dress
and bra down and clamped my nipples, ordering me to endure the pain for fifteen
minutes. Assuring me he will know if I take them off sooner. And then he was
gone, and I stare after him, my sex spasming from the orgasm he shouldn’t have
been able to give me. Every nerve ending I own is aware of the sting of my
bottom and ache of clamps biting down on my nipples. I am unable to stop the
pain, unable to fight my desire for him. I am helpless. I am frighteningly
aroused.
***
I stand in my bathroom, with my second cup of coffee on the
counter next to me, brushing my long brown hair to a silken mass. It is eight
in the morning and I will soon leave for the gallery. ‘You can start tomorrow’
should have been a lead into me asking ‘what time?’. Since I had not had enough
sense to do so, I’d decided before bed to wake early enough to arrive thirty
minutes before opening.
With a brush of powder, I finish up my makeup and step into
the emerald green sheath dress, a black jacket, and black heels, which is my
‘go-to’ special occasion outfit. The same outfit that I’d worn to my teaching
interview years before when, like today, looking professional was the goal. I
am, after all, attending to adult needs today, rather than that of high school
kids wearing jeans and t-shirts. Not that I ever opted for jeans myself, as
some of the faculty did. My youthful appearance seems to be far more
intimidating in high heels and skirts than in casual wear. With high school
students, respect can go a long way. I inspect my appearance in the full length
mirror behind the door with approval. It’s not Chanel or Dior, like many of the
gallery customers will favor, but on my budget, it will have to do.
After finishing my coffee, I make my way to the car, and I’m
officially as nervous as my students normally are on their first day of school.
I can’t believe I’m really taking this job and I feel both terrified and
excited. “Right,“ I say to myself. “Like there was any doubt you would?”
Guilt twists in my stomach at the idea of Rebecca’s
potential misfortune being my good fortune. I am not sure I can live with that
idea. No one has met with misfortune , I promise myself. I’m going to
find out that Rebecca is perfectly fine and happy, and be able to embrace this
world I love, if only for a while.
By the time I arrive at the gallery fifteen minutes later, I
am having doubts about Rebecca’s safety again. I wonder why, if Rebecca is
perfectly fine and happy, and I am to believe she has been whisked off to some
exotic haven in a way permanent enough to let her things go, would the gallery
say she is returning?
I have forever longed to spend my days surrounded by fine
art, and I know that the day I leave this world behind for mine, it will be
painful. But I am on this path now, and in my gut, it feels as if I am doing
what I am meant to do. Even as I park in the back of the gallery and get out of
my car, my heart feels like it might explode from my chest.
I cross the small employee parking lot, and after testing
the door, finding it, not surprisingly, locked, I knock several times.
The young girl I’d wanted to hug the night before appears
and smiles a warm welcome, before opening the glass door. “You must be Sara.”
“That’s me,” I say and return her smile. “I guess you heard
I was coming?”
“Yes, and I’m so glad you’re here.” She is wearing a pale
pink dress with a pin clip in her dark hair that makes her look even younger
than when I’d first met her. “We really are short staffed so this is a
blessing.”
I enter and let the door shut behind me. The woman-—or girl,
rather--doesn’t seem worried about re-locking it, which concerns me. This might
be a small gallery but it is considered one of the most prestigious, with
highly sought after art, and plenty of money moving through the place.
“I’m Amanda,” she declares. “I’m an intern for the next
year, working as
and bra down and clamped my nipples, ordering me to endure the pain for fifteen
minutes. Assuring me he will know if I take them off sooner. And then he was
gone, and I stare after him, my sex spasming from the orgasm he shouldn’t have
been able to give me. Every nerve ending I own is aware of the sting of my
bottom and ache of clamps biting down on my nipples. I am unable to stop the
pain, unable to fight my desire for him. I am helpless. I am frighteningly
aroused.
***
I stand in my bathroom, with my second cup of coffee on the
counter next to me, brushing my long brown hair to a silken mass. It is eight
in the morning and I will soon leave for the gallery. ‘You can start tomorrow’
should have been a lead into me asking ‘what time?’. Since I had not had enough
sense to do so, I’d decided before bed to wake early enough to arrive thirty
minutes before opening.
With a brush of powder, I finish up my makeup and step into
the emerald green sheath dress, a black jacket, and black heels, which is my
‘go-to’ special occasion outfit. The same outfit that I’d worn to my teaching
interview years before when, like today, looking professional was the goal. I
am, after all, attending to adult needs today, rather than that of high school
kids wearing jeans and t-shirts. Not that I ever opted for jeans myself, as
some of the faculty did. My youthful appearance seems to be far more
intimidating in high heels and skirts than in casual wear. With high school
students, respect can go a long way. I inspect my appearance in the full length
mirror behind the door with approval. It’s not Chanel or Dior, like many of the
gallery customers will favor, but on my budget, it will have to do.
After finishing my coffee, I make my way to the car, and I’m
officially as nervous as my students normally are on their first day of school.
I can’t believe I’m really taking this job and I feel both terrified and
excited. “Right,“ I say to myself. “Like there was any doubt you would?”
Guilt twists in my stomach at the idea of Rebecca’s
potential misfortune being my good fortune. I am not sure I can live with that
idea. No one has met with misfortune , I promise myself. I’m going to
find out that Rebecca is perfectly fine and happy, and be able to embrace this
world I love, if only for a while.
By the time I arrive at the gallery fifteen minutes later, I
am having doubts about Rebecca’s safety again. I wonder why, if Rebecca is
perfectly fine and happy, and I am to believe she has been whisked off to some
exotic haven in a way permanent enough to let her things go, would the gallery
say she is returning?
I have forever longed to spend my days surrounded by fine
art, and I know that the day I leave this world behind for mine, it will be
painful. But I am on this path now, and in my gut, it feels as if I am doing
what I am meant to do. Even as I park in the back of the gallery and get out of
my car, my heart feels like it might explode from my chest.
I cross the small employee parking lot, and after testing
the door, finding it, not surprisingly, locked, I knock several times.
The young girl I’d wanted to hug the night before appears
and smiles a warm welcome, before opening the glass door. “You must be Sara.”
“That’s me,” I say and return her smile. “I guess you heard
I was coming?”
“Yes, and I’m so glad you’re here.” She is wearing a pale
pink dress with a pin clip in her dark hair that makes her look even younger
than when I’d first met her. “We really are short staffed so this is a
blessing.”
I enter and let the door shut behind me. The woman-—or girl,
rather--doesn’t seem worried about re-locking it, which concerns me. This might
be a small gallery but it is considered one of the most prestigious, with
highly sought after art, and plenty of money moving through the place.
“I’m Amanda,” she declares. “I’m an intern for the next
year, working as
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