Summer Hire Ch. 04

He laughed softly, "You can relax; enjoy the moment. I'm fine for now."

She felt simultaneously relieved and puzzled. It seemed strange that he didn't expect some sexual favor in return. She tried to relax again, but couldn't. She realized that his refusal left her feeling awkwardly off-balance and even a little resentful, as though she owed him a debt. She asked, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he responded with a certainty that was at once gentle and absolute.

Looking at his face again, she saw his eyes intently focused on her. A self-conscious embarrassment began to grow within her. It suddenly seemed impossible that he had just spanked her. It was even more impossible that she had enjoyed it so much that she had one of the most intense orgasms she could remember.

He noticed her shift in mood and said, "I'd guess that was a different sort of experience for you."

She didn't answer right away, thinking about what he had said. His words were both a statement and a question. He was right, it had been completely different from anything she had experienced before.

Some past boyfriends had given her a spank or two, but it had never created the sort of reaction that Erik had stirred in her. Something about being commanded to submit had made the whole experience incredibly erotic before he even touched her.

Trying for nonchalance, she replied, "Well I've been spanked a little in play before, but I never... I mean, well, it didn't do a whole lot for me, before..."

He nodded in understanding. "But now you seem a little embarrassed."

She still felt off balance. His repeated habit of making a statement that was really a question left her feeling cornered and angry. "Yeah, what'd you expect? You just ordered me over here and then spanked the shit out of me. That's... you know... demeaning. Is that what you get off on?" In spite of her genuine flare of anger, she was startled to feel her sex clench wetly.

He nodded thoughtfully in response to her outburst, which caught her off guard. Her past experience was that boyfriends, especially those that were bad boys, would respond angrily when challenged.

After a moment, he said, "The thing is... I think there's a huge difference between fantasy and reality. For me, and I hope for you, what just happened was about exploring a fantasy, hopefully, a shared fantasy. If it had been reality... if I really thought I had the right to order you to be punished, against your will... and if you really thought you had no alternative, other than to accept that punishment... then yeah, something would have been seriously wrong. But I don't think that either of us feel that way. I certainly don't. And everything I know about you tells me that you're a strong and competent woman. You're not someone who's going to put up with shit from a guy."

"Um, not for very long."

He gestured at the rock she was laying on. "Case in point. You didn't hesitate to confront me when you thought I was demeaning you, which is really important to me. I know I can steamroller people. I don't always like it, but it's who I am. It seems that whatever I do, I bring a bunch of energy to it. That energy can intimidate people into going along with what I say, even when I'm wrong. That's why it's hugely important to me to have friends who aren't afraid to tell me that I'm full of shit."

She nodded slowly, then asked, "Okayyy, so why isn't spanking a grown woman 'full of shit?'"

"Well, first off, you liked it, right?"

"Uh, based on some of my past choices, that's no guarantee it wasn't full of shit."

He laughed, "Good point. Me too. But I'm reasonably sure this wasn't one of those things. We both really enjoyed playing out the fantasy of a spanking. As a guess, I'd say that right now, you're hearing lots of messages, somewhere inside, saying what we did was wrong, or bad."

She nodded slowly, "Yeah, but why aren't those messages right?"

"It goes back to that fantasy versus reality thing. The messages would be true if what just happened was about reality. But I think what just happened was about fantasy -- and fantasy has a different set of rules."

He looked off into the distance for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then turned back and said, "You see, people are these insanely complex creatures. We overcomplicate everything, including sexual feelings. To deal with these feelings, we have managed to create a nearly infinite variety of fantasies and fetishes. For instance, some women get wet, just from the smell of latex. Some guys can't orgasm unless they're wearing a baby diaper. We're just weird."

"Yeah, I agree that's weird, and kind of gross." She shook her head, " I don't think that diaper image is helping your case for why fantasies are okay."

He laughed, "Good point, but did you ever stop to ask yourself, why do we have all these strange fantasies? What gives them such power over us?"

Melissa shrugged.

Erik nodded, "Here's the best answer I've worked out so far. Having sex with another person is incredibly intimate, which is awesome and scary, all at the same time. The thing is, I think all of us struggle with how vulnerable that intimacy makes us feel. Our fear of being vulnerable can paralyze us. For instance, many people have a hard time taking the lead in sex because they worry that the other person won't like what they're doing. 'What if I'm rejected? What if I do the wrong thing?' That kind of fear can steal all the fun from sex."

He chuckled, "So at the end of the day, there's this thing we really want, which is having satisfying sex, but getting it makes us feel vulnerable, and that's really scary. I think the way we deal with this problem is by creating all these fantasies. For instance, some women fantasize about a man who ties them up and rapes them. Now, on the face of it, that sounds truly insane. The reality of rape is horrific and ugly, but the thing is, we're not talking about reality here; we're talking about fantasy, and that's a totally different thing. I think that 'rape' fantasies exist as a way of dealing with all those fears about doing 'the right thing' in sex. For a woman who can't enjoy sex because she's too worried about doing the right thing, fantasizing about a man who ties her up is a perfect answer. In her fantasy, she's physically prevented from taking any initiative. She's forced to let go of all her worries about what to do, because there's nothing she can do. Her partner has all the responsibility for satisfying her. Poof! Problem solved."

Melissa stared at him in amazement, "That's a really... interesting way of looking at it. You sort of turned the whole thing inside out."

Erik nodded, "For me, the key to understanding someone's fantasy is understanding how their fantasy helps them deal with their fears while also helping them get the sexual satisfaction they want. Since everyone's fears and desires are different, we have created this astonishing array of fantasies."

"Okay, but you're still avoiding the whole issue of why spanking is a good idea."

He laughed, "You are persistent, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Okay. Well, first off, remember we're talking about fantasy, which means it doesn't have anything to do with the reality of spanking. For instance, I'm pretty sure that if I had just started spanking you out of the blue... well, that wouldn't have gone over very well."

"No shit."

"That's what I thought. So, I tried to step away from ordinary reality into the realm of fantasy by ordering you to submit."

"Humph!"

"You could have said no, but you didn't. Instead, you seemed willing to step with me into the fantasy, so I took it up a notch by actually spanking you."

Melissa looked down at the rock and asked, "But why did it feel good? Getting hit is supposed to hurt. This is all screwed up."

"Part of getting sexually excited is a rush of endorphins, which is our own little opium factory. That makes our pain threshold go up, which is why when you're just about to orgasm, you can ignore a nasty couch seam that's digging into you. It's only afterwards that you realize that you've been scraped raw. While everyone is different, most people seem to have a crossover point where the incoming pain signals turn into pleasure signals. For the vast majority of folks, that only happens at a fairly low level. For other people, it's a bit higher."

"So what? Now you're saying I'm a masochist?" She felt herself getting angry.

"No. Your response was definitely within the range of 'normal' -- maybe a bit on the high side, but a full-blown masochist has a very high top end for pain, which can be a scary thing. They need a very careful dominant -- someone who will help keep them safe."

"So is that what you are? A dominant?"

"Yes, but I'm not a sadist, at least I don't enjoy playing with a true masochist. I really don't like inflicting that much pain on someone. It's... well, it makes me very uncomfortable. Instead, I like playing with dominant and submissive roles. Spanking, or other corporal punishment -- for me -- is part of that dominant/submissive dynamic."

"Dominant/submissive... then you're saying I'm submissive?"

Erik held up his hands to forestall another reaction from Melissa. "Go back a minute to that submissive fantasy about being tied up and helpless. Remember, it's the dominant who is actually totally focused on meeting the submissive's needs. That's the exact opposite of what dominance and submission look like from the outside. The same thing is true here."

"Yeah, I don't care how you try to spin it. I'm not some wimpy, helpless, submissive girl!"

"Wimpy and helpless -- absolutely not. But in real life, most submissives are strong, competent people. Lots of them are managers or bosses. Again, that's the difference between reality and fantasy. The reality of a someone's daily life can be about being in charge, but when it comes to their fantasies about sex, they don't want to do all the work. They want somebody else to take charge, so they can relax and enjoy the intimacy. Most female dominatrixes will tell you their typical male client is an upper-level manager who's so damned tired of being in charge during the day that he really looks forward to being told what to when it comes to sex. It's a vacation for him. It recharges his batteries."

"That... sounds pretty crazy. But okay, I guess I get it. Um, if you're a dominant, is that, like, a professional thing?"

"No," he laughed, "I'm not a professional. I have different priorities from someone who's that hard core. Being a dominant isn't my whole life; it's only part of who I am, mostly just the sexual part."

Melissa looked at him doubtfully, "Not the business side too?"

Erik laughed again. "It's true that I'm pretty head-strong on the business side. But a lot of what I do in business is really about the other side of a dominant's skill: I listen carefully to people, try to figure out at a very fundamental level what motivates them. Then I have to decide out how to rework the broken systems around them and get those people, who are capable of changing, to work together in new ways."

"What about the ones who don't want to change, or can't?"

"I get rid of them."

"Just like that? Thunk, off with their heads!"

"Yep, just like that. Look, when I'm brought in, the situation is generally far past desperate. If I don't make really tough decisions right away, everything's going down the tubes. Nobody's got a job then.

After a pause, he continued in a quiet, reflective voice, "And that isn't fun. Firing and laying off people is miserable, but it's usually the only shot I've got at saving something worthwhile. So I do it without mercy or hesitation. The longer the problem rots, the less chance there is of anything surviving to come out the other side."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I can imagine you doing that." She pointed to his chest, "There's a certain... ruthlessness in there, n'est-ce pas?"

He grinned, "Guilty. I'm a thorough-going asshole at times. But hey, sometimes, I'm just a big softy." She snorted in doubt. He laughed with her. "Truly, I can be." he protested playfully. Then he turned more serious, "But no matter what, when it't time to make the hard choices, I don't flinch. It constantly amazes me, how far some people will go to avoid difficult decisions. The wild thing is, at least for the companies that I get called into fix, that's how almost all of them got into trouble in the first place."

"Anyway," he continued, "we're pretty far afield from figuring out whether or not you're a sub." He smiled down at her teasingly, "You're not trying to avoid anything, are you?"

"Maybe," she teased him.

He thought for a moment, then asked, "What's that word mean to you, 'submissive'?"

A thrill shot through Melissa. She fought hard to ignore, but her buttocks had clenched tight before she realized it. Erik noticed her response. He said, "Well besides that. I mean, beyond that immediate jolt of arousal. There were all those negative messages floating around in there too."

Melissa's heart was beating quickly. His ability to read her reactions left her feeling naked and a little trapped. She took a deep breath, putting her fear aside to concentrate on answering him. "Yeah. Sure, there's all sorts of stuff. I mean, like, 'submissive' is all about some mousy, timid, lame-ass wife, whose husband probably beats her up." She paused, then continue more forcefully, "It's about being weak. Having some 'big strong man' make decisions for you." She snorted angrily, "That's bullshit."

He nodded thoughtfully, "Agreed. It's bullshit, which is why it's important not to mix up fantasy and reality. The thing is, I think you already understood that difference, at some level. I saw you get into the fantasy and enjoy it. Then, wham, it was as though the negative messages took over and you shut down."

She grimaced, "That's exactly what happened. I mean, there was this wave of shame..."

He asked, "Raised Catholic, evangelical?"

She laughed, "Recovering Catholic."

"That'll do it, every time. If you like something deviant... then it's bad... which means you're a bad person. Was it something like that?"

"Something like that," she slowly agreed. "And when you put it that way, I see why those messages mess everything up."

"It's hard to enjoy your fantasies when those messages are attached. Screws up relationships too. If the sex is bad, it doesn't matter how great everything else is, it's going to be hard to make the relationship work."

She jumped in, "Sure, but on the other hand, the sex can be great, and it's everything else that sucks. That doesn't work either."

He smiled in agreement, "Ah, I see you've been there too, and got that t-shirt."

"A drawer full of them... um, not that I sleep around a lot," she added, a bit embarrassed. "But it sure is hard finding a guy where the sex is great, and he's actually fun to be around. Seems like I have to pick one or the other."

"I've been there too. Fortunately, I got a much better sense of which way was up one summer during college."

She saw a wistful expression flit across his face, "Oh do tell..."

He laughed, "Another time, perhaps. For now, let's just say it was an older woman and a wonderful summer."

"Do you keep in touch?"

"Another time," he repeated more guardedly. Then, with a lighter tone, he added, "Meanwhile, I should get dressed, and we should head back." He pushed off the rock, standing in the middle of the creek.

She sat up, letting her gaze drift over his naked, lean, well-muscled body. In a more playful mood, she asked, "Sure there isn't something I could do for you?"

He smiled, "Well now that you mention it... I am feeling positively abashed at the disparity in our clothing." As he spoke, his accent had drifted toward the cadences of Wuthering Heights and his smile slid into a wolfish grin. "And you, you tawdry vixen, you are shamelessly overdressed. Clearly, you must be scheming to gain some cowardly advantage over me by retaining those, those...." He stabbed in the air, gesturing at her bathing suit, "...those ill-conceived coverings. You shall pay a penance, I tell you."

Melissa hid her growing smile by ducking her head demurely and protesting, "Oh my, whatever do you mean to do with me, sir? I protest that I am purely innocent, nay even virginal."

Her assumed accent owed more to Gone with the Wind than the Yorkshire moors of nineteenth century England, but even so, the moment proved powerfully effective for both of them.

"I mean to instruct you in the proper way to be with me."

"But sir, I fear the harshness of your discipline." As she spoke, Melissa was surprised by the moist heat pulsing between her legs. She could see his growing erection as well. She dropped her gaze lower, so she wouldn't be too obviously staring at his generously sized penis. Staring down at her lap, however, she was surprised to see a thin dark vertical line of wetness forming against the blue nylon of her bathing suit, where it was stretched tight across her shaved mound. She blushed, realizing the obviousness of her arousal.

His wolfish grin became even more masterful as he walked around behind her, tracing the tip of his finger up her arm and across the back of her neck, as she sat on the rock. Leaning in close behind her, he whispered, "Whatever shall we do with you?" She felt a shiver run up her spine as he swept her hair over her shoulder. He bent down, brushing small kisses along the back of her neck as he undid the fastening holding the top of her bathing suit closed.

Pulling the loose ends forward and down, he peeled the bathing suit downward, away from her skin. Her breath caught as the fabric hung, caught for a moment on her nipples, before springing away to expose their erect tautness. He continued to slide her suit down past her waist. As he reached her hips, she pushed her hands down against the warm stone, arching back and lifting her bottom so he could continue. "So much," she chided herself, "for slowing things down by wearing a one-piece bathing suit." She knew, however, that she was much too excited to even consider saying no at this point.

He slipped her bathing suit past her feet and turned to face her, letting his gaze sweep slowly up her naked form. Continuing in a somewhat subdued English accent, he said simply, "So there you are. Flaunting your outrageous beauty."

Stepping back, he considered her carefully. She looked up, meeting his eyes as he seemed to drink her in. She expected to feel self-conscious under such intent inspection, but his expression was so clearly delighted that all she felt was a sense of powerful desirability. The myriad of self-doubts she usually felt about her body, when men looked at her, had simply vanished. Being the object of his arousal was intoxicating.

She found her entire body thrumming with arousal. She had never felt so beautiful.

He asked, "What indeed could you do for me? Something, I am sure... On your knees."

She looked at him, puzzled. He repeated, "Come on. On your knees."

Understanding now that he was serious, she complied, shifting to her knees on the warm stone. He reached out to reshape her form, "Sit back a little bit, keep your back straight. Not on your toes, tuck your feet underneath. That's right; now sit back on your heels. Don't let your feet splay out; keep a nice clean line. There you go.

He inspected her approvingly, then continued, "Now cross your arms behind you. Hold the opposite elbow in your hands. That's right. Remember, keep your back straight. That's a little too arched. There, that's it. And tuck your head down a bit.

"So, that's perfect. That is how a submissive waits for her Master."

Her pulse quickened at his words. She still felt uncertain about being a submissive, but she could not deny the throbbing ache coming from her clitoris. She was sure that her juices must be running down her thigh at this point.