enjoying his whimpered pleas.

  The begging reminded her not to go too far, though an imp she’d never realized she harbored decided she wasn’t quite finished with him yet. She went back for more oil and let it drip down the small of his back, between his buttocks, where she foreshadowed impending events, rubbing his anus and the sensitive line of flesh between anus and balls.

  He submitted beautifully, pushing his pelvis back, tilting himself, parting his buttocks. She would have liked to explore him further, but presumably she didn’t have all day to experiment on the male captive. There was a woman to oil for her master and maybe if she focused on the curiosity, she could overcome this odd shyness she felt about pleasuring another woman.

  She began at the woman’s wrists, painting on the oil with gentle hands in firm, long strokes, then massaging around the shoulders and neck. It came time to oil the breasts, an area Amanda knew could set this captive alight with need. She was generous with the oil and made herself rub and feel, cupping the weight of the captive’s breasts in her palms, then rolling and pinching the nipples as hard as the oil would allow.

  After a time, she began to enjoy the softer feel of the woman’s body and as she moved her attentions downward, did not hold back. She rubbed oil into every crease and fold around the woman’s waxed, naked mound. The captive’s clit was so sensitized by then that the woman nearly jumped free of the restraints when Amanda began to rub. Encouraged but cautious, she traced over the woman’s slit, thinking how different it felt from her own, then was struck by curiosity that was not forced this time. She wanted to feel the woman inside, and let her fingers do just that, and none too gently. Straightening her index and middle finger, she plunged her fingers upward into the captive’s cunt, finding it hot and soft and soaking wet.

  Beside her, the husband reacted to the motion, his gasp of pleasure providing a low harmony to his wife’s. Seeing their response, she wiggled her fingers until the wife began to pump against Amanda’s fingers. Knowing she couldn’t allow that to continue, she removed her fingers and gave a little slap of punishment to the woman’s slightly fleshy behind.

  The husband liked that, too, his eyes hungry for more, his erection bobbing in approval and anticipation.

  Amanda made a show of disregarding his interest, and focused once more on his wife. Wondering how her anus would feel, Amanda switched hands and teased a line between the woman’s buttocks and wiggled the tip of her index finger into the tightly puckered depression she found there, and though she’d never experienced it for herself, was knowledgeable enough to understand that anal penetration was a process, not an event.

  She moved onward, downward, taking a delight she never thought herself capable of in oiling and rubbing the woman’s thighs, teasing, never satisfying the woman’s obvious wish to be penetrated again.

  She was painting oil between the woman’s toes when the door opened behind them and Thomas made his entrance. Thomas, fully clothed, had been worthy of a double-take. Naked and fully aroused, he was a divine display, his every bulge and groove sharply defined.

  Despite not liking him much, she eyed him appreciatively.

  He surprised her, then, coming forward to extend a hand, drawing her from the crouch. Then her turned her oily palms against her own breasts. He made her rub, her hands sliding over her breasts while he watched, his gaze wandering from her eyes to her hands and breasts, and back again in such a way that made her heartbeat speed up.

  Looking satisfied about something, he then pushed her hands down to his penis. She transferred what was left of the oil on her palms onto his
shaft, pulling at the hot length of him, keeping her eyes down this time as a submissive should.

  Then, with a quiet “leave us,” he dismissed her. A pang of disappointment rang in her belly. She would have liked to stay and watch, to see the entire fantasy play itself out, and watch Thomas, someone far more experienced, pleasure this couple.

  It turned out she would have her chance, more than once, over the next several days. When she wasn’t forced to watch videos on safety guidelines and read page after page of conduct rules, she was placed in Thomas’s custody. Not to play handmaiden all the time, but also to stand in as observer.

  The more she watched, the more Thomas’s prowess at this fantasy became both more impressive and more troubling. Impressive because whether playing the savage with couple or single guest, he was utterly believable in the part, riding a razor-sharp line between force and seduction. He was definitely a physical threat, strong and fast, and when he narrowed his eyes a certain way, even she would quiver with a potent cocktail of fear and lust.

  Sometimes the client wanted to be bound, sometimes not, and when they weren’t, watching Thomas capture and roughly acquaint himself with the captive’s every erogenous zone made her pussy wet every time. Then he would claim his victim and as soon as they submitted, Thomas would flip some switch inside and change tactics, experimenting and playing and drawing the pleasure out as long as possible.

  She could tell he preferred women, but was no gentler with them than the men who were always eager enough to submit to such a singularly beautiful man.

  What bothered her was how, despite the fact that he was rude and brusque and seemed to have become convinced she didn’t belong at Fantasy Heights, she began to spend far too much time daydreaming about him. Along with anal penetration, he had risen to the top of her own private fantasy list. She wanted Thomas to take her, and she didn’t want him to hold back.

  Each time when she played handmaiden, and Thomas would then come in to claim his guests, she found herself holding her breath, wondering what he’d do. Sometimes he turned her hands onto her breasts as he’d done that first time, sometimes onto his cock, but once, on the fifth day, he sandwiched her between his hardened body and their lone, female guest. The woman’s back was liberally oiled and Amanda’s breasts slid, sensitized. Behind her, Thomas’s erection pushed between her buttocks, and she feared, just for a moment, that he would penetrate her, even though he knew perfectly well that it would violate her training.

  And God help her, but she wanted him to do it, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Pleasuring clients and coworkers on the job was one thing. Enjoying the physical aspect of a relationship was quite another, and if the line between the two ever began to blur, she’d walk away from this place and never look back.

  He dragged her back against him, away from the guest, and moved her a distance away until she was up against the wall. There, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Do you want me?”

  Did she dare answer truthfully? If she did, he would find a way to get rid of her.

  He bent his knees and pushed his cock farther between her legs, rubbing the hot tip along her slit. Her body responded with an electrical storm of famished delight, her cunt pulsing with sensual demand.

  “God, you’re wet,” he growled against her ear.

  As if to prove his point, he reached down to hook behind her right leg and lift her knee high, much as she’d done to her male captive, leaving her pussy open and exposed. He turned her around so their guest could see as he lowered his other hand, tracing his fingers lightly, tortuously, from her navel down to her mound, but no farther.

  The guest’s eyes, darkened with rising desire, tracked his hand’s movement.

  He asked, “Shall I take my handmaiden while you watch?”

  Oh God. If the woman said yes, Thomas would do it. He would penetrate her, and she would fail her test, just the way he wanted.

  She began to struggle, trying to wriggle free of his too-strong hold on her, frantic to get loose. She couldn’t let him do this. She wanted to work here, to explore pleasure, and stretch her sexual boundaries just as far as they could go.

  Thomas didn’t budge. She couldn’t fight her way free, or fight him off, and he made matters even worse by plunging two long, thick fingers inside of her. The effect, while she struggled to escape from the savage, very nearly made her come right there on his hand.

  The client was enjoying the show, the woman’s eyes glittering with a greedy hunger that warned her answer would put a quick end to the test.

  Amanda let out a whimper as the woman nodded. “Yes. Take her.”

  She braced herself for a forceful penetration from behind. Part of her even welcomed the idea, but Thomas had other ideas.

  He withdrew his fingers abruptly and lowered her knee, giving her a gentle shove once she was steady on her feet.

  “Fool,” he snarled at the client. “You can’t escape what’s coming.”

  Amanda fled, her pussy throbbing with disappointed hunger. Whether that had all been part of an act for the client’s benefit, she couldn’t say, but this escalating feud with Thomas could not go on. She did not understand why he didn’t want her here, and that worry, coupled with a few tankers full of frustrated desire she felt for him, was turning her head into a tornado of rocket fuel.

  Luckily, the next day her schedule changed and she was able to escape him in favor of a long day of videos. Steph appeared in the small conference room where Amanda had been reviewing CPR procedures. The older woman sat down beside her, raised her brows, and asked a difficult question.

  “So what do you think of us so far?”

  She had no idea how to respond, really. “I... It’s all a little overwhelming at this point. Is that bad?”

  “I think I’d worry if it wasn’t overwhelming, to be honest. Every new job is, and this one is a bit more involved than most. Tell me, what did you think of Thomas?”

  How could she answer that? “Mister America, you mean?”

  Steph laughed out loud. “He is pretty, isn’t he? But how did he seem to you? He’s been stuck on the savage seduction grind for six months now, doing two shows a day, four days a week. I keep thinking he’ll get bored and ask for reassignment, but he keeps at it.”

  A strong memory of Thomas with his fingers thrust deep into her pussy surfaced bright and strong as when it had actually happened. No, he did not seem bored of the job. He did seem jaded, though, now that she really thought about him. Wounded in some way, and terribly unhappy behind the good looks and hot sex. But how could she say that to Steph? She might not like the guy, but didn’t want to get him in trouble.

  “I tell you,” Steph said, “he thinks you’re a terrible handmaiden. The worst he’d ever had.”

  Amanda opened her mouth in outrage. What did he mean, the worst he’d ever had? What was so wrong? Wasn’t she sexy enough? Did she do a bad job with the clients?

  Steph raised a hand in caution. “Don’t take that the wrong way. Thomas is arrogant and blunt as hell, but he’s an excellent judge of trainees. He says submissive roles don’t suit you at all, but you’re too chicken yet to do a good job as a Dom. He also thinks maybe you’re not the type who can always separate sexual pleasure from intimacy, and even emotional pleasure. Is he right?”

  She blinked. “I... I don’t... Where does he get all that from?”

  “Like I said, he’s a good judge.”

  Amanda lowered her eyes. Did he have a point? Could she really do this job without blurring lines between professional and personal? Could she work with people like Thomas and never confuse the work they did with something more intimate?

  She remembered how he’d come after her, playing with her desires, forcing her to feel that distinct difference between fantasy sex and relationship sex. Had that been his purpose all along? To teach her not to allow such wants and desires to form between herself and a coworker? To keep things clinical like Steph?

  Well. If true, that certainly painted a
different picture of Thomas.

  Before she could say anything, Steph began anew.

  “On the other hand, another trusted advisor says you’ll do just fine. That was Marla.”

  “Who’s Marla?”

  “You met her your first night. Your Dom in the shadowbox. She said the show you put on really lit things up in the Zoo that night.”

  Corset. Marla was Corset. “Zoo?”

  “Zoo?”

  “The club. Group sex, two shifts, eight hours each, seven days a week. It’s one of our bigger draws, and Marla needs a fair amount of staff to keep the place running smoothly.” She got a faraway look. “I don’t know what I’d do without her. I’d be sunk without Josh, too, though he doesn’t actually work here. He builds the sets and a lot of custom apparatus, like the platforms they tested that night, and takes the odd shift as an observer when I’m in a pinch. By the sound of things, both you and the platforms were a raging success with Josh, at least. Which is saying something.”

  Josh must be the Highwayman. A vivid memory of how he’d tried so hard not to force himself too deeply into her mouth filled her mind, and brought with it an instant rush of arousal, much different than what she felt toward Thomas, who filled her with ferocious needs. Josh had been a mysterious, gentle tickle of curiosity from her first night, a fond memory.

  “Great guy, Josh,” Steph continued. “Never has much to say about anything. Sad story, however. His wife passed away a couple years ago, maybe three or four. Now he’s nothing like he used to be.”

  “That’s terrible,” Amanda said, and meant it. Granted, her favorable impression was based on nothing more than gentle hands, sun-bleached hair, and a beautiful cock, but she hated that he’d been hurt, especially in such a cruel fashion. He must have really loved his wife.

  At the thought, a powerful ball began to spin in her gut. She wasn’t sure if the sensation was sadness or despair. It was hard to tell the difference as Darren, her ex-fiancé’s betrayal, rose up to take a fresh bite of her heart. He had never really loved her. He didn’t love her stepsister, either. Their hasty marriage would end in heartache, and she didn’t like herself much for hoping her stepsister hurt him badly enough to leave scars.