The Applicant II

An eBook By Lizbeth Dusseau.

Once her training had been adequately completed, she was welcomed into the bosom of the lady and gentleman she loved so dearly. Even her occupation was reinvented. She handled the master's house accounts and computer data entry, given a good deal of respect that she'd not enjoyed outside Oliver's realm. His influence extended to every corner of her world-and so her entire life was transformed. Though she was still required to obey her master's orders without question, obliged to bow graciously at his feet on a whim, or enjoined to submit to any manner of punishment-whether earned or arbitrary-she learned to do so unthinkingly. Every act fed her flagrant lust, and she was in love with her life and the woman she'd become.

More than once she'd displeased her master or mistress and had been severely disciplined. She'd endured all her corrections as graciously as she could, even though it was not always possible to hold back the anguish that resulted from a grueling battle with a whip or cane. Today, however, she had a premonition of something far more devastating than simple punishment. So much had been expected of her, and to have failed, if she'd actually failed-she could only hope, as Liza did, that Oliver was not serious.

The paneled study was as graciously elegant as the other more formal rooms of Sparrowhawk, though this was obviously the master's domain entirely. It was more casual than the dining and formal living room, but reeking with his essence. The dark paneling, the fragrance of leather-ah! how that reminded her of the many times she'd worn a leather collar about her slim neck. There was a trace of cigar smoke lingering in the air; it rarely left. She'd dusted and polished every inch of this handsome room, pressed her bare feet in its thick oriental rugs, just as she did now, and had been disciplined, as well as soundly fucked, while bending over some cushion of leather or the hard edge of his carved mahogany desk. Hilary shuddered now as she presented herself to the man who owned her wholly.

Feeling Liza retreat to a spot behind her, she was utterly alone before her master, wondering what horrible slight Ali perpetrated to cause this misery. "Shall I bow?" she asked hesitantly.

The air in the room was agitated, Oliver pacing, each stride he took making both his submissives nervous.

"You bow when you're told, you speak when you're told," he snapped rudely.

Hilary knew to say no more, even though she wanted to drop penitently at his feet and beg his forgiveness.

The Master brooded; the swish of his pants the only sound to prick the silence. He waltzed from one end of the room to the other, peering out the windows at the back-those that looked out on his summer rose garden, and then in the front where he could see the circular driveway and long green lawn that spread out before the elegant portico.

When he finally turned around, he seemed composed, and hardly as angry as his words betrayed him earlier. She knew not to look him in the eye, but the longer he stared her way, the more Hilary was tempted to gaze directly into his eyes. When he finally drew her complete focus he spoke, "she's unsuitable, ungracious and not submissive. I think you and your mistress misread her intentions. She may be willing to serve a woman, but she has no clue how to serve a man." He shook his head as though disgusted.

Hilary was about to object, but she knew that was futile. What he claimed belied her experience of the winsome Ali. She'd been trained for months and proved both dutiful and yielding.

"Oliver, are you certain?" Liza suddenly moved out beyond Hilary, addressing her husband firmly, seemingly without fear.

"She was amazingly compliant."

"You doubt me?" Though he remained forbiddingly grim, he raised his eyebrows as though he was amused.

"You've thoroughly worked her?"

Oliver moved adroitly to the spot before his lovely wife and peered down at her as if he was going to swallow her inside him. "Yes. I've thoroughly worked that little behind. I've reamed her ass. I've been sucked by her inadequate mouth. I've tried to glean some pleasure from her randy cunt. She's cold and lifeless, my dear. I say no more."

"I'm so sorry, sir," Hilary cried to him.

"I'm sure you will be!" he scowled. "Over the couch..." he paused, "and without the robe."

Hilary moved quickly, already wincing from the pain that would surely follow. And yet, her body raced with waves of pleasure as her master's contained fury poured out on her passionately. She felt a trickle of juice seep from the pulsing hole between her thighs.

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