Summer Hire Ch. 04

Hesitantly at first, she swam over to the appointed rock. Rising out of the water, she turned and leaned across the smooth warm surface of the boulder, resting on her forearms as directed.

Erik came up from behind her. His hand traced the arch of her back from her shoulders to her bottom. Then he reached down and lifted her hips a little higher. His hand caressed the small of her back again, encouraging her into a deeper arch, leaving her buttocks feeling very high and exposed.

He intoned, "Very good of you to have assumed the position. You must keep that pose until I release you."

She heard the words, amazed that someone was commanding her in how to bend over a rock, even more amazed that she was so willing to obey.

With his left hand resting lightly on her back, he brought his right hand down into a sharp smack on her bottom. She felt a flare of anger, expecting the slap to hurt, but instead a jolt of pure sexual energy shot through her. There was some stinging as well, but the raw burst of arousal that accompanied being spanked was something she had never experienced before.

He lightly ran the back of his right hand across where it had landed on her left buttock. As the backs of his fingernails drifted across her skin and then the blue nylon covering her bottom, she sucked in her breath, her sex clenching tightly.

Then he drew his hand away. After an interminable moment of waiting, smack! This hand landed on her right cheek. She gasped again at the jolt of arousal, followed by the tingling sting.

Then his left hand reached under the edge of her swimsuit pulled tight across her buttocks. He gathered the fabric together in his fist and gently pulled the gathered material up along the cleft between her buttocks, exposing the smooth skin of both cheeks. Before letting go, he tugged upwards, pulling her suit tight across the mound of her sex. She shuddered.

Without warning, he began spanking her again, this time not pausing between strikes. With each blow, she found herself ratcheting to a higher and higher level of sexual intensity. She held herself motionless, receiving every stroke with greedy anticipation, hoping desperately that he wouldn't stop until she orgasmed.

She climbed higher and higher, but the crest still didn't appear in sight. Her sense of time dilated and her rear seemed on fire, when she was suddenly wracked by a shuddering orgasm that went on and on. Finally, she slumped, breathless and dazed, across the smooth surface of the boulder.

Erik stood beside her, watching carefully, his hand resting softly on the small of her back. As her breathing slowed, she sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position, draped across the sun-dappled stone. He smiled, relieved that he had correctly gauged her and the moment. He'd been reasonably sure of what her reaction would be, but it had been risky to move so quickly. He chuckled to himself, knowing that taking risks and moving quickly were deeply imbedded in his psyche. One of these days, he was certain, he'd really screw up. But not today. "At least," he reminded himself, "not so far."

He watched her beautiful form splayed out on the warm boulder. He felt buoyed up by her response. It had taken her less than two minutes to orgasm. He knew he could have stretched it out, teasing her and bringing her arousal state even higher, but he had wanted to get her to an orgasm as quickly as possible. Hopefully, there would be plenty of time later to toy with her response, teasing and tormenting her into progressively higher levels of arousal.

For now, though, he only wanted to make sure that sure came back gently from her current floating state, so that he could help her through any delayed reactions. It seemed likely that this was new territory for her and he knew it could be rocky.

Melissa drifted along the edge of something that was not quite sleep. The warm hardness of the stone supported her from below, while the light touch of Erik's hand contained her from above. She was grateful for Erik's secure presence, because otherwise she felt as light as a leaf, ready to spin lazily downstream.

Gradually, she came back present. Lifting her head slightly, she asked, "What was that?"

He sat down on the boulder next to her, shifting his hand to gently stroke her outstretched arm. "At a guess, I'd say it was pretty wonderful."

She hummed her agreement.

After a final moment to collect herself, she rolled onto her side to look up at him and propped her head up on her arm. "So... what can I do for you?" She looked down suggestively, her eyes sweeping across his naked form.

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

She felt simultaneously relieved and puzzled that he didn't expect some sexual favor in return. After a moment 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 respond 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, "That seemed like 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 a 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 as she described how he had commanded her.

He repeated thoughtfully, "Demeaning." He nodded, "Sure, that could have been what happened." He paused again, then continued with a mischievous grin. "Well, if you hadn't liked it... certainly if you hadn't been a willing participant... and well, if you hadn't have come so damned hard. Yeah, sure, without all that, it certainly would've been demeaning."

She turned away in anger and embarrassment, staring down at the surface of the rock, tracing its striations with her fingertips.

He continued more seriously, with an apologetic tone, "Melissa, please understand; I honestly thought you would enjoy it. Being ordered to submit. Being spanked. I truly wouldn't have done it if I didn't think you'd like it. I wasn't trying to demean you."

He waited to see her reaction. Realizing that he wanted a response, she gave her shoulders a little shrug.

He continued, "Please believe me, for me, humiliating someone is just plain ugly. I don't like it. Yeah, sure, there's some people who really get a rush by demeaning and humiliating a partner. And I guess if their partner gets off on being humiliated, well that's what works for them. In my experience, though, what's going on most of the time is simply an abusive bully being an asshole."

He shook his head, "There are some folks who really do get off on being humiliated, but I've know a few and I've got to admit, they kind of creep me out."

Melissa looked back up at him puzzled, "You've really known somebody like that?"

He nodded, "Two or three, at least. It's amazing — the huge diversity of what turns people on. Our capacity for fantasy is astonishing. You know, like the whole spanking thing?" He looked at her questioningly, then continued rhetorically, "So why isn't it demeaning?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. I'll bite." Turning the question back at him, she asked, "Why isn't that just plain fucked up?"

He laughed, encouraged by her feisty response. "I think what keeps it from being screwed up is that it comes out of our fantasies, what each of us secretly wants out of sex. And it has a lot to do with how two people's fantasies fit with each other. It's like, well, you see, sex is this very intimate dance. It's a sort of sharing that makes us feel very vulnerable. At least, it ought to make us feel vulnerable. I've always thought something's wrong when people don't let it."

She looked at him more closely, surprised at his sudden turn. She hadn't expected this sort of answer.

He noticed her questioning expression, so he continued, "It's, well, vulnerability is a big issue, but at the same time, I think we're innately selfish about sex. We want our partner to focus on our needs; we don't like working hard to take care of our partner's needs.

"So the way we balance our vulnerability and selfishness is through our fantasies. Our fantasies are these amazing stories we tell ourselves to help us feel safe, less vulnerable, while also getting our needs met. For instance, the spanking thing... and being ordered around. For a lot of women, and some men too, taking the lead in sex is a scary thing. It's a risk. They worry, 'maybe the other person won't like what I'm doing? What if I'm rejected?' That kind of fear makes their sense of being vulnerable shoot way up.

"One way to deal with that fear is to take on a submissive role — find a dominant who will control sex. A common submissive fantasy is being tied up and held helpless, while the dominant makes you come over and over again. If you think about it, in the fantasy the submissive partner doesn't have to take any risks. They're bound and helpless; they can't do anything about meeting the other person's needs. And the dominant is actually totally focused on meeting the submissive's needs. At least, that's what the fantasy is really about.

"Thinking about it that way flips what dominance and submission looks like from the outside. In the fantasy, if you're the submissive, then you're getting your needs met, without taking any risks."

Melissa looked dubious, "So... you're saying I'm a submissive?" As she considered the idea, she got angrier. "That's bullshit. I'm not some wimpy helpless girl!"

"True, absolutely true," he agreed reassuringly. "Your strength was one of the things that I found very attractive. Look, lots of submissives are strong, competent people. Loads of them are managers or bosses. When it comes to sex, though, they don't want to do all the work. They want somebody else to take charge, so they can relax and enjoy. Most female dominatrixes will tell you that their typical male client is a upper-level manager who's so tired of always being in charge that he really looks forward to being told what to do in sex. It's a vacation for him, recharges his batteries."

"That sounds pretty crazy."

"Lots of fantasies sound crazy, but they make sense. For instance, a common woman's fantasy is being raped..."

Melissa flinched at the word 'raped', feeling a sudden shot of fear for her situation, alone in the woods with a powerful man she really didn't know. Underlying that fear was an even deeper jolt of fear that he somehow knew her secret love of rape fantasies.

Erik continued, seemingly unaware of her sudden fear, "The reality is that nobody wants to get raped, not for real. True rape is a brutal act of violence. But the fantasy... well the fantasy is very different. You see, the fantasy is actually about not having a choice, about being held helpless and being forced to enjoy sex. In the fantasy, the woman never has to take the lead. The man always takes complete charge.

"In truth, the fantasy bears no resemblance to reality. Nor should it. The fantasy is a plaything. It's a way of enjoying sex, especially when sex could otherwise be intimidating and scary. Being a submissive is just another fantasy. I think it's sort of related to the rape fantasy. Enjoying submissive sex doesn't mean you want to live as somebody's degraded slave for real, no more than enjoying a rape fantasy ever means that you ever want to be raped for real."

He paused, giving her a chance to think through what he had said.

She asked, "So you think I'm a submissive..."

He nodded.

"And you're some sort of dominant..."

"Yep."

"And the..." She halted, trying to avoid saying what had just brought her to orgasm.

Erik suggest quietly, "Spanking?"

She looked away quickly and murmured, "Yeh."

He continued softly, "I think it's a couple of things. One is that being spanked is a very clear sign of submission, so it feeds into the submission fantasy and heightens your arousal." She grimaced a little, embarrassed because his words felt so completely on target. "The second is that for some people, in an aroused state, there is a cross-over between pain receptors and pleasure receptors.

"You see, everyone, when they're aroused, is less sensitive to pain. That's why we ignore that nasty couch seam digging into us when we're just about to orgasm and only realize afterwards that we've been scraped raw. For some folks though, when they're really aroused, just the right amount of what would otherwise be pain can turn into pleasure, and can even bring them to orgasm. As you saw."

Melissa coughed to cover an embarrassed laugh.

Erik continued, "It's a fine balance. Too much, too soon, and it's just pain. Yuck. No fun. Too little, too long, and it's just annoying. The arousal slips away. Also no fun. So a good dom has to pay attention to lots of little signals and dial it in just right. When the dom gets it perfectly, the sub can be carried off into a completely different place. It's like floating. People call it sub-space."

"Right, so you're some sort of professional dom? That means dominant, right?"

'No... I'm not a professional. And yeah, dom means dominant... sure, there are doms who are into it so much that they are 'professional'. Some even charge for it, especially women. They're called dominatrixes. So even though I'm a dom, I have different priorities from someone who's that hard core. It's not 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 chuckled. "It's true that I'm pretty head-strong on the business side. But a lot of what I do in business is about the other side of a dominant's skill: I really listen 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 way 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 more soberly, "And that part of it 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 of them got in 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 ass had clenched tight before she realized it. Erik nodded at her response, "Well besides that. I mean, beyond that immediate jolt of arousal. I have this feeling that there's also a bunch of negative images 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 and concentrated 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. That's bullshit."

He nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah, and what if you enjoy it? What does that mean about you?"

She flinched, almost as she had been shocked by an electrical spark. She stepped back from her reaction, for a moment, looking puzzled. "Wow. That was some kind of gut check. I wonder what...? I mean, it was like this wave of shame... somebody saying what a bad person I am. That's gross!"

He asked, "Raised Catholic, evangelical?"

She laughed, "Recovering Catholic."

"Yep. That'll do it, every time. So, you like being a sub... but it's bad... which means you're bad. Something like that?"

"Something like that," she slowly agreed.

"Gets in the way, for sure." He commented quietly, mulling over the trap in which she found herself. Shifting focus a little, he continued, "As for the first part, I mean your mousy abused wife, you're right, that can certainly be the ugly reality of real-world dominance/submission. But the thing is, remember, we're not talking about the real world; we're talking about fantasies. The world of fantasy is an amazing head game that makes sexual arousal go vroom! The thing is, your abused wife image is kind of like comparing the horrible reality of rape with the typical rape fantasy. The reality and the fantasy have nothing in common.

He continued after a moment, "Trust me — I'm not looking for somebody who's a mousy little wall flower. I'd run over somebody like that. It'd be no fun for either of us. I need a strong partner. I can be pretty headstrong at times, and I need somebody who can stand up to me, draw boundaries, and tell me when I'm being an asshole. In order for a relationship to work for me, there has to be balance, an equality."

"Of course, part of the relationship, a pretty important part, is the sensual. That's where fantasies come into play. But 'play' is the operative word. Or at least, I think it ought to be. You know, fun, just plain fun. Joy, exploration, learning — that's what works for me. And I think it's hugely important for both people's fantasies to mesh, so that they meet each other's needs. If something's really out of sync with one person's sexual expectations for the other, it's hard to make the relationship work, even though everything else might be great."

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."