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From: andreasman@aol.com (AndreasMan)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: The Housekeeper - Part 2 of 6
Date: 15 Dec 1994 19:45:14 -0500
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The Housekeeper  

by Andreas Mann

Part 2 of 6

I had just fallen asleep when the telephone rang.  I picked up and heard
her small, soft voice on the other end.

"Hello, Mr Mann, er I mean Andreas...  I'm sorry to call you so late, but
I really felt I had to apologise for blowing up at you," she said quietly.
"That's okay."
"I'm sorry to be calling you so late.  It's not your fault.  You just
touched a raw spot in me.  I'm sorry for shouting at you."
"That's alright, Gina," I said.
"Do you think I could come over and talk to you?" she asked.

I looked at the clock.  It was late.  But her voice was so sweet once more
that I couldn't say no.

"Okay, Gina, come over," I said.

I put my black jeans and sweater back on, wondering if I had made the
right decision.  What was I letting myself in for? Yet I somehow felt that
Gina was already a part of my life.  As if this misunderstanding were just
a prelude to getting to know her better.  Something seemed to be pulling
us together and though it felt for the most part comfortable, there was an
edge of uncertainty that brought an excitement to it all.

She looked like a little girl through the glass of the front door, her
head bowed in the pale light waiting for me to admit her.  She raised her
head nervously when she heard the lock turning and looked from side to
side and then down again.  I imagined an embarassed blush passing onto her
cheeks.  I was right.

"Er, hello, Mr Mann.  Er, I mean, Andreas..."
"Come in, Gina."

We settled in the front room.  The music was playing again.  I offered her
a hot tea.  When I came back she was sitting on the floor.  She said she
felt more comfortable there and asked if I minded.  I told her she was
welcome and gave her a cushion, then took my seat on the couch.  

"I want to apologize," she began in a shaky voice.  "I didn't mean to be
like that, and I'm sorry if I offended you."

"That's alright, Gina.  Go on..." I could hear the softness and openness
in her voice and it was very appealing and touching.

"I'm not used to meeting people like you.  I reacted like that because I
wasn't sure I could trust you.  You see, I've been let down many times,
and I'm really afraid of being let down again." She sipped her tea.  "Most
of the people I work for ask me questions but they don't really care what
the answers are.  They don't get close or personal.  But when you started
asking me about my wristbands, I just got scared...  You're the first
person who has asked me about them like that."

"I didn't mean to scare you," I said. "I just thought we might have
something in common."

She smiled painfully: "And then, when you invited me to discuss it
openly...  well, I just got scared.  Do you mind if I tell you now?"

"No.  I'd be happy for it.  Please go ahead..." I said.

"Well," she paused and looked at me, "I've been into the SM scene for
about six months..."

She paused again to see my reaction.  I looked at her without amazement
and with some kindness.  I was enjoying her confession.  She was about to
bare her soul and it touched me deeply.  Very few people dare to go so
far.

"Well, I think you should tell me everything. I want to hear it all," I
smiled and looked into her eyes.  

She moved on her cushion and relaxed:
"It all happened last summer.  Somehow I found myself meeting people in
the scene and they began talking to me about it, and I found myself drawn
more and more.  I met a guy who told me he was a master.  I liked him.  He
tied me up and whipped me and made me feel things I never thoguht I'd
feel.  I fell into it.  Got lost in it.  Being submissive really satisfied
me more than anything had before in my life...  He had me buy some things,
a collar and cuffs, a blindfold and a gag.  I saw him almost everyday and
he used them, and taught me how to serve as his slave," she smiled
nervously and glanced at me, then continued.

"Just when I was falling for him, just when I was beginning to trust him,
he ended it.  Told me he had another slave he wanted to get involved
with!" Her voice grew angry and hurt.

"Go on," I said calmly.  "You're here now."

She looked up at me.  Her face was flushed and there were tears in her
eyes.  As I listened to her confession I saw how beautiful and vulnerable
and open she was.  I began to want her.  I began to feel for her, wanted
to go over and put my arm around her and let her cry on my shoulder.  But
it was too soon and would only spoil her catharsis.  She needed this
cleansing more than sympathy.  She had a lot of pain to get out.

"Well, after that I didn't know what to do.  I was very hurt .  And I
thought that was the end of my submission.  Then once more a series of
chance meetings lead me to another guy, and he took over my training.  And
I wanted him to.  I really wanted the security.  I wanted to please him. 
To do everything he wanted me to," she said.

"How was he different?" I asked.

"Well, for one thing, he talked me into going to The Vault with him.  Do
you know The Vault, up in New York?"

"Yes, I've been there a few times.  A great place!" 

"Yea, I liked it too.  So funky and wild.  Anyway, he took me there my
first time.  I was quite shy and I didn't agree to do anything until we'd
been there for an hour or so.  Then he had me strip and put me in my
collar and cuffs and lead me on a leash through the place to the center,
you know, where they have the whipping posts and the chains...  And he
chained me up and beat me and brushed me with a piece of fur.  I got lost
in it, listening to his voice and feeling the cut of his whip and
strap..." she paused.

"Go on," I said.

Tears came to her eyes again:
"Well, we had a great time, I thought.  He had told me that he was married
but that it was an open marriage.  The next day he called me and told me
that things weren't going well between them and that she was insisting
that he stop seeing me.  I'm not sure if it was the truth or just an
excuse.  I began to feel that there was something wrong me.  Was I too
demanding?"

"Did you make demands?" I asked.

"I don't think so.  I did expect him to discipline me," she blushed again.
"I need discipline, you know?"

"Yes, I'm beginning to," I replied.  "Anyway, go on with your story."

"Well, it took me a long time to get over it.  And again I thought being
submissive and in the scene was over.  I didn't go looking for it.  But
then I bumped into a couple who really did a number on me," she said
changing position on her cushion nervously.

"Hmmm," I asked.

"I went to their house to babysit their two kids and right from the
beginnning I began picking up hints from them.  They were both pretty dom.
 For one thing, they both liked dressing in black and silver.  And one or
the other would drop hints, say things, you know.  Well, the second
evening when they came home they invited me to have a tea with them.  The
husband asked about my wristbands and began teasing me about needing
discipline.  He was very good looking.  Had light blue piercing eyes. When
he spoke it was always full of suggestion.  It disturbed me.  I began to
fall not just for him, but for both of them!  She was dark and beautiful
and had a sharp tongue.  Sometimes she would order me around and drop
hints that she knew what I needed."

"Hmm.  Are you bisexual?" I asked.

"I don't know. Yes, I think I might be.  Anyway, they offered me tea and
went on to pry into my private life.  They said that they were into the
scene and that they were looking for a slave.  They conducted the whole
thing like an interview, but I hadn't asked for anything.  The two of them
together were just too much for me.  I began to give way and tell them
about my experiences.  They asked what I was looking for.  I told them. 
They got me going so much that I began to cry and tremble.  Then the wife
said that we should go upstairs to their special back room and continue
there.  Inside the room they had laid it out like a sanctuary or
something, with candles everywhere and a closet full of chains and collars
and whips and canes.  They told me to strip and sit on a chair.  I
listened as they talked between themselves, deciding who was going to do
what.  Then the wife dressed up in a leather skirt and studded leather
top, high heels and black tights and a narrow studded collar.  The husband
dressed me with a wide studded slave collar and leash.  He took off my
wristbands and put on leather restraints.  Then he dressed himself in a
harness and short black shiny pants with zips up the sides..." she paused.

"Sounds nice.  Does it trouble you?" I asked.

"No, or at least only a bit.  So then he tells me to lay across the big
bed and he takes my wrists and puts rope through the restraints and ties
me to the bed.  Then he does the same with my ankles, so I can't move at
all.  The wife kneels beside my head and slips on a blindfold and smooths
my back with her hand.  They both start talking to me about slavery and
obedience, asking me if I want to be a slave in their house.  I hear them
walking around me.  The wife begins beating me with a crop.  The husband
directs her and runs his hand softly over my skin where she has beaten me.
 Then he starts whipping my back and bottom.  It hurts a good bit.  I had
to bite my lip.  But I find myself giving in and melting into the scene. 
I want them to control me and tell me what to do.  They talk about rules
and punishments, duties and roles, even contracts.  I think I'm in
heaven!" she says blushing and pausing for breath.

"Yes, sounds too good to be true!" I smile.


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Cont in Part 3
The HouseKeeper is copyright 1994/5
Red Moon Press 
Permission is given for electronic distribution. 
Contact andreasman@aol.com for print & other media permissions, or logon
to Popular Emotion BBS (215-386-9333).
----------

