Chapter 30
Florian
Next morning, and I have big plans. I creep out of bed without waking Grimes and sneak back to my old bedroom.
I already think of his room as “our room” now.
My plan is daring. But I have all the courage I need.
The way he looked at me last night makes me feel like the biggest prize in the world.
I dig to the bottom of my wardrobe, searching for something very special.
Finally I find the delicate slip of white fabric, lacy and decadent.
My maid’s apron. I swiped it from a fancy hotel years ago.
I always wanted to wear it for someone, but despite everything I’ve done in the bedroom, I’ve never had the nerve to wear this for anyone.
Until now. I only just managed to hide it from Grimes when he made me pack up my things at the boarding house, standing over me like some angry watchdog.
I would’ve been disgraced if he’d seen it back then.
But now… I think he’ll like it now.
I pull on the apron. The slinky fabric slides easily over my bare skin, raising shivers of pleasure.
I love how it makes me feel sensual and naughty at once.
It’s soft and delicate and more importantly tiny, barely covering me.
I look at myself in the mirror, craning my neck to see.
My butt cheeks are exposed with a little white bow tied prettily above them.
I attach a couple of white lacy cuffs to my wrists to complete the look.
I wriggle my hips, giggling at my own boldness.
I can’t wait for Grimes to see me like this.
There’s no shame in dressing like this for him.
Now he knows how submissive I am, and he loves it.
When I follow his orders he looks at me with a mix of awe and lust. It’s ironic that I can be myself with a coachman, who’s essentially a servant.
What would my father think if he knew of my desires, and especially the fact that I’m letting a “social inferior” boss me around?
He’d disown me... completely this time. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, come to think of it.
No one expects an aristocrat to be submissive.
They expect us to take charge of every room, effortlessly commanding and cool due to our social status.
But I feel so safe and happy when Grimes takes control.
Serving him gives me a sense of purpose.
I love it when he asks me to do something and I do it well and his face breaks into a big, warm smile of praise.
I can’t get enough of his praise. It even made mind-numbingly boring tasks like digging foundations worthwhile.
I skip downstairs to get started on breakfast, frying some bacon, which he can never resist. Sure enough, the scent brings him downstairs within minutes.
He’s wearing trousers but bare-chested and still barefoot, sleepy and yawning.
His eyes go straight for me at the sink.
Hell, his eyes go straight for me every time he comes into a room now.
It makes me feel like the center of the universe.
This time he does a double take as he clocks the apron and lacy cuffs.
“Florian?” he blinks again, like I might disappear. “You look… you look...”
“You like it?”
He swallows hard. “You could say that.”
I give him a twirl, exposing my bare ass. The apron flies up to give him a momentary peek at my cock.
His gaze darkens. “You little minx. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You wouldn’t even let a man wake up.”
“Oh, I think you’re awake now.” I glance down at his erection making itself known through his trousers.
“Come here.” He crosses the room and grabs me around the waist with one arm. Locks me tight to his torso. There’s a rough edge of want to his voice. Wild eyes drink me in. My plan has worked beyond my wildest expectations. He can barely control himself. But he’ll have to.
“Hey, let go,” I pout. “I didn’t spend all this time cooking bacon for you not to eat it.”
“You’re not serious?” he growls.
I fold my arms. “Dead serious.”
Grumbling loudly, he sits at the table and takes a couple of bites, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s restless and twitchy, too turned on to focus. He can’t take his eyes off me.
“Hold up. Aren’t you supposed to be the servant?” he says, pointing a fork at me.
I look at my apron and lacy cuffs. “Clearly.”
“Then put this food away until later and get over here.”
Oh. He’s going to be like that. My apron starts to tent as my cock responds to his authority.
“Do I have to?” I whine.
“Yes, Florian. Do as your boss says.”
My hands tremble as I hurry, covering the bacon with a bowl, moving so fast I almost drop everything. My body floods with desire.
“Good,” he says. “Now get down on your knees and crawl to me.”
Fuck, yeah. I drop to the kitchen floor, palms flats, ass in the air. Erection breaking free of the flimsy apron. My boss’s arrogant gaze lingers on it.
“Slowly,” he says. “Take your time. I want to watch you.”
I start to make my way across the floor on hands and knees, body burning up as I think what I must look like in my apron and lacy cuffs, crawling for him.
“Eye contact,” he says.
I raise my gaze to his. He backs away into the very corner of the room, prolonging my journey.
“That’s my good servant,” he says.
I think I’m going to burst into flames. How is he so good at reading my desires? I finally reach him. He looks down at me, his kneeling servant. I lean over and kiss his bare feet, one at a time. His whole body tenses as I remain bowing before him, like he’s afraid to break the spell.
“Florian,” he says, like a prayer. “Remember when you joked about the maid’s outfit?”
He remembers that? He seemed so angry at the time.
“Yes?” I say.
“I haven’t been able to get the image out of my head since.”
“Does the reality live up to your imagination?”
He tilts my chin up, gripping hard, his casual strength making me gasp.
“It surpasses it,” he says.
“What would you like me to do for you now, Boss?”
He lets his gaze drop. I lick my lips as I take in the bulge in his trousers.
“No hands, only that pretty mouth,” he tells me.
“Yes, Boss.”
I reach for his waistband.
“I said no hands,” he says.
Shit, I’m supposed to unfasten his trousers hands-free?
This’ll be a challenge, but the faithful servant is up for it.
I put my hands behind my back so he knows I’m not cheating and his gaze darkens as he watches my pose get even more vulnerable.
I grab for his buttons with my teeth. He exhales, the teasing touch driving him crazy.
Desire heats my veins as I brush my lips against his firm crotch.
“Fuck, flower, hurry up,” he grates, grunting with frustration.
It’s frustrating for me too, but my hands stay locked behind my back. He helps me a little, easing the buttons out enough that I can finish the job with my teeth.
“Your hands look so hot with those little cuffs on your wrists,” he breathes. “Like they’re tied.”
“Tie them if you want,” I say.
“Really?”
“Of course. I’m yours. Use me as you like.”
A tremor runs through his bare chest, an exhale that shows how deep my words struck him. I’ve said “I’m yours” to lots of lovers, but playfully. Grimes can tell I mean it. I trust him to use me only as much as I want to be used.
He looks around for something to use to bind me.
His eyes fall on one of my fancy silk scarves.
I never wear them here but I’ve garlanded this one over one of his sad, faded pictures on the wall to brighten the place up a bit.
As I stay kneeling, he grabs it and ties my hands behind my back.
I pull experimentally at the silk but it holds fast. My heartbeat skitters as heat rushes my body.
It’s exhilarating, a little scary. I’m trussed up tight, totally defenseless.
I’ve let lovers order me around, spank me, take me roughly, but I never trusted anyone to bind me before.
I always craved it, but I was too afraid.
Now with Grimes I can do what’ve always wanted.
Surrender completely, trusting he’ll keep me safe.
Trusting he’ll put my pleasure above his own.
As I look up at Grimes and the dominating gleam in his eyes, my cock pulses.
“I’ve never let anyone tie me up before,” I confess.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it. But only because it’s you.”
A new look steals into his eyes, momentarily displacing lust. Thoughtful, humbled… a little guilty.
“I don’t deserve this trust,” he says softly.
“You do. Or I wouldn’t give it to you.”
I bite at the fabric of his trousers, impatient, not wanting to get into any deep conversations right now.
Not when I’m finally fulfilling my fantasies of red-hot bondage.
I’m soon sweating with frustration and desire, apron riding high on my erection.
The sensation of my hands held tight behind my back sends heat surging through my body.
I lick all the way down the stripe of thick dark hair that leads south from Grimes’ stomach, tasting his salty sweat.
A shudder goes through his body. He cups my chin with his hand and I meet his gaze.
The look in his eyes sends my confidence through the roof. Also my arousal.
I refocus and finally manage to drag the fabric down over his hip bones, exposing the V leading to his cock.
Then his cock springs free and my mouth is watering.
Precum leaks through my apron, the wet patch making me look like a filthy slut, and with my hands tied there’s no way to cover myself up even if I wanted to.
I don’t want to hide anything from him. Because my boss is still looking at me like I’m a prize, his treasure.
My helplessness, my need, my submission: all of it feeds the hunger in his eyes.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes.