Over the Lap of Luxury Pt. 01

Footsteps sounded to his right. It took a lot not to turn around and act like he was just taking too long to read the numbers on the side of the door. But he stayed still, just barely, closing his eyes in humiliation. His bottom still felt warm and tingly from his spanking. It felt like everyone could see right through his pants. The small group passed by with a few quiet titters and soft laughs. Asher pressed his forehead against the cool wall, fully defeated.

The door opened all the way not a moment after, Raj checked and announced he was still in position, and then he was invited back.

"We know you didn't take any supplies," said Raj. "Nobody did. It was just a bit of a personality assessment to judge your willingness to serve and aptitude for service."

His jaw dropped a bit. It was so obvious, now, but he really didn't put it all together. Getting spanked by the CEO's wife would have that stupefying effect on anyone.

"Let me talk to Asher alone," said Mrs. Darrow.

"Right away, ma'am," said Raj, leaving. This time the door was shut all the way, latched tight.

"Asher," said Portia. She gently lifted his chin up, forcing his eyes to find hers. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Without a moment's hesitation, he nodded. She was. But she was off limits, being married and a good fifteen years or so older than himself. Pretty and unattainable. Too often his type.

"Good. And I know you rather enjoyed being spanked over my lap, didn't you?"

This time he did hesitate, and only blushed, which made Portia nod. Question answered.

"Look at me," she reminded him gently. He had kept looking away, overcome with shyness in this intense moment. "Do you want to ride in luxury cars instead of the bus? Not worry again about your next meal? Live in a secure community, far away from all the violence out there? Do you want to be kept completely safe?"

"Yes," he said. More than anything.

"Yes, ma'am," she corrected.

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, feeling some blood rushing back to his loins.

"Good boy. You would be kept very safe by my side. And I would pay you more than what you make now on top of your free room and board. But you'd be my servant. I'm not a cruel woman, but I won't hesitate to discipline you. Sometimes harshly."

He nodded, already knowing that was part of the package of servitude.

"And even though you would never be anything more than my servant, your whole body would still be mine to enjoy. All of it. Mine. For pain, or for pleasure. Do you understand?"

Asher nodded, his throat going kind of dry. His "yes, ma'am" was a squeaky one.

"Is this the life you want?"

He found himself nodding before even thoroughly thinking it through.

The contract was pushed in front of him, ready to go, just like that. It was for a guaranteed full five year term of salaried employment, which might have been enough to get him to sign alone. His eyes skimmed past phrases like 'no punishments causing permanent scarring, serious injury, or death.' That sure left a lot of in-between.

But Asher figured that all he had to do to avoid serious punishment was what he always did; keep his head down and work hard. The safety he'd be provided could literally save his life, the way things were out there, always getting worse instead of better.

"Here," she said, holding out a ballpoint. The pen she offered him was fancy, all heavy and shining. Just a taste of the life she'd give him, he knew. "If you don't sign, you'll still have the internship. If you do sign, you'll start immediately."

He signed his name.

His career change only took a single day. Hours, really. It was dizzying how quickly Portia Darrow could get what she wanted.

The very first thing Portia did was ask for his wrist, attaching a half inch wide white band around it. It locked into place firmly with a snap. There was no watch face on the paper-thin device, but it was based on smart watch technology originally. All his health data, GPS coordinates, and other relevant information would be sent to Portia's phone. She typed something on the app, and words formed via green LED light under the clear outer layer. His smart-band read SERVANT now.

"Behave yourself," Portia warned him. "None of your future spankings will be over your clothes."

"Yes, ma'am," he promised.

Asher was then escorted away and protected by an armed security guard who treated him like precious cargo, property of his employer. The man even informed him on what things to pack and not pack. No clothes or shoes. No toiletries. They'd all be provided. The acceptable items were things like his electronics, favourite books, and mementos.

The team under Portia's command sent out the chauffeur as soon as he was ready. Asher was told 'their people' would handle his lease and his apartment, selling his unwanted possessions for him. All of that for free. When Asher arrived at the mansion, exiting from the back of a black Bentley, he was eternally grateful more than anything else.

It was beautiful, too, the mansion. Huge, and white marble. He had to swivel his head in all directions to take it all in. The grounds outside were immaculate and decorated with walkways and gardens and fountains. Not one ruffian in sight.

The guards carried in his luggage and the chauffeur used a code on a keypad to open the front door for him. In the hallway, the chauffeur pressed a white button on a mansion-wide intercom to announce Asher's arrival. "Mrs. Darrow, your servant is in the foyer."

So Asher stood in the large entryway for a moment, looking at the grand spiralling staircase and the four wide archways leading to elegantly decorated rooms. Waiting in awe. The air smelled faintly of lemons, and there wasn't a speck of dirt in sight.

There were the clicks of high heels against the marble floor before he saw his new mistress. A glass of afternoon white wine sat in Portia's hand, the top of its stem held between two fingers. "Hello, dear," she said, her palm cupping the side of his face with some affection. "Follow me."

She announced rooms they passed as though she were already bored with them. "Games room. Parlour. Library. My husband's office. Don't go in there. Don't go anywhere without permission but especially not that office. There would be severe consequences. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She told him there were seven bedrooms and bathrooms, an indoor and outdoor pool, no kids, and no pets. There was also a bevy of employees, many of whom he could see for himself. There was a team of workers cleaning the parlour. He spotted two gardeners from the window behind the staircase. Behind them, there were some large hulking security guards on duty, currently patrolling the grounds nearest the wrought iron fences. The man with the tablet, her assistant Raj, was back at the estate now, hurrying from this room to that.

The other staff didn't live here like Asher would. They only worked here, and there were a lot more currently off duty. She had a person for everything. Asher wasn't quite certain of the details of his job, seeing as how the mansion already ran like a well oiled machine.

"I'll show you the servants' quarters," said Portia. "It's in the basement, just past the pool and the gym. Room for two. Just so you know, there will be another servant joining you soon; a young lady. I want one of each, and I always get what I want."

She smiled like that was a joke, but Asher didn't get it. From looking around here, she did seem to always get what she wanted. He followed behind her down a long hallway.

"Here it is, the servants' quarters to your left. Put your bags down by the door here."

He expected something much shabbier than what he saw. It seemed brand new; still smelling of fresh paint and newly laid carpeting. It was simplistic, a minimalist modern look compared to the rest of the opulent mansion, but worlds above Asher's last accommodations.

There was a living room complete with an impressively large television, a sofa, and behind that was a modern kitchenette with a table for two. On either side of the living room were two doors leading to small matching private bedrooms. A third door remained closed, locked, and disconcertingly mysterious.

Portia took Asher to show him his bedroom, waiting to be decorated with his personal items he'd brought from home. On the bed lay his uniform, folded up neatly. There were empty bookshelves, a dresser, desk, mirror, and closet. It reminded Asher of exceptionally nice on-campus university accommodations.

Unusual was a row of silver hooks by the door. The contents made him swallow hard. A leather strap hung on one. A wooden paddle, about twice as big as Portia's hand, hung on the other hook. There were matching sets of white velcro cuffs on two others. Asher looked at the spanking and bondage implements and looked back to Portia, who seemed almost pleased with his distress. "Yes, Asher, try not to earn a spanking with those. But if I ask you to get your strap or your paddle, you'll know where to find them."

"Yes, ma'am."

She grinned a tight, stern grin. "Behind you is your private bathroom. Start the water. You're taking a bath."

"Yes, ma'am."

The whole time the water filled that sparkling white bathtub, she was instructing him about his most basic job requirements. Don't speak unless spoken to. (Easy for someone like Asher.) Keep his hands neatly folded behind his back when not otherwise occupied. Always refer to her as ma'am or Mrs. Darrow. Refer to the staff with similar respect. To him, the chauffeur would be 'sir' and the personal chef 'ma'am.'

There were a lot more little rules like this, too, all more or less ensuring a servant knew his or her place. Lower than anyone else in the country, that was for certain. Portia said he'd get a formal list the following day, so his goal now was to do his best to act servile and avoid a spanking.

The tub now filled, Asher waited for privacy. Not granted. Portia was personally giving him this bath. She started undressing him, unbuttoning his shirt. Asher wasn't fully past the phase of being shy about his body due to too little experience with women. So he froze up, watching her slender fingers work to strip him.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked, slipping his shirt off and tugging his undershirt up and off, next.

He stood before her in just his pants. "What is my main job, ma'am? To clean?"

"Sometimes," she said, tracing a finger gently up and down his torso. It made him pleasantly shudder. Portia then got really frank. Why bother with formalities with a servant? "During working hours, your job is pretty similar to my designer handbag's job. You will show everyone around my status. The cuter you are and the better you behave, the more valuable you are. You'll generally go where I go and do what I say. As a habit, you'll open doors, pull out chairs, and get me things I need. When I want to be alone, you'll be asked to help the staff or to go to your quarters. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, though not perfectly quite yet. A true understanding of his new job would only come with time.

"You'll also entertain me of course, in various ways." Now her fingers tugged his belt open and loosened his pants. She pulled them right down to reveal Asher's helpless excitement forming a growing tent in his boxers.

"Oh dear," she teased him, eyeing his arousal.

He cringed at his own reaction to all this. She tugged his boxers down and it took all his nerve to not cover himself like a schoolboy. His erection was now at full length, standing parallel to the floor.

"A little part of you," she said, tapping his rigid shaft gently, "doesn't mind being a servant."

Not sure how to answer, he kept his silence.

Portia pointed to the tub, and gave his bottom a playful pat, telling him to step in.

Asher held up his wrist questioningly, the one with the thin white band that read SERVANT in green lights and had sensors for all his health data.

"It's completely waterproof and only I can remove it from your wrist," said Portia. "Think of it like a far more polite and less tacky version of a collar. It stays on."

He'd certainly never think of the smart-band the same way after that. With a nod, he sank under the hot water. Portia told him to keep his arms down at his sides, lathering up soap in her hands. "Let's see how sensitive you are, shall we? Where are all your secret spots?"

She stroked from his shoulders up his neck, her slippery, soapy fingers perfectly teasing his skin. Asher couldn't even stop the shaky sigh of pleasure at her touch. He got goosebumps, and between his legs, his erection twitched.

"Found one," she said, followed by the softest laugh. "Oh you are sensitive, aren't you?"

Asher closed his eyes, as though just trying to hold on for dear life. Portia really knew her way around his body. Teasing his ears and the backs of his shoulders got very heavy sighs, too. All of him enjoyed her massaging to some degree, even his arms and legs enjoyed her touch, though it didn't draw out moans.

She rolled him a little to his side, massaging his back and taking a long time soaping his butt. He moaned loudly at her playful squeezing. "Very nice," she said. "Won't be a bad sight to see turned over my knees."

Then she gently rolled him again to his back, her soapy hands traveling slowly down his chest and torso and over his flat stomach. He shut his eyes. His pulsing erection lay right against his own stomach now, and she was nearly right there. After all this teasing, he feared what he'd do when her hand rubbed him there.

Just her soft fingertips explored him at first, lightly mapping him there like she'd done the rest of his body. Finding his most sensitive areas. That little bit alone made him start to pant, as though begging with his breath. When she roamed casually near the tip, he began to moan with abandon. Same for stroking the underside, which meant she spent a while just slowly running those silky fingers up to the tip and back down, watching him groan and squirm with pleasure.

"You're adorably expressive," she told him. "Are the quietest young men always the loudest in bed? Or just you?"

It made him blush. "I don't know, ma'am."

"Let's get one thing straight, though. I'm sure I can find a wide variety of ways to enjoy your service. But these lips will never kiss mine. This penis will never, ever penetrate me. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," he gasped.

"Good boy."

As though rewarding him, she wrapped her fingers all around his manhood, stroking him up and down in her loose fist. Asher groaned, his head tilting back. This was the speed you'd end at, not the speed you'd start. Portia was doing this on purpose, manipulating him this way, pulling the orgasm from him.

"Oooh!" he moaned. "Ooohh God!"

"You'll need to ask me permission to come," she warned him.

Somehow he managed a "yes, ma'am" in the middle of all his moaning. He promised he'd be good, head still back, words aimed at the ceiling. Portia must have been watching his face, listening to his panting moans, feeling what made him tremble. She knew exactly what to do, and adjusted her grip and rhythm until she had full control of his pleasure.

Asher's back began to arch, his muscles all going rigid. Oh, God, too soon. She'd really just started. He wanted to tell her to slow down, but that wasn't the place of a servant. So he was forced to ask, humiliatingly after only a minute of expert rubbing, "Can I please come?"

"So soon, Asher?" she teased him, still sliding her palm up and down his length, no break in her steady rhythm. "No. Use some self control."

He really tried, squeezing up his hands at his sides. A handjob had never felt this good before. He began to flash back to being bent over her lap, getting spanked for Portia's amusement. Right at his old job, where anyone could have walked by. Waves of pleasure coursed through him, the sensations building to a peak. He was powerless under her sensual ministrations. "Ooh," he moaned. "Oooh! Please!"

"You know, Asher," she said casually, his hardness twitching of its own volition as she masturbated him, "I once washed my Prada by hand, too."

That really did it. "Can I - Aahh! AH! AAAH! Ohhh!" he cried out, all control lost, pushed over the edge. Rope after rope shot onto his own stomach and chest as he nearly shouted from the ecstasy of it. The final spurt pooled around Portia's clenched fingers.

"Naughty, naughty boy." She rolled her eyes, and Asher shut his tight. The shame was much more stifling now as he began to slowly go soft.

She washed her hands casually in the sink. That was just a taste of her power over him, he knew.

"Embarrassed?" she asked, teasing him with feigned sympathy. "Already earned yourself a punishment on day one, haven't you? What should I do to you, hmm? I'll go easy on you, it being your very first day. You'll only be getting a bedtime spanking on your bare bottom for that disgraceful lack of control. I won't be so easy on you next time."

His body was still buzzing, his heart pounding, his head spinning a little. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he tried, to no avail.

"You will be," she said, patting his shoulder.

He was all clean now, dressed by Portia in his smart little uniform. Grey pants, white button down, red vest over a tie. The sleeves were designed to be buttoned up around his lower arms, leaving his smart-band highly visible. If someone somehow missed the meaning of his uniform, they'd not be able to miss the word SERVANT written in green light. Asher thought of how Portia called it a polite collar, and flushed pink just to look at it clasped around his wrist.

Aside from the smart-band, he looked like an overgrown private school student. All the servants did, more or less. His underclothes were even dictated, having to wear white cotton briefs. She found it served as another reminder of his place.

Every staff member they had passed gave Asher a knowing glance, seeing him in that uniform, walking alongside Mrs. Darrow. There goes the boy she'll spank and humiliate and degrade. Asher couldn't meet their eyes for longer than half a second. He wondered if they could tell he had an upcoming punishment that night, if they could suss out the trepidation in his eyes.

Portia currently sat in the front garden, a magazine in her lap, a cell phone in her hand. Like she couldn't decide which one deserved her attention more. Asher stood nearby. Remembering the rules, he had both hands clasped at the small of his back, and kept himself just close enough while staying tucked out of the way.

There were physical security staff guarding the grounds as well as a coordinated team of drones circling even the outermost sections of the property from above. It was safe here. It was nice to be outside like this, and not in fear of his life. Just feeling the sun on his skin, the joy of being free to close his eyes, to think or daydream.

Asher noticed a red Audi pull up from his position in the garden. Nicholas Darrow exited the vehicle, in some great rush. It turned out that was just how he was; often rushing from one thing to the next. He did slow down for his wife, though, spotting her in the garden.

"Hello, love," he said, kissing her cheek. "I see you've got a new friend, haven't you?"

A joke, of course. Her real friends all had yachts. Asher's hands began to tremble as Nick sized him up. It wasn't just his stocky and strong build, looking twice the weight of Asher himself. It was his whole being, the way he took up so much space, the confidence radiating. Even more than Portia, who had her fair share of it. Really, it bordered on arrogance.

Nick didn't offer Asher a hand to shake, as that sort of thing was for equals. "Should I be offended we look nothing alike, Portia?"