Aprons For Gayle Ch. 04

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Again, shout out to my amusing muse, Scooter Titenbum. GREAT job! Thanks for keeping me on my gouty toes.

We meet Mrs. Harrower, Hamish's cook. She has a very thick accent, and written as such. But I think y'all can keep up with understanding her.

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SUNDAY, AUGUST 4th, 2013

TAP. TAP. TAP.

"It's almost seven, Ms. Boyce."

Gayle rolled over in bed and groaned, only wanting to sleep some more. She didn't want to get up to make breakfast for her family. She was so exhausted and didn't have to go to work until three.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Ms. Boyce. Get. Up."

Why are you calling me Ms. Boyce, Dad? she thought.

"I'm coming in."

The door creaked open and Hamish entered, standing by the bed. The bed sheet was down just below her shoulders, and her hair cascaded beautifully over the pillow. He could have stood there and watched her sleep for hours, but it would be a busy day for the both of them.

"Ms. Boyce, breakfast will be ready in an hour." His voice was soft yet authoritative.

Moaning again, she rolled over and slowly opened her eyes to see Hamish staring down at her. "Mornin'," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to sleep in. Sorry Sir."

"It's alright. I'm sure you'd like a bath before you eat. Better get your arse in gear. If you were male I would tell you: "Hands off cocks and on with socks." However, I shall soon think up something suitably appropriate for you."

His cock and socks remark went in one ear and out the other, being she was still half asleep. She was never the type to wake up and bounce out of bed. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she kept the bed sheet up over her breasts and waited for him to leave so she could go to the bathroom.

He didn't move. Instead, he said, "I highly doubt you will get clean lying where you are."

One lesson she was learning rather quickly was that she wouldn't get away with walking around clothed in front of her boss. She sighed and slipped out of bed, not wanting to start her day off badly by arguing with him.

Walking into the hallway with Hamish behind her, she noticed the door across from her bedroom was open. All she could see as she passed was the dark wood mantel that seemed to take up half of the wall.

Yawning long and hard, her feet skidding lazily across the floor, she had just stepped through the main bathroom door when Hamish called out, "Where do you think you are going?"

Turning around quickly, trying to hide behind the doorway, she looked at him confused.

"You'll be using my bathroom."

"What, Sir?" she mumbled.

"I don't bathe in that bathroom."

She furrowed her eyebrows deeply. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I will be giving you your bath."

"I ... I'm sorry. What?" Either she misheard him or she was in desperate need of a big mug of high octane coffee.

"It looks like I will have to schedule an appointment for you with my doctor. Your hearing does seem to be deficient."

She hurried to his side and stood in front of him. "Sir, I heard you. It's just ... Why?"

"Because I want to, and I can, so I will."

That made sense to her, in an odd way, and she was in no position to argue. Following him into his room, Bessie greeted her with a wagging tail. "Good morning to you too, girl," Gayle said as she rubbed behind the dog's ears.

Standing back up, she looked around the most incredible bedroom she'd ever seen. It was huge, three times as big as her room in Maryland. The fireplace was on the opposite wall from the door; to the left was the bed centered between two plate-glass windows. The mattress was so high there was a two-step stool to climb onto it.

She looked around quickly as she followed him toward the bathroom door on the right. There were two bookshelves set in the wall with a couch and narrow coffee table set in front of them; a window was between the two bookshelves. Opposite the couch -- with her blouse and skirt, sans any wrinkles, were resting over the arm rest -- was a long dresser set between the walk-in closet and the fireplace. A large armoire was to the right before the bathroom.

By then her bladder had started to scream at her. Walking into the bathroom, she spotted the toilet in the right corner. "Sir, I have to go to the bathroom before, um ..."

"Please do. I'll draw the bath." Bessie followed him around until he fussed at her to lie on the small rug in front of the fireplace, which she did.

As she did her business -- although she found it nerve racking that she was actually peeing with him in the room -- she noticed the floor and ceiling appeared similar to the wood used in a sauna. On the opposite wall were a multiple towel rack and a small vanity with a chair. A small, rather plain fireplace was to the left of the door, and in the center of the room was the modern, rectangular tub that was big enough to fit two people.

Two people?! He can't be thinking we're taking a bath together! she thought in a panic.

Wiping herself, she sat for a moment debating whether to stand because while sitting she could somewhat cover herself. When he stepped to the vanity chair and pulled down his lounge pants she quickly looked down at her feet, noticing a blister on the outside of her right big toe.

"Are you quite finished, Ms. Boyce? I don't think a human is capable of peeing for ten minutes, although in my youth of having many ales ..."

She tuned him out because it was way too much information to know about any boss.

When she finally looked at him, she was in instant shock at seeing him standing at the far corner of the tub, but she could clearly see every inch of the man. His shoulders and biceps were nicely muscular, in fact more so than she'd imagined when she'd first met him. His chest was tight and covered with a thin layer of darker ginger hair, though it didn't cover past his belly. She didn't dare look down any further, in case her cheeks burst into flames as she blushed from embarrassment.

She tried to look away but the grin on his face told her she'd already been caught staring a bit too long. She felt like she was having a flashback of her idiotic 18-year old self looking at her naked boyfriend for the first time.

Pushing herself off the seat, she flushed the toilet then washed her hands at the sink. Looking at him in the mirror as he sat down slowly. He deliberately watched the expression on her face as her eyes were glued to his semi-erect penis.

A lump grew in the back of her throat as she took in his size. Although he was a bit shorter than her ex, he was thicker, causing her to grow anxious as to how the hell he would even fit inside her.

"Ms. Boyce, I would think your hands are utterly clean by now."

Stop being so damned impatient, boss! she fussed mentally at him. "Yes Sir," she muttered and dried her hands.

He turned off the water; his beard glistening with the steam that surrounded him. Taking a colorful bottle from a shelf on the outside of the tub, he poured the oil into the water.

Cautiously she stepped to the side of the bath again trying not to stare at his penis. She was about to lift her leg when he said, "Remove my collar first."

"Oh, I forgot." She quickly took it off and placed it on the vanity.

Tapping his fingers on the ledge, she sat down beside his hand in the middle of the tub. "Hmm, the oil smells good. What is it?"

"Lemon and eucalyptus. There are some other scents in your bathroom, plus shampoo, soaps and all your girlie bits and bobs. Mrs. Harrower picked them, of course. Turn around and put your feet in." After she did, he said, "Spread your legs."

Swallowing hard, she put her hands on the ledge for support and parted her legs, closing her eyes. "No. Keep them open and look at me."

Being mortified, her stomach started to tingle from nerves and she grew a little nauseas. Slowly she opened her eyes, though it took her a second before she could look into his face. His eyes were gentle and soft, setting her at ease, albeit only slightly.

Leaning forward, he rested his hands just above her knees and kneaded softly before looking over her chest. She instantly froze. Smiling, he said, "You don't have to be so self-conscious with me."

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's not easy for me," she croaked.

He nodded then took the washcloth, lathered it with soap, took her right foot and began to wash it then gingerly cleaned between her toes. She jerked her foot back when the cloth scraped over the blister.

He glared at her when he saw it. "I knew your heels were troubling your feet, but you neglected to tell me about this."

"Honestly, Sir, I didn't even notice it until I was ... peeing."

"I find that hard to believe. You will keep me posted on this."

"Yes Sir."

Cleaning it carefully, he put her foot back in the water then did the same for her other foot. Dipping the sudsy cloth into the water, he slowly ran it up each leg, lingering at the very tip of her thighs. The higher he got the shallower her breathing became until it felt as if she had stopped breathing altogether.

Rewetting the cloth, he brushed it gently over her crotch, top to bottom then back to her clit. She gasped when the tip of his finger grazed over the nub. Stopping on that spot, he watched her reaction as he pressed the pad of his finger harder all around area surrounding the throbbing bundle of nerves. He grinned when he saw her open her mouth; whether it was because it felt good to her or she was going to protest, he didn't care.

Whispering into her ear, he said, "You belong to me now, Ms. Boyce. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir," she mumbled.

Wrapping his fingers around the hair on the back of Gayle's neck, Hamish jerked her head, forcing her to look at him. Her hair fell softly around her face, and he brushed the strands away with his other hand, keeping the heels of his palms on her chin.

"Speak clearly. You are mine. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes Sir. I understand." The question was: Did she really?

Examining her face closely and gazing deeply into her eyes, he grinned then quickly cleaned and rinsed the rest of her body. With every stroke of the cloth over her skin she shuddered, not able to control her body's reaction.

"Bend at your waist and tilt your head down."

Gayle complied, then Hamish proceeded to run the tips of his fingers through her hair from the scalp, starting at the base of her neck to her forehead several times to ensure all of the hair was pulled forward.

"You've such beautiful, silky hair, and so thick."

"Thank you, Sir."

From the corner of her eye she saw him reach for the shower head in front of her and turn it on. "Keep your eyes closed. I don't want water to get into them."

"Yes Sir."

He tested the warmth of the water before he brought the shower head to the back of her neck then up, letting the water drench her hair before replacing it. Grabbing the shampoo, he lathered it between the palms of his hands and massaged it into her scalp.

If she thought his fingers felt good when he worked her tired, weary feet, his fingers then felt heavenly on her scalp. The tips of his fingers dug into her crown then reached to the back of her ears, kneading all the way to the base of her neck. His hands were gentle as he slowly worked the length of her hair, taking every opportunity to run them from her scalp to the ends.

It ended far too soon for Gayle when Hamish ran the water through her hair, rinsing it clean.

"Thank you, Sir. That felt wonderful."

"It was entirely my pleasure. Now slip in."

Only after he leaned back against the end of the tub did she sit down between his knees, trying hard not to let any water spill over the edges. Not wanting to accidentally sit on his penis, she made sure to sit down at a safe distance.

"Tilt your head back a bit."

When she did, he placed his fingers on the top of her forehead and brushed her hair back, gathering it all away from her face. "Much better. Lean forward."

She thought to herself how bossy he was, but then again he was her boss. She brought her arms forward and rested her elbows on her knees. The water splashed around her as he lathered the washcloth again, running the warm, sudsy cloth slowly over her back, occasionally scraping his fingernails against her skin. The damned goose pimples erupted all over her body, and her nipples stood at attention.

Stop. Stop! Stop, damn it! Stop feeling like this! she screamed at her body.

Her thoughts were forgotten when he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her gently against his chest before straightening his legs, though she kept her head forward. He then brought his arms over her shoulders and manipulated a wash cloth until it was foamy. He leaned back slightly and first cleaned her shoulders and forearms, though he didn't linger.

Apparently there was a reason why. "Relax back into me," he said softly. She instantly tensed but did so. "Rest your head on me."

Complying, though still tense, she clenched her hands tightly and closed her eyes. She shivered when he placed his chin on her shoulder. His beard tickled her flesh, but she didn't laugh; it was far from funny. Slipping his arms around her waist he unhurriedly and softly washed her front, starting from her belly button and moving up to her breastbone. Without rinsing he wiped each breast with the cloth.

"Would you relax?" he huffed.

"I'm ... sorry, Sir. I'm trying."

Placing his lips in the crook of her neck, he cupped her moistened breasts and squeezed ever so slightly just to get a reaction from her. It was immediate. She inhaled sharply and brought her hands to his wrists.

"Remove them. Now," he ordered.

She hesitated again from panic at the invasion of her body. He removed one hand from her and lightly tapped her face. "I said remove your hands!"

Her body shook from his frightening words and his actions. "I'm sorry, Sir," she replied, her voice quivering. She reluctantly placed the hands on top of her thighs.

"You bloody well don't show it."

She forced herself to relax, but it wasn't easy. He latched both hands back onto her breasts and worked them expertly. Her nipples were then extremely sensitive to his touch as his flat palms brushed the very tip of her nubs. She closed her eyes tight when he pinched them, delicately at first but with increasing strength as he twisted each one simultaneously.

"S ... Sir, stop, pleeease," she begged.

His voice rumbled in her ear, "Does that feel good?"

"Yyyesss Sir," she breathed heavily.

"Then no." He let go of one breast then slid it down to her crotch. "Spread your legs."

She could have died inside when he said that. Tentatively she did until her knees touched his, but she didn't pull them away for fear of another slap on the cheek; it hadn't hurt, but it was a shock to her system just the same.

"This belongs to me," he said when the tip of his finger grazed the hood of her clit, causing her to gasp, and she pressed her head harder against his collarbone. His middle finger slid down an inch before he brought it back up, burying it in the folds of her clit.

He maneuvered his finger up and down several times before moving it back and forth, gradually pressing harder and harder. Her breathing became shallow as her heart raced; her mouth hung open as his finger moved down to her entrance and rubbed it around.

"Your pussy is mine to do as I wish," he spoke into her ear, his warmth breath flowing over the crook of her neck.

She wanted to protest but something pressed against the tip of the crack of her ass as he stretched his arm further to slip the tip of his finger inside of her then pushed in deeper. Before she could react to his protruding cock pressing into her, he slid another finger inside and tapped it on the top of her pussy wall several times.

"Only I have the power to make you come. Do you understand?"

"Yesssss Siiiiir," she sighed.

She bit her bottom lip from wanting to scream for him to stop, but since he denied her first request she knew he would deny her again. She tried to picture herself anywhere else but here to keep her mind off of what he was doing, but it was no use.

Her heart pounded and her whole body was on fire. Her face was flushed, bright red, she was sure.

Mumbling incoherently as he switched from hooking his fingers over her g-spot to penetrating her, her breathing became heavier and faster; she was barely able to catch her breath. All the while he kept pinching and twisting her nipple at a quicker pace.

Seconds later, or it could have been hours for all she knew, she pressed her feet against the end of the tub and pushed down hard. She didn't know how much longer she could hold off coming when he commanded, "Come, NOW!"

It took a moment before she allowed herself to feel everything at its fullest. She let go as her body trembled and she allowed her orgasm to surge through her. Whimpering, she didn't care how loud she got. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel her own body throbbing against Hamish's chest when he pulled her close to him.

A few moments later, enough time to allow her to gain control of herself, he affectionately rubbed her stomach with his thumbs while she tried to catch her breath. "I hope you enjoyed that. It'll be the last for you for a while -- maybe, or maybe not."

"Hmm?" she muttered. "What?"

Her body shook when he chuckled. "You are not to touch yourself for pleasure, and most definitely you will not orgasm. Those are mine to oversee and control. Only I will give them to you. It might be tomorrow, it might be a week. But it will be my decision."

I haven't had an orgasm in over four years. Hell, I don't even think my ex-prick ever gave me one, she thought.

"Four years?!" Hamish exclaimed. "You've never ..."

She was horrified because she hadn't realized she'd said it out loud. "Sir, I really don't want to talk about my ex, if you don't mind."

"I do mind, and we will talk about it," he said sternly. "Now skedaddle on out of here, dry yourself off and dress your toe. Everything is under the sink in your bathroom. Then get dressed. It's time to eat brekkie."

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"Good morning, nana kitchen," Hamish said cheerily as he and Gayle walked into the cooking area. He noticed the expression on Gayle's face and explained, "The only place I ever see her is in the kitchen."

The incredible smell of bacon filled the room, and her stomach growled. She felt like she hadn't eaten a full meal in weeks.

Again wearing no bra under her blouse, Gayle tried to hide behind Hamish as she looked at Mrs. Harrower. She was standing by the counter pressing a paper towel against a plate. She was a short, heavy-set woman and appeared to be in her mid-60s with long, braided silver-white hair.

"Weel, it's nae a guid morn. It's abit time ye decided tae shaw up. Th' tomatoes an' mushrooms ur nae longer hot," she mumbled unhappily.

Mrs. Harrower talked much too fast for Gayle to understand what she said; all she understood were the tomatoes and mushrooms were cold.

"Thank goodness I have a microwave, then." He kissed her on her cheek, but she only fussed at him tenderly. Ignoring her, he said, "I'd like you to meet Gayle Boyce, the new maid."

When the woman turned to face her, she saw she had a very kind, beautiful face with big, dark brown eyes. Her smile was very welcoming.

Gayle became distracted when Bessie sat at Gayle's feet, and she found it curious how protective the dog was becoming toward her, almost as if the dog thought her Master's human was in trouble. She soon realized that wasn't the puppy's intent when she licked her lips waiting for a treat from the cook.