Maid For Pleasure
by Lucy Rodgers
Release Date: May 14, 2012
Source: Review copy from Author
Insurance actuary Libby Beckett is the epitome of a successful, independent, modern woman. With her six figure salary, she has a condo overlooking the beach, a BMW, and a closet full of fabulous shoes. So why isn’t she happy? And why do her fantasies always involve whips, bondage, and sexual slavery? Her desires are impossible to explain her buttoned-down accountant boyfriend, which is why when she stumbles across a website for a quasi-dating service for submissive women called Maid for It, she signs up. She’s quickly “matched” to Gavin Huntley, an engineer and inventor possessed of a small fortune and his own private island in the Caribbean. After carefully weighing the risks and rewards, as any good actuary should do, Libby breaks it off with her boyfriend and heads to Gavin’s island for what she promises herself will be two weeks to explore her darkest, dirtiest desires. When her time is up, she’ll say her safe word and, as outlined in Maid for It’s contract, Gavin will be required to release her.
But Gavin knows what Libby truly needs, and it’s not to be free. She’s made for pleasure—his pleasure—and he intends to put her to good use. Forever.
An Excerpt from Maid for Pleasure
by Lucy Rodgers
Two hours later, I’ve changed my mind. I do hate this and him. My knees are screaming in agony, my back and arms ache, and my hands are raw. And I’m not even halfway done.
I pause and straighten, stretching my arms above my head. I want to quit. I want to take this bucket of water and throw it in his face, walk out the door and find the driver who brought me here and demand he take me back to the airstrip. Hell, I don’t even have to do that. All I have to do is utter the safe word we’ve agreed on and everything will come to a halt.
So why don’t I?
Because I haven’t gotten what I came for, and every nerve ending in my body tells me I will get it if I can just get through this test.
Gavin turns my crank. Even more than I expected. Before I came, I worried that even though I’d seen his photos and found him attractive, the chemistry wouldn’t be there in person. But it is. And despite the fact that he hasn’t touched me yet, not even in an asexual way, I can feel the thickness of the air and the crackling of the tension between us. He wants to do all the things he’s promised to me.
Even now, as I arch my back and roll my shoulders, I’m aware of him watching me. After I got down to scrub the floor, he took a large roll of paper out of a file drawer and spread it out on the large dining room table. He’s been there since, working on a project, I presume, while I’ve been on my hands and knees. I imagine he’s been getting a pretty good show, given my lack of panties and the way my breasts jiggle when I scrub.
In a way, demanding that I prove I really want to submit myself fully to him, without conditions or hard limits, is the act of a gentleman.
At the moment, however, that thought doesn’t make me any less impatient or resentful. I drop the scrub brush into the bucket. I’m done, and I’m willing to accept the consequences. What I’m not going to do is use my safe word to escape those consequences.
“Are you quitting?” Gavin asks.
I was right. He’s definitely been paying attention the whole time I’ve been working.
“Yes, Master.”
God, saying that word sends a bolt of lust straight to my pussy. I’ve spent years wondering what’s wrong with me. How I could possibly be turned on by behavior other people would classify as controlling and abusive. Now, I know it doesn’t matter. I am. That’s enough.
“You know you haven’t finished what I told you to do yet.”
I somehow manage to get to my feet, which isn’t easy because I’m stiff from hours in one position, and turn to look at him. The expression on his face—cold and implacable—makes me so weak in the knees, I fear I might fall back down to them.
“I know, Master. But I need a break. I’m not used to this kind of work.” I try to keep any hint of whining or complaint out of my voice.
To my relief, the lines around his mouth ease. “I did ask rather a lot of you for a first day, didn’t I?”
Instinct tells me it isn’t wise to agree with him. I need to let him know that nothing he asks of me can be too much. “No, you didn’t ask too much. I just can do too little.”
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. He gets up from the chair and starts toward me. “Well played, pet, well played.”
There’s no mistaking the thick erection pushing against the zipper of his jeans. I close my eyes, swaying with anticipation. Something is finally going to happen.
“Open your eyes,” he commands, soft and low.
Even before I obey, I know he’s only inches from me. Heat radiates from him as though he’s an open flame, and his warm, cinnamon-sweet breath caresses my face. When I do open my eyes, I find he’s removed his glasses, and his eyes are an even more startling blue than I expected. Almost the same shade as the ocean that surrounds his island, and just as cutting.
I shiver, which makes no sense, because I’m burning up.
“You know there will be consequences for not completing your task.”
Oh God, I hope so. “Yes, Master.”
He reaches out and tucks a hair behind my ear. “I should make you finish, I think. I’m afraid you’ll consider the punishment I have in mind more of a reward.”
That sounds promising.
“Get on your knees.”
I blink my surprise as my knees scream in protest at the idea. “Master?” I can’t keep the note of pleading out of my voice this time.
“On your knees,” he repeats. “Now.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I do what he tells me. As soon as my knees meet the cool, hard tile, I want to cry. They may not be bloody, but they’re definitely bruised. It’s even more agonizing than I expected.
“Does that hurt?” he asks softly. And, I can’t help thinking, with a hint of delight. He’s enjoying my pain.
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. It wouldn’t be punishment if it felt good, would it?”
I shake my head. “No, I guess not.” My knees throb in protest, but my clit throbs more. I’m enjoying my pain as much—maybe more—than he is.
With my eyes still closed, I await whatever else he has in store for me. There’s a rustling sound and the unmistakable scritch of a metal zipper. I know what’s coming, and I lick my lips just as he brushes the velvety head of his cock against my cheek. Not waiting for his direction, I turn my head and open my mouth.
He grabs the back of my head and pulls me to a halt. Wincing because his fingers are threaded up under the bun over which my lacy French maid’s cap is pinned, I look up at him in confusion. Have I misunderstood his intentions?
“The first thing you need to learn, pet, is that you never do anything unless I tell you to. All the initiative is mine. Understood?”
Swallowing hard, I nod even though I’m not sure it’s a rule I can easily obey. I’m a little too Type A to never take the initiative. But for two weeks… Maybe. I’ll try.
“Good. Now, you’re going to open that pretty little mouth of yours, and I’m going to fuck it until I come down your throat. You are not to participate in any way. You’re just providing me a hole to fuck. Got it?”
I nod again. Every part of my body is tingling with arousal.
“And one more thing.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You are not allowed to come unless I tell you to. And I’m warning you right now, I’m not going to tell you to come today. If you do come, you’ll finish the floor.”
I stare up at him, stunned and terrified by this order. Because I’m so lit up, I’m not sure I can keep myself from coming. And the thought that I can’t makes the need even harder to suppress.
“Now, open wide, pet.”
I open. And pray.
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