She Called Him Sir

by JJ Argus

  Now that choice was taken from me. And as I sank from the heights of orgasmic pleasure, and the vibrator continued to buzz against my swollen, aching clit, the intensity overwhelmed me and I twisted and cried out again, and again, and again, unable to remain still, my entire body, from head to toes, writhing and twisting and pulling as the sensations screamed into me.

  And yet, as before, the sensations shifted, twisted, turned, and my clit was now burning with sexual energy, my entire body trembling with it so that, as before, I couldn't remain still. My body writhed and twisted and I arched and jerked and sobbed at the wild, churning waves of sensory pleasure washing over me. Again I came, screaming now, my insides aching from the repeated muscle spasms.

  Cocooned, in the heavy, smothering comfort and security of the limousine, I sobbed and cried out and twisted and thrashed through orgasm after orgasm, nearly losing my mind from the sensations, hips bucking frenziedly, eyes wide and wild as I gulped in air and cried out in broken sobs.

  Oh! My! God! It was insane! I was very nearly insane! Every muscle in my body ached!

  My introduction to Jeremy, His driver and bodyguard, came when he opened the door next to me, and casually reached in to turn off the vibrator. He undid my legs, lifted me as though weightless, and carried me in his arms through the door of a building I was too dazed to notice, then down a long corridor, up a flight of stairs, and down a much wider corridor with a black and white marble tiled floor.

  Covered in sweat, chest heaving, groaning, breathless, light-headed, I didn't care. I was just grateful that the buzzing was gone. Although weirdly, I missed it too. As my head cleared a little I began to feel my face burn at my nudity, at this strange man carrying me in his arms. My own arms were still strapped behind me, making it impossible to do anything to cover myself. But he hardly seemed to notice me as he carried me into a bedroom which was about twice the size of the apartment I shared with four other girls.

  There was an enormous canopied bed covered in bed pillows and lace ahead of us, antique dressers to the left, antique chairs to the right. He carried me past them and into a bathroom which had polished brown and gold tiles on the floor and wall. To one side was a raised tub which could have seated a half dozen people. There were two stairs of gold and brown below it, and the tub itself was slate black.

  And filled. With bubbles.

  He bent and sat me on the top step, then unfastened the belt, freeing my arms. He gave me an expressionless nod, turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  I stared at it, speechless.

  Then I reached down, groaning, cupping my sex. It felt as though I'd had a live wire passed through it for hours and hours on end, as if my nerve endings had become so overwhelmed they'd frayed like the tip of my hair. My sex felt swollen and horribly sensitive.

  There was a long counter along the far wall, with two sinks and two large, gold framed mirrors. The lights were recessed under the cupboard doors beneath. To my left was a shower enclosure with thick gold tinted glass, again, easily large enough to hold a half dozen people, maybe a dozen if they were crammed together.

  There was a bidet and a toilet, of course, heated towel holder covered in big, fluffy black towels, and a slowly turning fan overhead on the ceiling. There was a makeup table, with a chair before it, and a padded bench next to the shower. There was a window behind the tub, looking out onto a large green yard bordered by twenty foot tall hedges. Potted flowers and plants were scattered about, especially along the stairs and ledges of the tub.

  With nothing better coming to mind, I turned and, groaning, climbed into the tub, sinking slowly into the hot, bubbly water.

  And there wondered what the hell I had gotten myself into.

  Chapter Three

  But the tub was luxurious, as was everything else. And it was peaceful, and relaxing. And so I lay back, trying to catch my mental breath and think. I was to be his 'assistant'. That, of course, presumed I went along with this insanity. But why wouldn't I? It almost had to be a better job than waitress, and would certainly pay better. It would look far better on my resume, as well, and allow me, eventually to move on to jobs which contained more responsibility.

  As for his kinky sex, well, that was daunting, but only because the thought of it filled me with uncertainty about what he would do next. Certainly what he'd done thus far had been shocking but thrilling. Could I honestly wish it hadn't happened? That wild time up on the edge of the stairs? That shocking, kinky sex in his limousine? No!

  He seemed astoundingly arrogant, too arrogant to be real. So he was putting on an act, playing a game. I could accept that. I liked to play games too. And he was rich, handsome, and very good with his hands!

  I blushed hotly every time I thought of the chauffeur untying me, pulling the vibrator from my burning sex, and carrying me naked up the stairs! Public nudity was not as shocking to me as it was before my time in the south of France, where nude and semi-nude bathing was so commonplace, but this was considerably more blatantly sexual! And when I thought of what he had listened to from the front of the car, well, my face felt horribly hot! What a slut he must think I was!

  I got over my tiredness quickly in the face of so many thoughts whirling through my head. I got out of the tub, dried off with the fluffy towels, and blow-dried my hair before walking back into the large bedroom with a towel wrapped around me.

  There was no sign of the dress I had worn. I checked the drawers of the dressers, but all were empty. There was a large walk-in closet, also empty. I pursed my lips and considered wrapping a sheet around myself, but whether wrapped in sheet or towel I would be reluctant to leave this room and wander about looking for him. It was very late, though, and so I cast aside the towel and climbed into bed. I found a remote control in the beside table and after some experimenting managed to bring the television rising from a flat chest across from the bed.

  I flicked channels, waiting for him to come, to talk, to explain further, and lay naked in the bed, reliving the astonishing events of the evening and feeling more than a little sexual and aroused. My nipples were stiff with anticipation, and my pussy felt warm and tender to the touch. But he didn't come, and I wound up falling asleep.

  ***

  I wakened hungry, with the smell of coffee in my nose. I sat up in bed, confused, at first, as I looked around, then remembered as my eyes saw the wheeled tray sitting by a low table across from the bed. The tray held coffee, tea, milk, orange juice, and a number of covered dishes. Bemused and yet wary, I threw back the sheets and climbed out of bed. I glanced uncertainly at the door, then wrapped a sheet around myself as I padded to the table.

  My stomach throbbed, and I sat down, then lifted the metal covers to find bacon and eggs, ham, pancakes, and toast. Someone, I thought, considered what the most likely breakfasts and breakfast drinks were for an American woman and then simply made them all. Normally, I didn't eat much for breakfast, but my late night had been energetic and draining, and, well, it was all just there. I didn't have to make it.

  No way I could eat it all, of course, and didn't try. I had some pancakes, some bacon, and some toast, with a bit of a bagel. I drank the juice and some coffee. Then, I went back into the bathroom, and had some fun experimenting with the shower, learning how to activate and direct the multiple shower heads. I'd never had a shower with more than one. The main difference seemed to be I had hot water pouring onto me from all directions, so didn't have to constantly turn and turn under one stream.

  When I emerged from the bathroom I had still not heard from anyone. I resigned myself to donning the sheet and going downstairs in it, when, as I passed the walk-in closet, my eyes took note of something different. Something hung on a hangar, and it certainly wasn't there when I had gone to sleep. I thought, of course, that someone had cleaned my dress and brought it to me, but was mistaken.

  On the hangar was a black pinstriped blazer over a white silk shirt which buttoned down the middle. Clipped to it was a very short pinstriped black skirt.
I checked the size on the labels, shaking my head in amazement. I took the hangar down and then looked around. There was a single pair of shoes on the shoe rack; black, stiletto heels. I scooped them up, then looked around again. No underwear.

  I went back into the bedroom and tossed the things on the bed, then checked the drawers of the antique dressers. In one, I found a lacy black bra and thong clipped together, clearly new. There was also a pair of lovely silk stockings; black, partly sheer, with lines of roses going up the sides.

  How, I wondered, had he gotten these things in my size in such a brief period of time in the middle of the night?! I would have to ask him. For now, I gratefully put on the underwear, then slipped on the blouse. It was quite tight across the chest, which didn't surprise me. I pulled the skirt up and zipped it, then stepped into the shoes with their four inch heels. Lastly, I slipped on the blazer and went to the large mirror in the walk-in closet.

  I looked, well, I don't know. It was true that in some of the European countries girls dressed considerably more provocatively at the office than would ever be considered acceptable in the United States. But I thought this was pushing it, even for France. Still, it was better than walking around in a towel. I opened the door and stepped out into the hall, feeling a little sense of breathy excitement at the opulence of the place.

  I walked along uncertainly, calling out, now and then, but receiving no reply. I discovered a broad, curving staircase and went down into a large central hall which had an enormous chandelier high overhead, then continued along through a series of rooms which reminded me of the travel videos I'd seen of Buckingham Palace. Don't ask me of the styles for it was all quite beyond me.

  “Miss Fire?”

  I gasped and whirled, then blushed hotly to see the man who had carried me inside. He was taller and broader shouldered than Sir. He looked to be about forty, with an oval face, dark, receding hair and long sideburns.

  “Come this way, please,” he said, turning his back on me.

  I bit my lip, then obeyed. He was certainly a large man, with broad shoulders, a veritable giant. No wonder he'd had no trouble carrying me. Should I thank him, I wondered, embarrassed. No, I just couldn't bring myself to refer to that in any way! God!

  I followed him out back and onto an enormous stone balcony which overlooked a long, rectangular pool. The man who referred to himself as 'sir' sat at a metal table, with a newspaper open in front of him and a china mug of coffee steaming in the morning air. He glanced at me idly, pointed at the chair across from him, and returned to his paper.

  I bit my lip, frowning, then sat.

  “Would you like coffee, tea?” the other man asked.

  I couldn't look at him!

  “Coffee, please,” I said, blushing. “Two sugar and one milk.”

  He turned and walked away, and I sighed in relief.

  “Jeremy is an amazing Jack of all trades,” the man said. “You should learn to emulate him.”

  I made a note to myself to look up what 'emulate' meant.

  “That phone is for you,” he said, pointing at a smart phone sitting on the table

  I picked it up curiously.

  In the contact list, you'll find a list of names which will help you enormously in many aspects of your job. Remember that your job is be my assistant, to arrange to have things done. That doesn't mean you do it yourself. You'll spend your time near me, ready to take care of something when I need it taken care of.”

  I checked the contact list. It was lengthy. Each contact had a name, and beside it, some sort of duty, be it legal affairs, accounting, meals, laundry, staffing, gardening, news and magazines, mens clothing, hotels and restaurants, limousine services, air travel, etc. They were all in separate folders by country. There were a number of other names next to what I assumed were companies of some sort.

  “Uhm, excuse me, sir, but, we haven't discussed, well, hours or pay or – .”

  “Your pay is one hundred thousand dollars a year. Your hours are whatever I say they are on any given day. You'll work until I tell you that you can go home. However, wherever you are, at any time, you're to consider yourself on-call. Don't ever be far from that phone. When I want you, I'll call, and you'll abandon whatever you're doing and get here.”

  I was still trying to cope with the pay. A hundred thousand dollars was a ridiculous amount, from my point of view! I'd never made more than a fifth of that!

  “Get yourself a note book to jot down notes. You can also take oral notes on that phone.

  He pushed his chair back from the table. “Speaking of oral,” he said.

  He snapped his fingers at his groin and motioned to me, and I was momentarily speechless at this incredible arrogance!

  But there was also something like amusement and a challenge in his eyes, and I wondered if he was deliberately baiting me, trying to outrage me, trying to inspire me to say something insulting.

  “I expect instant obedience to my orders, Fire,” he said, eyes narrowing.

  Fire!? What a stupid name! But with that big number still floating behind my eyes I slid off my chair and then dropped to my knees in front of him. My face flushed, and I was horribly aware of all the empty windows of the large house above, and the possibility that 'Jeremy' might return at any moment with my coffee.

  But a hot, throbbing sense of dark arousal swept through me, as well. And so I reached for his zipper and pulled it down. I slid my hand delicately inside, found the opening in his boxer shorts, and eased his mostly soft cock out, pulling it through the opening as I leaned in and licked at the underside of the head.

  It was a shockingly wicked thing to do, for me. I was kneeling on the balcony with a man whose name I still didn't know, my fingers wrapped around his cock! I was amazed at myself, but then, I had done amazing things the other night, too. And I felt wicked, but deliciously wicked as I closed my lips around his rapidly hardening cock and began to suck. He lengthened, and pushed up and out into my mouth as I began to slide my lips up and down.

  I heard the sound of approaching footsteps from behind but his hand came down on my head, pushing me further, and I gagged weakly as his cock slipped into my throat.

  “Leave it there, Jeremy. She'll get it when she's finished,” he said casually.

  “Of course, sir,” I heard the man murmur behind me.

  My face blazed with heat, and I felt shocked, numbed by embarrassment. Yet it passed quickly as the man retreated, for concern for breathing was uppermost in my head as my skull began to pound with pressure. His hand eased up and I slid back up the long length of his cock, gasping as it emerged into my mouth, sucking weakly then gasping for breath.

  “You need to wear a nice red lipstick,” he said. “I think those lovely lips of yours will look even more delicious wrapped around my cock with a dark red lipstick. Always wear it.”

  His fingers were in my hair, and he tugged my head up and back, my mouth coming off his slick, glistening cock.

  “Say yes sir,” he said.

  “Yes, sir!” I gasped.

  He guided my mouth back onto his cock and I sucked and bobbed as his fingers combed lightly through my hair.

  “I've ordered more clothing for you,” he said. “Things I found on the internet. You'll be my little Barbie doll, and I get to dress you – and undress you.”

  I heard him laugh lightly as he pushed down on my head and his cock pushed up into my throat again.

  A hundred thousand dollars was a ridiculous amount, I thought. I would do just about anything for that kind of money!

  And besides, despite the embarrassment, I was still feeling deliciously exotic and sexual from submitting to his orders to engage in such raw, wickedly slutty behavior. My lips bobbed up and down as I sucked, and the birds twittered in nearby trees as the sun shone brightly down from above. The stone was hot and hard against my knees, but I paid it little heed. I was becoming light headed as he repeatedly pushed me down all the way on his cock, for I wasn't exactly expert at deep throating.<
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  And then he pulled me up completely, getting to his feet. He bent me over the table and lifted my short skirt up.

  “You won't need these,” he said, tugging down my panties. “Jeremy included them by mistake. You'll wear nothing against your pussy unless I tell you to.”

  He pulled them down my legs and I lifted each foot as he pulled them off and tossed them away. Then his hand slapped down sharply against my bottom.

  Crack!

  I yelped and my head jerked up and about to protest, but was pushed back down again.

  “Legs straight, and apart,” he said calmly, “bottom raised up.”

  Another sharp slap made me yelp, but the dark heat was rising, and my pussy throbbed with anticipation and excitement. God, this was nasty!

  “Memorize that position,” he said, hand sliding along the lips of my sex.

  He inserted a finger into my moist heat, then added a second, pumping them, twisting them. When they withdrew, I groaned in pleasure as his cock pushed into me in their stead. I closed my eyes as I felt his cock thrusting deep into my belly, then felt the soft fabric of his trousers against my buttocks.

  He ground himself against me slowly, then I felt him gathering up my hair and pulling it back as he began to thrust. I felt myself get breathless, my head forced back, but his fist holding it tight against my back to keep me bent. I felt the warmth of the sunlit table against my breasts through the thin fabric of my blouse as I stared off at the trees in the distance. My thighs began to ache as his thrusting hips knocked them into the edge of the table harder and harder.

  He started to jerk back on my hair each time he thrust into me, and when I twisted to instinctively ease the pain he slapped my bottom again.

  “Hold still,” he ordered.

  The table shook as my body jerked atop it, and his cock rode me as his fingers twisted and pulled at my hair. I was pinned tightly in place, my breasts pillowed out against the hard table as his fists gripped my hair and at the same time pushed down against my back just below the neck. My thighs ground against the side of the table, and my hard nipples were crushed and rubbed back and forth in time to his thrusts.