“Like a fine wine or an expensive whisky. The first taste is better than anything you could ever have imagined. A second and you’re desperate for more. And after that you’ve just got to carry on until there’s nothing left.”
Jo Carpenter grinned as she watched Gordon Lister scribble what she’d just said in his little black notebook and wondered if he really was as naïve as he seemed to be, and if he’d got any idea what she was really talking about.
“I was thinking more along the lines of something more formal, such as researcher, columnist and author of the best selling life-style text book Don’t ask, just take it: how a woman can have it all,” said Gordon without looking up, “and maybe a bit more about your personality. Your first book did sell very well, but what kind of woman writes books like yours?”
Gordon Lister had been a publisher’s intern for only a few days, and the three hours he’d spent with Dr Carpenter trying to agree the style and content for the cover of the author’s new book Don’t just make the first move: make the rules, was his first assignment.
“That should be self-evident from the books’ content. Haven’t you read them?” asked Jo Carpenter standing up and smiling down at him, as she brushed her fading shoulder-length fair hair behind her ears and scrunched it into a tiny black band. Gordon Lister suddenly felt very intimidated, but he didn’t know why. “Er, sort of ,” he replied nervously, “I only started on Monday, and getting sent here was the first thing I’ve been asked to do.”
“Sort of? Don’t you think this would have been easier if you were familiar with my work?” she asked leaning over so that all six foot plus of her was only inches from his face, “you’ve been here all morning and all you’ve done is stammer nervously and tremble every time I go anywhere near you. It’s almost as if you want me to do everything for you.”
“Er, yes, if you don’t mind. I’m only an intern,” he replied, trying desperately not to show his emotions, “I’m happy to go along with whatever you’ve a preference for.”
“So you think your employers should have sent someone else then?” added Jo Carpenter, her smile slowly disappearing. “Er, yes, I mean no, I mean…” stammered Gordon, “they said it wouldn’t matter because you’d know exactly what you wanted.”
He resisted the urge to stand, as Jo Carpenter’s smile returned and gradually changed into a wide grin. “Oh I do,” she replied, “but are you the right man to make sure I get it?”
“Yes,” he whispered, “I think I can arrange …” Jo Carpenter stopped him in mid-sentence. “You don’t arrange anything, and if you’d read either of my books you’d know that. You just agree. Got it?” “Y,y,yes,” he spluttered even more nervously, “you tell me what you want and I’ll do it. Anything.”
Jo Carpenter started to laugh. “Anything? Are you sure? You shouldn’t make promises like that to someone like me. I might just take you at your word. In fact, I might just take you….”
She turned her back to him and walked over to the corner of her office leaving Gordon sat on a chaise lounge staring wide-eyed at an Amazonian in vertiginous patent leather heels. Dr Carpenter was the most intimidating woman he’d ever seen, wore heels which meant that she’d probably need to duck to leave the room, and despite being more than twenty years older than his girlfriend with lines around her eyes and mouth, somehow incredibly attractive.
She stood least six foot five, almost completely with make-up other than some eyeliner and a hint of lipstick, and was wearing a knee length black pleated skirt, a crisp white blouse unfastened at the top under which Gordon could see a hint of an elaborate bra, and had . “Put that in writing,” she said in a tone of voice which didn’t sound like the start of a negotiation, “in that little book of yours. Then we can both sign it.” She pointed a finger like an eagle’s talon down at him and shook her hand so that the small gold watch on her left wrist rattled just under his chin.
“I don’t know anything contracts” said Gordon, “I’m only an intern. And if we just sign something in my notebook will it be binding?” Jo Carpenter started laughing, “You can trust me. I’m a doctor! And binding? Of course!”
Gordon Lister didn’t understand what she meant, or why she wanted him to write something down, but he didn’t feel inclined to refuse, and he especially didn’t want her to think that he was unprofessional, unprepared or uncooperative. “Can you write it please doctor Carpenter?” he asked offering up the notebook, “I don’t know where to start.”
She took the small hard-backed pad from his outstretched hand, put it on her desk and started to write: ‘I freely agree to do whatever Dr Jo Carpenter wants, without any complaint, hesitation or hindrance. I understand that whatever she wants to happen is going to happen, in whatever way she wants it to.’
She showed him what she’d written, as he nodded his agreement and passed the book back: “Is this binding?”
Jo carpenter grinned, leant over the desk facing away from him so that he was inches from her rear, and added ‘I want it to be binding.‘ She passed the book back to Gordon who printed his name under the last line, added the date, and signed it. Jo Carpenter then took the book from Gordon, added her own signature, scribbled a rapid series of short straight lines on the page, opened a desk drawer, and threw it inside.
“Are you really that innocent?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. “You’ll let me do whatever I want without even asking? Sounds like fun.”
Gordon didn’t get a chance to reply. Jo Carpenter grabbed his arm and pulled him from him from the seat. “I like to take control,” she said in a way which might have been an explanation, but sounded more like statement of intent, before pinning his arms under her legs. So was not only over six feet tall and built like a legendary Amazon, she was also incredibly strong. He didn’t try to resist. Not because he couldn’t, and not because of the note he’d signed, but because he didn’t want to.
He stared up at her manic eyes as she grabbed the edges of her pleated skirt and pulled it upwards and over him so that he was totally enveloped in darkness. He felt the soft naked flesh of her inner thighs rub against his cheeks, and knew long before she’d positioned herself on his mouth that Dr Carpenter was naked underneath her pleated skirt.
He could see absolutely nothing, and could feel only the carefully suspended weight of her body above his jaw and the warm, comforting pressure of her thighs against his neck, as he discovered that everything she’d said about herself was true: The first taste was better than anything he’d ever have imagined, the second made him desperate for more, and after that he carried on until there was nothing left.
Jo Carpenter rolled off him and staggered to her feet as the exhausted intern tried to rub some feeling back into his arms while she wiped her legs with a handful of tissues. “Don’t worry, I’ve not forgotten,” she said, “I’ll only be a minute.” Gordon didn’t know what she was talking about, and didn’t even notice Jo Carpenter taking the tape dispenser from her desk. He was still rubbing when she leant forward, grabbed his arms with one hand and rapidly taped his wrists together. She then sat on his stomach, pulled a length of tape and stuck it over his mouth, and then bound his legs until the dispenser was empty. “You wanted binding,” she said emotionlessly as if in answer to an unspoken request for an explanation.
Jo Carpenter then stood over him, leered down and said in tone of voice which didn’t sound as if it expected a response, “Was that what you wanted?” Gordon Lister could tell the question was rhetorical, but had no idea what she meant. “I wouldn’t want you to claim I’d reneged on our agreement.” He tried to reply, but his jaw just wobbled as it strained against the tape.
He glanced over and watched as Jo Carpenter straightened her skirt, brushed her hair back into a neat arrangement and re-applied the little make-up she’d had on before so that she looked every inch the professional he’d met a few hours earlier.
“I’ve got some appointments now Gordon,” she said striding towards the door before turning and nodding towards his very-obvious erection straining against the inside of his zipper, “Don’t go anywhere will you? I’ll handle that when I get back.” She started laughing as he stared upwards and wondered whether it was a double entendre, an offer, a promise or a another statement of intent.
Gordon heard a heavy lock click and as he considered his options. He could lift his hands up to his mouth, grip the tape at one edge and pull it off so that he could either shout for help or use his teeth unwrap the tape from his wrists. He could also do both and bend over to free his legs. Or he could swing himself to the side of the chair, stand up and hop towards the desk where he could pick up a letter-opener and use it to cut away the bindings. Or he could just lie there.
Gordon Lister would have grinned had the tape not prevented it as he waited for Dr Carpenter to return. Freeing himself and leaving had never been a realistic consideration. Not after three days of planning and three hours of being everything a woman like Dr Carpenter looked for in a man who could be used, dominated and reduced to little more than a battery-less sex toy.
He’d not just read her first book, he’d studied it every day for a week. He’d also got a copy of her new one and read it avidly from cover to cover, over and over. They were what had prompted him to request the assignment. He’d memorised every single word she’d written, and thought of her not as an author of self-help books for women, but as someone who wrote instruction manuals for men like him.
Her books went into great detail about how a woman could find herself a gullible young man she could manipulate by describing how such a man would act in a given situation, what they would say in response to seemingly innocent questions, and how if they were stupid enough could be persuaded to sign some of contract they’d believe was legal.
He grinned again as he reminisced on the irony of how it was only when standing outside Dr Carpenter’s office just before he’d knocked that he actually had been nervous. Even though he’d been certain that he could say the right things at the right times, and could act and react in the right ways to appear ready to be manipulated, he’d not wanted it to be obvious: that would have ruined everything. Dr Carpenter had written chapters describing The Pleasure of Anticipation, Man and Manipulation, Surrender from Seduction and Coercion from Confidence, which were all about persuading the man to let a woman get into a position of total control, not simply finding a man who would let her. She’d even described the erotic charge a woman can get just from crossing out a few words like “it to be” from a signed agreement as it reinforces her superiority at creating the opportunity to do whatever she wanted.
After all, as one of the chapters in her first book said An Easy Victory Has No Reward, and that there are all sorts of ways a women can get pleasure from a man, but if he just lets you do what you want, it can feel like he can’t be bothered to make an effort. And Gordon Lister had made an effort. He’d studied, he’d learned, he’d concentrated and he’d resisted as much as he physically could until giving Dr Carpenter several shuddering, intense orgasms which had left him wondering how he’s survived without broken cheekbones and a dislocated jaw.
He lifted his arms a little and pushed the tape back against his cheeks where his grin had loosened it, and thought about some of the things Jo Carpenter had described doing to a man she’d overpowered, and wondered whether when she’d finished with him, would it be a good idea to ask her to sign and dedicate the two books that were in his briefcase …..