X Rated Reads Free Stories

Years ago on this date I was born: surely, a day to celebrate.

As I stepped out of my apartment, the air was hot and humid. I wore a little black dress - not too long, not too short, but just right. As I walked, I felt the warmth of the setting sun against my skin.

I was self-consistent: the click of my high-heels against the asphalt reminded me I was as I should be. Yet, loneliness stretched out before me like a long, deserted city street.

What is at the end of that street? I must find out.

All by myself, I sped away from my apartment - car windows open, radio blaring:

"Hard to be sure,
Sometimes I feel so insecure,
And love so distant and obscure,
Remains the cure."

I realized tears were in my eyes; how embarrassing: I was ruining my makeup!

Emotion begins with a thought, I thought with Spock-like logic, and thoughts can be changed, their energy can be redirected.

*******************************************************************************************************************

Now, recovered from my ruminations, I also realized I was lost. I did not recognize my surroundings. As the sun set, I could see mountains in the distance. On and on I drove.

Soon, I came upon an elegant restaurant. I decided to stop there for a much needed repast.

I'll make the most of this strange detour.

As I stepped out of the car, the air was cool and rarefied. I felt light-headed; only the click of my heels against the asphalt reminded me I was earth-bound. Once inside, I found that it was indeed an elegant restaurant filled with elegant people. The sound of their voices and the sound of soft music filled my ears.

I'm a bit out of place, I should go!

Before I could escape, the maitre d' found me a seat. Furtively, I looked around.

No, really I must leave now!

All were couples engaged in intimate conversation, except one: a stylish, intriguing lady across the room.

She was perusing her menu. She might have just stepped out of a Vidal Sassoon hair salon. Her hair was red - a mane of flame. She wore a matching red blouse, black skirt and black pumps. And her eyes were blue, like the skies on a crisp, sunny autumn day. And she wore glasses - she could be a librarian or a college professor or a research scientist or a high-powered executive.

Who is this mysterious Miss and what is her moniker?

"Yes, I must speak with her!" I thought.

"No, she's probably waiting for her dinner companion!" I countered.

With uncharacteristic impetuosity, I approached her table.

"Pardon me, Ma’am," I said to her. "Would you care for some company?"

"Turn around," she said with a curious smile.

Oh no, I thought, as I turned around, it only serves me right to be sent on my way!

But then she said, "Face me again. Yes, you may join me."

Nervous and happy I joined her.

"Do you come here often?" was my awkward attempt at conversation.

"Yes, I come here to relax after a long day."

"Now, I've disturbed you. Sorry!"

I started to leave, but she said, "I said you could stay."

"Thanks."

"What brings you here?" she continued.

"Actually, I'm a bit lost. For my birthday celebration, I decided to take a wild drive to the outer reaches. I drifted into a sad and lonely reverie. When I recovered my senses, I found I had drifted far off course. Do you know the way to...”

"Since you're here, why not enjoy the fine ambience, the fine food and the fine company? Leave the sadness and loneliness back there - wherever it is. Oh, and Happy Birthday," was her thoughtful and helpful reply.

With that, she resumed reading her menu.

After our food was served, we did begin to talk. She was a charming and gracious conversationalist. She listened to what I said, despite my clumsiness. She was quite intelligent and her voice was like a musical instrument with some regional sonic seasoning - perhaps from Texas.

We talked at length and, after a time, we were the only people remaining, except a somewhat impatient waitress. As we left the restaurant, I held the door open for her. Chivalry was not dead, even in a little black dress.

"I've enjoyed your company. It's too bad this evening must end." I said.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then responded.

"It need not end. You are, perhaps, a bit lost and a bit awkward - in a charming way, of course; but, you are eager to please and you have potential. Left unattended, that potential might be wasted. You need to be of service to a strong but patient woman, someone who would guide you, train you and even punish you if necessary."

There was nothing mean in what she said; in fact, I was strangely excited by her assessment.

"But, how can you know these things?" I asked. I believe I was blushing under the moonlight.

"It wasn't difficult to see. That's why I permitted you to dine with me," she said sympathetically.

She continued. "I'm a very busy businesswoman and entrepreneur with many obligations and little time. I have a position available for a personal assistant, someone who would attend to tasks that I must delegate. A successful candidate will receive extensive on-the-job training and discipline. I warn you, I am very strict and have very high expectations. Are you interested?"

"Yes, I'm interested," I said with my newly found courage.

"Then say, 'Yes, ma'am'," she responded.

"Yes, ma'am," I found myself saying.

She reached into her pocketbook and retrieved a blindfold.

"Do you always keep a blindfold in your pocketbook?" I asked.

"I'm always prepared!"

I did not dare ask what else she kept in her pocketbook.

"Turn around," she said.

She covered my eyes and guided me to her car.

She drove with great assurance - despite those lovely pumps on her lovely feet - left, right, right, left and onward. As we swept along, I lost any sense of direction; now, doubly lost was I.

"What is our destination?" I ventured.

"We're going to my condominium. It gives me a wonderful view of the surrounding city and the distant mountains. There, we can continue our interview uninterrupted. Relax!" she said with a gleam in her voice.

She touched my thigh briefly, sending thrills through me.

Once we arrived. She helped me from her car - I was still blindfolded.

When we were inside, she said, "Remove your shoes.”

I did so. Then she led me some distance; I felt soft carpet under my bare feet. She removed the blindfold, at last. She was smiling that curious smile. She was even more gorgeous in her own environment.

"Welcome," she said, "Remove your clothes, fold them neatly and leave them on that chair. You won't need them for our interview. I'll return shortly."

Did I hear her correctly? I was very excited and nervous.

I looked around quickly: her place was luxurious and spacious, the walls were lined with books and the curtains of the large window were open. I could see the twinkling lights of the city.

Before I knew it, she had returned. She was resplendent in a gold colored chemise and matching pumps. She held a hairbrush in her hand – surely not intended for her well-styled hair – and she looked quite determined.

"I suppose there’s no need to ask you if you’ve read any good books lately!" I said nervously. But, she was not distracted by my feeble attempt at wit.

"I believe I told you to undress," she said.

She stood very close to me – the scent of her perfume was intoxicating.

I hesitated for a moment; she smacked my bottom several times very hard with the hairbrush. "You are with me, high above the city and far from prying eyes."

“Yes ma’am,” I replied.

I removed my dress and then my bra. I felt my nipples tighten in the cool air. I hesitated again, but this time she pulled aside my panties. I was terribly excited by her; I could not help but moan. My “clitty” was stiff and throbbing and I felt very naughty.

“Is this why you’re so bashful with me? This is not so important, although it might offer interesting possibilities for punishing or rewarding you. The most important thing is that you should make my workflow easier not more difficult. Do as I say!”

She smacked my bottom several more times. I was shocked by the sharp pain. I removed my panties and finally I was fully revealed. I believe I was blushing under her gaze.

“Fold you your clothes neatly and kneel over there as I told you before.”

This time I did not hesitate. She took my clothes, but I did not mind.

When she stood before me again, she said, “Tell me what you’ll bring to me as personal assistant.”

I looked down to collect my thoughts. My mind was whirling. The carpet was soft against my knees. There was something about the way she talked to me and treated me. . . I looked up into her eyes and I just wanted to please her.

“I’m diligent and hard-working. I’m adaptable. I take my work seriously. I learn quickly. All of those qualities might be helpful to you.”

“Why do you want this job?”

“I’ve been looking to change careers. Working with you is just the right challenge. And you’re so totally hot!”

Oh no, I let it slip.

She stood arms akimbo and shook her head with mild exasperation.

“I would advise you to answer my interview questions very carefully!” She thought for a moment. “I’m still considering you for my personal assistant, but I have noted several faults in you. I know just how to correct them. Come with me!”

She grasped my left wrist and she led me into the dining room.

“Bend over the table, stand on your tiptoes and arch your back.”

I did as she said. I rested on my elbows. I felt my nipples touch the cool surface of the table. She stood right next to me; I could feel her warmth. She rested one hand on the small of my back. With the other, she smacked my bottom with the hairbrush. Some blows were fast; some were random; all were very, very hard. I never knew where the blows would land. Soon, the sensation became warm then hot. The sound of the brush against my skin reverberated around the room along with the sound of my moans of pleasure and pain.

“You’re so noisy. Must I gag you?” she teased. “Spread your legs apart and remain on your tiptoes.”

She struck again, but it was a new sensation, a new sound. I had not seen it when I entered the room, but she now used a belt on me. She struck my inner thighs and my “clitty” too. I struggled to remain quiet for her. I wriggled and squirmed with pain and delight.

“Hold still or I shall start again!”

She was very thorough, but I did not want to escape. I just surrendered.

Soon, she said “Kneel down again.” Her voice was very soft.

She touched my face.

“Are those tears?” she asked.

I looked away.

“Don’t be ashamed. You’re the way I want you to be. What have you learned?”

“I should do what you say when you say it. I should always behave professionally and treat you with respect.”

“Good girl. Come with me – on your hands and knees,” she said with a smile.

She led me to her kitchen.

“I threw a lavish dinner party for business partners and clients. I simply have not had the time to attend cleaning up. You came along at the right time.” She laughed a delightful laugh, like sparkling waters in a fountain. “Please wash the dishes and clean the floor. You’ll find cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink. I shall check on your work!”

She laughed again. And with that, she left to attend to some other matter.

I didn’t mind. If something that simple could make her happy, then I would do it. I surveyed the kitchen. Even her chaos was well-ordered. I resolved to adhere to kitchen cleaning best practices and protocols I had learned as a child.

As I set about my task, I mused. Who would ever have believed that I’d be washing the dishes of the woman of my dreams? However, I did not get lost in my dreams as I did when I began my eventful journey. I worked with the diligence I had promised earlier. This was a piece of cake! Fortunately, I finished just as she returned.

She had me kneel with my hands behind my back as she reviewed my work.

"How well did you clean my kitchen floor?" she asked.

"I cleaned very well, ma’am – I think."

“We’ll see!” she said cryptically.

She opened her refrigerator and retrieved a birthday cake.

"Do you always keep a birthday cake in your refrigerator?" I asked incredulously.

"I'm always prepared!" she replied with a sassy, saucy smile.

I did not dare ask what else she kept in her refrigerator.

She cut a sensibly sized slice and placed it on the floor in front of me. She put a birthday candle on the cake and lit it.

“Make a wish.” she said.

I made a wish – a secret wish – I dared not wish before. Kneeling on the kitchen floor so naked in front of her, I felt flushed with desire. I blew out the candle which she kindly removed.

“Go on. And keep my kitchen floor clean!” she teased.

With my hands behind my back, eating the cake was somewhat challenging. What might be mundane ordinarily was instead terribly exciting with her.

The cake was moist and delicious with lots of icing. My heart was pounding; I wanted to please her so much. I did not rush, but I enjoyed every morsel of her sweet gift. I lapped at the floor to taste the last remnants of the icing. I moaned softly and licked my lips.

“Thank you beyond every other thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” she said, “Now, come with me.”

I followed her on my hands and knees. She led me to the living room where she sat down on a sofa next to a foot rest. I kneeled in front of her with my thighs slightly parted, just as she wanted.

She touched my face and I looked up at last.

“You’ve done reasonably well. You’ve shown me your surrender and have learned what I expect from you. And you’ve taken your punishments without complaint. This is just the beginning of your training, of course. I have many things for you to do. Here, you will serve me just as you are: naked and very vulnerable. Before I take you on business meetings, I will dress you to be stylish and elegant; you will represent my brand well. If you displease me, I will punish you thoroughly, so that you will not forget. If you please me, I will reward you just as lavishly.”

“Considering this, do you still want to be my personal assistant?” she asked after a pause, her voice very firm yet seductive.

“Yes, I would like very much to work for you,” I said.

“Put your “clitty” on the foot rest and tell me how much.” she responded with that curious smile.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I did what she said.

She held in her hand the same hair brush she used to redden my bottom.

“Tell me how much!” she exclaimed.

She struck the very tip of my “clitty” with that wicked hair brush. I gasped with the shock of it.

“Very much so ---”

She struck again.

“Very sincerely ---”

She touched my arm as if to comfort me or hold me in place, and she struck again and again. “Please let me stay...”

I begged and begged and begged. I didn’t recognize my own voice, but it was me. At last, that was sufficient. She hugged me. I could feel her breath in my ear as my hot tears fell onto her shoulder. I was sore all over, but relieved and calm and exhilarated all at once.

She then put a dog tag around my neck. The dog tag dangled and jangled cool between my warm breasts. It read: "Personal Assistant of Miss Monica."

“What do you say?” she smiled.

"Thank you, Ma'am," I said softly. I was smiling, too.

"Show me how thankful you are." she replied.

I leaned down and leaned in and kissed her lovely feet. First, her left foot, then her right foot, then each of her toes I kissed with my moist and tender lips.

"Good girl," she said.

Yes, this Miss was still a mystery, but at least I now knew her moniker was Monica. And I also knew my place was on my knees, naked and submissive and respectful, at her lovely feet.

She asked, "Did you get your birthday wish?"

It suddenly occurred to me: I was no longer all by myself.

"Yes, I believe I did. And did you get your personal assistant?"

She thought for a moment, and said, “Yes, I believe I did.”

And we both laughed...and lived happily ever after.