Chapter One

 

The job of a personal assistant is to do whatever the boss wants. I understood that, of course, even though I hadn't been one for very long. In fact, this was the very first thing I'd been assigned to do, other than fetching drinks and snacks and the like for Blake Cameron, my boss.

And it was a perfectly normal thing for a personal assistant to do. I was going to a jewelry store to pick up a watch which had been repaired. Not hard, right? I was also driving a gorgeous new BMW sports coupe! So it wasn't like I had to worry about public transit, nor even had a tight deadline.

I was a bit nervous about driving the car, of course. It was worth almost a hundred thousand dollars, and I'd driven very little in my life. That was partly because I was only nineteen, because I'd never had any money and partly because, well, guys were usually willing to drive me wherever I wanted to go.

I sure didn't want to get into an accident with Mister Cameron's BMW practically the first time I'd driven it! Not that money mattered to someone as rich as him, of course. But I didn't want him to see me as some kind of idiot.

I had enough difficulty with the way he already saw me, which was as a sex toy with occasional other uses.

Now don't get me wrong. I might be young, but I'm perfectly well aware practically every guy I've known has thought of me, at least to some degree, as a sex toy, whether they were allowed to play with me or not. Guys are guys, after all.

Cameron was older than any guy I'd ever dated or hung around, though, and not just richer and older, but better educated and more sophisticated. He owned multiple casinos and multiple ridiculously expensive apartments and houses in multiple countries.

He was an impressive man any way you cared to look at him, and I liked looking at him a lot! I mean, the main reason I didn't feel guilty about sleeping with the boss was that I'd come to his apartment - at his invitation - knowing I'd sleep with him if he wanted me to. And he wasn't my boss, then. He was just that hot looking, with that strong-willed, machismo kind of attitude that made something thrum powerfully down low in my belly.

I'd never slept with a guy who was over thirty before, and also never engaged in the kind of kinky, nasty, dominance and submission games he played. So in a lot of ways I felt like a wide-eyed virgin around him. I didn't want to seem like a klutz of a driver, as well.

I mean, I really wanted him to think I would be useful as a personal assistant, and not just, well, a sex toy. Or a sex slave, as he mockingly called me. At least, I thought it was mockingly...

I had done a lot of soul searching in the last couple of days, since I'd gone to live with him. There were lots of good points about doing so. I got out of my crummy apartment and instead had a gorgeous room on the top floor of a fabulous condo overlooking the ocean and beach in Miami. I was being paid a hundred and fifty thousand a year, with the use of this fabulous car. And I had incredible sex with a gorgeous man.

What wasn't to like!?

Well, what wasn't to like, necessarily, were his dominance and submission games, his demand I call him 'master' and submit to all his kinky desires. That made me uncomfortable, even if it did, more often than not, lead to incredibly powerful orgasms like nothing I'd ever felt before.

His sexual games were a thrill ride, but the thing about thrill rides is while they're exciting they can also be scary. And while it was sometimes incredibly hot and exciting being used like a 'slave girl' and his sex toy, it was so out there, so wild and kinky and dark in a way, that it was scary too. I'd done stuff I never would have even considered a few days earlier!

Clearly this slave stuff was doing something to my head, wearing away my inhibitions and my moral boundaries. And I wasn't sure where it would all end. What were his boundaries? Did he even have any?

There was no parking in front of the Jewelry store, when I found it, and I had to drive around the block, then turn the other way and drive down the block and circle before I found somewhere to park. Then I had to get out and walk.

That was the other part of why I was nervous about this. You see, Cameron liked to play dress up with his little sex doll. He chose what I was to wear, or not wear. Mostly, when I was inside with him, it was 'not wear', but since I would get arrested walking around like that outside, he'd found a more legally acceptable outfit for me to wear.

It was a ... dress, if you wanted to stretch the term. It was green, had a pair of spaghetti straps crossing my shoulders, and was slit down the middle to my belly button. It wasn't exactly a narrow strip, either. Half my breasts were exposed, and the only reason it wasn't more was the thin gold cord linking the two sides together under my breasts.

It was also, of course, very short, and very tight across my buttocks. I also had on a pair of white high heels, stilettos, of course, five inch heels, otherwise known as 'fuck me' shoes. The dress was largely backless, and I wasn't permitted underwear.

Cameron's games continued, you see, even where I was doing 'personal assistant' stuff, rather than 'slave girl' stuff.

The thing is, I hadn't been outside his apartment since going there, except for one quick trip to a nightclub the other night, in an equally slutty dress, which had ended in me naked on the beach giving him a blow job, and then doing the same to a guy who wandered by.

That had been a stunning psychological blow, being discovered like that naked, hands bound, by two strangers walking by! I was beginning to wonder how strange they were, though, at least to Cameron. They had seemed to handle spotting a naked girl tied up at the beach deep throating a guy with astonishing ease.

But the shock of that discovery, not to mention being constantly seen naked by Cameron's manservant Michael, made it seem, well, less shocking to be walking around dressed in this slutty, revealing dress. That still didn't make me easy about it, though. Everyone I passed on the sidewalk stared at me.

Fortunately it wasn't a long walk, just a block or so, and then I was inside the jewelry store. Then again, it wasn't like they didn't stare at me there either. The girls behind the counter blinked and then schooled their faces, but I knew they'd be thinking what a slut I must be to wear such a dress outside, and not even to a club at night, where people tended to make more allowances for revealing clothes.

"May I help you, Miss?" a man in a suit asked with a carefully welcoming smile that completely ignored my dress.

"I'm here to pick up a package for Mister Cameron," I said, only blushing a bit.

"Of course, Miss," he said. "He called not long ago. Please come this way."

This was not the kind of jewelry store I was used to, you know, from shopping malls. This place reeked of money. It was the kind of place where you didn't even bother to ask what something cost, because if you had to ask you couldn't afford it.

He led me to a corner where there was what looked like an antique upholstered chair next to a side table and urged me to sit. I did so, uneasily, because the skirt was really short even when standing, and I was unsure of what he'd be able to see.

He pushed over a cart and on it was this large wooden box, far too large for a watch. When he opened it, the interior was padded in velvet, and there was what looked like a set of jewelry.

"Uhm, I thought it was just a watch," I said.

"Mister Cameron ordered this the other day," he said. "We're going to do a final sizing."

I frowned uncertainly. Sizing?

He picked up what looked like a thick choker made of two rows of large square cut emeralds set in gold. Then he carefully placed it around my throat.

Now since one of the things Cameron had introduced me to in the last couple of days was the concept of collars - as in bondage collars - I had a pretty good idea of the intent of this particular piece of jewelry, and felt my face flushing. There wasn't really anything I could say, though.

The man leaned over behind me, fitting the catches on the choker, as I licked my lips nervously. Then he came back around, examining the front with both eyes and fingers.

"That looks excellent," he said. "How does it feel? Not too tight?"

"Uhm, no," I said.

He took a bracelet from the box, identical to the choker, and slipped it around my right wrist. I didn't see any actual rings, as there were in the wrist restraints Cameron liked to put on me, but it sure reminded me of them! Nor was I surprised when he took a second, identical bracelet and put it around my left wrist.

The earrings were pretty, and I didn't have a problem with that, but then came the ankle bracelets, and again I flushed a bit, for they kind of made it obvious, I thought, what this was all relating to! I supposed if you were entirely innocent you wouldn't get it, but I no longer was, and I wondered how innocent this guy was.

They were only a single row of emeralds set in gold, and they fit snugly around my ankles just above the shoes.

And then last came the navel ring. I took off the stud I'd worn for the last year, and then with his help, fit the new ring in. It was, basically, a rectangular emerald with a thin gold border, much like the others.

And with the dress being as low cut as it was I didn't even have to remove it to put the navel ring in!

He chuckled about that, but at the same time his eyes were right there, inches away as he bent over me, and I was sure he'd gotten a pretty good eyeful of my breasts. But I braced herself against embarrassment. It was clear that Cameron liked to show off my body, and so I was simply going to have to get used to dressing in slutty outfits.

It wasn't my preference, that was for sure, but every job had its downside, and this one had such phenomenal upsides that I couldn't really complain a lot. Besides, he didn't allow me to complain!

He put them all back into the box, and then I left with it in a bag, the same bag that held the much smaller box with his watch in it. I was relieved to get out of there, and walked briskly back to the car, ignoring the occasional whistle and the stares from men I passed by.

I was fairly sure that once I got back to his place I'd be wearing these things all the time, and probably with no clothing. On the other hand, it was better than wearing that studded leather bondage stuff, I supposed. At least this was pretty and accented my long, chestnut hair.

Sure enough, once I got back to the apartment Cameron wanted to see them on me, and the dress off me.

He was waiting out on the terrace, by the pool. He was sitting at the table in the corner by the rail reading a newspaper. His chair was in a sort of open sided cabana with a fabric roof overhead to give him shade, and he was wearing an open necked white shirt and jeans which made me want to lick my lips.

"Well, slave girl," he said. "back from the hunt, I see. Show me what you got."

I took the watch box out of the bag and put it on the table, then took the much larger box out and put it down next to him.

"You only said a watch... Master," I said.

He shrugged and opened it, then took out the choker. "Very nice," he said.

I felt a presence behind me and gasped, turning my head to see Michael there.

"Put this on her, would you, Michael," he said, passing him the choker.

Michael worked for him. He was taller, and more broad shouldered than Cameron, and that was saying something! Cameron was a big man, and very athletic, the way a football quarterback was. But if he was a quarterback Michael was a linebacker, and while he'd never done anything overtly sexual to me he had, apparently at Cameron's orders, done everything else, including giving me an enema and bathing me!

He had a flat, tanned face, and very short hair. He never seemed to show much expression, but he made me nervous, both from the sheer size of him, and the fact he always addressed me as "Slave." And he didn't say it with a grin like Cameron did, but as if it was entirely serious!

He put the choker on me and fastened it behind my neck, then put the bracelets on too. He turned me around to face him and simply slipped the spaghetti straps over my shoulders so the top of the dress fell down around my hips.

I gulped but didn't fight as he fit the navel ring in place, but then he gripped my breast, his fingers pinching lightly just behind the nipple, and I gasped, turning my head to stare at Cameron, before jerking my head back as he undid the gold ring and removed it.

Then I saw there were other objects in the box which the jeweler had not tried on me!

I wasn't sure, at first, what they were, but soon understood. The first two were nipple shields, though the name was wrong since they didn't shield anything. They were flower shaped, made up of small emeralds with gold wire trim. He pressed the first against the center of my breast. My nipple pushed through the hole in the middle, and the pin then slid through my nipple to lock the shield in place around my nipple.

The second went on in the same manner, then he turned me around, firmly, but not roughly, and jerked the dress down my hips, letting it slide down my legs to my ankles.

"Step out," he said.

I did, flushing a little as he removed the dress, folded it, and put it on the table, then he bent me over the table.

"Spread your legs, Slave," he ordered

I gulped, obeying, my breasts pressing against the table as I stared at Cameron, who was watching with a smirk.

I felt the butt-plug I now habitually wore removed, then he took a larger one made of what looked like gold plated steel and slowly worked it up into my bottom. I gasped at the stretching, then it was sucked in and left only a round flat base covered in emeralds on the outside of my wrinkled little back opening.

He took one final piece of jeweler from the box. It was a gold plated metal ... dildo, I guess. I mean, it was unquestionably sculpted to look like a penis that was about five inches long and slightly curved. Its base ended abruptly, actually flaring out a bit, then it had a small bit of gold thinner than a pencil, and at the base of that a row of emeralds on a gold frame.

With the slender, gold plated dildo buried inside me, the lips of my sex closed behind the flared end, making it less likely it would fall out, and that left the row of emeralds, about an inch wide, pressed along the line of my sex.

Michael gripped my arm in his enormous hand and shifted me sideways so that Cameron could see me better.

"Back straight, slave," he said.

I felt his hand in my hair behind the neck, jerking it up a bit, and straightened, pulling my shoulders back as Cameron inspected me.

My mind was humming during this, of course. I mean, partly I was indignant, sure, but they'd both seen me naked a lot the last couple of days, so I was sort of used to it. And they both big, strong, powerful men while I was... well, just little me, so there was a sense of being overpowered by them even though they hadn't forced me to do anything.

But over it all was this dark sexual atmosphere, this breathless thought of myself as a sex slave, even if it was just a hired sex slave, or a hired personal assistant who couldn't say no!

That was especially true as Michael pulled the last item from the box. It was a gold ball with a gold fabric strap through the center. I moaned as he pulled it up against my lips and reluctantly opened them. The ball slid through my jaw and into my mouth, then the strap went around behind my head and was clipped in place.

"I like it," Cameron said. "Turn and bend over."

I obeyed, flushing even more, bending over so he could more closely examine the base of the butt-plug, and also the line of emeralds over my sex, which curved like my body did.

"I hate to hide any part of your beautiful, sexy body, slave girl, but the emeralds do look stylish and classy," he said.

I felt a little pulse of pleasure at his words.

Michael pulled me upright again, then turned me to face Cameron. Then he pulled my wrists back together behind me and, somewhat to my dismay, locked them together! So that meant the bracelets could be locked! I hadn't seen any rings or clips as the restraints had but they'd been there evidently.

"Kneel there, slave girl," he said, pointing.

Something new had been added to the terrace. It was a low wooden pedestal with a padded leather top, about two feet high and three feet square. I put my knee on it, then the other, then turned around and sat back on my heels, shifting my knees wide and pulling my shoulders back, very much aware of their male eyes on me.

It gave me a breathless feeling.

Michael left, and Cameron then returned to his reading, though his eyes rose now and then to look at me.

There wasn't anything I could do but kneel there, my wrists bound behind me, the gold ball filling my mouth and holding my jaw open. I looked through the Plexiglas out at the ocean from time to time, and at Cameron from time to time.

I was in the shade, but I simmered, nonetheless. I was indignant, but I was also aroused. Having the butt-plug and penis thing inside me made me thrum with sexual energy. The rest of it, the emeralds and gold, just highlighted how rich he was, and that I was a rich man's plaything.

I squirmed a bit, both mentally and physically. The continuation of the 'sex slave' thing turned me on but it also came right on the heels of my 'personal assistant' task, which I was hoping to do more of. Then again, the 'sex slave' thing always ended with huge orgasms.