Valerie and the Bachelor Ch. 05

Well it was another Monday morning. What a difference this one was from last week's. Last week there was no Valerie in the Burke house, no young woman on the verge of a major life change. In fact, before this Friday night, just two days ago, Valerie had seen herself as just another guest at one of her bosses Friday night parties. She had high hopes, and that was for sure, but she never dreamed, not once in her wildest fantasies how events would unfold. She had certainly gotten a lot more attention from Marcus, her boss and before Friday night her dream lover, than she'd imagined. Since Friday night she'd gone to bed, surrendered her virginity, been, or rather portrayed herself as a maid, and been thoroughly loved. As to whether she'd been loved or manipulated, that was still not something she fully understood.

Marcus, Mr. Burke, had certainly paid her gobs of attention, but he seemed like a strange one in some ways. He'd definitely invited her to his house, but once there she'd been reduced to playing maidservant, a role that, prior to Friday, would have been completely out of her world-view. She still wasn't exactly sure how she'd been maneuvered into that one. It had something to do with her high hopes and fantasies, her own loneliness, and the supplications of two very sweet ladies, not to mention the blandishments of a very interesting man. At any rate she'd had her life engineered in ways she never dreamed possible. If someone had asked her last week about her being a maidservant she'd have laughed in his or her face. Yet she had not only played the maid, but had played the maid three times, once at an evening meal, then a noon time meal, and then again at another evening meal. She especially remembered the second evening meal. The outfit had been absolutely the most uncomfortable apparel she'd ever worn, black maid's dress, stiff peter-pan collar, equally inelastic cuffs, brilliantly tight white apron with a ridiculously large bow in the back, and cruelly tight black patent leather shoes. She was sure, thinking back on it, that it was deliberately intended to be that way. None the less, she'd hung in, but only to make a minor missive that almost exploded into a major crisis, not once but twice. She'd been tired at the second late meal, and had emitted a soft but discernible sigh. One of the guests made an issue of it, and Marcus didn't let it go. He had abruptly dismissed her that evening, and the next morning had offered to punish her with a spanking. The offer of a spanking escalated into a minor crisis, at least she thought so, and it wasn't resolved, if it had been resolved, until later in the day at a romantic spot by a stream. Regardless, Sunday had seen her rewarded with a nice horseback ride, a romantic interlude beside a creek and a sailboat ride. Regrettably the day ended with food poisoning. She'd nibbled on some bad caviar set aside to be trashed. She supposed she could complain that the caviar shouldn't have been left out for anyone to see, but no one made her try it. Now here she was. It was Monday morning, and she was as sick as all get out. Sick with food poisoning. Marcus had stayed with her all night and had taken care of her. She loved Marcus, loved him like nothing anyone could imagine, and she knew he cared about her, loved her even. Still there was a kind of opacity to Marcus. She remembered when she was a little girl she had an old dog. She remembered how her dad would look at that old dog in a funny kind of way, like he was trying to decide whether to keep feeding it or shoot it. That's how Marcus looked at her sometimes.

Marcus came into the bedroom. "Good morning little darling. How do we feel this morning?"

Valerie yawned and answered. "Sore. I don't feel good."

"Well you'll have to get up in a little while." That was his first response. "Dr. McCall agreed to see us at 11:00. He said if we got there then he wouldn't make us wait."

Valerie replied. "What time is it now? I don't know that I need to go to a doctor."

Marcus interrupted her. "Yes you do little girl. Food poisoning isn't something you play around with."

Valerie yawned again. "So how much time do I have?"

Marcus smiled. It's 9:00 now, and we'll need about twenty minutes to get there. Don't worry about cleaning up. Just rinse off a little. I put a new toothbrush out for you. It's the red one. There are some pajamas in the bathroom. They're your size I hope. You can wear those."

Valerie got serious. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He quipped. "I'm not being nice. You'll probably get a needle, and I bet it'll hurt." Then he did get serious. "Anyway. I like being nice to you." He leaned over and very gently fluffed the hair on her head. He put his face close to hers, their lips almost touching. "You're my little sparrow." Then he acted like he was lightening up again, but she couldn't be sure if he were kidding or serious. "Besides. You're going to be my sexy litttle maid."

She evinced a little laugh, a slightly nervous little laugh. "OK."

They went to the doctor's. Shots were administered, prescriptions written, and instructions meted out. Among those instructions was the admonition there be a minimum of seven to ten days rest and quiet. No excitement, no real activity, and lots of sleep and bed rest.

Valerie found herself the guest of the man who'd deflowered and launched her on a path of domestic service. A paradoxical circumstance to be sure, her hero, lover, employer, companion and potential life partner was also the font of her gradual abasement. Valerie, rising corporate star was at home with the man whose ambition was to convert her to maid, sexual serving girl, and common scullery. Will she be able to rise above the subliminal suggestions, the covert insinuations, and subconscious suppositions and bring her lover, her idol to bay. Or will she succumb to the soft insinuations of warm hearted staff, the seductive soft poetic sing song voices of nondescript onlookers, the gentle loving embraces of a man whose plan was nothing less than her sweet subjection, her total emotional spiritual submersion into his personal fantasy.

For seven days from Monday through Sunday, Valerie found herself surrounded by a cast of loving caring and controlling cooks, maids, cleaners, and of course, her omnipresent lover and prospective puppeteer. Every whim, every desire, every wish, as long as it didn't require her to leave Mr. Burke's, now her, bedroom, was granted. She was bathed, scented, clothed, cherished and coddled. No woman not even the most favored darling in the richest sultan's seraglio, received the attention and care on such a scale as Valerie.

A masseuse visited every day. Morning and evening supple hands plied and kneaded soft muscles, and smoothed aching calves. To Valerie's secret wonderment ways were found to discreetly intrude into those special feminine places where the slightest touch evoked the most pleasurable sensations and the secretion of warm sticky womanly juices. Special feminine secretions that invariably induced a moist sponginess that became a constant reminder of her ever-present physical, carnal, needs.

An in house dietitian brought her menus with lists of foods she'd never dreamed existed. Now she got to taste the Beluga caviar she'd dreamed about. Now came the soft breads, rich heavily iced pastries, scrumptious berry muffins she'd, till now, only considered the most outlandish luxuries. House personnel thrilled her pallet with sweet tea in the morning, honeyed milk for lunch, and the most divine ambrosias and nectars, in the evening. Assistants surrounded her, plying her with tasty treats, herbal delights, and wondrous delicacies beyond the imagination. Weight, body fat became secondary concerns, full recovery required calories.

She had her own personal hairdresser who twice daily brushed, combed, and groomed her gorgeous locks. Her hair was curled, trimmed, thinned, beribboned, and pampered beyond recognition. A stylist decorated her face with mascara, eyeliner, lip-gloss, and pink blush for her cheeks. In the mirror Valerie disappeared, and another person, a youngish, soft, sweet adorable childlike angel emerged. Valerie watched as almost daily she saw the prim businesswoman slowly suffused into a new image. Another visage slowly emerged, the woman, the adult, was being eroded, being supplanted by something new, something different, a child, a young child, a cherub. Still others saw to her feet and hands. Clear polish decorated fingernails on hands destined to never touch anything harsh or abrasive again. A dermatologist guaranteed her flesh remained soft and malleable by washing her delicate skin with the most gentle of aloes and herbs guaranteeing a constant veneer, a gentle sheen that brightened her flesh like she was a freshly blossomed flower.

Owing to her feverish condition those first days her hours were filled with oral readings. A librarian was called in read to her as a means to while away the hours of inactivity. The stories all had a consistent theme, the strong caring man, the weak dependent woman, dominance and deference, mastery and submission. Her reader had a soft melodic voice that intoned to her beautiful tales that all always entailed voluntary womanly subservience. They were beautiful stories, stories that offered love, security, and comfort. And always there were her two ladies, a persistence presence, there to remind her of her hero, her idol, her God, the deity who was dedicating his every waking moment to her happiness, full recovery, and future well being.

Marcus took the week off. He visited her room three, four, five times daily. He kept a schedule for her courtiers. No moment was to left unguarded, unused. She was to be overwhelmed with attention, spoiled with constant fondling and adoration. He brought flowers, gifts, and he brought his love. Valerie lay back in a thick rich king sized bed, surrounded by fluff and frill. Her attire never approached anything wearable beyond the confines of the bedroom, but what she wore was opulent. Soft silks, velvet and velveteen chemises and coverlets. Beribboned pantalets, soft silk negligees, negligees that were changed two, three times a day. Breasts, aureole, and nipples, labia and clitoris were constantly harassed by the soft caress of the most insidiously stitched velvety fabrics enticing her to drop her beautiful tiny pink fingertips to those hidden special places for a discreet surreptitious touch, tentative scratch, or wanton little rub. She wore outfits trimmed in lace and overlapping soft gentle silken scalloped embroideries. Only the softest, most intricate, most expensive Bobbin, Brussels point, and Filet lace festooned her body. She lay like a porcelain doll in a weltered sea of beauty, attended, flattered, and fawned.

On the seventh day she was allowed out of her gilded prison, but only to be permitted access to the interior of the house. It was a large dwelling with numerous rooms so the restriction was hardly debilitating. But to guarantee her compliance clothing was restricted to lightweight jumpers, rompers, and two piece pajama sets. Outfits, all loose in construction, with tiny buttons for too wide button holes, or slippery ribbons to be tied but never double knotted, or silly little lace up sides and fronts; things all totally unsuitable for any wear beyond those interior rooms. Everything was silk, soft, and provocative. She was allowed to traverse all the floors, but she was forbidden anything more laborious than carrying a small teacup or a dessert plate brimming with snacks. All real work, such as dressing, cleaning, grooming, was still the province of her aids, assistants, and guardians.

Marcus had a substantial library, and she welcomed its quiet confines like an old friend, but in the evenings he sought her company and together they sat and talked or watched old movies, mostly romances. During those evenings he doted like an old hen. Careful not to offer any particular physical gratification she might crave, he still conscientiously coddled and cuddled, rubbing strong hands across shoulders and back, tracing masculine fingers up the nape of a soft delicate fragrant nape, or passing a hand across the innermost sides of a briefly exposed thigh. He shared every thing he did both outside and at their place of work, now only his place of work. For two additional weeks from her first release from the bedroom they shared this common schedule. If she grew restless or bored she was never allowed to nurture it. Someone was always quickly at her side, ready to serve, assist, mollify, and entertain.

For three weeks, if one counted the first week of real recovery, Marcus refrained from any attempt at sexual activity beyond his so adept sleight of hand contact. He behaved, though it bothered him greatly, like it didn't matter. It took tremendous resolve, his most determined will, and the stress of the harshest self-discipline to keep from enjoying her, but he had a plan. He was making something, a treasure, a perfect toy, a sexual plaything, a doll, and he was dedicated to accomplishing his aim with meticulously perfect detail. When he finished she would cease to be Valerie. She would be his child woman, his thing, his pet, his piece of fluff, his accessory. He understood she had intellect. He wasn't interested in destroying her mind, only reshaping it. She'd be the same dedicated worker, the same motivated thoughtful woman who buried the licenses, the same woman he loved and admired, but she'd be re-framed. Subliminally she had to learn everything she did had to be dedicated to his well being, his happiness, and her happiness depended on that, and that alone.

Had Valerie known or understood how she was being transmogrified, metamorphosed, she probably would have denied its possibility. She would have refused to believe her habitation of first just the bedroom and then just the house was her cocoon, that she was being remade and reshaped to believe and accept a condition that normally she might have resented. Then again, the soft seductive chrysalis was a uniquely wonderful time. Who knows? Had she been forewarned she might have become a willing conspirator in her own recreation.

At the end of her third week Marcus told Valerie her job at Human Relations was being temporarily filled by a new recruit. Marcus asked if she would reconsider his first offer of staying on as his personal assistant here at the house. Valerie agreed with the one stipulation she be given time to sublet her apartment in the city, put her furnishings in storage, and bring her own clothes out. Marcus agreed to all her conditions except the clothing. He insisted she store her old clothing excepting those personal affects with which she had an emotional connection. In fact, he insisted she bring everything that had important personal value out to the house. But he wanted her to be free to choose and buy whatever she wanted from stores and Internet order houses of his choice, pointing to the fact that his choices would not require her to worry with costs. He wanted only the best for his little Valerie.

Over the next several days Valerie returned to her apartment, accompanied by movers of Marcus's selection, where her furniture was wrapped and stored. An appropriate lease is drawn up and literally overnight someone offered to sublet. Almost overnight all her personal worries had been removed. All she needed to do was go to work for Marcus at his house, doing what he wanted her to do. To accomplish that end Marcus set up a luxurious two-room office suite in the far end of the house. Replete with the most up to date electronics Valerie would be ready to go to work by the beginning of the fifth week since her first visit that Friday night so long ago.

When the time for her to start came Marcus sat Valerie down in front of her new computer. "Here's what I want you to do darling." He started out trying to be as sweet as he could. "Starting today you're going to be my social secretary. You'll do most of your work from home, but I expect you'll spend a good amount of time on the road as well. As my social secretary you'll be planning meals at home for me and my guests, you'll be putting together outings where I'll be escorting clients and prospective clients to restaurants and various public activities from the theater to sports events. You'll be planning office activities like holiday parties, birthday events, retirements, and so on. You'll also be planning and coordinating trips, trips locally and internationally. I want you to devote your energies to the contribution of my success in all these regards. Do you understand?"

Valerie nodded.

He smiled. "You can expect to be attending in one format or another every single activity you set up."

She was listening carefully and giving him a very serious look. Smiling, she nodded her head in understanding.

He reiterated. "This means you'll be expected to attend all these events. Got that?"

Valerie nodded. "Yes sir."

He kept going. "That means you'll have to act and dress the part."

Valerie nodded again. "Yes sir."

He smiled and lightly rubbed her ear. "That means, you know, you'll have to spend a lot of money on clothes."

Valerie smiled. "I will."

He looked at her. "You will."

She answered. "Yes. I will."

He gave her a serious look. "Nothing cheap."

She answered. "No sir. Nothing cheap."

He smiled again. "Only the best. Understand?"

She nodded.

He said. "No Walmart."

She nodded again.

He said. "No Target either."

She said. "OK."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of plastic. "This is your credit card. There's no limit." He backtracked. "Well there's a limit, but if you exceed it you'll never know. Buy whatever you want."

She took the card. "I understand. Buy whatever I want. No limit."

He added. "I'll be buying things too. You can be sure I have my own ideas about what you should wear and how I want you to look."

Valerie nodded.

He added. "You are my social secretary. I know what I'm looking for. You got that?"

She nodded, smiling.

He spoke again. "I have clear ideas about how I want you to look and behave. Can you do that?"

She grinned and asked. "I have to go to the bathroom. Can I go to the bathroom?"

He grimaced. "Shit. Go ahead, but hurry back."

As Valerie walked away to the bathroom Marcus reflected on their exchange. He was sure she got it all, and he was sure she would get it all right. He was also just as sure she wasn't taking much of this very seriously. He wanted some kind of confirmation that she understood she was to be singularly devoted only to him. He wasn't sure he was getting it.

She came back, sat down at the computer and asked. "OK. What's next?"

He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. "This Thursday afternoon and evening we'll be having a 5:00 o'clock martini session followed by a casual dinner. It all should end not later than 9:00. We're expecting six guests, three couples, all married, but no children at the house this time. I'll e-mail you their names in the morning when I get to work. You find out what they all like to eat, how they like their drinks, and the things they like to talk about, no politics and no religion. Get all the necessary alcohol, snacks, and dinner foods together. Set up the seating. Set up everything else that needs to be done. I'll have something picked out for you to wear. You'll act as serving person, and you will eat with us. No before dinner drinks for you, but after dinner you may have one. You will essentially be the lone serving person, but you'll also function as social facilitator and as my significant other. That will entail some affection and some intimacy on your part, but no kissing or anything like that. You're to be the gracious hostess. Understand?"