by Lee Savino
Cole caught my arm as I went to my bedroom to change. “Pack a bag,” he said. “Enough for a few nights.”
That was easy. I didn’t have many clothes. I stopped in the bathroom and changed into a short skirt and a shirt fitted to my breasts. I even swiped on some mascara and stared at myself in the mirror.
“Slut,” I mouthed to the image.
Who was I fooling? I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want him. I pressed my hands to my cheeks as if I could wipe the blush away.
My short skirt and cleavage told me I knew exactly what I was doing. After all these years, I had my escape plan. It may only be temporary, and it was a little weird, but Cole had finally come to my rescue. I’d spent every waking minute of my childhood trying to get away from this place, and now I had a way out.
Drawing confidence around me like a cloak, I flounced out. Cole took in my outfit with a sweep of his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but I noticed his lips pressed together a moment before he spoke.
“Ready to go?”
“Yes.” I kissed my mom’s cheek and hit the door, muttering, “Get me out of here.”
***
On the car ride home, I searched Cole’s face for any sign of what he was thinking. He had to be disgusted by my family home. He’d always looked out for me, but he’d made it clear we didn’t belong together.
Once, a group of boys decided to pick on me at the local swimming hole. I was twelve, my breasts had come in early, and I was starting to attract all sorts of attention. Cole used to lifeguard at the beach, but it was just a coincidence he was there that day when my tormentors surrounded me. With a word and look, Cole sent the boys packing, and I had my hero back again.
I stepped close to hug him, but he stiffened and moved away.
“You need to be careful, Regina,” he said.
I glowered. I hadn’t asked for the stupid breasts. “Whatever, Cole,” I said. He was eighteen, a new recruit in the police academy. Girls had mourned when he shaved off his blond hair, but I loved the short, pale buzz. I wanted to run my hands over it, see if it was as soft as it looked.
To test him, I took a step forward, and he retreated, looking away as if my presence pained him.
He was still the good, golden boy, and I was a little dark-eyed girl from the wrong side of the tracks.
“I hate you anyway. You’re just as bad as the rest of them.”
That was the last time Cole stuck up for me. I wondered what had changed.
I slumped in my seat as Cole’s truck idled at a stoplight. God forbid someone on the sidewalk see us together.
“This is never going to work,” I muttered to the truck window.
“What’s that, Regina?”
“I said, what about work?”
“What about it?”
“Well, I need money, you know, to pay bills.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Cole.” I braced my hands on the dash and stared him down until he transferred his eyes from the traffic light to me.
“I said I’ll handle it. I think you need a break. I’ll make sure you’re covered until the end of the month, and then we’ll reassess.”
My forehead crinkled. This was serious. I could handle spankings and crazy sexual tension, but don’t mess with my money. “How long is this going to last?”
“As long as it takes,” he said, a muscle jumping in his cheek.
I thumped the dash. “That’s not an answer.”
“As long as we want,” he said, hoarsely, and we weren’t just talking about the deal.
“Is this a good idea?” I asked quietly. We still were dancing around where this arrangement was headed, and I was fine with that. I liked to dance. But I wasn’t willing to risk fucking up real things, like rent and bills, for a fling with my long time crush.
He glared ahead at the road. “How do you mean?”
“You’re risking a lot for me.”
He didn’t answer.
I cast about for another reason. “Do you really want people to see me with you?”
“Why would I care about that?”
Was he serious? One look at me, and his WASP parents would freak. Men like Cole did not date Reginas. They dated women like Lucy Litt, and had pretty blond babies who went to Sunday School.
Who was I kidding? Cole and I weren’t dating. This was a blackmail situation, even if it did involve sex. He wouldn’t be taking me home to his parents.
I sighed. “Never mind. So you’ll handle the bills. I’ll stay at your house and cook and clean. Play house like your little wifey.” I glanced over to see if he liked the sound of that.
“Good,” he said neutrally as we pulled back into his driveway. “It’ll keep you out of trouble.”
***
At the house, Cole made me sit down and tell him all my bills. There was a lot more red than black on some of them.
I tallied what I owed Mr. Roberts on a separate sheet.
Cole looked it over while I tried to hide my tears.
He noticed them anyway. “You didn’t want to steal from him.”
“I had to. They were going to take mom out of the program, if I didn’t pay the minimum deductible.”
“It never occurred to you to ask for help?”
“There was no one to ask.”
“Mr. Roberts?”
“He’d already given me enough.”
“Someone in the community, then?”
“I hadn’t been to church in a long while. I wasn’t really welcome there.”
“There had to be someone.”
“No.” I stared at my lap. Did I really need to explain that my family wasn’t like his? We didn’t have money or connections or invites to the annual Policeman’s Ball, a small but powerful gathering of the Who’s Who of Licking Hole.
Cole pulled out a handkerchief (of course, he had a handkerchief) and wiped my eyes. I felt truly broken.
“Someday,” he murmured, “you’re going to realize you’re worth helping.”
“Cole…what am I going to do?”
“I’m going to help you. But you’re going to do everything—and I mean everything—I say.”
He took a few calls and came back to me wringing my hands.
“This isn’t going to work. You, me—I don’t even know what you want from me.”
“Shhh, baby. One thing at a time.” His hand on the back of my neck quieted me. It made me feel submissive and safe at the same time. “Just relax and do as I say. Don’t think. Just think about how to please me.”
“Pleasing you?” My breath caught. My real concern about this arrangement was how much I wanted him. He wanted me to cook and clean for him? Fine I’d do it, gladly. Because being around him made my head swim. I wasn’t sure how long I could go before I screamed, “just do me, already.” Or waited until he came home one night and jumped his bones.
Working around him would be impossible. There weren’t enough changes of underwear in the world.
“I don’t know what to think about all this.”
“Then don’t think. Just be.” He massaged my neck. “Thinking is what got you in this mess. You think too much. Not that you shouldn’t think…I love how intelligent you are. But your mind is going in circles and needs a break.” His hand rubbed circles over my back. “Now calm down. I have to go to the station for a while. Are you going to sit tight and be good for me?”
I nodded.
“Good girl.” Cole kissed my forehead. Entirely unsatisfactory, but I’d take it.
God, I was so in love with this man.
“First, I’m going to test your obedience. Go to the bedroom and put on the clothes I laid out for you.”
Annoyance curled through me, but I told myself I’d signed on for this.
“Bossypants,” I muttered under my breath as I headed to the bedroom. I was curious to see what sort of clothes Cole wanted me to wear.
“Oh, hell no.” I lifted the flimsy black and white dress. It was a French maid outfit, c
omplete with frilly apron.
I heard Cole behind me. He’d followed me, anticipating a tantrum.
“No,” I said. “No, no, no.” The fabric was silky and fine, but there wasn’t much of it. The outfit came with silky panties and sexy black heels. My pussy clenched at the thought of wearing something so enticing for Cole, but my pride overruled it. “No, Cole. Just no.”
“Hush.” He caught my chin in two fingers and held me still. The gesture sent tremors of submission through me. “You will wear this dress because I want it, and you belong to me.”
“Is this some sort of sick fantasy I play into?”
“Maybe. But you’re going to do what I want, when I want. You may not like all of it, but you can trust me. You know that.” He released me. “Say ‘prison’ and you can go. Otherwise, change.”
I threw the outfit on the bed. “This is so wrong.”
“So is a beautiful, intelligent young woman throwing her whole life away because she’s too proud to ask for help.”
“You don’t understand, Cole. All I have is my pride.”
“Not anymore. I’m going to take your pride. And give you something more.”
“What’s that?”
“Peace.” He took the outfit from me and folded it carefully. “You don’t have to think, or worry. I’m taking care of all it, sweetheart. It’s going to be hard, but you can do it. I believe in you. Now get dressed, little maid.” He swatted my rear as he headed towards the door. “My house isn’t going to clean itself.”
I growled to myself as I changed. I felt two things: the acute curl of humiliation suspiciously located in my groin, and a resigned agreement to what he said. My life was a mess. If he was volunteering to fix it…well, the jury was still out on that. Until then, I’d dress up like his sex dream and pretend things were all right.
There were worse fates than living out Cole’s fantasies.
The outfit fit perfectly. The top smoothed over my bust and left my back bare. The skirt was a joke, but the sky-high heels made my usually dumpy legs look longer. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the fabric over my curves.
I was nervous. Nervous to meet Sheriff Sadist and his pervy fantasy. But I wanted him to like what he saw.
I wanted to please him.
That thought annoyed me most of all.
Gritting my teeth, I put it all on. My breasts almost spilled out, but I supposed that was the point. After ten years of trying to cover up my huge breasts, wearing baggy t-shirts in summer and carefully picking necklines for work, it was a relief to flaunt my curves.
I peeked in the full-length mirror. Holy hotness. The costume looked amazing with my hourglass figure. All the doubt I had washed away when I realized I was in Cole’s house wearing a sexy outfit by his request. Nay, by his order.
Beat the hell outta doing time.
Inspired, I swiped on some more mascara and smudged some eyeliner for a foxy look. “Here goes nothing.”
I clopped back into the kitchen. Cole was across the room on the phone, his tall form silhouetted in light coming through the window. I caught my breath at his broad shoulders, his body lean but obviously muscular. The long legs, the taut waist. His trim form filled out the sheriff’s uniform perfectly—and I usually ran at the sight of uniforms. It helped that under the standard issue black trousers was a perfect ass.
He turned slightly and I admired his profile—the strong jaw, the patrician nose. There was a reason the townspeople voted him sheriff at the tender age of twenty-eight. He had an air about him that said: “Trust me. I’m a leader.” It also said, “Cross me at your peril.” Cole Townsend was the total package.
When he caught sight of me, he did a double take. I stepped out of the hall, tugging on the skirt as if it could somehow lengthen and cover more of me.
Striding into the kitchen, he signaled me to twirl. My gut clenched, but so did my pussy.
I pirouetted, teetering a little on the heels.
His face when I finished was a wonder.
“I’ll call you back,” he said, and ended the call. Cocking his head, he looked me up and down.
“I think it fits okay.” My face felt red.
The heat in his eyes told me how well it fit.
He advanced and I had the wild idea to back away from his predatory look.
My cheeks flushed as he loomed over me, not a hand’s breath between us. Reaching down, he tugged at my outfit, straightening it. Hands at my side, I let him.
“You’re beautiful, Regina. Relax.” His hands held me carefully.
“I feel exposed.”
“It’s just me.” He smiled, and my breath left me in a whoosh. I hadn’t realized I was holding it. He continued turning me this way and that, admiring the black satin over the swell of my breasts and ass. “You should wear this all the time.”
“Are you going to make me?”
“Maybe,” he said, almost thoughtful. “It really does suit you.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He tweaked my nose. “None of that. Do that again and I’ll make you do chores with a clothespin on your tongue.”
“Is that what I’m going to be doing? Chores?”
“What else?” His eyebrows raised, as if daring me to argue.
I sighed and kept my mouth shut.
He showed me the closet of cleaning supplies. “I have to go into work, but you can get started.” He handed me a duster. “Clean from top to bottom, so you don’t shake dust on what you’ve already—”
“I know how to clean.” I gripped the duster like it was a sword, and imagined stabbing him with it.
He nodded slowly. Then, with a hand on the back of my neck, he bent me over and swatted my bottom. Hard.
I yelped. “What was that for?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Just wanted to see how you look with a red handprint on your butt. And now I know.”
He gathered his things and looked me up and down one more time. I didn’t put up a fuss. A part of me felt I even deserved to be standing in the kitchen of my childhood crush, completely humiliated.
“Get cleaning.”
***
As I dusted, I took the opportunity to poke into Cole’s personal things. Everywhere I looked, I found evidence that Cole was every bit of the fine, upstanding civil servant people believed him to be. The rooms were neat and clean, which made my job easier. Everything had a place from the tools in the mudroom to the neatly folded clothes in his dresser. There were no skeletons in any closet. I checked—twice. Even his garbage can was clean.
I was starting to suspect he wasn’t human.
Giving up on dusting (as if dust dared to mar this perfect man’s home), I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. Exertion had brought color to my cheeks, but I still looked sleek and cool in the white lace and black satin. The fabric was soft to touch and made me ultra aware of my lush, feminine body.
It struck me that, in a twisted way, I was living my own fantasy as well as Cole’s. Under different circumstances, tottering around the smoking hot sheriff’s house dressed as a naughty maid could be the hottest thing I’d ever done.
Wait, it WAS the hottest thing I’d ever done.
My hands roamed over my body faster. I stroked my breasts, admiring their swell under the silky fabric. I turned and lifted the skirt to check out my ass, imagining pulling it up for Cole, showing off…
Now my face was bright with arousal. I sank onto the big bed and touched myself, imagining Cole’s sleek body moving on top of me, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he planted his arms on either side of my head. His eyes would pierce mine and he’d thrust…
I came in seconds, wet heat running over my hand.
“God,” I gasped. One orgasm barely made a dent in my arousal.
I was hot and horny, and dressed like Cole’s wet dream. He better come home soon, or I’d do something to make sure the sheriff made house calls.
Like set his house on fire.
Stomping through the house, I jabbed the duster into corners blindly. Horny desperation made me scowl.
Goddamn Cole. Who was this man, that he could degrade me so thoroughly, and make me enjoy it?
My only hope for escape was to find some piece of damning information, and blackmail him. There was a locked black box under his bed, and another, smaller one in the mudroom. I was no locksmith, so couldn’t open them to find evidence of his kink. Whips, chains, floggers—even fluffy handcuffs…but there was nothing—besides the naughty maid costume. And I was wearing that, so technically I was the biggest evidence of Cole’s kink.
There was no office, but a black laptop sat on an ottoman. Not standard police issue, so it must be Cole’s personal one. I dusted around it.
His laptop tempted me. Did I really want to see a browser history full of fetish porn?
Answer: yes.
Damn thing had a password.
The front door opened and I scrambled up. How did he drive up so quietly?
He paused on the landing, his gaze sweeping around the house. Somehow, I knew he guessed what I’d been up to.
“Did you have an interesting time while I was away?”
“Yes,” I steeled my shoulders. “You were in the running for most freakishly neat man on the planet, but were disqualified because your spice cabinet isn’t alphabetized.”
“You can do that first thing tomorrow morning.” His gaze settled on his laptop.
I squirmed, realizing I hadn’t put it back where I found it. “I wanted to check my email.”
He raised a brow but said nothing as he stalked to the laptop and typed in the password. His long fingers flew over the keys. He had beautiful hands, graceful and slender. I pretended I hadn’t been staring when he turned the laptop to me.
Mollified by his trust, I went ahead and checked my email. I did snoop once he left the room to change clothes. The browser history was clear—someone had erased it recently—but there was a document saved to the desktop marked “Private.”
I opened and found a list of chores, each assigned to a day.
Cole’s hands settled on my shoulders and I jumped.
“I’d like you to stick to a schedule.”
“‘Kay,” I said, a bit breathless from his close proximity. “Bathroom, kitchen…when am I to dust the dungeon? Or do you have your other slaves clean it?”
