by Emily Tilton
But her email left no doubt about that, at least, though much else remained up in the air.
Dear Mr. Stevens,
From what I have heard about a rather unusual incident in the apartment building where I live, now, as part of my career program, it seems likely that you were the man who pretended to have a personal training appointment with one of the girls in the program. My friend and apartment-mate Jessica thought she recognized you from two weeks ago.
I imagine you must think the way we live in this apartment building is pretty strange, even though it seems like you only saw some sex in the locker room, and did not even get to see a matron or an owner giving a spanking—let alone give one yourself, or have a blowjob.
When Jessica and I figured out that it was you in the fitness center this afternoon, we told Mrs. Fredericks, the woman in whose apartment we live. She told Mr. Killington about it, and he decided I should write you this email, to invite you to learn more about becoming part of the New Career Partners program yourself. Mr. Killington instructed me to make it clear that girls like me and Jessica have decided to stay in the program and learn the skills the owners want to teach us, and accept their discipline as part of that learning, even though some of those skills involve the owners dominating us sexually.
Mr. Killington thinks you might be a good fit as a personal trainer for the program. If you do want to learn more, let me know. Mr. Killington says I am allowed to tell you everything.
Yours,
Lauren
p.s. Thanks so much for the book! I love it, and I am sorry I have not been allowed to tell you so until now!
Another email came a moment later.
Dear Mr. Stevens,
Just a quick note to accompany Lauren’s. You may be wondering why I would put so much confidence in you in so unusual a circumstance. New Career Partners has the capacity to analyze your attitudes and behaviors through your digital presence, and our analysis suggests that your curiosity as to Lauren’s activities demonstrates an honest wish to take care of her, along with a healthy, dominant instinct toward possessiveness. These are traits we look for, and find too rarely: hence the invitation.
A final note, by which I don’t mean to cause you distress but rather to save you from it: our information-processing capacity provides us with the ability, should you try to have us investigated in any way, whether by a governmental or a private agency, to ruin your life. If you choose to decline this invitation, we cordially request that you do your best to forget it was ever made, as well as to move on from your hitherto laudable—though from my perspective slightly aggravating—attachment to Lauren O’Hara.
Best regards,
John Killington
Sure, Ed liked to give the occasional spanking, and even saw the value in it where personal training was concerned, but he’d never thought of himself as a dominant. A guy’s guy—a bro, an alpha male, sure—when he had sex, yes, it turned him on to be the one in control, and if the girl liked it, to get rough, give her instructions, talk dirty, but this Mr. Killington seemed to be talking about it as some kind of state of being.
A state of being Ed saw, suddenly, he found immensely appealing. Could girls really see the attraction of the opposite state of being? Of submission? Of old-fashioned discipline? Bare-bottom discipline? Had Lauren O’Hara lost her virginity tonight, the way Mr. Graves had said, to a man who had whipped her bare bottom with his belt?
Who did he think he was fooling, pretending he needed to ponder this decision for more than a minute? He wrote back:
Dear Lauren,
Thanks very much for your email. I would like to hear more about your program, and how I might participate in it, either in a professional capacity or as some sort of volunteer. My experience in personal training tells me that discipline is a very good thing, even though it seems like modern society has pretty much forgotten about it.
Yours,
Ed
He didn’t sleep again that night, of course, and he tried to keep himself from checking his email more than once an hour. He felt both relief on Lauren’s behalf and annoyance on his own that apparently she herself had gone to bed after mailing him (or stayed in bed? the image of Jessica comforting Lauren as she wrote the email haunted Ed).
Before he left for work the next morning, though, he got Lauren’s reply.
Dear Mr. Stevens (I am not allowed to address you by your first name, since it is part of the program that young women learn to address their elders in the traditional way),
Last night I lost my virginity. Mr. Killington, who had me taken from school on my eighteenth birthday and brought to Mrs. Fredericks’ apartment, enjoyed me between my legs and in my anus. Before that I had only fellated him. I must fellate the men whom Mr. Killington and Mrs. Fredericks tell me have that right: after I learned to perform oral sex on Mr. Killington, he made my mouth available to other men whom he approves.
Ed’s cock had stirred even at the idea that Lauren couldn’t call him by his first name. It gave a jump in his boxers at the first sentence of her first paragraph. By the end of that paragraph it had begun to strain against the front of his jeans as he sat drinking his coffee at his breakfast table.
Being enjoyed in my bottom was my decision. Mr. Killington made it clear when he first took me out (keeping company with our owners is an important part of the program for girls like Jessica and me) that all the sex in the program is consensual, but that once I gave my consent to something, like fellatio or anal intercourse, he would decide when and how I have to do it. I am allowed to leave the program if I want, but before I go I will be paddled.
Ed found that he had begun to breathe rather hard.
I consented to have him enjoy my anus yesterday, and that meant that it was time for him to enjoy my vagina as well, as he had told me at the beginning of the program. Jessica thinks I should tell you how I consented, because she thinks it is very cute. Mr. Killington, besides enjoying my mouth, also taught me to play with myself, but I am not allowed to do it without permission. Yesterday morning in bed I broke the rule, and Mrs. Fredericks found me with my hands in my panties.
Ed swallowed hard as he began to understand more about what he had seen and heard at the apartment building.
She told Mr. Killington, and Mr. Killington decided I should have a punishment enema and then a belt whipping. I had to wait naked in my room. The enema felt so uncomfortable, and then Mr. Killington let me touch myself, and suddenly I knew I wanted to consent to anal sex. Then I got whipped with Mr. Killington’s belt, while I sucked his penis. Jessica says the personal trainers sometimes do that, too, and I think she kind of hopes you will do that with her, if you come to work here. She thinks you are very handsome, and she made me admit that I think so too.
Ed couldn’t do anything except laugh in disbelief at this news.
We talked about you in bed last night. I did not really need very much comfort, I guess, but it was nice to have a friend to talk it all over with. We are not allowed to do more than kiss each other, without permission, but Jessica says I should also tell you that the owners like to have their girls have sex with each other sometimes, while they watch. She thinks you might think that is hot. It makes me blush, but I do like to kiss her and she says that she thinks I am bisexual, like her.
Anyway, I guess that if you are interested in coming to work here you should mail Mr. Killington. I hope you will. Jessica says that after we lose our virginities the owners make us have sex with a lot of different men, and that if you come to work here I will have to have sex with you. Mrs. Fredericks says that I must learn not to be forward, but I think I would like to have sex with you, if Mr. Killington says I have to.
Yours truly,
Lauren
Ed spent a long time trying to figure out just how to read the last sentence of the email. Had Lauren and Jessica been giggling when she wrote it? Or had she been blushing under the eye of this Mrs. Fredericks, made to admit to a forward feeling for which she might recei
He sipped his coffee, decided to risk getting to work a little late, and typed.
Dear Mr. Killington,
I’m very interested in exploring how I might get involved with New Career Partners. From what I’ve heard, my talents and interests would make a very good match for the program’s aims. I attach my resume, in case you find it useful to look over my qualifications.
Sincerely,
Edward Stevens
Glancing at his phone as soon as he reached the gym, he found Mr. Killington’s reply.
Dear Mr. Stevens (cc to Cathy, my administrative assistant),
I’m very glad to hear of your interest. Cathy, please set up an interview with Mr. Stevens for an evening, as soon as he’s got availability. Ed, you can plan on spending the night with us downtown. Cathy will set you up with an appointment for the program’s doctor, too—please get that done before your interview, so that you can enjoy yourself the way you should, as you get to know New Career Partners and everything we have to offer our staff.
Best regards,
JK
Cathy mailed only a minute or two later.
Dear Mr. Stevens,
Would tomorrow afternoon, evening, and night work for you? You could see Dr. Shu in his office, which is right in the apartment building, at three p.m., and do your labs right there. Then you could meet with Mr. Killington and two or three of the other owners over an early dinner at 5:30, upstairs in the penthouse.
Yours,
Cathy
Even if Ed’s day off hadn’t been the following day, he would have taken another personal day. If his boss had refused, Ed might well have quit, too. He couldn’t quite believe in the reality of New Career Partners, but he had not the slightest doubt that if the slightest chance existed that Mr. Killington’s apparent offer of employment in the mysterious apartment building full of eighteen-year-old schoolgirls was authentic, Ed was going to seize the opportunity.
Chapter Twenty-One
“You girls have certainly managed to make things complicated for your owners, have you not?” asked Mrs. Fredericks that day over the pasta salad Lauren had made for their lunch.
“Yes, Mrs. Fredericks,” said Jessica.
The matron looked at Lauren. “Yes, Mrs. Fredericks,” she said, hastily swallowing her mouthful of roasted pepper and fusilli. She always had a hard time figuring out exactly what Mrs. Fredericks was thinking, but this afternoon, following the strange events of the night before and of the morning, she found the task much more difficult than usual. If she had to guess, she might say that the matron seemed a little, well, happy about the way the situation with Mr. Stevens had developed.
Now, however, it appeared that she meant to cover over whatever pleasure she took in the knowledge that Lauren and Jessica would keep company with their owners, two other owners and their schoolgirls, and Mr. Stevens tomorrow night.
“You did the right thing of course in coming to talk to me,” she said. “But it has meant that Mr. Killington and Mr. Graves had to make arrangements very quickly for this Mr. Stevens, in order to avoid even greater complications. Your owners are under some stress because of you, girls, and so I am going to have to keep a very close eye on you to make sure that you do not fall into danger of adding to that stress. Any misbehavior will be dealt with summarily over my lap. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mrs. Fredericks,” the girls chorused back, trading blushing glances with one another.
Lauren knew that what Mrs. Fredericks said had little of sense in it, and less of justice, but she also understood that the intention must lie elsewhere. The matron seemed to wish to cover over what truly seemed a favorable attitude toward the arrival of Mr. Stevens in the girls’ lives, because of the immodest implications. Lauren, after all, had been instructed by Mr. Killington to write to Mr. Stevens in no uncertain terms concerning the sexual part of the New Career Partners program. Mrs. Fredericks clearly now wanted to ensure that the girls’ attitude remain modest and submissive despite their knowledge of the shameful and lascivious occasion planned for them, and the mischief that knowledge might do, down between their legs and inside their modest schoolgirl panties.
Lauren didn’t feel sure that the matron need have worried, for right then at lunch she was trying very hard not to think about what Mr. Killington had said in his email to her with cc to Mrs. Fredericks, after Mr. Stevens it seemed had confirmed his appointment the following afternoon.
Sweetheart, tomorrow night I will share you for the first time with other men. Your mouth has been available for a while, now, and you have been a good girl about fellating those with the right to command its pleasure. All the reports I have gotten of your cocksucking say that you follow instructions well, have learned to take the penis deep, and express your gratitude for the gift of a man’s seed in your tummy very sweetly. Tomorrow will be different, but your progress so far makes me think you will do just fine.
Your pussy, and the pussies of the other girls, will be freely available to all the men present. I will reserve your anus, though, for Mr. Stevens. I know you will open to him as obediently and respectfully as you opened to me last night.
You will also pleasure the other girls, and be pleasured by them, using toys as instructed and having them used upon you. I know this will be embarrassing at first, but a level of comfort with bisexual and polyamorous practices is essential for girls in the New Career Partners program, and you will I’m sure come to enjoy sex with women as much as sex with men. It is at any rate compulsory, so you should make up your mind to it.
I loved our evening and night together, sweetheart. Thank you so much for your submission, and for the pleasure you gave me with your beautiful body. We will have many more such nights of pleasure, on our own, as I teach you the ways of a man’s enjoyment—including tonight after the theater when I fuck you in your bedroom. The arisal of this situation with Mr. Stevens has moved your training forward a little faster than I might have done otherwise, but I know you are ready for it.
Affectionately,
John
“Lauren,” said Mrs. Fredericks. “You are wool-gathering. I will not have that.”
Lauren had been looking down at her plate for several minutes, it seemed, having lost her battle against thinking of the email.
“Help Jessica do the washing up, now, honey,” the matron said, with a sympathetic look in her eyes. “I know it all seems strange and embarrassing, but you must do as Mr. Killington says. You know what I must do if you do not behave—in which I include sitting idly at your place while your friend does a chore.”
“Yes, Mrs. Fredericks,” Lauren said, rising to obey and feeling obscurely comforted in the way that it seemed only Mrs. Fredericks could comfort her, because she knew what it was the matron must do.
And indeed Mrs. Fredericks did it three hours later, when Lauren failed to heed her reminder that she must be dressed for the theater by 4:30, since Mr. Killington would fetch her at 5:00.
Lauren couldn’t have sworn that she hadn’t begun to wool-gather, sitting on her bed, at 4:15 expressly to see if she would get a spanking even so close to the time of her departure for the theater. If any part of her had wanted to get out of a punishment that way, it found itself sorely disappointed when Mrs. Fredericks walked in to check on her at 4:28.
“Lauren! What are you doing? Get dressed this instant, and if there is any time left before five o’clock it will be employed in spanking you.”
Lauren tried to dawdle, but Mrs. Fredericks stood watching impatiently and she just couldn’t manage to fumble with the suspenders of her garter belt for any longer than a minute.
“Do you need my help with your slutty underwear, Lauren?” Mrs. Fredericks asked in the severe voice that sent a chill down Lauren’s spine.
“No, Mrs. Fredericks,” she said in a tremulous voice. How could she have thought she might want this?
“Then I can only conclude that you are trying to delay your spanking.” She checked the old-fashioned gold ladies’ watch she always wore on her left wrist. “I think we will have enough time. Bend over your bed and present your bottom, you little slut.”
Then Lauren knew, though she pushed the realization away immediately: she wanted discipline—she needed discipline so that she would feel that something could reclaim her from the way she burned inside when she read and reread and thought over the mail from Mr. Killington. She needed a spanking because the thought of Mr. Killington giving her bottom to Ed Stevens for fucking had such a terrible power over her.
Still, that thought vanished from her mind as soon as it had come, the quicker because she saw that Mrs. Fredericks had taken from the top of Lauren’s dresser the old-fashioned wooden hairbrush that Lauren had never used and whose purpose she had guessed, with a blush, the first time she had seen it.
“Bend over, girl,” Mrs. Fredericks repeated, the severity of her voice seeming to increase as she observed her charge’s slowness to obey. “Palms flat on the bed. Back arched. I will have those lacy panties down even though they would not protect you the way modest underwear would.”
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