The Renovation of Maria Ch. 03

This chapter winds up the story of Maria's renovation. Maria is an attractive middle aged divorcee who is ready for adventure. In the first chapter she discovers that her employer, John, runs a BDSM club in the basement of his construction company warehouse. He confronts her and takes her into his private alcove. In the second chapter, her fantasies of sexual submission are realized. In this chapter her relationship with John deepens as they explore their mutual interest.

*****

John

It has been three months now, and my infatuation with Maria has increased day by day. She has thrown herself into the work in my office and made things hum. I never have to tell her anything twice. Her quick intelligence and willingness to take on and solve problem are evident to customers and employees alike.

Of course at work we are discrete about the other part of our relationship. But there are times when I can't help myself and I call her into my private office and close the door. Her demeanor immediately changes. As if I had flipped a switch, the room becomes charged with potent sexual tension. She always puts her hands behind her head and pulls her shoulders back, offering me her body and awaiting my instructions. At first she wanted to drop to her knees in front of me, but I did not like that. She is my submissive partner, not my slave.

I enjoy sending her text messages at night telling her what to wear the next day. One day it may be no panties, another day, no bra. One of my favorites is the special bra day, when she is required to wear one with the holes over her nipples. She is allowed a loose fitting blouse, but we both know that her buds are available to be tweaked by my fingers at any time. I usually find them stiff and hard.

Without fail I find a quick way to excite her and get her to take the edge off of my lust so I can focus on my work the rest of the day. Then in the evening we often go down to the basement. During the week we have the Sanctuary to ourselves. Or we may meet Betty there.

Speaking of Betty, my busty clerk has adapted well to the situation. She has always liked being dominated by women as well as by men, and Maria, with my coaching, has learned how to be a demanding mistress. Betty is constantly making mistakes and having to be punished-undoubtedly on purpose. Sometimes, when there are no employees or customers around, I call them both into my office and hand a crop to Maria, signaling that she has control.

To my delight, Maria is always coming up with imaginative ways to discipline Betty. Early on she had me install an eye-hook in the wall at the right height to connect to the ring on the back of Betty's collar, so that she can be pinned to the wall, in the same way I had done Maria on that first night in the Club. With her hands in cuffs behind her, and Velcro straps pulling her arms back, Betty's huge tits stick out like mountain peaks, and are oh so vulnerable.

Maria takes great pleasure in punishing those tits in all kinds of ways. I think she has been jealous of their size and the attention they get since the beginning. One time she discarded the crop in favor of a metal letter opener from my desk. She held the globes one at a time in the palm of her left hand and slapped them repeatedly with the springy blade.

Betty wailed and stamped her feet, but I could tell she was turned on. Light pokes with the blunt point elicited deep groans and moans. When I thought the poor girl had had enough, I handed Maria a vibrator and pointed between Betty's legs. Maria smiled and dropped to her knees. A few moments later Betty was making so much noise I had to put my hand over her mouth.

So far I have kept Maria to myself. A couple of my buddies at the Club have asked to have a go at her, but it doesn't seem right. She is so good to me, and I don't want to share her. I threaten her with it in a playful way, pointing out the big studs that are always hanging around. Without a doubt she will do what I tell her and probably enjoy it, but I sense that she is more comfortable giving herself to just me. She trusts me completely now. And I make sure she is experiencing lots of sexual variety.

As for my need for other women, I find that I am not driven like before. As Paul Newman once said, "why go out for hamburger when you can have steak at home?" Maria's freshness is so much more exciting than the same old stuff in the Sanctuary. I appreciate the sexy beauty of some of the younger babes when they are tied to the auction pole, but I would rather be talking dirty with Maria about them than fucking them. The best sex is ninety percent in the head, and Maria knows how to excite those neurons.

Who knows what the future holds? Maria meets all of my needs and is so easy to be with. Often at times like now, when I am in my house alone, I wish she were here to talk to, and do other things. I wonder if she would move in with me. I'm not getting any younger, as they say. It would great to have such a compatible partner on a permanent basis.

Maria

I feel like I've died and gone to heaven. Who knew that life could be so much fun? All I had to do was find the right man and let myself go. Okay, neither of those things are so easy. I've been lucky. But I'm proud of myself that I was open and didn't run away at the first sign of kinky sex.

Discovering the BDSM club was a shock. And then to let John immediately take me into his lair and do me in all those ways. Ummm... just thinking about it gets me hot and bothered. It's just as well Mom is not around to see what has become of her prime and proper daughter. I can't seem to get enough. Whatever John orders, I do, and I love it.

The other thing that has surprised me is the quality of the members of The Sanctuary. You would think that a BDSM club would be full of weirdoes and sex fiends. But most are ordinary people like me, who happen to be bent in this direction, and who have the courage to explore and indulge. When you meet them on the outside, as I have with some of the women, you would never know. Newbies, and I am one, are usually nervous and fearful of being "out-ed", but I don't know of any who have turned back. It's like a drug; once you taste the high, you have to have more.

In my case I got the double high of sexual submission and a relationship with a man whom I really like and respect (dare I say 'love'?). John seems to really care for me, and I am thriving under his attention. But I can't let myself imagine a long term future with him. He is too rich, too handsome, too sexy, too powerful, too everything for a middle-aged sub like me. Yes, 'sub'. That's what I am. I'm not afraid to admit it. I want to please, to be used, to be disciplined, to be humiliated, to be ordered around, to be spanked, whipped, or whatever he wants.

And I think I know what he wants. He wants a woman to tune onto his sexual frequency and match his desires... no, not match... amplify! Go a step further. Use her brain to come up with words and deeds that will add that extra thrill. Keep him a little off balance. My instincts tell me that's what I need to do to keep him, and I am determined.

It is a Saturday night. I wonder where he is. He said he would call.

Oh shit... I've been daydreaming and let my dinner burn to a crisp. And now the phone is ringing... finally...

I answer in my sexiest voice. "Hello, I'm here."

A woman's voice chuckles. "Of course you're there. That's why I'm calling this number."

It is my friend Monica. "Oh sorry Monica, I thought it was someone else."

"With that tone in your voice it must have been a man."

"Well..."

"I'm so jealous. And you never told us why you didn't come back that night. You met him that night, didn't you? I know you did. He's probably big and powerful and swept you off your feet. You didn't even wait until the second date to bed him, did you? You have got to tell me everything."

I smiled, knowing that everything she said was true. Suddenly I had a thought. The way she said 'big and powerful' triggered memories. At other times I have heard similar phrases from her about men. Monica is quite pretty and has a super figure. There are lots of doms in The Sanctuary who would go for her. Maybe I could do her a favor and turn her life around like mine. John would like that. He is always encouraging me to take the initiative. If I could recruit her, I could give her to him as a present.

"You are too right, Monica dear. And I'm dying to tell someone what has happened.

"Yummy. How about tonight? I'm bored with nothing to do."

"Let me call you back. I'm not sure about my plans."

"At his beck and call already, I see. Well, I would do the same. But if you don't call me within an hour, I'm going to the hotel bar and try my luck."

"Be careful, Monica."

"I'm tired of being careful. Talk to you later."

Wow, she is sending out all the right signals. I think I'll call John and ask him if it's okay for me to meet my girlfriend tonight. My body could use a night off, but of course I won't tell him that. If he wants me, I'm his.

He answers on the first ring. "Hello you. I was just about to call. Something's come up. The Sanctuary will have to get along without us tonight."

"A problem?"

"Not exactly, more of a business opportunity, but it will mean I won't be able to see you and get my fix."

"I like it that you have become addicted. So have I. But coincidentally an old girlfriend of mine called and wants to get together, so I can distract myself. Of course you know you could come late if you wish. You have my key."

He smiles over the phone. "I have your key all right. I can unlock you anytime. Isn't that right, Maria?"

My stomach turns over. The key-in-the-lock image gets to me. "Yes Sir," I breathe.

"But it won't happen tonight. The person I have to meet lives a hundred miles away, and I will be staying in a hotel."

"I will miss you."

"I will miss you too. Have a good evening with your friend. See you tomorrow."

He hangs up. Am I imagining that I heard a wistfulness in his voice, a desire to be with me instead of going on a sales trip? I hope so. Quickly I dial Monica.

"Hello?"

"Good news, Monica. I'm all yours tonight. I've burned up my dinner, so let's meet at the old place."

"You're on," she says. "I'm on my way."

In half an hour we are in our favorite booth sipping Chardonnay. She is heavily made-up and wearing a tight Cashmere sweater. She looks great. Those twin turrets are prime male magnets.

"You didn't have to get all dolled up for me," I tease.

She laughs. "I told you I was going trolling if you stood me up. I still might, later."

"Pretty horny, uh?"

"Oh Maria, I don't know what's the matter with me. I have no problem getting men to take me home, but it is so unsatisfying. It seems to just make me hungrier. But I want to hear about you and your new man. After all those years taking care of your Mom you deserve the best."

I decide to launch right in. "Monica, my dear friend, I am going to tell you things that are going to seriously blow your mind. You have to promise me that you will keep my confidence."

Her eyes brighten. "Cross my heart. But let's order first so we won't be interrupted."

"Good idea."

The waiter is summoned and our orders quickly placed. There is none of the usual feminine dawdling over the choices. The wine bottle is left in its cooler on the table. Monica looks at me expectantly.

"You remember that Friday night I had to rush back to the office?"

She nods.

"Well, there's this company that rents the basement floor of our building. During the day I almost never saw or heard anyone down there, but that night out back there were lots of cars. I went to check."

"And?" She is on the edge of her seat.

"And I discovered that it is a BDSM club owned and managed by my hunk of a boss, the famous John Morgan."

Her mouth drops open. "You've got to be kidding!"

I smile and shake my head.

"Did you go in?"

"Oh yes."

"Don't tell me you've hooked up with one of those... those... those practitioners?

I note the excitement in her eyes and that she didn't call them weirdoes or perverts. What thoughts and images are rushing through her head? I pause for a long moment before making my proud announcement.

"With Mr. Morgan himself."

"OH MY GOD!"

John

It was a strange phone call. A woman claiming to be the secretary to Ms. Elizabeth Crowley got me on my cell phone and said that Ms. Crowley wished to invite me to bid on the construction of her ten million dollar mansion near the state capitol. Ms. Crowley is a well-known rich, beautiful, and outspoken widow, a favorite subject of the bitchy columnists in our local paper. Working with her would be interesting indeed. The only problem was that the state capitol was a hundred miles away.

When I pointed out that fact to the caller, I was asked to hold a moment, and then I recognized Elizabeth Crowley's voice. "Mr. Morgan I know of your reputation and your work, and I am most anxious to speak with you about this project. Please come have dinner with me as my guest at the Continental Hotel tonight. I will engage a room for you to stay overnight."

I couldn't say no to that, and here I am, wearing my best suit, being escorted by the head waiter to a private dining room. Elizabeth Crowley stands as I enter.

"Good evening, Mr. Morgan." She offers me her hand. "So good of you to come."

"My pleasure." The way she is holding her hand is an invitation for me to kiss it, the old fashioned way, and I do. Her skin is soft and smooth, and her perfume provoking, to say the least.

We look each other over like college kids on a blind date. She is tall and slender, elegantly dressed in a tailored, one-piece pants suit. The light blue silky fabric matches the color of her eyes and hugs her curvy body in a way that is both sexy and tasteful. Her honey-blonde hair is loosely piled on her head, and I suspect it would take only a slight tug to send it cascading down over her shoulders. She is truly gorgeous.

"Well," she says with a smile as we take our seats. "You don't disappoint."

"Nor you," I reply in kind.

"Let's begin by calling each other by our first names," she says. "Much better don't you think?"

"Much," I agree. "Does anyone call you Lizzy?"

She laughs. "Gracious no. They wouldn't dare. Does anyone call you Johnny?"

"Not in a long time."

"Quite. From what I've heard you're more the 'Big Bad John' type."

Whoa. What does this woman know about me? Am I getting a signal? I give her a questioning look. She blushes slightly and changes the subject.

"I've taken the liberty of already placing our orders. I love the filet mignon here, and I'm sure you will too. And a good burgundy to go with it."

"How do you know I'm not a vegetarian?"

"I just know," she says. "Men like you are meat eaters."

The way she says it laces the air with sexual tension. For some reason I think of Maria, wishing she were here to share in this game. We are quiet as two waiters arrive, one pouring wine and the other baring our salad course. They leave and close the door.

She raises her glass in the sign of a toast. "To a frank and honest sharing of interests," she proposes.

"I'll drink to that." I wait, wondering just how frank she's going to be.

"I am a healthy and wealthy forty year old woman, John, and I want to get the most out of life. My deceased husband, rest his soul, was a fine man, and God knows he was financially successful. But he was very conservative, more concerned with his social status than in having fun. It's time for me to have fun."

Her eyes bore into mine, like she is trying to see inside my head. I smile and raise my glass again. "I'll drink to that too."

"Part of having fun is going to be designing my own house, and working with a builder who has imagination and knows how to turn my ideas into reality. I think you might be that person."

"An interesting challenge. Like most contractors I normally work from architectural plans. Everything is specified. But I have worked directly with some home-owners, and I enjoy it. It gives me a chance to throw in my ideas."

"I know. I've contacted some of those home-owners. They were very pleased."

"You are a thorough woman, Elizabeth. But there is a problem in my being your builder."

Her eyebrows come up. "What is that, John?"

"My workers and I live two hours away. A lot of time would be wasted in traveling."

Before she can answer the waiter appears with our dinners. We sit regarding each other as the perfectly cooked and presented steaks are placed in front of us. Her eyes are smiling. At one point she runs her tongue over her lips, looking at me, not the food. I feel a pressure against my pants.

"Will there be anything else?" asks the waiter.

"No thank you," Elizabeth says quickly. "Please close the door and don't disturb us."

"Yes madam."

He leaves and she picks up her knife and fork. "Let's enjoy it while it's hot. As we're eating I'll tell you why what you think is a problem is really an advantage."

I give her a quizzical look and take a bite. It is delicious.

"You see John there are some special ways I want to have fun. But I also want to maintain my reputation and position in this community. Having an excuse to be away a lot would be welcome."

She pauses to consume a tender morsel. A drop of the yellow sauce remains on her upper lip, and she stares at me for a few seconds before licking it away. The pressure between my legs increases.

"And as for the time you and your people will spend in commuting, that is merely a matter of cost, is it not? And I'm sure you can find local subcontractors to do most of the work."

"That's true," I say. "But I don't relish the idea of driving four hours a day."

"I would pay for you to have an apartment here. And I would pay for you to have a competent local manager so that you would not have to come more than once or twice a week. Most of the meetings between the two of us would occur in your town, not mine."

"I see," I said, concentrating on my rapidly disappearing steak. Hers is only half eaten when she puts down her fork. Her smile is contagious, and I can't help grinning back.

"It's time for me to be perfectly frank," she says. "My contacts in your town have picked up rumors about your little hobby in the basement of your building. It is an interest of mine also. One that I've never had the opportunity to explore. It's time."

Her confession is not unexpected. I have heard it from middle-aged women before. But never from one so high class and fantastically beautiful. Obviously she doesn't want anyone to know about her plans. I hasten to reassure her.

"My hobby, as you call it, is based on absolute discretion. Members of my club are sworn to secrecy and have to put up a kind of bond to insure their silence. Rumors are one thing, but the identities and activities of my friends are protected."

"That's what I heard. It's why I decided to contact you. That and the fact that you are located a hundred miles away. I value my social position in this town. When I visit your club I would want to wear a mask. My face is too well known."

"That could be arranged. You're sure about this?"

"Yes. I wasn't until I met you. But now I am."

"It's not going to be as simple as submitting an application under a false name. The secrecy bond that I referred to means that you would have to filmed in a very compromising position, with your true identity revealed. All members have to do this. No one is going to go public knowing that it would result in their video going on the internet."