“Yes, Master.”
“Recite the rules back to me,” Joel ordered.
“One—I have to call you Master. Two—leaving before ten-twenty tomorrow is a forfeit and I have to give you the Kirkland file. Three—I don’t orgasm without your permission. Four—my safe word is Kirkland.”
“Good girl.” He walked over to the couch, grabbed the handles of a large paper bag, and then brought it back to her. “Go change. Bathroom’s around the corner. First door on the left.” He pointed in the direction she should go.
The bag must hold the French maid’s costume, she thought. Or maybe that had been a joke and the bag held a more risqué outfit. Given Joel’s change in personality between yesterday’s lunch and now, she wouldn’t be surprised to find a leather bondage outfit. The weight of the bag might be because of something like that.
Sarah took the bag and went to the half bath, closing the door behind her, happy for the barrier. She inhaled and exhaled several times and let the steady yet fast rhythm of her heartbeat soothe her nerves. This was happening. Somehow Joel had sprung a trap on her. The bet had been her idea after she had listened to him boast about how he easily he could be the number one seller. She’d meant to beat him as a way to shut him up. Thinking back, she could see the danger signs clearly now.
If the Kirkland file was his ultimate goal, then he would probably use the next few hours to test her limits until he found her breaking point and she walked. She needed to beat Joel at his game because she wouldn’t hand over that client.
With her resolve firmed and nerves steeled, Sarah opened the paper bag. The presence of black and white fabric instead of latex and leather garnered a thankful sigh. The black mini dress she pulled out appeared skimpy and tight. Putting it on proved her assumption.
The sweetheart neckline sat on the edge of her nipples, which meant she had to go without her bra. One deep breath and her ample breasts would pop out. Trying to use the puffy sleeves to keep the dress up didn’t work because they drooped to her upper arms the second she let go of them.
Giving up the struggle, Sarah turned her attention to the too short skirt and the stiff petticoats that left her pussy and ass exposed. She didn’t need to bend over either. Good thing she had a pair of black lace and satin panties to help retain a small amount of modesty.
She tied the tiny white apron around her waist and clipped the matching hair ornament in place above her ponytail. The last items in the bag were white lace-top thigh highs with bows at the back and the pair of black patent leather Mary Jane heels.
She had to give Joel points for creativity and attention to detail. Everything fit as if she’d bought it. She didn’t want to know how he’d guessed her size so accurately.
After rolling her eyes at her reflection, she left the bathroom. Joel sat on the couch in the living room. He stared at the blank TV and didn’t blink when she walked in front of him.
“Lose the panties,” he commanded.
Sarah started to argue but changed her mind. “Yes, Master.”
Joel took them from her and dangled them from one finger as he ran his gaze over her. When he tilted his head to the side, probably looking under the skirt, Sarah had to resist the urge to cover herself. Let him look. She’d come prepared for sex. No point being shy now.
“Did you shave just for me?” he asked.
“No,” she snapped.
Joel’s appreciative gaze turned hard and his lips compressed to a thin line.
She caught herself before she backed up a step. “Master. No, Master.”
“I’m being nice, Sarah. I’m not going to keep letting you slip. You know my rules and I know you’re a fast learner. The next time you forget to address me properly, I’m punishing you.”
“Yes, Master.”
Joel pushed to his feet and walked toward the stairs. “Come.”
Sarah followed him and almost ran into him when he stopped short.
“After you,” he said.
Sarah didn’t balk or question the order. She started up the stairs and was half way up before she heard him following her. He was already taking advantage of the scantiness of her outfit. She couldn’t help swinging her hips and hoped Joel enjoyed the view. The flushing of her skin and the moistness coating her pussy lips said she enjoyed him looking.
When she topped the stairs, Joel said, “Master bedroom is the last open door.”
She led the way. Each step spread the growing moisture between her lower lips and bounced the petticoats against the top of her ass. She blamed the heels and her building excitement for her flirty behavior.
One step into the master bedroom cooled her libido. The comforter hung half off the bed and the pillows were scattered. Clothes littered the floor, some in small piles and others tossed here and there. In the corner sat a vacuum and three plastic laundry baskets.