Seeking for Pleasure Ch. 01

He was dressed casually, she saw, as he walked through the front door; blue jeans, expensive Oxford-style shoes, an open collar shirt and a coat. She stood to catch his attention and he nodded and held up a finger, ordering her to wait. He went to the front desk and spoke with the man behind the counter. A form was filled in, cards were exchanged, and then he was walking towards the elevators. His fingers snapped once, a sound like a pop that caused her to jump.

'That was for me,' she thought. She hurried over to stand next to him, entering the elevator when he did.

"Four", he told the operator and moments later he was letting them out on the fourth floor. He walked down the hallway and into the room, never once looking back to see if she was following. The room was small, but it appeared to be very well decorated.

"Skirt up," he said as he pulled a plastic-wrapped package out of his pocket. She blushed and lifted the skirt, exposing herself to him. He stepped forward and placed his hand against her, slowly rubbing her nude flesh. She looked up into his eyes, only inches from hers.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Oh god, sir! I've been... terrified. I was so afraid you were going to decide the easiest way to deal with me was by just ignoring me. I nearly cried in relief when your e-mail arrived. Now, I'm just nervous. Have you been well, sir?"

The surprised half-smile on his face warmed her heart even as she felt the warmth growing in her loins.

"I have been. I am. I spent a lot of time listing the reasons I should ignore you. Foremost among them is the reaction when it comes out that you've been seeing me."

"Am I going to be seeing you, sir?" she couldn't restrain herself from asking.

He lightly pinched one of her folds and she bit her lip. "Don't interrupt me. When it comes out that you've been seeing me, and it will come out, it's very possible that the town will be very angry with me. They'll be frightened and start asking each other when I'm going to come after *their* children. Had you considered that?"

The pinch hadn't really been painful, but it had been a little uncomfortable. Now that his hand was stroking her again she found that she was relaxing even more deeply into his touch.

"No, sir. I hadn't really thought about that. I know my parents are going to find out. I'm going to have to tell them before they hear about it from someone else."

"They're going to love that. I'm old enough to be your father."

His finger slipped inside her and began to slowly turn, fingertip pressing against the muscles of her.

"Sssss... I had thought about that, sir. I'm not looking forward to it. But if I'm an adult enough to do this..."

"Good," he said as he slipped a second finger inside her. "In the end, I decided to fall back on my basic philosophy: don't be afraid. So here we are."

He withdrew his fingers from her and Charlotte's disappointment was only tempered by her anticipation. 'Now what?' she wondered. But only for a moment.

Mister Benson inserted a smooth plastic egg into her. It was warm from being in his pocket and it felt a little strange; not uncomfortable as much as it was simply unfamiliar. He handed her what looked like two pieces of elastic fabric.

"Your underwear," he clarified.

She looked at them for a moment until she understood. It really was two pieces of elastic fabric; a sort of g-string that was all string. She stepped into them and pulled them up, snugging the horizontal band high on her hips and then adjusting the portion that went between her legs. The band was narrow and she snuggled it between the lips of her sex, carefully seating it within her warmth.

"It helps to hold the egg in place, sir?"

"Yes," he said with a nod of his head. "They're sort of complementary. As for the egg..."

She felt a soft vibration inside her that transmitted through the flesh to her clitoris. It vibrated slightly against the fabric of the underwear and she smiled.

"That's very nice, sir. Are you going to be using that a lot this evening?"

"If I like," he said. "Lick my fingers clean."

Her heart pounded as she took the proffered digits into her mouth. She fell back upon her many imaginings and treated them as she would his cock, slowly moving back and forth on them, licking provocatively around the fingertips. His eyes never left her and she wondered what she looked like to him.

"Good girl," he told her after several minutes. "But we have a play to catch. Make yourself presentable." He turned and walked into the bathroom and washed his hands. She spent the time arranging her skirt and re-doing her lipstick and then followed him out of the room.

The play was 'Arcadia' by Tom Stoppard and it was both intelligent and laugh out loud funny. It was presented in a theater in the round format, and they sat in a small box that looked down on the stage. After, they walked a few blocks down the street to a little German restaurant where Mister Benson asked for, and received, a small table in the corner of an upper room.

"This place is usually crowded earlier in the evening. I like it after the theater when the crowds have thinned. They've also usually got a very nice Riesling or two. Have you tried German food before?"

"No, sir. Not really. Bratwurst at October-Fest and that sort of thing. What do you recommend?"

"You'll have the Huhnerbrust Berliner Art and a soda water with lemon. It's a chicken breast topped with ham and pears and covered with a brandy sauce," he informed her.

"Yes, sir. No wine?"

"No, nor schnapps for you; you're underage. Perhaps at my home, but never when we're in public."

"When will we be at your home, sir?" she asked quietly.

He smiled. "Let's talk about that. I've looked up your birth certificate so I'm satisfied that you are legally an adult. You're going to have to get some blood work done at a lab to prove that you're healthy. I usually let my partners choose their own labs, but since you're local I'm going to send you to the lab I use. You understand all this will prove is that you aren't sick at the time the blood was drawn. HIV, for instance, can be present and undetectable for up to six months. Herpes can be dormant and sometimes tests miss it."

The waiter interrupted them, filling their water glasses and telling them about the specials. Mister Benson ordered a cheese plate to start with, some wine for himself, and then gave him their dinner order.

"Where was I?" he asked her when the waiter departed.

"Lab tests sometimes miss diseases, sir," she replied. She felt the egg inside her begin vibrating and shifted in her seat.

"Right. They do. So at best we're simply minimizing our risks. I've slept with a large number of women and, so far, I've been very lucky because I've been very careful. I usually require that my partners not sleep with anyone for a month before they visit me. I've got no real way of knowing if they do or not, but I suspect most of my partners are honest and obey my dictates. You're something of a problem for me; I've never had a local partner. Once a visit is over most of my partners leave. A few of them come back. Three of them visit me on a fairly regular basis. The agreement there is that they must be as careful as I am regarding their health. I haven't decided how to handle matters in the long term, but I think I'm going to wait to see if there is a long term. For now, you're not to have a sexual relationship with anyone unless I specifically allow it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.

He regarded her carefully for a long minute and she blushed, feeling the warmth in her loins creeping up into her chest, but she didn't look away.

"I would expect someone as young as you are to ask questions to establish the boundaries of my rule or probe for the loopholes. How will you deal with the inevitable advances you'll receive at school?"

Charlotte shrugged. "I'll probably lie. I'll tell people that I'm too busy with school to date. I'll ask them for a rain check for next year. If I find someone I really like then I'll ask for your permission or I'll just stop seeing you."

"So confident?" he murmured.

Her blush deepened.

"Let's talk about consent. I'm going to be telling you to do things and doing things to you. You might like to pretend that you've given up all control, but you can never surrender consent. You'll do what I tell you to do and suffer any indignities that I choose to inflict upon you because you consent to them. Do you understand that?"

"I do, sir. Will we be discussing limits this evening?"

"Do you think we should?"

He was smiling, amused at her question.

"Yes, sir. I think we should."

The waiter came back bearing the cheese plate, a basket of breads, and their drinks. As he walked away, Mister Benson took a sip of his wine. "Tell me about your desires and then tell me about your limits."

Charlotte picked up her glass and took a sip, as much to wet her throat as to buy herself a little time to order her thoughts. She nearly spilled the water when she felt the tingling increase in intensity. She looked at Mister Benson.

"Variable speed control," he explained. "Well?"

"I don't really know why I find it arousing, but since the first time I saw you playing with one of your partners..."

"Detour," he interrupted her. "Tell me about that. How did you hear about me?"

"You're the crazy guy who lives out in the rocks," she explained. "Everyone in town knows that. I think it's pretty much an open secret that you have women come out to be your slaves. The rumors are pretty wild. One said that you were a trainer; that women were sent to you to be trained before being sent overseas to be sold in foreign markets."

"What makes you think that's just a rumor?" he asked quietly.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. 'Does he mean...?' "Well, it is just a rumor. I've seen women at your house several times. They wouldn't send them back for more training. Would they?"

"Would you like to be sold into a life of sexual slavery?"

Charlotte's eyes darted across the room as she tried to assure herself they had a degree of privacy. This was crazy!

"I think I'd like to play that fantasy," she said carefully. "Everything I know about real-world sexual slavery is pretty horrifying, sir."

"Good. I'm very glad you can distinguish between fantasy and reality. For the record, I don't train slaves to be sold in foreign markets. Real life sexual slavery *is* horrifying. It's a blot on the soul of humanity. But you find the fantasy seductive. Tell me about spying on me."

"We snuck out to spy on you, sir. There were four of us, and I think the two guys were hoping to get lucky. We brought some binoculars and we sat on the reverse slope of a hill and talked about what we thought you were doing. The guys speculated and tried to get us to speculate. We didn't see anything. Thinking about it, I don't think you were even home."

"Did they get lucky?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I might have if it had just been me and one of them. But not with Danielle along. I've always been afraid of what people would think, sir, about anything, but about this in particular. We left after a while to get some pizza."

"But you came back," he stated.

She nodded. "On the weekends. I was already intrigued by the idea and the thought that I might actually see someone doing that... I saw you walking through the trees with a woman on a leash and I wet myself. I wanted to run down and have you put me on a leash too."

"Me, or any guy who happened to be leading a woman around on a leash?" he asked.

"The latter," she admitted. "I really don't think I'm in love with you, sir. But I love the things you do and I'm very attracted to you. Mostly because of the things you do." She looked down at the table, embarrassed, and picked up her drink to cover her emotions. Her hand shook as the egg briefly roared within her and then settled down to the lowest setting.

"I'm actually pleased to hear that. I'd have been a little disturbed if you professed a love for me without really knowing me. It sounds like we're both interested in what the other person has to offer. I find you attractive, for instance, but what really draws me to you is your desire to be dominated. What about domination attracts you?"

"I'm sorry, sir," she apologized. "I don't really know. I've thought about it a lot, but I don't have conclusive answers. Why do women like confident men? I know I like the idea of being submissive. Being bound and under someone's control seems a little dangerous, out of control." She laughed. "Literally out of control. It's also, easier. I don't have to worry about whether or not you like me or if I'm making the right decisions; I just have to do whatever you say."

"You don't really believe that last part, do you?" he asked.

"It's part of the fantasy," she said.

"What sexual acts have you tried?"

"Vaginal sex, oral sex, anal sex." She shrugged.

"Stop shrugging," he said.

Charlotte nodded. "Yes, sir," she said a little uncertainly. 'How do I stop shrugging? It's a habit.'

"Sit up straight and put your shoulders back a little. You're uncomfortable discussing this and you're trying to hide. Don't be afraid, I won't let any harm come to you."

"Yes, sir," she replied. She squirmed a little in her chair, trying to adjust herself so that she was comfortable and in compliance with his direction.

"Better," he admitted. He put a slice of cheese onto a piece of bread. "Keep your hands down, but try this," he said.

Charlotte leaned forward and he fed the appetizer into her mouth. The cheese was sharp and very, very rich. "I like that, sir. Thank you."

"Anal sex," he prompted.

"That's about all, sir. I've never had anyone ask to tie me up and I've never asked."

"Afraid what people would think?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you still?"

Charlotte didn't want to answer that question, but she'd promised herself she wouldn't let her fear drag her down. "Yes, sir," she admitted.

"Do you want to be tied up?" he asked her gently.

She nodded her head. "Very much, sir."

"Ask."

Charlotte swallowed. "Please tie me up, sir," she whispered.

"Okay," he whispered back to her. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Charlotte tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but she settled for shaking her head.

"What else do you want?" he said in a quiet tone as he snacked on the cheese plate.

"To be dressed up in slutty clothing. To have other people see me being submissive. To be used for sex. To have screaming orgasms. There's a lot, sir."

"Yes, there is. That's a good start. Tell me about what you don't want."

"That's harder, sir. Some of these I might be able to stretch. I don't want to be urinated or defecated on. I don't find urine or feces at all sexy. I don't want to be hurt. I don't want to be humiliated. I don't want to be abused. It's all so... subjective. I mean, if you called me a slut in a nice way I'd enjoy it, but I'd hate it if you were being nasty to me. Does that make any sense, sir?"

"It does. And the way you're expressing yourself takes a load off my mind. I don't like being nasty. If I'm being nasty it's because I'm displeased or angry. That's not a good memory to keep. So you'd enjoy it if someone saw you being submissive, but you'd be afraid of what they would think?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. It's contradictory, but that's how I feel."

He shrugged. "Emotions are rarely logical and consistent. I can work with that."

The waiter appeared again with their food.

"Would you like me to box the cheese for you?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Mister Benson replied. "And would you please bring me a shot of the Apple Schnapps."

"Yes, sir," the man replied and headed back towards the kitchen.

"What do you think I like?" he asked Charlotte.

"I think you like control, sir," she replied.

"What else? Come on, you've been observing me for some time now. Surely you've learned something about me."

"You like a shaved pussy," she blurted. A woman at the table next to them turned to stare at her. Mister Benson smiled at her until she looked away and then he turned his attention back to Charlotte.

"That's true," he said. "What else?"

"You like oral sex. You like to caress a woman's body. You like tight thongs and jewelry that attaches to the nipples without causing pain. You like to take a woman while she's kneeling. You don't like it when women don't look at you."

"All true. Why don't I like it when women look away?"

She felt her eyes starting to slip to the table and started. Looking him squarely in the eye she replied, "I don't know, sir."

"Because it's hiding. I don't like it when my partners hide from me. They, and I, have a much better time when they really open up to me. Not physically, but emotionally. That kind of trust deepens the experience and makes the physical side of things pale in comparison. Can you open up to me, Charlotte?"

Charlotte felt a little light-headed. The egg was happily humming away inside her and the slight vibration was moving her clitoris against the cloth band tightly-wedged between her thighs and lips, the people at the table across were clearly discussing them, and Mister Benson was staring into her soul and looking away wasn't an option.

"I think I already have, sir," she said quietly.

He smiled and her heart lit up.

"Yes, I think you have. Try your chicken."