The Apartment Ch. 06

In Chapter 1, a billionaire, J.R. Crowley, and his wife, Elizabeth, offer a job and a free apartment in their luxury high-rise to Carol, a young woman who is breaking up with her boyfriend and has no place to live. It soon becomes clear what Carol will have to do in return, but that's no problem for the sexually submissive hottie.

In Chapter 2, Elizabeth takes Carol shopping for sexy outfits at a special boutique owned by the Crowleys and managed by their friend, Harold. Private fittings turn into an opportunity for Elizabeth and Harold to enjoy Carol's submissive sexuality. The chapter ends with Harold taking Carol into the backroom, where he can torment and have his way with her.

In Chapter 3, Carol is introduced to BDSM pleasures in the backroom of the boutique. A bond develops between handsome Harold and Elizabeth's new sex toy. The chapter ends with sexually satiated Carol dropped off at her apartment.

In Chapter 4, Carol is taking a bath when J.R. comes boldly into the bathroom. Her bath turns into an orgy of sex, with J.R. taking advantage of the special features of the tub. When he's finished with her, she must recover and hurry to get to her first real estate showing appointment.

In Chapter 5, Carol uses her sex appeal to make her first big sale as a real estate agent for The Crowley Company. The customer, a wealthy bank manager, makes it clear what he expects in return for signing the lease. She plays him to the end.

The characters speak for themselves in the story.

Chapter 6

Carol

It's been two weeks since I made my big sale. The girls in the office couldn't believe I'd closed a lease on a penthouse on my first meeting with a client. The office manager was a bit suspicious, especially after she met Bruce Henderson, the leaser. The man radiates strength and sex appeal. She's pretty sexy herself, and probably has made sales just the way I did.

Life in the apartment continues to be exciting. I used some of my commission to purchase some modern art, including two life-sized bronze statues of curvy women. J.R, and Elizabeth dropped by to see them, and were very complementary of my taste. Elizabeth had the bright idea of having me strip and assume the poses of the statues. J.R. then maneuvered my limbs to get it exactly right, and it wasn't long before the three of us were in my king bed.

Other than that episode, however, they have left me pretty much alone. J.R. travels a lot, and Elizabeth seems to like to play with me only when a man is present. That may happen tonight. She's invited me to dinner with Harold, the manager of their boutique. It will be just the three of us.

I've thought a lot about Harold since my eventful visit to the that naughty shop. The mutual attraction was palpable. But it was more than that. Harold wasn't just out to get laid. He was clearly interested in my reactions. I could tell he was turned on when I showed excitement at the way he was treating me. And he picked up on the things that really got to me and built on them. On top of all that, he's handsome and intelligent. What's not to like?

Elizabeth has been trying to get us together. She finally gave up on coordinating with J.R. and arranged tonight's private dinner.

How should I dress? Definitely not slutty. I don't want him to see me as a bimbo, even though I was such an easy lay on our first meeting. On the other hand, I don't want to be in Crowley Realty business attire. He's well aware of the manipulation tricks in those outfits. One thing for sure; my underwear must be sexy. No doubt he and Elizabeth will have me out of my clothes before the evening is over.

At six o'clock I leave my apartment to go to the lobby to access the private elevator to the penthouse. I've chosen an ankle-length black party dress with a high slit up the front of one leg. The silky fabric clings to my figure from the low-cut bodice to the tops of my five-inch heels. The slit goes up to almost midthigh, flashing enough flesh to distract attention from the revealing cleavage above. It's elegant and expensive-looking, which it is.

Harold is already there when I arrive. He looks me up and down, smiling his approval. Elizabeth stands to the side, like she's about to direct a play.

"How lovely," says Harold. "Not one of the dresses from our shop, but stunning. Where did you find it?"

"Online, if you can believe it," I say. "I tried a whole bunch, and this fit me the best. You don't think I'm overdressed for a dinner party?"

"Oh no. I believe a woman should dress to look her best and not worry about protocol. Don't you agree, Elizabeth?"

She laughs. "Absolutely. We've had women come to dinner in bikinis. Although I'm not sure it was their choice. J.R. sometimes likes to show off his power."

I feel a twinge of excitement and the thought of being ordered by J.R. to do such a thing. What's the matter with me? I can't let feelings like this rule my life.

Elizabeth hands me a tall glass. "Sex-on-the-beach," she titters. "Remember that from your first dinner here?"

"Oh, yes."

"My goodness," says Harold. "You are blushing like a schoolgirl caught reading a sexy novel. What happened at that dinner?"

"Never mind," Elizabeth says, rescuing me. "J.R. is not here to order us around, and I've planned a traditional dinner party where people can get to know each other. Let's take our drinks out on the balcony and enjoy the sunset."

Harold

The atmosphere is electric. I know what lush body is under that five-hundred-dollar dress. And I know Elizabeth will arrange for me to enjoy it before the night is over. Being a helpless submissive, no doubt Carol knows the same thing.

We spend half an hour sipping our alcohol-laden drinks and pointing out landmarks. Carol is charming and a good conversationalist. She's quick witted, obviously a very intelligent woman. Isn't it amazing that even the smartest, most self-possessed women can have such hot fires smoldering inside.

"Time to go in for dinner," Elizabeth announces. "My signature pasta casserole is ready and waiting. Harold, if you will please open the wine. Better do two bottles. We'll need a few glasses of the dry white to cut through the sweetness of this sex-on-the-beach."

Elizabeth leads us to a small square table set with three places. Two opened bottles of wine stand on ice in a silver bucket on a pedestal.

"You two sit down while I finish up in the kitchen," she says.

Taking her time, Carol arranges herself in one of the chairs. It takes some maneuvering in that tight dress with the slit up the front. I take the seat opposite. My foot brushes up against hers.

"Whoops, sorry about that," I say. "Didn't mean to step on your toes."

She smiles and punches my leg with her shoe. "Not much room under here," she says. "Better keep those long legs on your side."

I'm intrigued by her spunk. Here's a woman I've recently spanked and fucked, who's now telling me to keep my feet to myself. As if she has any choice in the matter. I make the point by extending a foot between hers and pushing her legs open.

"You know better than to tell me what to do," I say. "Now keep your feet apart in case I need space to stretch my legs."

Carol's demeanor suddenly changes. No longer the chatty dinner party companion, she becomes quiet and subdued. I glance toward the kitchen area. Elizabeth is standing there, watching, listening.

"Our hostess will want you to behave," I say to Carol. "You know that, don't you."

"Yes, sir," she responds, her eyes glued on mine.

Carol

Harold has me back on my heels. One moment he's acting like any intelligent, attractive man you might meet at a party, and the next he's asserting his dominance over me. How easily I succumbed. Moving my feet apart has opened the slit in my dress, and I feel cool air on my thigh above the top of my stocking.

Elizabeth comes to the table and places bowls of soup in front of us. "The first course," she says. "I'll fetch mine and some bread. Go ahead and begin."

She starts back toward the kitchen, then turns. "And Carol, I do expect you to behave," she says.

Having gotten the support he wanted, I expect Harold to smirk and give me another humiliating command, but he's calmly eating his soup. It's like he knows he's in control and can take his time doing whatever he wants with me. A bird flutters in my stomach.

"Here we go," Elizabeth says as she places her soup and the bread on the table. "Isn't this cozy? Harold will you please pour the wine?"

"Certainly," Harold says. "I'm so glad you've invited me to dine with you and Carol. After helping her with her shopping, I've wanted to get to know her better."

I blush. He already knows me pretty damn well.

Elizabeth laughs. "Yes, I thought you might. I believe you two will be great friends. Carol is a lot like me, and you and I get along fine, don't we Harold?"

"Yes, indeed," he says, "especially when J.R. is out of town."

"Now, now, don't mislead Carol. You know J.R. supports our friendship."

"Oh, yes," he laughs. "But it's different when the three of us are together."

"Now you're making me blush," says Elizabeth. "Finish your soup. I'll go toss the salad."

I listen with interest to the hints about their three-way adventures, trying to imagine Elizabeth being with J.R. and Harold at the same time. Both men are big and demanding, and she's such a dainty thing. Maybe that's why she's wanted me living nearby and available.

Harold finishes his soup and leans back. "Time to stretch my legs," he says. "Make a place for my foot on your chair."

I bring my knees together and slide my butt to one side, giving him half the seat. He smiles and shakes his head. "In the middle of the seat, Carol—between your legs."

Is he joking? I look towards the kitchen. Elizabeth continues tossing the salad as if it's a normal dinner party. I imagine what will happen if his foot is on my chair between my thighs. I decide to make light of it.

"Elizabeth, I'm afraid Harold has a cramp in his leg and needs to stretch."

"Yes dear, I heard," she replies. "Ask him to take off his shoe first. I don't want the cushion damaged."

"Okay, I'll get up so he can use my chair as a footrest."

Elizabeth picks up the salad bowl and walks towards us. "No need for that," she says with a grin. "Do as he said and make space between your legs."

"But my dress..."

"Your dress will not interfere," she says, placing the bowl on the table. "That slit will let his foot slide in with no problem."

Harold appears to be amused by my protests, but I can tell his patience is at an end. What choice do I have? I open my legs.

His stockinged foot worms its way through the opening in my dress until his heel is resting on the seat. The ball of his foot ends up against my panty-covered pussy. I try scooting back, but he merely straightens his leg to maintain contact. I freeze, knowing any movement will kindle the fire beginning to build in my belly. He stares into my eyes, confident in his control.

"I think you will like this salad," Elizabeth posits as she finishes dishing it out, acting like nothing unusual is happening. "I'm trying out a new dressing. Enjoy."

We all take our forks and begin eating. I've just picked up my second bite when Harold wiggles his big toe.

"OHH..."

"Something wrong dear?" asks Elizabeth.

"Oh no," I reply, spearing the lettuce again. "I'm just clumsy."

She laughs. "Take your time. The casserole will keep."

The toe moves again, this time poking into my panties at a critical spot.

"Ah...ah..."

"My, my," Elizabeth chortles. "I didn't realize my salad had such powers."

He flicks his toenail, and I lean back in the chair, giving up any attempt at eating. It feels so... naughty. I'm letting a man tease my pussy under the table at a dinner party. And with his foot! I should be outraged. But I'm not. I know I will let him do anything he wants.

Elizabeth places her hand on mine. "The main course can wait," she says. "We'll take our time with the salad. Are you wearing panties, my dear?"

I gulp. She knows the question will add to my humiliation and further inflame me.

"Of course," I mumble.

"Tsk, tsk," she says, shaking her head. "Harold, let me borrow her for a minute. Then we can resume enjoying our salads. Carol, come with me."

Somehow I manage to disengage from Harold's foot and I stand up. Unthinking, I follow her down the hall toward the bedrooms, my arousal unrelenting. We enter a large room I have not seen before. I see lots of chairs and a low stage at one end.

"This is one of our special party areas," Elizabeth explains. "Willing subjects are taken up on the platform and auctioned off."

"Oh my..."

She guides me toward the two stairs leading to the stage. "The platform is at just the right height for my purpose tonight. J.R. sometimes brings me in here for the same reason. Up you go."

I step up.

"Go to the middle and stand at the front edge. That's it. Now pull up your dress."

Her face is even with my panty-covered pussy, inches away. The aroma of my wettness must be overpowering.

"Ah, I see you chose to wear one of the sexy lace bikinis from our boutique. Did you anticipate displaying yourself tonight?"

"I didn't know..."

Slowly she hooks her fingers over the elastic and draws down. "Very nice," she growls. "You're glistening like dew on a flower. You must like my friend Harold. I know he likes you. Now lift your feet, one at a time."

Cool air flows over the smooth, wet surface of my waxed pussy, followed by her hot breath as she leans in and plants a juicy kiss.

"Ahhh..."

She steps back, smiling like she's just hit the combination on a slot machine. "From now on you are never to wear panties when coming to one of my parties. Do you understand?"

I gasp at the implications, my senses tingling. "Yes ma'am," I say.

A fingertip traces a path on the slick surface. "Why do you think I always want you bare under your clothes at my parties?"

"Ummm...," I moan. The finger eases between my lips. I come up on my toes.

"Well?"

I know the answer she wants and blurt it out between groans "So that... I will be on edge, constantly aware of my vulnerability."

"Smart girl. Not only instantly accessible, but sexually pre-charged. It will show in your face, in your eyes. My guests will sense it and desire you. My party will be memorable."

I blanch at the idea of being used this way, but then she touches my clit and that thought evaporates like a drop of rain on a hot sidewalk.

Elizabeth laughs. "I've got your number. You're perfect for Harold. Now come along. I'm sure he's anxiously waiting your return."

Harold

I feel like I'm at the intermission between acts of an erotic play. My stiffy has abated somewhat, but I'm eager for the next scene to begin. I'm captivated by Carol's beauty and sauciness. She's quick and fun, and gets off on being bossed around. This is not the last evening I'll be spending with her.

The women return to the table like nothing has happened. Carol sits across from me, staring down at her salad like she's memorizing the ingredients. I reach across and put my hand under her chin, raising her face and forcing her to look into my eyes.

"My leg is still cramped. I need to stretch it out like before."

"Yes sir. I understand. I'll make room for you."

I sit back and ease my foot up between her legs and onto Carol's chair. A sideways wiggle of my ankle opens the slit in her dress, allowing me to fully extend. Like before, I press the ball of my foot up against her pussy, only this time I feel bare, soft flesh. She puts down her fork and closes her eyes.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth is devouring her salad like everything's normal. I play along, spearing peppers and tomatoes, smacking my lips as I eat.

"This salad is so tasty, Elizabeth," I say. "So moist and flavorful. I like sucking the juice off the baby carrots before biting them."

She laughs. "You're a good sucker. Is your leg comfortable now?"

"Yes, thank you. But my foot is getting hot."

"We can't have that," Elizabeth exclaims. "Carol, take off his sock."

Carol's eyes snap open. I waggle my big toe to give her a preview of what's coming. She squirms. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, my dear. Now be a good girl and do as you're told."

Her arms disappear under the table, and a hand cups my heel. She tries to lift, but the slit in her dress does not go up high enough, and my foot is caught in the fabric. Without hesitation she bounces her butt on the seat, scoots back, and pulls the hem up to her waist.

"That's better," she purrs. "Now I can remove your sock, and you have plenty of room to move around."

She pushes on my ankle and bends my leg up so that my foot comes off the seat. A moment later my sock is gone. Her hands return to the table, and she looks at me with a hunger that has nothing to do with Elizabeth's fine dinner. I smile and return her stare, leaving my foot where's she's placed it, up against the front edge of her chair. As a further humiliation, I will force her to make the next move.

The stalemate goes on. Elizabeth stops eating and watches, her eyes moving back and forth between us. The sexual tension builds. I lick my lips in a way that sends Carol the message that I know she craves the pleasure I can give her. Finally, she can't hold back any longer.

"OH DAMN..", she cries and pulls my bare foot up against her bare pussy.

Elizabeth and I resume eating, pretending that nothing's happened. We chat about this and that. Elizabeth serves the main course, a savory pasta. I refill the wine glasses.

Carol's submission is total, her surrender complete. And she loves it. My foot and toes work relentlessly, taking her up and over the top at least three times. At one-point Elizabeth goes behind Carol's chair and lowers the top of the fancy dress. Carol's fine tits are displayed to great advantage in the special bra from the boutique, and I use my fork to gently poke a nipple just as my toe presses on her clit. That combination produces a screaming orgasm that rattles the dinnerware.

"My, my," says Elizabeth, as the spent young woman slumps in her chair. "This girl is an orgiastic a specimen as I've ever seen. You can have great fun with her, Harold. I'll give you a key to her apartment. You can visit anytime."

"Perfect," I say. "But I need to do her right now!"

"Of course you do. The little vixen has brought us both to the tipping point. You can have her first. Then it will be my turn. How do you want her? Bent over the couch?"

"No. I want to look into her eyes as I fuck her."

"In that case we'll take her to the sling room."