She Comes With The House

SHE COMES WITH THE HOUSE

Sometimes you find a job that you just love. I did. I’ve kind of always been lucky like that.

For the last two years, it has been my great good fortune to have a job that – on average – takes only a few hours a day. It gets busy once in a while but it’s rare. Most of the time it’s kick back and relax.

I live in the San Francisco Bay Area and work for a man named Peter. Peter owns a series of buildings on both sides of the Bay. I am in charge of one in the Hills above Berkeley, a very nice, very expensive place that is rented out by the week or month to travelers who want a unique California experience.

It’s a beautiful place. The entire west face of the building is floor to ceiling glass on all three floors – it gives a complete panorama view of the Bay. All of the rooms are huge with high ceilings and amazing woodwork. It rents for more per day than I make in a month and it comes with a chef, a driver, and two maids.

And Diane.

My job is to make sure Diane is taken care of between tenants. She doesn’t ever leave the place and I’m not sure she would even remember how to take care of herself, but since the place is rented most of the time, that really isn’t much of a problem.

Let me tell you a bit about Diane and about how it all works.

Diane is an incredibly hot middle-aged woman from the Midwest. She got involved in the whole BDSM scene and was passed from master to master (as they call it) until she ended up out here with Peter. Peter is connected worldwide and he really saw something special in her. Diane is evidently a standout among the women he’s had as slaves in the past. She came to him already well trained. He enjoyed her for a while – pushing her obedience and submission further and further, always trying something new. Eventually, he got tired of it. He gave up on finding limits he couldn’t take her past – it seems that there were none.

So he took a completely different approach with her.

That first year, he had her flown around the world to a variety of his clients. They all agreed that she was special. A high ranking politician in China used her as bribe to gain votes from forty different political interests in a single ten day period. A rich businessman in Thailand had her put on several twisted sex shows for his clients. Peter told me about one of the freakiest.

The Thai man wanted to prove how decadent American women could be. He had her do a fairly mild striptease, stripping from a plain, grey business suit to pasties and a silver G string. Eventually, two older women took her offstage while the music kept blaring over the speakers. They stripped her naked, laid her on her back, and pushed the nozzle of an enema bag into her bottom. One of them opened the top of the sack and dipped her finger in – it was filled with cum. They emptied the bag into her, then paraded her back onstage again – this time fully naked. She was instructed to walk from one end of the runway to the other, squatting in front of each of the men and filling a small bowl with the cum. When she was finished, she got on her hands and knees in the middle of the room. From then on, anyone who wanted to fuck her would indicate so by emptying his bowl over her head, then he would take her from behind as the cum soaked into her hair and dripped onto the floor.

There were other stories but none more bizarre than that one. He told me that by the end of the year, he was commanding nearly $10,000 for a weekend’s work. Diane – he said – was a keeper. A real moneymaker.

This week is one of my busy weeks. Nobody’s rented the place, so there’s nobody using Diane. Yesterday – Monday – I got up at ten till four in the morning. A ritual day for Diane – that is, a day when she’s not in use – starts early. At four, I went into the basement and turned on the lights. When the light in the big room go on, another set of flood lights goes on in Diane’s small room. A loud bell clangs at the same time to wake her.

She got up right away and pressed her face against the little window in the door. That was the drill every since the first time I screwed up. Since the room she sleeps in is soundproofed, I can’t heard the bell. One morning, I left it on for nearly ten minutes, which ended up giving her a huge headache. Since then, she’s jumped to the window quickly to let me know she’s up.

I opened the door and handed her soap and a towel so she could take her morning shower. Then, a breakfast of bacon and eggs and coffee and – by four-thirty – down to work. I picked a baby blue nighty for her and told her to pull her hair back in a pony tail. While she was doing her makeup, I cranked up the different computer rigs she’d be spending the next few hours in front of.

The first one was for the blog entries. Between sessions, Peter had her document everything that the last clients did to her. He said that making her write about it was a way of making her relive it and internalize it even further. He was right. I’d watched her masturbate often enough while she was writing those blogs to know he was right.

Then, there were her four different phone sex services. Diane was listed under different names on four of the Internet’s most popular BDSM sites. Peter had a friend of his who was a professional photographer do the shoots, altering the makeup and hair coloring, then PhotoShopping the images enough to give her four distinct personalities. Not that it mattered to the callers. Once she picked up the phone, she was just a picture in their head anyway.

I glanced over at her while I was rebooting one of the servers that had locked up. Still a hot body, even with the occasional mark here and there. Peter told me I was free to do anything I wanted to with her but I settled for the occasional blowjob. All that freaky stuff is beyond me.

Evidently not beyond her, though. I watched her running her fingers along the fabric of the nightgown laying on the bed. Her eyes were getting wider and I saw her bending her knees, opening her legs slightly. Her nipples were stiff and hard, poking out a full inch from her titties. I watched her belly as her breath quickened. She closed her eyes and I saw her pink tongue poking out between her lips.

“No! Bad girl!” I barked at her. She opened her eyes and turned her head toward me, then lowered her gaze and whimpered. Fuck. She looked at me. According to Peter’s “rules”, I had to punish her. But it wasn’t that easy. I knew her well enough by now to know that she’d probably done it just *to* get punished. A good spanking to start the day. I shook my head. She was that depraved.

I sat still for a minute or so. Diane stood with her shoulders hunched slightly, head down. Then, she turned and looked at me again, jerked her head back into position when she saw I was looking. Sure enough, the bitch was playing games. Trying to get me to do something. What now? Well, like the old joke says: when the masochist says “hurt me”, the true sadist says “no”.

“Diane.” I turned back to the computer. “Get dressed and get in here.”

While she slipped the nighty over her head, I checked the hardware on the chair. Two dildoes, each two inches around and eight inches long. The big Hitachi vibrator plugged in and visible on the desktop. The dildoes were mounted on pneumatic devices that drove them six inches up and down at random intervals during the calls.

And, underneath the desk, the iron shackles for her ankles. Another ingenious creation of Peter’s. From the desk up, the guys on the other end of the camera would see a sexy, hot woman masturbating for them. In reality, she’d be getting reamed by two monster cocks.

The last piece was the most creative touch of all. On top of the four phone sex sites, Diane was registered on all of the sites that featured “orgasm denial”. For an additional price, the customer (man or woman) had full control of the dildoes and the vibrator, turning them on and off, varying the speed and depth, adjusting the nuances of the experience.

I have to say that – of all the sessions I’ve watched – the denial sessions done to Diane by a pair of women in Atlanta were by far the most intense thing I’d seen. They always left her completely destroyed. A typical session with the women – they called themselves the Mancuso twins for who-knows-what reason – lasted nearly two hours and was punctuated by dozens of near-orgasms for Diane.