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Samantha Knocks at the Door Ch. 01

By: MrBlanik



The house was quiet. I made my way around, checking the doors and making sure the house was set for the night. I'd never been told to or assigned this task; I assumed it, as I had quite a few of my tasks. When I started, he had a list of tasks and duties. We walked through the house, room to room, going over the list, adding things, clarifying things. My previous job as a hotel housekeeper helped. I knew things to look for and had a standard to meet in doing them. Still, over time, there were other things that I picked up and assumed the responsibility of. Doing the rounds of the house for the evening was one of them.

The early spring evening was fading quickly into night. At the front door the only light left in the house came from the hall and his bedroom. He was reading, his habit after dinner. I turned the dead bolt slowly. As it clicked into place, I smiled in satisfaction. Ana, his daughter, would not be home until Sunday.

For the weekend, I was alone with him. I'd been waiting for this. Though quiet at dinner – he was quiet most of the time - he seemed in an upbeat mood. There had been some kidding from Ana as she said good bye and left. I feigned embarrassment. I thought he enjoyed the ribbing from his daughter. Tonight would be a good night I thought as turned from the door. 

I turned off the hall lights and the built-in night lights came on, spreading their soft glow across the stone floor. I'd fallen in love with his house. It was simple, clean, sparsely decorated and very heavily influenced by the Asian aesthetic. I'd even come to terms with beautiful Shoji that separated the bedroom from the hall. He'd joked many times that I was taking his house from him. Maybe I was. It was my job to make sure his house ran as efficiently as I could make it. I guess I did think of it as mine. 

He was a quiet and private man most of the time. Still, I enjoyed being around him. His kindness and gentleness was always around Ana and me. I was still getting use to it. Nothing would be said, and he expected no thank yous, but I would find some special, little thing done for me – quietly and privately. 

Almost from the beginning I found myself curiously attracted to him. As I became more comfortable living with and working for him, I found that I was very concerned that what I did was perfect for him. He noticed too. I began to do small special things, just for him.

Over the last month or so, I caught myself now or then looking at him and wishing for him. I knew there was interest; I could see it in his eyes sometimes, particularly if Ana was not around. I did my best to let him know I'd accept. The time or moment never seemed to be there. Then Ana brought up this weekend school trip – thank you Ana! I hoped beyond hope that this weekend would be right.

I paused by his open door and looked into the semi-darkness of his room. From where I stood, I saw him from the side, legs stretched out on the hassock and head bent just a little as he read. The lamp between the chairs made a small circle of light around him.

"Are you going to stand in the hall all night or are you going to join me," he asked quietly with a little twist of sarcasm.

I smiled and checked my giggle, answering by walking into his room and around the other chair. I knew I couldn't have stayed watching him long. He had an uncanny ability to know whenever I was near.

He looked up as I came around the chair. "Is there something special I can do for you, dear?"

I smiled shyly and shook my head no. After the first week here, the only time I heard my name was if he needed to get my attention, or had something really important to say, otherwise, as with his daughter, I was dear – or love – depended on his mood. He motioned for me to sit. I slipped from my shoes and sat with my legs folded up under me leaning my elbow on the arm and resting my chin in my hand. He smiled at me, but with a bit of puzzlement in his eyes.

His expression changed slowly, like he was at a loss as what to do or say next. Not at all unusual for him, I'd seen him many times when he would just forget what he was saying mid-sentence, or not know what to say at all. Sometimes he just seemed uncomfortable around people. I'd gotten very use to it and it didn't bother me. He move and put his book aside.

"What are you thinking," he asked in a very low, soft whisper, as if afraid to disturb the night's quiet.

"Nothing really," I answered. "I'm not really thinking – feeling maybe, but not thinking, sir."

He chortled to himself, "Then, what are you feeling?"

"Contented," I paused, "and what a lucky young woman I am."

"Contented – lucky?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay . . ."

That comfortable feeling I often had around him started to envelope me. It was like a warm blanket that wrapped around my shoulders, a cloak that protected me, making me feel warm and loved. When I first started working for him I felt shy and hesitant around him. One night at dinner, just he and I, this feeling began to grow in me and around me, from then on I knew I was where I should be, doing what I should be doing.

"You're thinking too much."

"Excuse me sir," his words had startled me from my thoughts.

"You're thinking too much," he repeated.

I turned away from him shyly. "I am, sir."

"About?"

I caught myself in time; I'd almost blurted out that I was thinking of him. Instead, I shrugged and shook my head. My thoughts were scaring me a little.

Something made me look back at him. He was smiling again with his warm gentle half-smile. I felt shy and slightly embarrassed. In my mind I knew the littlest hint, slightest gesture, the smallest smile and I would be given everything I could want. I didn't have the courage to do it. He was right there for me. I stole a glance. He'd laid his head back and closed his eyes, hands folded on his chest. I sighed. Something held me from just blurting out that I wanted to be his, needed to be his. I turned my head with another sigh – oh, how I wish . . .

"You're upset about something?" His voice was soft, tender, sweet and concerned.

I shook my head, hoping he would hear my thoughts. I felt his hand surround mine, his thumb gently caressing the back of my hand.

"What do you wish for, dear," his voice barely above a whisper.

Sighing dreamily, I turned toward him.

He looked directly at me and spoke softly and tenderly. "You have taken over my house and made it yours. You have taken my heart and made it yours." He paused and took a deep breath. I watched as his chest rose and fell. "Do you want my bed also, dear?"

Slowly, it dawned that I was to answer. I couldn't any more now than before. Once again, I shied my face from him.

"Samantha, my love, stand for me please." The gentle softness of his voice hadn't changed, but I moved as though it were the strongest command ever given me. Without hesitation, I stood, his hand leading me to stand next to his legs. He dropped my hand. "Please, dear, for me, would you undress?"

His eyes held mine, willing me to comply with his request. My fingers began unbuttoning my blouse without any thought from me. Slowly, as I thought would please him, I unbuttoned and removed my blouse. I let it float to the floor and reached back to undo my bra.

"No, please dear, your skirt next."

A slight nod and I moved my hands to the waist button and zipper of my skirt. After pushing it from my hips, It fell on it's own to the floor. I stepped from it. I felt embarrassed in only my bra and panties. Not because he was looking at me, I found myself turned on by undressing in front of him. No, I was embarrassed that my underwear wasn't sexy and provocative, but plain white cotton. I felt as old and uptight as my mother, not a young attractive and sexy woman.

"I'm sorry sir," I murmured, barely audible. I glanced quickly expecting to see disappointment in his face. I didn't find any, instead he was looking at me warmly, pleased and appreciatively. I was happy. I took my bra and panties off a little faster than I think he would have liked, but I wanted out of them so bad. I felt so unattractive in them.

Naked, I stood with my head bowed, feeling exposed, nervous, tense, and more aroused than I'd ever felt before.

"Samantha, dear, would you go kneel on the bed and wait for me, please?" His command, given as a sweet request, sent a tingle thorough me. For all the times I'd played this out in my head, what was unfolding was not one of my scenarios. No falling into each others arms, embracing in mad, wild passion, no subtle dance of seduction pushing him to the point where he takes me in fevered lust, no, his voice commanded me, controlling and willing me to do its bidding, as it always did, whether asking if I'd accomplished some errand, or would I mind refilling his coffee. I am his to command and would obey – and more than happy to be in that position. I couldn't help a little smile as I turned to go to his bed.

I kept my eyes down as I waited. In my mind I watched as he went to his closet – it served also as his dressing room – and undressed. I sensed he was standing next to the bed and raised my eyes. I never got further than his loins. He was enlarged but not yet to full erection. I stared at him. He seemed to grow as I stared.

"Turn around for me please dear," he asked.

Without hesitation or thought I turned, kneeling with my back to him. I tensed and shivered feeling him gathering my hair together and folding it up against my head. He held it there with a clam-shell comb, under me the mattress shifted from his weight.

His breath warmed my ear when he whispered, "I would like you to reach back and take hold of your ankles, please." I did and immediately notice how exposed it made my breasts. My nipples had swollen and become erect. Between my legs, I was becoming moist and tingling. "Very good, dear," he whispered. "Now, I would be very pleased if you did your best not to move no matter what I do you. Try not to react, but feel and let the feeling flow through you."

I breathed deeply, having no idea what he had in mind, but I closed my eyes and nodded. Tensing, I waited for his touch – or something. The mattress shifted again as he got off the bed. I waited, none to patiently. It seemed like forever before I felt him get on the bed again.

He touched me – and I nearly jumped from the bed. It was the lightest, barest touch possible, just every so slightly touching my skin. His fingertips felt slick, oiled like. He started by touching me right where the cheeks of my ass meet the small of my back. Very slowly – oh god, too slowly – he traced my spin, sending shivers and shocks of pleasure in his trail, like an advancing wave pleasure followed his fingers up my back. No matter how hard I tried, my body shook with delighted excitement.

Continuing up my neck until he came to my upsweep hair, there he removed his finger. Just as lightly as he did with his fingers, he brushed his lips across my neck. My head fell forward, presenting as much of my neck to his lips as I could. I began to breathe in heavy conscious rhythm. He kept moistening his lips and brushing them across my neck. At the same time, he moved to be behind me and to caress my ass. My pussy was now very wet and aroused. I could feel my blood rushing into my clit and labia, engorging and swelling them with heated excitement.

"Spread your knees for me please." I sensed more than heard his whispered request and my knees obediently opened. One hand slipped around me and slide down my belly. Oh yes – please, slip your hand between my legs. My wish turned to titillated disappointment, his fingers stopped just reaching the bottom of my mound. He stroked and massaged my mons, staying teasingly above my clit.

Down between my ass cheeks the fingers of his other hand slid, oiled and slick, sliding down underneath me to my asshole. He began to massage me, my thighs tensed instinctively with my ass squeezing his fingers. He continued and my hips and thighs relaxed. I never realized the pleasure that could come from having my asshole played with. Rapturous sensations emanated from his fingers. I could feel my asshole relaxing and slowing opening for his finger. I willed myself to simply let it happen. Every touch, every sensation that he did to me down there was so new to me. It felt so strange and so good to be touched there. His finger slid inside my ass. He stopped. He had maybe the first joint of his finger in my ass. It felt strange, weird – and oh so wonderful.

He stroked and twisted his finger inside me. With each stroke he slowly pushed deeper inside me. My breathing became shallow and rapid. Oh god – what he was doing with his finger – oh please don't stop – please, I begged in my mind. I felt his hand against my ass telling me his finger was as deep into me as it could go. I shifted and leaned forward a little hoping he could get deeper into my bowels. He stoked his finger its entire length, slowly out and then in, agonizingly teasing me.

His rhythm was steady and constant. I began to roll my butt from side to side in time with his strokes. He would twist his finger in one direction on the way in and in the opposite on the way out. I moaned softly. The hand that had been kneading my mons, now simply gave me support. Oh god – I'd never been pleasured like this before and was completely blown away by the sensations being created inside me. It was so different and strange – not at all like have something in my pussy. Occasionally he would push against the wall of my bowels and I would gasp as an intense pulse of pleasure coursed through me. I was about to have the most unique orgasm of my life.

"Please, sir – please," I begged him. "Let me cum, I need to cum . . . please"

His voice was soft, but mocking, "Such impatience, dear – do you really want to cum so soon?"

So soon - I thought, for god's sake I've been ready to cum for forever now! "Yes . . . yes . . . I want to cum now." God, did I want to cum! He rammed his finger deeply into my ass. I gasped. Over and over, he slowly withdrew only to slam it back into me. By the third time I was convulsing uncontrollably, moaning and gasping. I felt sweat breakout on my face. I fell face down on the bed and screamed into the comforter as I came. Wave after wave washed through my body pounding my brain with sensational pleasure. As the last wave of ecstasy subsided, I felt his finger slip from me. My asshole felt battered and sore. I felt gratified and exhausted and was happy for moment's respite.

I lay face buried in the comforter, ass still in the air. His fingers touched my clit and I winced, still so aroused it was painful to have him touch me. He must've known as his fingers left my clit, but enter my pussy. He easily found that spongy spot inside me and began to rub it. My body, still coming down, shot right back up again. Immediately, I was panting again. My pussy contracted around his fingers. He stretched me open with a third finger and continued to rub me. When his fourth finger entered me, I felt more stretched and filled than I ever had. I was trembling, moaning and crying softly. Why did he have to know how to do this to my body? I never had a chance, my second orgasm hit me and I cried out. In a chorus of wails and moans I writhed through the exhilaration.

He stayed with me through out the whole thing, slowly as my convulsions settled down, withdrawing to gently caress my mons and the outside of my pussy. I collapsed completely, sprawling over the bed. I felt him get off the bed. I laid there only semi-conscious of what was going on around me. I felt his hands on me again, helping me to roll over and sit up. He handed me a glass of water and I drank it in large gulps.

Finishing the water, I handed the glass back. His face looked soft, gentle and tender, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Fuck me please," I asked in a hoarse whisper. "Fuck me – get it over with and make me yours."

As I was speaking, he was delicately caressing my breast, considerately staying away from my nipple. I felt its sensitivity radiating through my breast. Never had my body become such a bundle of nerves from a man's touch.

His expression changed to concern. "Are you sure you want me to? You've had a hell of a night already."

I lay down on my back and opened my arms and legs to him. "Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me. I need to know that I'm completely yours." I wasn't even sure I would cum if he fucked me. I didn't think I cared either. I knew one thing; he had just given me two of the most incredible orgasms I had ever had. I knew something else too, if he didn't fuck me tonight, I would be able to face him in the morning, feeling that I'd let him down by not giving him pleasure.

He leaned over me, placing his lips to my throat. I shuttered at their touch. With the same excruciating slowness of everything else, his lips made their way down my throat and then my chest, down between my breasts, down my belly, down my mound. I was breathing again rapidly in short, shallow spurts. I gasp and cried out when he took my clit between his lips. Damn him – why could he just shove it in me and get it over with? Why did he persist in this torment of pleasure?

He lifted his mouth from me and put his hands around my hips, lifting them from the bed. Kneeling between my legs, he lifted my hips and guided them toward his erect, waiting cock. I gasped again, and he moaned lowly as he entered me. True to the night, he slid inside me slowly, turning my gasp into a long moan. I felt my hips touch his and he pulled me tighter to him, grinding his pubic bone against my clit, forcing an impassioned wail.

Rather than move his hips, he pushed and pull mine with his hands. I opened my eyes briefly to see he was looking down watching his cock appear and then disappear in side me. His rhythm was steady, not slow, but not fast either. Each time he pulled me to him he made sure to grind his pubic bone against my clit, sending intense pulses through me. I began to knead and squeeze my own breasts, tweaking and pinching my nipples. Their hypersensitivity caused painful pleasure.

"Oh – god – not again," I moaned with ecstatic agony.

His pace quickened and I felt him begin to swell inside me. I clenched my eyes tightly, my face contorting, my cunt contracting around him, and my body erupted again. Somewhere in the middle of it all I felt him filling me with his cum. All over, I felt this prickly numbness.

He rolled us over, together, never coming out of me and gathered me to him tightly in his arms. We lay together while I felt him soften and slip from me, his cum oozing out as he unplugged my pussy.

Samantha Knocks at the Door Ch. 02



Part 2 – The Door is Opened for Her

I woke slowly the next morning, rolled over and sat bolt upright in a panic. Several deep breathes and I told myself it was alright; he just let me sleep. I laid back down and snuggled under the covers. Last night seemed a dream, but here I was waking up in his bed.

Getting out of bed and standing I winced and then smiled. I'm twenty years younger but my god did my loins hurt from the night before.

I needed a shower. The insides of my thighs and pussy felt sticky. One of the last things I remembered was his cum oozing out of me after his cock shrank and slipped from my pussy. I looking back at the bed I saw the spot where it soaked into the sheet. Good thing I change and wash the sheets on Saturday anyway; I had a feeling I would be changing sheets a little more often.

Rounding the bed, I found my clothes, not piled on the floor where I left them, but picked up and neatly folded on the hassock. My bra and panties were sitting on top. I grimaced. Something would have to be done about my choice of underwear; he deserved more of a treat than basic white cotton. I continued on to his bathroom.

The tub, beautifully custom-made from cedar, looked inviting and soaking would certainly do my groin well. But, my head needed clearing, I desperately wanted coffee and a bath would take to long. This morning a shower would have to do.

I never quite understood the shower setup in his bathroom. First, the was no ‘shower', like an enclosure that you step into, no, in the middle of the far wall was the shower head and hand wand. The bathroom was done in large tiles with a floor drain. You just walked over and turned the shower on. The other objects that puzzled me were these two small stools that sat under the shower. Whenever I came in to clean his bathroom, they were always neatly sitting side by side. He was a very neat man, making my work much easier. I missed the diverter knob, turning on the water I was hit in the stomach with a blast of hot water from the hand wand. After the shock and figuring out what was going on, I turned the knob and had water coming from the shower head.

I began to think about last night and what would happen this morning as the water cleared my head. The experience of last night was still unbelievable to me. I didn't think that love making with him was always going to be like that, but hey, even once and a while would be more than enough! What bothered me more was this morning, I mean, yesterday I was just his housekeeper, an employee. He paid me; I did what I was told. Now, I've slept with him and become his lover also. Would the two be kept separate? I worried about how things worked now. Do I greet him this morning with a hug and a kiss, saying good morning sweetheart? I decided the best thing to do was let him decide our future. I would dress and get my coffee and go to the study, drinking my coffee with him as I usually did Saturday mornings.

After my shower, I picked up my clothes and went to my room. Sliding open the panel that served as a door, the thought occurred to me; would he ask me to move into his room? I smile to myself, so many questions I had now. On the way to my closet, I caught my naked reflection in the mirror. Curious, I took a moment to look at myself. I felt very different this morning. Did I look any different? Posing in front of the mirror, I thought, no, I didn't look any different, but I was very happy with what I saw.

Instead of getting dressed, I went to my vanity table and sat naked brushing out my hair. I like being naked I thought. All my life, I'd been brought up to hide my body under clothes. It felt wonderful to sit here in the beauty of my nakedness. I smiled at my reflection and said, "I'm going to him naked. What do you think?" Giggles poured from me, feeling silly about talking to my reflection like that.

I calmed down and regained my composure. Standing with a new found sense of myself I walked purposefully to the kitchen for my coffee.

He was sitting at his desk, in deep thought, pondering whatever was on the computer screen. "Good morning sir," I said cheerfully, but softly, not wanting to startle him. "Do you need more coffee?" I'd brought the coffee pot with me as a precaution.

Moving his hand away from his mouth, "Good morning dear," Then his attention slowly began to swing from the computer screen to my direction. I couldn't help smiling at the change in his expression as his eyes took in my nakedness standing there for him. "And what a very delightful good morning it has become," he said with a growing smile."

I smiled back, but immediately dipped my eyes. I was happy he was pleased, but the boldness in my bedroom had given way to a small amount of embarrassment. "Thank you sir," it was all I could think of saying.

He got up from the desk and I started in from the door and somewhere around one of the chairs we met. I refilled his offered cup and he sat down. I put the coffee pot on a couple of magazines on the table – all the furniture in the house was gorgeous, water rings would be a big no-no - and some how found myself kneeling on the floor at his knee, looking up at him. It was kind of surprising to find myself naked, kneeling on the floor at his feet, like some kind of slave-girl. As that phase came to me, it was as if all the questions I woke up with disappeared with it – some kind of slave-girl.

"You don't look happy dear, something wrong?"

I heard his voice and startled a bit, turning to look up at him. "No – no, sir, I was just thinking."

He nodded with a curious look and smile. "Do you intend to stay like that for the duration?"

"Kneeling, sir?" I didn't quite understand his question.

"No, dear, naked."

"Oh," I smiled and then dropped my eyes to my coffee cup. "If you wish," I heard myself saying. I looked up to see him smiling broadly. I didn't need words. "Yes, I plan to be naked for as much time as I can."

"Thank you, dear, it will be a delight to have you wander about so." He adjusted his position and stretched his legs out, setting his feet on the table. "I always had the impression you'd be very instinctual about my desires."

"Excuse me?"

"Almost from the beginning dear, I thought this would be very natural for you. I believe I am correct."

"Then, sir, this is how you want me – a slave-girl?" I was hesitant with my question, afraid of how it might sound to him.

His lips began to twitch and his eyes took on that look of thought. "No – slave-girl sounds too harsh. You have proven more important around this house than a mere slave. Without you, this house would fall apart."

"Thank you sir." I felt real embarrassed to hear him say that. I felt important to him, of course. I knew he relied on me a great deal, but I was embarrassed to hear him say it.

He took his feet from the table and leaned forward to reach the coffee pot and topped his cup off. He was thinking and I knew to be quiet and let him. He stood and walked to the glass door that opened out on the garden behind the house. My eyes followed him. He stood there looking out, one hand against the small of his back. I knew he had back problems. I blushed and smiled embarrassingly to my coffee cup, thinking last probably aggravated it. I watched as he took a couple of sips. Then to the trees and shrubs outside said, "You realize I will now assume the liberty to use you as I see fit, when I see fit." He turned toward me as he finished.

I tensed and stiffened with his words. My body tensed, not with fear, but anticipation. He was looking at me over his glasses, carefully watching my reaction. I breathed deeply and answered, "Yes sir, I understand."

Knowing my understanding, he continued, "You also realize that I have desires that are not considered mainstream."

Sometimes I could only smile at the way he spoke – desires not considered mainstream – I bet! "May I ask what those desires are sir?"

He smiled wryly back. "You may," he said and just stood there. I wanted to smack him. I've seen him do this with Ana. I asked and was given permission to ask. If I was to get an answer I would now have to ask my question specifically. I completely understood why it drove Ana nuts when he did it to her. It could turn into a real verbal dance with them. He walked back to his chair while I glared at him.

"Sir, how do you desire me?" I made a conscious effort to keep my voice steady and sweet.

His expression became smug. "First, dear, I would be most happy, if, when not otherwise busy, you would attend me as you are now."

"Kneeling like this sir?"

"Yes dear."

Okay – that didn't sound like a big deal. Actually, other than getting use to it, my knees and toes were starting feel a little uncomfortable, but it felt right to be kneeling beside him. I can handle this I thought.

"Last night, Samantha, how did you feel about the way I played with your ass?"

My immediate reaction happened between my legs; just the smallest thought of last night aroused me. "It was very new and strange. It did hurt – a little," I was more thinking out loud than answering him directly, "but it was wonderfully arousing – even the little bit of pain I felt. It was like it intensified everything. I was very surprised you got me to orgasm just from playing with my asshole." Pausing, I averted my eyes, partly ashamed to admit that I really liked it. "I would like you to do that again to me, please."

I glanced to see his smile become very pleased and satisfied. "Good, I will be using you that way quite often. I'm very pleased you enjoyed it." His eyes became a little sinister, "but then again, I would be using you that way whether you enjoyed it or not." His eyebrows arched as he finished.

I had to close my eyes for a moment. The idea that he would use me in ways against my will was just to arousing to comprehend. My thighs tightened and squeezed together causing gentle pulses of pleasure between them. I breathed deeply to calm myself.

"Also," he paused thoughtfully, "we will be changing some of our routines to give them more sensual undertones" He turned his head to look at me. My look of bewilderment was plain to him. "Take bathing, for instance, we shall now bath together, and it will be anything but a quick shower together."

Bewilderment became excited understanding. I think I'd gotten the idea.

"Tell me, Samantha, my love, how did you feel about being told to grab your ankles last night and trying not to react to what I did to you?"

I frowned. "Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I was a little miffed at first. I wanted to touch you and kiss you and make you feel how much I wanted you, but you wouldn't let me."

"Is that why it was so important that I fuck you last night?"

Sighing with thought, "Partly – yes, I wanted you to know I want you as much as you wanted me. But, more than that, after everything you did to me, I had to know that I would wake up this morning completely yours – belonging to you, and you alone. I wouldn't have if you didn't fuck me."

"Do you feel like you belong to me?"

"Yes sir," I answered meekly.

"Do you like the idea of belonging to me?"

"Yes sir – it's the most wonderful feeling I've ever had."

"Belonging – can be a rather vague idea, would you tell me more?"

That struck me as strange. In my mind, I was his, no one else, just he and me, which seemed simple enough. I wasn't sure what he was getting at. I looked at him hoping for something.

He leaned a little closer. "What do the words possessed, owned mean to you dear?" He leaned back and my eyes grew large with the realization he wasn't playing a game with me. That's exactly what he understood from the idea belonging.

"Oh – my – I hadn't thought of it that way. Is that what you want – to own me?"

"Yes, dear," he said gently. "I want to own you – all of you – your heart, your mind and your body."

I couldn't respond. I didn't know how to. I was completely floored the idea. I never considered that when I thought of belonging to him. I just stared.

He held up his hand, and spoke softly, "it's okay, think about it. I don't want or need your answer right now. I know the idea is most likely very foreign to you and you need time to think about it. I do wish you would consider it though." He paused and I nodded, still in shock at the thought of being owned. "But," he continued, "I was really headed in a different direction. How would you have reacted, if last night, instead of telling you hold your ankles, I'd bound your wrists to your ankles?"

It took me a moment to shift gears with him. Blinking, I asked, "You mean like with rope?"

"Yes," he answered with a shrug.

Again I reacted with a twinge between my legs, now that sounded like something I could get into! "I think I would enjoy that sir." I answered deliberately, intrigued by the idea of being tied up, but cautious.

He smiled, pleased and nodded. "Well – you have things to do and I have plans for you later, so, be a good girl and go get your work done." He leaned forward and took my chin in his hand raising it to kiss my lips. His kiss was sweet and tender and oh too short.

Our lips parted and I shied from him, "Yes sir." I didn't want him to see in my eyes how my mind was racing with everything that was said.

I was beginning to feel a little over whelmed - so much, it felt like, had taken place in such a short amount of time. It was with relief that I started my duties after being dismissed. However, the anticipation of what he might have in mind for the afternoon gave me a sense of urgency in getting everything accomplished. Try as I may to concentrate on my work, my mind kept wandering, particularly when I walked by a mirror. Every time I did I caught my naked reflection and had to stop and look. It would only remind me of all the still unanswered questions I had. Just take it hour by hour, day by day – let him lead you, I kept telling myself.

Of course, my head was also filled with all kinds of thoughts about sex. There were three things that really stuck with me. He would – how did he say it – oh, use me as he saw fit, when he saw fit, going about the house naked made me feel like a moving target. I kept looking over my shoulder waiting (hoping?) for him to jump me at any moment. I don't think I need to explain the state of arousal that kept me in. The thought that at any time he might walk up behind me, push me onto a bed, fuck me and then walk away had me wet all morning.

Sort of in combination with that was what he said about using me whether or not I enjoyed it. I didn't feel he would rape me or abuse me in any sense, but I did get the feeling I better learn to let things go if he did something with me that I'd never done before. With just last night, I realized he's had sexual experiences I had not, and experience is not necessarily base on the number of men I'd slept with. Get right down to it; it had all been pretty much the same – talk, kiss, foreplay (sometimes), fuck. It was the foreplay part I knew would take on a whole new meaning. Basically, however, I realized if he wanted it, I better provide it.

The second thing was this whole idea of being tied up for sex. Okay, I wasn't born yesterday; I've heard about people who get off on that kind of thing. I just never imagined I would be one of them, much less, met someone who was. Not only had I now met some one who was into bondage, but I was his lover. I have to admit though the idea of actually being tied up and helpless to stop him sounded really intriguing. I'm not sure how I would have reacted last night if he'd brought out some rope and tied me up. I happy he didn't. Today, this afternoon, I fully expected to see some rope and to be tied up. That expectation did a lot to increase my arousal all morning.

The biggie that I kept trying to push from my mind was his desire to own me. The whole thing was beyond anything I knew. I didn't want to think about it right now. I hoped that I could show him he didn't need to own me, that I would give him anything he wanted from me right now – no ownership required.

I was happy that he left me alone while I went about my work.



Samantha Knocks at the Door Ch. 03



Part 3 – Samantha Enters a New Life

He was on the phone, in the living room as I finished my work. His eyes followed me each time I walked by. I like being watched, though I tried to look demure glancing over at him. I made sure my last trip was to put clean towels away in his bathroom.

His eyes never wavered as I came across the room. I knelt quietly by his knee. He was saying something that sounded like work. If it was one of the associates from the firm, I felt sorry for them come Monday. He did not like work calls at all during the weekend; it had best be a damn important emergency!

He rolled his eyes, listening to the other person and then leaned forward, putting his hand over the receiver. "Go fill the tub," he whispered. "I'll be done here soon – oh, and make it as hot as you can stand." I nodded and he nodded back. I rose and went to his bathroom.

It would take a while to fill his tub. Whether he knew it or not, Ana and I both had a habit of sneaking baths in his tub. It was huge – sized for two people, and beautifully made from cedar. I'd never seen a wooden bath tub before. The first time I mentioned it he laughed saying the plumber had his doubts about it too when building the house. But, as I should have known, he'd done his research and the type of cedar use was very common for building tubs in Japan.

Surrounding the tub were floor to ceiling windows and across the top of the tub was another window. If it wasn't for the frosted glass and the seclusion afforded by the garden, I would've been very self-conscious taking a bath in here. It did, however, let the bathroom fill with wonderful amounts of sunlight.

I was sitting on the tub edge, absent-mindedly swirling the water with my hand when I heard him and looked up. From his expression, I could tell he was annoyed over the phone call. He shrugged and grinned in an oh well manner. I smiled back and after turning the faucet off went to him.

Something in his expression held me from speaking. Silently, I helped him undress. Last night I didn't really get to see his body. With each piece of clothing that came off, I studied and memorized how he looked. I'd never undressed a man before, or at least not in such an unhurried way. I fumbled, trying to make it as sensual as possible and not doing a very good job of it. His face reassured me though that with enough practice, I would be undressing him with out a thought.

I was on my knees holding his pants as he stepped from them - his cock at eye level! I found it very difficult not open my mouth and suck him right in. There was an overwhelming desire inside me to touch him and lick him and show him that I could give him the same kind of pleasure that he'd given me last night.

It didn't work that way. After stepping out of his jeans, he helped me stand. Then he took his pants from my hand and laid them on the counter, retrieving a hair clip from behind the sink. I swept up my hair and turned around for him. He clipped it in place and led me over to the shower. I drew a blank – why fill the tub if we were going to shower? It didn't make sense to me. He saw the question in my face and with a slight knowing smile and his gently raised hand hushed my unspoken question. I was offered one of the stools that sat below the shower.

He positioned the other stool behind me and turned on the hand wand. At first the water was a little too hot and I tensed sharply as it hit my back. He adjusted the temperature until I sighed and nodded that he'd found the just right point.

Then it all became pure magic - the water, his hands, the wash cloth, even the soap. Before I woke he was planning this, from the fragrance, I knew he went to the other bathroom and gotten my soap. I began to feel like a small child being lovingly washed by her parent. With the cloth in his hand, he tenderly, but thoroughly scrubbed down my neck and back. I felt cared for, secure and protected - no part of me was forgotten. My arms were raised as he washed the underside and my armpits, then down my side. His touch was so wonderful. I couldn't stop my reaction when he slipped the cloth between my buttocks. I slide back on the stool making sure he could reach deeply in between and under me.

His stool scraped the tile as he pulled himself closer. I saw his knees appear on either side of my legs. First on the back of my neck and then on my ear I felt his warm breath. "Put your hands on your head for me please." I did and heard him adjust his position and the hand shower came around from behind. Instinctively I closed my eyes and mouth expecting the water to hit my face. I heard him softly say, "No need to turn blue on me."

He was carefully directing the hand shower to cascade water down my chest and away from my face. I let my breath out with relief. He gently lifted one breast and wetted me under it. I sighed at his tender touch. Again, with the other, he gently lifted and sprayed the water under and just as gently set my breast back.

I moaned when he played the stream of water down between my breasts, down my belly and between my legs. I began to feel he was carefully measuring the amount of eroticism and sensuality, not wanting too much too soon. I stole a glance at the filled steaming tub and thought; we still had some soaking to do, and I have yet to wash him. The care and thoroughness he was taking etched itself in my mind so when it was my turn I could wash him with as much care and luxurious pleasure. I was beginning to grasp the idea was not to rush things, but let time slowly work for you.

I relaxed in his hands and leaned back against his chest with a deep sigh.

I wasn't told to sit up. He continued to wash and rinse me, scooting up closer the further he washed down my front. There was no overt eroticism in his touch, but that meant little to my body. The care and tenderness that he worked with, the firm, but gentle feel of his hand behind the wash cloth, the warmth of his chest and the texture of the wash cloth took care of exciting me all by themselves. My legs spread for him as he reached below my belly button.

He pushed me up right saying, "Turn around love, so I may do your feet and legs."

I obediently spun around. He scooted his stool back and caught one leg, leading it up and over to rest on his thigh. He'd definitely done all this before. I thought about his late wife, Lynn, and how they probably bathed together. Amused, I grinned, watching him make sure to clean between every toe, before scrubbing the bottom of my foot and work his way up my leg. The same was done for my other leg and as he rinsed the soap from it I sighed deeply. I was done with; no more would his hands be roaming all over my body.

Then again . . . I was now my turn to roam his body. Without a word, I took the wash cloth from him and picked the hand wand up from his lap. He turned his back to me and we began the whole thing again.

Being the washer rather than the washed reminded me that I was here to serve him. Just like when I did the housecleaning, the laundry or cooked dinner, I served his pleasure; only for those things I got paid. This – this, I was doing because I wanted to. This I was doing because I got as much pleasure from doing it as he did from receiving it. His washing me was a gift to me for what I gave him; it was also, I would find one of his ways of instructing me in how to please him.

The way I was thinking about it all was startling to me. Sure, in my job as his housekeeper, I was happy and took great care in what I did, making sure it was just the way he wanted it. Last night – last night, it was sex – no, it was lovemaking. Okay, he was using my body for his pleasure, but he gave me more pleasure than any man before him. He took my body last night; I didn't stop him, or say don't do it this way. I let him have me as he wanted to.

Being the washer, slowly, I was beginning to understand that I enjoyed serving him. I wanted to serve him. I needed to serve him. I knew now he would never again bring up the subject of owning me. That would simply happen, slowly and progressively.

Last night, I knocked at his door, looking for the intimacy of love that I wanted and he wanted and kept seeing in his eyes. This morning, he opened the door widely to a whole new meaning of that intimacy. Right now, I realized I had entered completely and his vision would become mine.

I spoke this morning of belonging to him and he spoke of owning. No, the conversation wouldn't come up again. I was bringing it to a close – closing it by saying yes with my every act to please him; yes, I am yours to own.

Instead of asking him to turn around, I slipped from my stool and moved in front of him. The entire time I spent washing his chest, legs and groin, I was on my knees on the hard tile. I never looked him directly in the eye. This is the way it's supposed to be I knew in my heart - the way I wanted it to be.

As I washed his belly, he reached out and slipped his hand around the back of my head, pulling it slightly closer as he leaned and kissed the top of my head. My heart lept, I had pleased him! I closed my eyes and murmured softly, "Thank you sir."

Taking him in my hands, wrapped in the wash cloth, I found myself getting very aroused. With my head bowed, I found it easy to hide my smirk as I took a little – okay, a lot – of extra care in washing his cock and balls. I slipped the wash cloth from his sac, down beneath him. He caught his breath sharply and his thighs tightened. I looked up to see his face filled with pleasure.

"Yes dear, I enjoy being touched there also," he spoke with quiet contentment. I smiled shyly and dropped my eyes back to my work. Not being one to leave well enough alone, I caressed him with the wash cloth down there for a minute more before moving on to his thigh.

Getting to his foot, I took diligent care to wash between every toe.

Eventually there was no more of him to wash, I sighed with disappointment.

He reached over and turned the shower off, saying, "Now that we have cleaned our bodies, 'tis time for the spirit." With that he stood and extended his hand to help me up. We went to the tub and he held my hand as I stepped in. The water was still very warm, warmer than I was used to. He went to the other end and slid into the tub with a gratified sigh. His legs slipped under mine, I bent my knees to accommodate them and his head rolled back to lay on the edge of the tub. We soaked without a word between us. I'd come to the conclusion that my questions would be answered in time; to speak and ask them now would only ruin the peace of the moment.

Soon, I drifted to no place at all really. I'd never been to a place like that before. My mind felt so empty, clear, serene. I don't remember ever feeling this relaxed and tranquil. It was wonderfully unique.

I felt his foot rub against my thigh and opened my eyes. "Are you ready for the last step in our bathing ritual?"

I giggled and nodded. It did sort of feel like a ritual, but I hadn't thought of it that way until he used the word. It would be a ritual I would look forward to. Though, I was a little puzzled – what else could there be – I mean, we've washed each other's bodies. We've soaked our spirits into peaceful oblivion. What was left to do?

He stepped from the tub, grabbed one of the fresh clean towels I'd put on the rack earlier and motioned for me to stand. Emerging from the water, I was wrapped in the towel and dried. I wanted to do the same for him, but after wrapping the towel around me and tucking the top together, I found he was drying himself rather handedly. I harrumphed and he looked at me. "Go lie on the bed, on your belly and wait for me, please," he told me sweetly. "Without the towel, please" he added. I got over my disappointment and wandered out to the bedroom.

I could hear him moving around the bedroom, but I stayed as I was told face down on the bed. He walked by and stopped lean to whisper in my ear that it would be better if I was across the bed, not with it. I dutifully turned as he went about whatever he was doing.

Soon the room filled with the delightful aroma of almonds, I deeply inhaled the wonderful scent, not knowing where it was coming from. That was quickly answered as I realized he was standing at my head and felt his warm, slick hands begin to rub my neck and shoulders.

Oh – so this was the last step, I smiled into the comforter. The fragrance of warm, roasted almonds began permeating the room and my nostrils. His hands worked deftly, there was no tension left in my body, between the shower and bath any nervousness I had long disappeared. Like in the tub, my mind began to drift into empty contentment. The further down my back he went, the more I gave my mind and body over to him. In my current state, he could have softly suggested anything to me and I would obey without a second's thought.

He stopped and walked around to the other side of the bed. Taking me by the waist, he pulled me toward him just a little. Then starting with the small of my back, he rubbed, massaged and oiled my butt. I let out a soft moan when he poured a small amount of warm oil down the crack of my ass – knowing his hand would soon follow into the crevasses between my legs - instinctively my legs spread wider, opening myself for him. I was not disappointed. His fingers followed the stream of oil between my cheeks and down to my asshole. I moaned and cooed with the touch of his fingertips. Slipping further under me, he kneaded my mound sending shivers of delight through me. As his hand pulled back, his middle finger parted my swollen pussy, mingling the oil with my own wet excitement.

Then his fingers were gone, leaving me hanging, aroused and wound up on a plateau just below orgasmic bliss. He wrapped his hands around my thigh and spread a thin coat of oil in their wake as they slipped effortlessly down my leg. Of course, my other leg was not forgotten.

"Roll over please, dear."

I did and my eyes followed him as he poured more oil into his hand and came around to my head again. He was hanging the merest of inches from my face and again I had to fight back the urge to crane my neck and take him into my mouth. He appeared to have no thought of what his nudity was doing to me, but went about his business, gently rubbing oil into my neck, shoulders and the tops of my breasts.

His fingers curled around the mass of my breasts and I caught my breath short, they had become extremely sensitive with all of the excitement building inside me. Using individual fingertips and alternating between his fore and middle fingers he caressed the oil over them coming closer in tightening circles toward my nipples. The tips of his fingers brushed by the edges of my areolas and I jumped from the shock of sensation that shot through me. I looked up at his face; it smiled with delight back at me.

With a greater purpose, his fingers began to glide over my breasts - down under them, where they came to my chest, around the sides, following their curve and form, across the tops and around between them. I began to breathe through my mouth, telling myself to breath. Little noises of pleasure and delight came from me. He teased my areolas and nipples – just the lightest touch I could possibly imagine – and it was more than I could bear to stand. My hands flattened and pushed against the bed. My hips began to writhe and then roll back and forth.

"Ohhhhh . . . oooh," I heard myself moaning. "Aughhhh . . ." I gasped as he quickly and sharply pinched both nipples between his fingernails. I couldn't tell whether it was pain or pleasure I felt shoot the length of my body. I bucked, but the chain reaction had started. He took his fingernails from my nipples, but continued to hold them tightly between his fingers, rolling, squeezing and pulling on them.

"Aaaauuuggghhh . . ." My body went taunt, arching from the bed as the swell of ecstasy broke over me. Panting, I slumped back on the bed.

"You enjoyed that dear," I heard him softly ask.

DUH! – like it wasn't obvious – no, I didn't say that out loud. With a deep breath, I did say, "That's the first time I've ever cum from having my breasts played with."

I looked up to see him smiling softly down. "It's because you are very receptive to pleasure. Do you now understand why we took so long to come this far."

I nodded with a deep sigh. He nodded back and moved on to massage and oil my belly. The feelings of excitement and arousal never left me while he finished. That feeling of clear emptiness returned as he moved down my belly and legs.

I felt his weight jostle the bed and looked over to see him lying next to me belly down. I didn't need any instruction – now was his turn. I found the bottle of massage oil on the bedside table. It was an interesting little pottery setup with a candle to warm it. I coated my hands well and crawled across the bed on my knees. As had happen in the shower, I found myself thinking how wonderful it is to do for him, to serve him. How right it felt to me.

I began to hum softly as I massaged his back.

I was surprised, though I don't know why, when I began to massage his ass and quickly realized he enjoyed it as much as I did. He rolled his hips a bit just off the bed and his legs opened a little. Reaching back and taking my hand, he guided my fingers down to a spot between his asshole and his sack. "Right there," he said his voiced muffle by the comforter. He began to lead my fingers in small swirls, and then left me on my own. I could feel the area tense and relax under my fingers. I slipped my other hand under him and round his shaft. Oh my, I thought as I could feel him growing in my hand while I rubbed his 'spot'. "Remember that," I heard his muffled voice instruct me.

"Oh – I will – I will remember," I assured him. As with washing him, I took great care with his body, enjoying every touch and caress. Besides that spot, I learned also he very much enjoyed having his armpits and the fronts of his shoulders massaged deeply. Quite some time ago, I'd learned about his hands. As well as back problems, he had minor arthritis in them and was constantly asking Ana or me to massage them. This afternoon I did so with great relish.

It came to an end, all too soon, and I sat back on my heels looking down at him. His face was serene and content. Slowly his eyes half-opened, I was kneeling between his spread legs. "Your eyes have been begging for it all afternoon," he said quietly. 

"Yes sir," I shyly acknowledged.

"Please then . . ."

I nodded slightly and slipped over the edge of the bed. He scooched himself across the bed, closer to me. Hesitantly, I took him in both hands and softly stroked him. He was so warm and began to grow in my fingers. While continuing to stroke him, I leaned closer and began to kiss him on the insides of his thighs. He sighed and moaned lowly as my lips moved closer, lightly kissing and brushing his sensitive skin. I slipped one hand around his balls and gently kneaded them, rolling them around in their sack. He smelled of a man's musk, my body bar from the shower and the almond massage oil I'd liberally rubbed over him.

While I held him gently and carefully from the end of his cock, I kissed its base moving my lips around him. My hand slipped from his balls to caress his spot and asshole. This got far more response from him than I expected. He swelled and stiffened quickly – to my delight. The hand I was holding him with slid down his length while my lips encircled the head of his cock. He stiffened and murmured softly his pleasure. Slowly I took more of him in my mouth, playing him with my tongue. His hips rolled upward giving me more of him and then began to rock slowly and steadily while I stroked and sucked.

He reached down and began to stroke my hair. The rhythm of his hips quickened a little and I tried to swallow more of him. My caresses had relaxed him enough that, more by accident, my finger entered his asshole. He shuddered and moaned. I froze for a moment hoping I hadn't done something wrong. Then I thought I heard a very faint, "Yes dear, that's wonderful." I was only in him to my first knuckle, but I began small strokes and twisted my finger a little. I felt him get larger in my mouth and realized I come on something that was like a magic 'go' button for him.




Samantha Knocks at the Door Ch. 03



As the reality of my discovery hit me, he shoved his hips up, pulling my head down. My lips crashed into my fingers around his cock and I gagged as he forced himself into my mouth and with a grunt began to spew his cum. It filled my mouth quickly and I choked a little before I could start to swallow. I didn't miss much and drank of him, all he gave me.

"That was absolutely wonderful dear," he cooed. I felt him move and looked up to see him propped on his elbows. "However," he continued, "some men's prostrates are very sensitive to arousal and you seem to be able to find mine quite easily. You should be careful of that in the future." He was smiling, so I knew he wasn't angry, but I understood what he meant. "Now if you a re finished down there, would you please go over to the floor at the end of the bed and wait for me."

Nodding, "Of course, sir," I said and went over to the area between the bed and his reading chairs and knelt. He got up from the bed and went to the closet, returning with his robe. Then he pulled the chairs, floor lamp, and table further back to give us more room. Going back to the closet door he pulled his dressing mirror over, just a slight turn of my eyes to the left and I was able to see my reflection. Lastly he went to the chest that sat at the foot of the bed and slid open the center section and opened the bottom drawer.

I felt the coarseness of the rope he draped around my neck. It was raw with aged softness, but still having a coarseness from the twisted fibers. It smelled earthy.

"My preference is for natural hemp," he said in a conversational, matter of fact way.

The ends were beautifully knotted to keep them from fraying.

"Also, I tend to like shorter lengths and to bind my m-jo in layers." He took one of the ropes from my neck. "Please, put your hands on your head." I did as instructed and he quickly had the doubled rope encircling me below my breasts and cinched up snugly. He adjusted its position so it was tight in the crook, under my breasts. He continued his monologue while he worked. I enjoy the practice of Shibari, sometimes called Kinbaku." His face appeared from the side, "The art of Oriental rope bondage – it's wonderfully erotic – don't you think?" His face disappeared; he had four or so wraps around my chest below my breasts and was tying the rope off behind me. It was snug and tight, but not nearly as tight as I would expect. I suspected him of be kind to me my first time 'round.

He took a second rope from my neck and began to wrap my chest above my breasts. "What I'm doing is a variation of Shinju. Don't worry, as we do this more often you'll pick up the words. This is a very basic wrapping that I may use for all sorts of more elaborate things, but we'll keep it simple today."

It felt strange to have the rope wrapped around me like that – but I kind of like it. I don't know – it was like a tight fitting but comfortable piece of clothing. Looking down at my breasts poking out between the wrappings – well, I was beginning to feel sort of sexy.

His hand appeared with a third rope he'd doubled and feed the loop under my lower wrapping, he pulled it through until it was about half way. He twisted it over a couple of times and led the ends over my shoulders, feeding one end under the lower wrapping again and the other end through the loop. He snugged things up and tied it off around the upper wrapping.

"There," he pronounced. "Now, stand up and take a look."

I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. I turned this way and back, like I was checking out a new dress, or in this case maybe a bra or bikini. He watched me with a satisfied smile. I liked the way it looked. In the mirror I saw his face turn thoughtful.

"I may have to order new rope just for you. Your skin is too dark for raw hemp. I believe I can get red dyed hemp. What do you think – would you like that?"

I turned to him, kneeling on the floor with another rope in his hands, wanting to just laugh out loud. Here I was letting him – no wanting him to – tie me up before doing god knows what to me, and he's asking me if I would prefer natural or red hemp. I think he got the message from my expression.

"I'll just order some red," he said with a nod.

I turned back to the mirror for one last look and touched my breasts. "They feel firmer," I said, a little baffled.

"Yes, that normal. The way the rope is wrapped it has a tendency to do that." He motioned for me to come back. "The secret here is in the technique. The binding don't need to be excessively tight, though as we go I'll be tightening them. It's done by their placement, how they are tied – and how you end up when I'm done."

While he was talking, he'd folded my arms behind me and was tying them to the wrappings he'd done before. My arms weren't tied terribly tight either, but I wasn't freeing myself. No, I found I was very securely bound.

"Now, what do you think?"

I twisted and moved, testing the rope. No, I wasn't going anywhere, at least not until he decide to let me go. I realized, and shockingly so, that I couldn't stop anything he wanted to do to me. I was starting to feel a little panicked, maybe I was in over my head. He knelt on the floor and watched as I twisted and struggled, tears were beginning to well up as I truly understood how well I was bound - helplessness overcame me.

His face turned gentle and concerned, he leaned closely, putting his hand to my cheek and wiping my tear away with his thumb. His touch – his tenderness, calmed me immensely. I sighed softly and stopped fighting the rope. His lips came closer still until their light touch became a tender kiss. I let go of any doubts I had; he wouldn't hurt me. I knew this. I could trust this.

As my body began to relax, the rope took on a different feel. I didn't feel constrained and helpless. He broke our kiss and I heard him whisper. "It is not to me you must lean to submit to, but to the rope. Breathe deeply and let yourself go – nothing is going to happen that I don't have control over – trust me." I nodded and began to take big deep breaths. He stroked my hair and caressed my cheek while I did. After four or five he asked, "Do you feel better?"

"Yes," I nodded softly.

"Good."

He moved his hand from my cheek; his fingertips caressed my neck and then followed the rope down to my breast. They glided over my skin, so lightly, so gently. My breast still very sensitive, my whole body felt tuned to his touch. Deep inside I began to feel a heightened awareness of the slightest movement of his fingers, the sound of his steady, calm, rhythmic breathing. Slowly the clear headed, empty feeling returned.

My shoulders began to stiffen and ache – I concentrated on his breathing and began to match mine to his. The aching receded. His fingers left my breasts only to touch me again along the inside of my thigh. I tingled as he stroked my thigh, my knees spreading open for him on their own. I tensed when his fingers slid between my legs and spread me open. I rocked gently as he massaged me. They left me again and I felt them touch my lips. He spread my moistness over my lips. They parted and I ran my tongue over them, tasting my excitement. His fingers slipped into my well again and brought me more of my own wonderful wet arousal to taste. As he spread the second offering, I opened my lips and sucked a finger into my mouth, sucking and licking my wet sex from them. I opened my eyes to find him with a pleased smile.

Taking his fingers from my mouth, he put one hand on my chest, on the rope below my breasts and his other on my back, between my shoulder blades, leading me forward. On the floor in front of me he'd placed a pillow and leaned me down until my head and shoulders where lying on it. On my knees, with my ass high in the air and my back bent, brought the aching in my shoulders and arms back to the front of my thoughts.

Relax, stay with him, I thought – remember last night, remember how he made me feel last night – I can do this – for him, I can do this.

His hands began to caress the cheeks of my ass. I liked the way he did that so much. "You will have to humor me for a while dear," he was saying softly, "it's been a very long time since I've had a wonderful ass to play with."

In the course of the last night and day he's brought me two firsts; an orgasm from his finger in my asshole and one from teasing my breasts and nipples. He could play with my ass for as long and as often as he wanted.

I felt oil being poured on me again as he rubbed my cheeks. I wanted his fingers between my legs in the worse way. My desire was soon granted as he began to massage my asshole. Every muscle in my thighs and hips tighten with delight. Soon I felt him pushing against me and forcing me to open for him. I yelped as his finger broke into my asshole. I couldn't understand why the sharp pain of his entrance excited me so. It was like the pain was right there on the edge between hurting me and pleasuring me – and just enough to the pleasure side that I wanted it.

He slid his finger into me in a slow steady motion until I felt the other knuckles of his hand against me. It wasn't hard to have one finger inside me. I felt that last night and after the initial shock, I found it easy to take his finger. Deep down though I knew I was going to take more than one finger today. The thought of eventually taking his cock up my ass frightened and excited me. Would it hurt? How much pain would there be? Would I be able to do it for him? God – I wanted to do it for him! I wanted to know for sure that no matter how he chose to use me I could do it – and enjoy it - that I couldn't do anything to stop him whether I wanted to or not intensified every feeling and emotion tumbling inside me.

He withdrew until only the very end of his finger remained in me. I felt the tip of a second finger and winced as it forced itself into me next to the first, stretching me and shooting a bolt of wondrous pain though my bowels. He paused and poured more oil over his fingers; it seeped into my asshole and trickled down. Its warmth soothed the pain a bit. After putting the bottle down, his second hand slipped between my legs to massage my mons, while his fingers descended into my bowels again.

"Hhhmmmm," I whimpered. I clenched my eyes tightly. My mind was confused by the sensations arising deep inside me; I rocked my hips back and forth gently with his caresses of my mound. As he stroked his fingers, he would spread them apart and then bring them back together. He was stretching me open, preparing me for what was to come. I winced and whimpered each time he stretched me open, comforted though by his continued caresses to my mons.

I wanted him, desperately, to slip between my hot engorged outer lips and find my clit. I wanted the relief of ecstasy that would bring. Oh god - I wanted to cum! I could feel thing down inside me demanding to be released. It was happening too slowly, building too strongly – god – where did he learn to do this to a woman! My whimpers had become moans and cries, tears began to fill my clenched eyes, pain became pleasure and pleasure, agony. Just let me cum, I thought. Just let me cum, I begged in my head.

He removed his fingers from my asshole and his hand from my mound. No! – don't stop now I screamed inside my head. After a moment, I felt more warm soothing oil being poured and massaged into my asshole. Fear grabbed my senses and my body went tight. This is it!

"AAAAAHHHHHH," I cried as he forced his cock into my ass, pushing before it all the built up pain and pleasure that had waited for this moment to explode and race through every part of me. He didn't pause or take me slowly, but impaled me in a single stroke, his balls slapping against my pussy and his hips pushing me forward. He'd done it. He'd taken my ass with his cock. Even more so than last night, I knew now I was his.

My body quivered and quaked under his strong strokes – in and out, in steady determined rhythm. My mind became a kaleidoscope of pain and pleasure, bursting across the screen of my clenched eye lids. No longer did I care what he did to me – fill my bowels with your cum, that was all I could think of, all I wanted, to feel him empty himself inside my bowels.

It all happened in an instant. One moment I couldn't bear the excruciating delirium, the next I felt him slamming himself into me, trying to bury himself deeply into my bowels. Every muscle in my body stiffened in response, he felt larger than life as my ass clenched tightly around him. He grunted and convulsed against me. My mind went blank . . .



Samantha Knocks at the Door Ch. 04



"You've enjoyed our weekend so far – yes," he asked with a curious cock to his eyebrow.

I was kneeling, naked, of course, on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, my hands on my thighs and knees spread to let him see me. "Yes sir," I answered respectfully. "It has been a very interesting and exciting weekend, thank you sir."

"Wonderful!" His face brightened and a smile came to his lips. "You would like to continue along this path then?"

"Yes sir!" Even to myself that came out with a little too much enthusiasm, I toned it down. "I mean, yes sir, I would enjoy continuing what we've started."

"Very good," he nodded. He paused and pursed his lips, looking at me thoughtfully. I couldn't look him directly in the eye and turned my face away. "Samantha dear, I have been very pleased by you over the last, what, nine, ten months – almost a year now really. You have done all that I have asked of you and much, much more. I believe you said something about being a lucky girl Friday evening? Well, I too am a very lucky man, made even luckier by your desire to take things to the next level in pleasing me."

I have to admit, my chest swelled a bit with pride. Friday when I started this, I didn't know where I was going. To think it would go like this was in no way even close to any experience I've had before. I came here to be employed as his housekeeper. I went to his bed desiring to be his lover. I knelt before him today about to become his true servant.

To say it was a dream come true would be wrong, I had never dreamt things like this. You grow up, meet a guy, get married and live happily ever after. You don't dream of growing up, meeting a guy, becoming his servant, and, well, living happily ever after. But, that's what I was about to do, I don't think a white gown, huge church and a ring could have made me feel any happier than I felt right now!

"However, my love, there are some things about you I wish to refine," he continued. "So, as of today you will begin a period of training." I couldn't help myself; the snicker escaped before I knew it. He turned to me with his eyebrows raised and glared over his glasses. "You find that funny? You don't think you need training?"

I got myself together quickly before answering. "Yes sir, I want to be trained to serve you as you would like." I tried to sound solemn and sincere, but knew my snicker had been a mistake. He left the living room. I knew what was coming next – or though I did . . .

The rope was around my upper chest and arms before I knew it, pinning my arms to my sides. Quickly there were two or three more turns and it was tied behind me. He pulled my arms behind my back and just as quickly had my wrists tied together. Then a rope was dropped over my head. He'd looped it and tied a knot in it. The knot landed between my breasts. He reached between my legs and pulled the rope through, snugging it into my pussy. It went between my hands and back, through the loop around my neck and back down to my wrists. He pulled it tight and the hemp bit into the tender flesh of my vagina. I sat up with a jerk and my thigh muscles tighten, but all I did was allow him to make the rope tighter around me. He wound the rope around my wrist and pulled them up before tying it off.

It didn't take me long to figure out what he'd done. The ach in my upper arms started almost immediately. I could just bend my elbows and take some of the tightness out of the rope through my crotch, relieving the sting and pain in my vagina, but that only increased the stress and pain in my arms. I would learn this was a favorite trick of his; tears began to fill my eyes as my predicament became clear to me.

He walked around in front of me and took my chin in his hand. "Now, that I have your attention," he said in that low stern monotone I'd heard him use with Ana. "As I was saying, I believe you need some refinement to truly serve me well – don't you agree?"

I nodded as best I could and with resignation, meekly agreed, "Yes sir."

"I'm happy we understand each other." He let go of my chin and went to sit down. I began fidgeting, trying to somehow relieve the pain in both my arms and my pussy. He started to speak about how our daily routine would change and things like that. I was trying to concentrate and listen carefully. God – I just screwed up a little bit now – I certainly didn't want to do it again later.

Try as I might to stay still and listen, I couldn't, fidgeting was really the only to find any comfort, even a few minutes in one position was too much. Fidgeting though only made things worse. Every movement made the rope that went through crotch move, every time the rope moved it rubbed against my clit. By fidgeting, I was doing nothing more than adding a very intense sexual arousal to my painful situation. I couldn't believe it when I began to breathe heavily, moaning from what was going on between my legs.

I couldn't tell you when exactly he stopped talking; I just hoped the bastard was enjoying the show. The more I fidgeted the more turned on I became. The more I became aroused the more I fidgeted. Damn him!

My moans became throaty moans. Now I couldn't have stopped myself from fidgeting if I'd wanted to. I'd gotten to the point where I needed to get myself off. I began to slide my legs back and forth across the table top, tightening and relaxing my thighs, rolling my shoulders and hips – anything - any movement now to feel the rope slide between me and rub against my clit.

"Aaaahhhh," I cried out and threw my head back. "You fucking bastard!" I thought I heard him chuckling, but was making too much noise as my orgasm shook my body. I shuddered and convulsed, tears streamed from my clenched eyes while pain and intense pleasure wracked my insides.

My upper body rocked gently and my labored breathing began to return to normal as the orgasm subsided with in me. I felt the rope though my crotch slacken and realized he was sitting behind me. One by one, he removed my binding and then began to massage the pain out of my shoulders and arms. My body sagged back against him. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't really mean to call you a . . ."

He chuckled and shushed me. With gently humor, "I thought you rather restrained myself. I can think of all kinds of things to call me – a fucking bastard being one of the least." I smiled to myself. Then with a playful slap on my butt, he said, "Now go take a walk around the garden – it's a lovely day outside – and get some blood back into your legs."

I nodded and slipped from the table. My legs did feel a little jelly-like. Stepping through the sliding door, the sunshine felt warm and inviting. I paused and turned my face to the sun, deeply inhaling the spring blooms of the trees.

The garden was like this mystical private forest. The trees where thick and prevented unwanted eyes from seeing into this private sanctuary. I stepped down to the sand, warm on my feet from the sun, of the path and strolled into our little piece of paradise.

I returned to find him waiting for me. From the chair he sat in, I knew he'd been watching the whole time I walked around outside. Inside I felt very pretty, knowing the pleasure he found in simply watching me and looking at my body. I was happy the garden gave so much seclusion that I felt comfortable out there completely naked.

He pointed to a spot on the floor in front of him as I came through the door. I went there and knelt before him. "Feeling better," he asked, with care and tenderness."

"Yes sir."

He nodded and then undid the button of his jeans. I smiled, my body tensing with anticipation. I could've guessed he'd gotten excited watching me fidget my way into orgasmic bliss. He nodded slightly and I moved closer, slipping my hands into the waist band of his underpants. He raised his hips slightly while I slid his jeans and underwear down over his hips.

I wasn't at all surprised to find him thick and swollen. I mewed softly as I bent forward, slipping a hand between his thighs to cup his balls. He gave a sigh when my lips kissed the head of his cock and relaxed deeper into the chair. I kneaded him while kissing his swollen member. Its stiffness quickly returned and I took him into my mouth, sliding down his length slowly. My hand opened underneath him and gently massaged the spot just behind his sack. He shifted to give me better access.

Starting slowly, I slid my lips down then back up the length of his cock, playing my tongue over its knob before descending again. He began to match my pace, sliding into my mouth as I slid down him. As I gradually increased, he kept up with me. Soon, he was fucking my mouth. I was taking as much of his length as I could with each stroke. It didn't take long before I felt his hands on my head and he guided me down while raising his hips to slide deeply into my mouth.

With a grunt, his hips began to quiver and I tasted his warm sperm fill me. I licked the last of it from the tip of his cock and lay my head on his thigh. He gently stroked my hair. "Thank you dear," he whispered. With my head still on his thigh, I reached up and put my arms around his waist. I wanted to stay here forever.

In a gentle voice, he asked, "Now then dear, have we changed our attitude about training?"

I picked my head up and smiled weakly. Then dropped my eyes from his, "Yes sir," I said meekly.