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Candice Parker - Part 3 Chapter 8 - Game Recognizes Game Three weeks later, Candice was sweeping one of the mansion's many ceramic tile floors, preparing it for a thorough mopping, when she heard Mrs. Belfridge's voice coming from the doorway. "Miss Parker, Ms. Rockwell wants to see you in her office right away. She said that it's something urgent." "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Belfridge." Candice thought it odd that Ms. Rockwell would send someone rather than come herself, but she put away the broom, and started to put away the mop and bucket when she accidentally splashed some water out onto the floor. She grabbed a rag from her cleaning cart and wiped the floor, cursing herself for being so clumsy. Eventually, she headed down the hallway toward the opposite end of the mansion where Ms. Rockwell's office was located, and softly knocked on the closed door. "Come in." Candice opened the door and peeked in. "You wanted to see me, Ms. Rockwell?" "Yes, Candice." Ms. Rockwell held out her hand across her desk, motioning for Candice to stand in front of it. There was no chair. "Just one moment, and I'll be with you. Oh, and close the door behind you." Candice did as instructed, and patiently waited in front of Ms. Rockwell's desk, watching her type away at her computer. After nearly five minutes, Ms. Rockwell spoke. "Candice, didn't Mrs. Belfridge inform you that I urgently needed to see you?" "Yes." "Yet it took you a good fifteen minutes to knock on my door." "I'm sorry, but I had to finish my sweeping and put away the broom... and the mop, too, because I was going to do that next, but I spilled some water. I didn't want leave those things out in the open when I wasn't there." "I see. Candice, fetch that for me when it's done printing." Ms. Rockwell pointed to a printer that had just turned on, which was sitting on a table a few steps from her desk. She never took her eyes from her monitor. Candice stepped over to the printer and took the single sheet of paper, then stepped back and held it over the desk. Ms. Rockwell finally turned her head to face Candice. "Read it." "Ms. Rockwell, you're resigning? But... I thought you liked it here!" "I do. I enjoy working here very much." "I don't understand." The sadness on Candice's face was as evident as the confusion in her voice. "Candice, working here should be a dream job for me. But you're making it impossible for me to do my job." "But, I thought you were O.K. with me helping out with the housework." "Think about it, Candice. I'm supposed to be an authority figure here. The staff is supposed to answer to me and have my respect. But the group that I'm supposed to supervise has one of their own who can override my authority in any situation. Ultimately, one of the maids is in charge around here. How do you think that affects the legitimacy of my authority in the eyes of the other staff members? And keep in mind that we'll be hiring more very soon, at least tripling the size of our domestic staff." "Oh." Candice looked down at the floor, and started fidgeting with her hands. "Well, I..." "Candice, as long as my boss is a maid, no one else working at this estate will take me seriously. They're always aware that they can go over my head to a fellow domestic worker. And each day that you continue to work as a maid, you become closer to them; you develop a solidarity with them. They already think of you as a maid to a degree, and you think of yourself as a maid even more so. And because you identify with each other as fellow domestic servants, you relate to each other that way. They'd rather ask for your permission than mine, because they're more comfortable with you." "I see." "Yesterday, I asked one of the other maids why she wasn't doing what I instructed her to do, and she told me that you said it was fine if she switched duties with you." "Oh, that. I'm sorry, I meant to tell you." Ms. Rockwell didn't raise her voice, but her tone became even more serious, as did her facial expression. "Candice, that's not the point. The point is that your being part of the staff undermines my authority, making me useless. Others in my position might be comfortable taking your paychecks and pretending to do the job while just being a figurehead, but I'm not that type of person. As you know from my resume, I've been an officer in the military, I've worked in a corporate environment, and I've worked at a similar estate directly prior to coming to work here. There's always been a healthy chain of command everywhere I've been, but it's completely broken here; and it's all because you insist on being a maid in your own mansion." Candice hadn't been scolded like this since she was a child, and she was trying not to cry. "I'm so, so sorry Ms. Rockwell. I had no idea you felt that way. If I stopped doing housework, would you stay?" "Frankly Candice, I don't think you can. It'll just be a matter of time before you get the urge to put on that apron again, and you'll resent me for holding you back in your own home." A tear escaped Candice's left eye. She wanted to be professional, but she had grown attached to Ms. Rockwell. Not only that, but Ms. Rockwell was extremely competent at doing everything that Candice hated doing. "It's not just the housework, is it Candice?" "Ma'am?" sniffled Candice. "You're submissive, aren't you, Candice? In the BDSM sense, I mean. And, you clearly have a maid fetish. It's obvious that you enjoy wearing the uniform of a maid, and that you like working as a servant. You even feel more comfortable when I blatantly dominate you, don't you Candice?" Candice bowed her head and stared at her own feet, desperately trying to keep control and collect her thoughts. She wasn't prepared for such a direct confrontation. Her face was glowing red with embarrassment. "I intentionally crossed the line with you today, to determine whether I was right about your submissive nature. I ordered you, via Mrs. Belfridge, to come to my office. I made you stand and wait in front of my desk. I scolded you, my employer, for being late. I ordered you to fetch my printout without so much as a 'please' or a 'thank you.' And you obeyed my every order. I even started addressing you as Candice without your permission, while you still address me as Ms. Rockwell, and you're my boss." Candice had no retort. She attempted to make eye contact with Ms. Rockwell, her employee, but failed, looking back down at her own feet. She had no idea what to do or say, and completely froze up. Ms. Rockwell's tone softened. "There's nothing to feel ashamed about, Candice. A lot of individuals identify as being submissive. Besides, you own this estate, and you should be able to adopt any lifestyle you want. However, you still live and work around others, and you can't always be selfish unless you want to live alone. You have to consider how your actions will affect and influence others around you. If you really prefer being a servant in your own home instead behaving like the Mistress of this estate, you're going to have to meet others halfway, or there always will be problems." Candice thought she heard hope in Ms. Rockwell's voice, as well as in her words. "Are you saying that you might stay, if we make some adjustments?" "That's up to the two of us, Candice. If not, I have every intention of signing that resignation letter, because I refuse to continue working for much longer under the current conditions. However, if you're willing to hear me out, I've come up with an alternative proposal." "Yes ma'am. I'm open to hearing what you have in mind." Candice was past the point of caring how she sounded. She had looked up to Ms. Rockwell since the day they met. "First, Candice, I need some direct answers. Was I correct about everything I said earlier? Are you a lifestyle submissive? Do you enjoy being dominated? Do you feel more at ease when I take charge and boss you around?" "Yes ma'am. Yes to all of it," Candice sobbed, still feeling apprehensive. "Good girl. In that case, stand up straight and look forward whenever you address me. And stop that weeping. Get your act together, maid!" "Yes ma'am," replied Candice, getting her act together. Ms. Rockwell leaned back in her leather high-back chair. "Candice, you're ridiculously wealthy, young, pretty, submissive, and emotional, not to mention a bit naive. That makes you an exceptionally attractive target for crooks and scammers. Despite your high intelligence and education, your heart seems to lead your brain more often than not, and that can get you into trouble. Regardless of whether we work out something or I move on, I want you to always be mindful of your position, and try not to be too trusting of others. It might seem like pessimistic advice, but... well, some girls are just too nice for their own good. You're a billionaire now, and you can't afford to be naive and careless." "I understand that, Ms. Rockwell. That's exactly why I hired someone strong like you to run things for me... and to run interference for me." "Point taken, but that puts you in the position of having to trust me to a great extent. Among other things, you pay me to keep out the scammers, but what if I'm a scammer? You've also placed your faith in Mr. Adams and Mrs. Leung without knowing them well at all. You're constantly at the mercy of 'the kindness of strangers,' to borrow a line from Tennessee Williams." Candice just stared at Ms. Rockwell, wondering where this was going, while agreeing with everything that she was hearing. "Candice, I have enough of my own money to retire whenever I want. I don't have billions, but I've made a lot of money in my career, and I've spent comparatively little. Financially, I don't need this or any other job, but I want it. Being in charge is what I do. I get a lot of personal satisfaction from stepping into transitional or problematic situations and establishing order where there was chaos. To be blunt, I get off on it, and I'm very good at it." "So, that's why you applied here?" "Yes. At my previous estate manager position, I had things running so smoothly that I was getting bored; and it was the same with the corporate job before that. Being in the military taught me a lot, but ultimately, I resigned my commission because I would never have enough control to satisfy my organizational creativity. I already was looking for a new opportunity... or, to be more candid, a new potential conquest, when I read that Mr. Simmons had died. While I'm saddened to hear about anyone dying, it seemed like a perfect opportunity for me. I learned, through the grapevine, that most of his staff had quit, and there was a new, mysterious owner. It was a chance to restore a once famous estate to its former glory." "But I got in your way." "No Candice, this is your home. I got in your way... or maybe we got in each other's way without realizing it. When we met, it was obvious that you were a bit meek, but I didn't realize that you were a submissive with a maid fetish. Now that I know, I think we should renegotiate my employment contract; but there's something else that you need to know about me." "Yes, ma'am?" "I'm... well, I was, a lifestyle dominant in the same way that you're a submissive, although I've never dominated another woman. I've had submissive boyfriends in the past. I've always gone for the cute, boyish types, especially younger ones who were less likely to challenge me for control in our relationships. My last boyfriend eventually became my fianc?, but he died in car wreck before we even set a date for the wedding. Since then, I've buried myself in my work." "I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am." "Thank you. But Candice, even though I'm not a lesbian and we're not romantically involved, you've awakened my dominant instincts. That's another reason I can't continue working here unless we figure out a new arrangement. Knowing that you actually own this estate, it excites me to see you performing menial tasks while in uniform. Being around you on a daily basis, while you perform your duties as a maid, would be too distracting for me to perform my own duties, unless dominating you actually became part of my job." "Ms. Rockwell, would you please elaborate on what you mean about dominating me?" Ms. Rockwell pulled her chair closer to her desk, resting her elbows on the desk while clasping her hands together below her chin. "First, I'd have to be your boss, for real. Second, I would have to be given the authority to punish you, if your work and/or your attitude don't meet my expectations." "As in... kinky punishment?" A playful smirk appeared on Ms. Rockwell's face. "Yes, kinky punishment: spankings, bondage, and such... whatever we agree to, as part of our new job descriptions. I've never been a professional dominatrix, but it would be a similar situation... BDSM without sex. If my instincts about you are correct, you could benefit from a bit of corporal punishment from time to time, young lady. As for myself, I do miss the feel of a hickory paddle in my hand." Candice allowed herself to smile, but she also was scared. "Candice, we could terminate my current employment contract and draw up a new one. In fact, I've already created a rough draft, to give you a better idea of how I'm thinking. We can alter it so that we both get what we want, but it will require you to make some compromises. I'll print what I've written so far, and I'll email you a copy, as well." The printer began clicking and humming, and Candice started scanning the pages as they rolled out of the printer. "Candice, I'm not here to swindle you out of your fortune. I'll require my normal salary, which is high, but I'm not after what belongs to you. Also, I don't want you to do anything to truly hurt you, or that makes you uncomfortable. However, I am a control freak; and as such, I do want to control you to a degree. How much control I'll have is up to you. We can start small with the initial contract and see how we get along." "This is a lot to read." For a rough draft, the contract was quite detailed, but Candice grasped more than she let on. "True, but I've been thinking about this for several days now, so I do have quite a head start on you. Once we reach an agreement, we can run our contract by Mr. Adams, and let him give you his opinion on the legal aspects." Candice knew that she would need legal advice, but she dreaded the prospect of showing Mr. Adams what amounted to a BDSM contract. Still, the more she read, the more excited she became. Having stood the entire time, her feet were starting to feel sore, making it difficult for her to concentrate. "Is it alright if I grab a chair, so that we can talk more about this?" "No, certainly not. Whenever you're on duty and called to my office, you'll stand before my desk, unless you're here to clean. Don't ever ask me that again, girl." An erotic chill ran through Candice's body. Ms. Rockwell hadn't raised her voice, by she sounded so confidently dominant, that it made Candice playfully feel ashamed for even asking such as disrespectful question. "Of course, ma'am. I meant no disrespect. I apologize for forgetting my place." Ms. Rockwell's face glowed with satisfaction. "That's exactly the type of interaction we'll have on a regular basis if we reach an agreement. Ever since you walked in that door I've enjoyed putting you in your place and keeping you there. I suspect you've enjoyed it just as much." "Yes ma'am, I actually have, except for the part about you resigning. I really want you to stay." "Wonderful! We can meet again and discuss the contract in detail after you've had a chance to study it and propose any changes. We both need to sleep on the idea for a few nights. We can take as much time as we both need, and I'll delay my resignation until you decide how you want to proceed, if it all." "Yes ma'am." "In short, you'll hire me to run this estate and be your boss for six months, and you'll agree to be a full-time maid in this mansion during that period. You'll surrender all veto power over my decisions, so you'll have to obey all of my orders during the contract period. You won't be allowed to call a time-out, or pick and choose which chores you want to do. You'll also have to dress in a maid's uniform every day that you're on duty, which will be six days each week, and you'll be required to live in the servant's quarters, just like the other maids. When you're off duty, you'll be restricted to your quarters and the staff kitchen, unless you have a meeting in my office. The rest of the mansion will be off limits to you unless you're working. Aside from myself and your attorney, no one else will know who you really are and that you own this estate. As far as everyone else is concerned, you'll be a paid domestic servant. We'll probably need to assign you a new work name to keep your true identity a secret." "But Ms. Rockwell, we already have five staff members who know that I'm the owner." "They'll have to be dismissed. I'll hire a completely new staff, and they'll all assume that you were my first hire. The staff has to believe that you're merely a maid for this to work." "But I can't just fire everyone! They're career employees; and besides, they've been so nice to me!" "Don't forget that you're a billionaire," countered Ms. Rockwell. "You can afford to offer all five of them severance packages that will make them wealthy. They'll never have to work again." Candice's face lit up. "Oh... yeah, that's right." Ms. Rockwell laughed out loud at Candice's facial expression upon remembering her new financial status. "You're such an adorable little maid! I can't wait to have you obeying me under contract." Candice joined in, giggling at herself. "I'm still not used to being rich." "It's understandable," replied Ms. Rockwell, in a comforting tone. They smiled at each other as the laughter died down. "For now, I realize that you're just obeying me because you enjoy this, and because we're alone. I must admit, I haven't enjoyed myself this much in a long time. But once we enter a contractual agreement, I'll be rather strict with you. You won't be role playing as a maid; you'll be an actual working maid. You'll receive a paycheck from your own estate for your services as a domestic. On your income tax form, you'll report your occupation as 'maid.' For six months, that will be your life, and I'll be riding you hard." Candice still was standing at attention, shuffling through the pages of the draft as she continued to scan over them. "Why six months, Ms. Rockwell?" "We can adjust that, if you prefer. My thinking is that three months might work, but I doubt that will be long enough to make you take things seriously. On the other hand, I think a full year will be too much of a commitment for the first contract. You need to be legally locked in for long enough to appreciate what it means to be a real maid, but for a short enough period to be able to endure it if you decide that you've made a mistake." "It seems like you've thought about this a lot over the past few days." "Aside from my duties, it's all I've thought about this week. Anyway, if either of us breaks the contract, the financial penalties will be severe, and enforceable in court. It has to be that way, or else we're just playing a game. But as I stated earlier, I'm not here to scam you. I don't want you to break the contract and have to pay out. Even if you decide that you hate being a real maid, or hate being under my authority, six months should be a period that you can tolerate, and you might even learn from the experience. I won't let you go any longer than that for now. If you're more comfortable with three or four months, that's fine, but I won't go any shorter than three months, because that would be a waste of my own time. Of course, if we mutually agree to prematurely terminate the contract, we can do so at any time, but don't count on me letting you out of it early." "I see that you included an emergency clause for health issues or family situations." "Right. I want us to keep things safe, sane, and consensual, as the mantra goes. If any legitimate emergency comes up for either of us, then the contract is terminated, or at least suspended, depending on the situation. After all, this initial contract is an experiment, to find out how we both respond to our agreed roles. We can always start over, or continue from where we left off, after any emergencies have been dealt with. Also, if your estate is sued for any reason, we can put the contract on hold. I won't have you showing up in court wearing an apron." Both ladies laughed, and Ms. Rockwell leaned back in her executive chair. "Well, Candice, I suppose you're eager to get back to your exciting mopping, so I'll dismiss you. Just let me know when you've had enough time, and we'll schedule a more serious meeting, as equals, to discuss both of our immediate futures." "Yes, ma'am!" acknowledged Candice, as she curtsied. She then formally turned and exited Ms. Rockwell's office, softly closing the door behind her. As she clutched the printout and walked downstairs, the reality of the conversation began to sink in. Ms. Rockwell had recognized both her maid fetish and her submissive nature, which simultaneously disturbed and excited her. Candice hoped that others hadn't reached the same conclusions about her, and that it was only Ms. Rockwell's own BDSM tendencies and experience that allowed her sniff out Candice's maid fetish. For the rest of the day, Candice found it nearly impossible to focus on her housework, but she somehow managed to finish all of her scheduled chores. With a quick apology to the cook, she skipped dinner and ran upstairs to her vast master bedroom. After a quick shower, she put her hair into a ponytail, slipped on a silk nightgown, and situated herself into the middle of her bed with her laptop. Any fatigue that she had felt from working all day had disappeared, and she was far too excited to think about sleep. Candice read and re-read the contract, making notes in some places and changes in others. Sitting up to stretch, she glanced at the clock to discover that four hours had passed. She slid off of the bed and slowly walked around the bedroom, stretching her legs. Feeling thirsty, she headed downstairs to the kitchen, in her bare feet and without a robe. She poured herself a large glass of iced tea and began roaming the halls of her mansion. In the silence and solitude of late night, and with minimal lighting, the mansion seemed even larger to Candice. She wandered into the study and climbed onto a leather sofa, tucking her legs under her. She stared out a large window at the crescent moon, sipping her tea. Candice loved this mansion, and she was starting to accept the fact that it was hers. "That window is mine, this sofa is mine, even this tea is mine," she giggled to herself as she gulped that last of it. "I can do whatever I want, now. Why can't I be my own maid, if it makes me happy?" Candice silently crept back to the kitchen to refill her glass, then tiptoed upstairs to her bedroom. Locking the door behind her, she surveyed the room, muttering to herself. "Thing is, do I really want to give up this bedroom for six whole months? Do I really enjoy being a maid that much? I could just keep doing what I'm doing, and give Ms. Rockwell her severance pay. Anyone who doesn't care for that arrangement knows where the front door is." Hearing herself say "Ms. Rockwell" brought back the erotic chill that she had felt earlier. She sat aside her glass and picked up the maid headpiece that she had worn all day. Standing before a full-length mirror, she carefully tucked it into her hair. "Yes, Ms. Rockwell. No, Ms. Rockwell. I'm sorry, Ms. Rockwell. Please forgive me, Ms. Rockwell. It won't happen again, Ms. Rockwell." She bent over, lifting her nightgown to expose her panties, looking back at her butt in the mirror. "I'm sorry I've been such a klutzy little maid, Ms. Rockwell. Please don't spank me too hard, Ms. Rockwell. I promise I'll be a good girl, Ms. Rockwell." Within seconds, Candice was masturbating on the floor at the foot of her bed... no vibrator, no butt plug; just her hands and her imagination. In her fantasy, she was bent over Ms. Rockwell's desk, her hands cuffed behind her back and her panties around her ankles, as the boss lady laid into her soft flesh with a large wooden paddle. With each smack of the paddle, Candice squealed into the pacifier that had been thrust into her mouth. Ms. Rockwell's strokes came harder and faster, until Candice finally erupted for what seemed like a full minute of orgasmic bliss. For several minutes, she remained on the floor with her eyes closed, before snapping back to reality. She saw her image in the mirror, lying in the floor with her hands and panties completely soaked. Half embarrassed and half amused at herself, she managed to reach the bathroom without leaving any evidence on the carpet. As she finished washing herself, fatigue finally caught up with her, and she crawled into bed. "Six months," thought Candice. "What will it feel like, actually being trapped in servitude for six months? I'm seriously considering signing away my freedom for half a year... being stuck as a maid and having to take orders from Ms. Rockwell... who's going to go out of her way to be a slave driver. Legally bound, by contract... and allowing my boss to spank me if I screw up." With those thoughts repeatedly swirling in her mind, Candice eventually fell asleep. Chapter 9 - Consultation "Ah, Miss Parker, good to see you again! Please, come back to my office." Mr. Adams shook his client's hand and led her back to an office that rivaled Ms. Rockwell's, although his had a much more modern aesthetic. "Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?" "Oh, thank you. Just a glass of ice water, please." "Certainly." Mr. Adams prepared two glasses of ice water. He never drank anything alcoholic while at work, but he always had coffee, tea, soft drinks, and a variety of fruit juices available for his clients. "Would you care for a slice of lemon?" "No, thank you. Plain will be fine," smiled Candice. "There we are." After personally serving water to his wealthiest individual client, Mr. Adams returned to sit behind his desk. "So, you mentioned that you have something important to discuss?" "Yes, important and perhaps a bit... unusual." "Indeed? Well, I've cleared my entire afternoon, so I'm at your disposal." "Thank you." Candice placed her glass on the end table, and paused. She took a deep breath before saying what she knew could never be retracted, once spoken. This man was her attorney, but it still was a difficult subject for Candice to discuss. It was so difficult that she had to practice her speech in front of a mirror several times before this meeting. "Mr. Adams, that briefcase, which you delivered two weeks after I had moved into the mansion, contained several letters that Mr. Simmons had written to me. He explained the reasons why he left his estate to me, and exactly how much he disclosed about me to you and Mrs. Leung. As you know, I'm transsexual. That's irrelevant to my purpose for being here, but I'm glad that Mr. Simmons told you beforehand. That's something I think you should know, especially now that you're my legal counsel. What Mr. Simmons didn't tell you is that I'm kinky. I realize that you can't confirm or deny anything that your former client shared with you, but I'm in a position to say what you can't. Mr. Simmons let me know that he confided in you about the lifestyle that he and his wife led. He trusted you enough to disclose that aspect of his life, and it makes sense that you would need to be aware of that, in the event of some unforeseen emergency. Likewise, I want you to be aware that I have similar proclivities, just in case an awkward situation arises. Not only do I want avoid catching you off guard, but I also need your advice regarding a... potentially delicate situation that calls for the highest discretion." Mr. Adams sat back in his chair. "That's true, I can't confirm what you just said about another client, but I do appreciate your confidence in me and my firm. What I can say, is that it's not unheard of for clients to have alternative lifestyles, for lack of a better term. While that's normally none of my business, there have been situations in which clients needed their attorneys to know, for their own protection. I can assure you that this firm, and I personally, will protect your legal interests with the utmost discretion." "That's very reassuring. As you can tell, I'm a bit nervous talking about this, but I have to run something by you. It will be a contract that I intend to enter. But first, I need to explain the situation, so that you'll have context." Candice disclosed everything: her submissive tendencies, her talks with Mr. Simmons, her real reason for being dressed as a maid when he delivered the briefcase, and her plans with Ms. Rockwell. She spared no details, and by the time she finished, Mr. Adams felt more like a psychologist listening to a patient than an attorney listening to a client. Mr. Adams looked directly into his client's eyes and shook his head. "Don't." "Don't?" "Don't enter such a contract. That's my advice, as your attorney." "But Mr. Adams, you haven't even seen the draft." "Yes I have, with other clients. If I may be both candid and blunt, Miss Parker, your situation, while not an everyday occurrence, is not as uncommon as you might think. I fully understand that your submissive tendencies compel you. You very strongly desire to lock yourself into a term of service, via a legally binding contract, which instantly turns that fantasy into reality. It creates a rush of excitement that's very appealing to a lifestyle submissive. I get that. However, some fantasies are better left as such. There's no logical reason to legally obligate yourself. You own the estate. You can wear whatever you want, and you can scrub, mop, and vacuum to your heart's content. You don't need a contract, and you don't need Ms. Rockwell's, or anyone else's, permission to be a maid in your own home." Candice looked dejected. After a few seconds, she opened her mouth to say something, but she was cut off. "Don't!" repeated Mr. Adams. "There's nothing you can say to get me to agree that this is in your best interest." "Do you think Ms. Rockwell is trying to scam me?" "That's beside the point, but it's a very real possibility. As a wealthy woman, you'll always be an attractive target. As a young, overnight billionaire, you're also considered an easy mark by anyone who's heard of you. I'm offering no judgment on Ms. Rockwell personally; I'm speaking strictly from a legal and practical perspective, regardless of the identity of the other party to such a ridiculous and potentially dangerous contract." "All valid points. But, suppose I decide to do it anyway?" Mr. Adams sighed. "Then I'd insist on going over every single word of the contract with you. I'd also insist that you allow me to run a full background check on Veronica Maxine Rockwell. I realize that Hank is very thorough in vetting candidates for these jobs, but I know a few people he doesn't know." Chapter 10 - Female Bondage... I Mean Binding... No, Uh, Bonding, Yes, Bonding, That's What I Meant... Female Bonding On the following Sunday, the two ladies met. The entire staff had been given a mandatory day off, with pay, to give the ladies plenty of privacy. "...and that's why I'm more comfortable with three months, as opposed to the full six." Candice sipped from her tea cup, waiting for Ms. Rockwell's reaction. "That's perfectly reasonable, I suppose. I have to remind myself that you've never been in a serious D/s relationship, so perhaps six months was a bit ambitious on my part." "To be honest, Mr. Adams insisted on that change. The more I thought about it though, the more I agreed with him." The two ladies were casually dressed, lounging in a small reception parlor near Ms. Rockwell's office, both with their laptop computers. Ms. Rockwell was lying back on a leather sofa, with her legs crossed and slowly bobbing one of her feet up and down. It was the first time Candice had seen her Gem wearing slacks, and she couldn't help but dwell on how tastefully sexy she looked in them. Ms. Rockwell also wore a tight-fitting sleeveless top with a high neckline and a turned-up collar, giving off a retro 1950s vibe. Despite the casual nature of the meeting, she still wore high heels, although today's sandals were mere three inch [7.6cm] sling-back wedges. As always, her fingernails and toenails were painted the same color, but darker today than usual. She wore her makeup lighter than she normally wore when on duty, but it still was flawlessly applied, and her hair was in an updo, fully showing off her neck and handsome face. Candice struggled to avoid staring at the woman, and she felt herself becoming increasingly attracted to her, both physically and psychologically. Ms. Rockwell continued... "I like this part you added about having to address me as 'Mistress' or 'Mistress Rockwell' at all times. Of course, any new hires would have to address me the same way for consistency's sake. Are you comfortable requiring that of all your new employees?" The forty-something femme fatale peeped over the top of her computer screen and seductively raised her eyebrows at her twenty- something soon-to-be servant. "Very comfortable! The thought of hearing 'Yes, Mistress,' 'No, Mistress,' 'Of course, Mistress' from a bunch of maids all day, every day, is enough of a turn-on; but knowing that I'll be one of them will be an erotic dream come true." Candice instantly blushed at hearing herself say that out loud. Ms. Rockwell smiled and displayed her gleaming, white teeth with a half-open mouth, just on the verge of laughing. "No need to bashful around me, girl. Actually, I'm glad to hear the enthusiasm in your voice. Earlier today, there were moments when you seemed scared, as though you wanted to back out." "I know... I'm sorry if I seem to be going back and forth on this, but I promise you that I'm fully committed. I'm almost as excited by this as I was when I learned that I had inherited this estate. I admit that there's still some fear, but that's mainly because I've been putting off telling you something." "Oh? This sounds mysteriously interesting... or maybe interestingly mysterious." Ms. Rockwell gracefully sat her laptop on the sofa and stood up. "In either case, I'll need a refill. Maybe you need some wine yourself?" As Ms. Rockwell walked across the room to toward the wine table, Candice's eyes followed, and she thought, "So THAT'S what 'sashay' means! Wow!" It took all of Candice's inner strength to pry her gaze away from her Gem's perfect posterior. "No, thank you. I'll stick with tea. I have practically zero tolerance for alcohol, and I need to keep my head clear for all of this." "Understood, girl." The statuesque woman returned with a full glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. She passed by the sofa, poured herself into a studded leather chair nearer to Candice, slid off her sandals, and placed her bare feet on a matching ottoman. A stray, afternoon sunbeam from a nearby window danced across her nail polish, and Candice immediately imagined herself on her knees, sucking her Mistress' toes and licking her gorgeous feet, in total submission. This time, she failed to snap herself out of her sub-trance, and Ms. Rockwell had to raise her voice to get Candice's attention. "Candice? Candice Parker!" "Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Rockwell... I..." "Don't apologize, girl. But you need to get on with telling me this big secret or start kissing my feet, one of the two. I'm on my second bottle of wine, so I'm fine with either, sweetie." On their way to the wine glass, Ms. Rockwell's lips flashed a devious grin. Again, Candice blushed. Had she accepted a single glass of wine, she'd be on her knees right now. But, despite the casual mood, this was a business meeting, and her warm shou pu'er tea kept her mind clear enough to regain its focus. "Before we enter this agreement, you need to know something about me. My attorney and accountant know, but no one else does. Well, my family does, but we're not speaking; and my physician knows, of course. But none of the mansion staff know." Candice paused and sighed. "It's just difficult, because it's not the kind of thing I want everyone to know." "Candice... do you have... a serious health problem?" "Oh, no, well, not like that. I'm... I'm male-to-female transsexual. I was born a boy." "You're kidding me?! No, you're not kidding me!" Candice shook her head. "No, it's true. I'm sorry. I probably never would've needed to tell you, but under the circumstances, I..." "Oh, thank God!" Ms. Rockwell downed the remainder of her wine. "It all makes sense now!" Candice grew worried and tilted her head like a confused puppy. "No, no, sweetie, please don't get the wrong idea. You've said nothing wrong, and I have nothing against lesbians or trannies, but I do have a confession to make. Ever since I figured out that you're submissive, I've been attracted to you. It didn't make sense, because I'm straight. I couldn't understand why after all these years, I suddenly was attracted to a woman. But now that I know you're biologically male, my attraction to you makes perfect sense! I thought I was going through a mid-life crisis or something!" Before today, Candice hadn't seen Ms. Rockwell this animated. It was akin to catching a Vulcan expressing emotion. Ms. Rockwell returned to the wine table, although this time her movement was more along the lines of a celebratory march than a sashay. On her way back, she pulled Candice by the arm over to the sofa, and sat facing her for some serious grilling. "So, tell me, what have you had done? Hormone therapy? SRS? Tell me everything!" "Well, I haven't had any surgery because I couldn't afford it until recently, but I've been taking female hormones and androgen blockers for several years." Candice was impressed that Ms. Rockwell seemed familiar with trans terminology. Obviously, the woman's past experience with alternative lifestyles must have exposed her to many things, thought Candice. "Amazing! Even now that I know, I still can't see any maleness in you. I never would've guessed, and my radar usually is accurate about these things. Sweetie, you're as girly-girl as they come!" "Um, thank you, I guess?" Ms. Rockwell smiled and emptied her glass again. Her hard edge had softened a bit, and she had let her guard down just enough to seem human. She started to behave more like a fun-loving woman and less like a guarded, sophisticated lady, but she never lost her composure. "Well, now that you can afford anything you want, do you want SRS?" "Actually, since moving in here, I really haven't thought about it much. I've been overwhelmed with all of the recent changes in my life." "You're a virgin; aren't you, Candice?" Candice stared down at the reflection of the elder woman's deep red fingernails on the wine glass. Sober, professional Ms. Rockwell was intimidating enough, but the buzzed version was even more direct. "Yes, ma'am." "Not surprising." Feeling even more inferior than usual, Candice looked down at the floor. "Oh, sweetie, I'm not teasing you." Ms. Rockwell held Candice's chin and lifted her head up to face her. "Your virginity is something very special. Now that you're a grown woman, it will be much more meaningful when you finally surrender it to someone. So, are you into men, women, both, or neither?" Her chin still being held, Candice couldn't turn away without being rude. "Honestly, Ms. Rockwell, I haven't had time to give that much thought, either. I don't even have any regular friends." "Please, you may call me Mistress when we're alone. You might as well start practicing. Besides, calling me 'Ms. Rockwell' seems a bit distant, now that we're sharing so much. I think we're done discussing business for now, anyway. Here, take my glass." Candice held the glass, staring at the lipstick imprint that had been left on the rim. Leaving her glass in Candice's hands, Mistress Rockwell made another trip to the wine table, where she procured a second glass and emptied the open bottle into it. She opened a third bottle of wine and carried it back to the sofa, where she filled Candice's glass. Candice took a sip, intentionally placing her lips on Ms. Rockwell's lipstick traces. "Candy girl, you and your Mistress are going to get to know each other better. I'm going to tell you all about my life while you get a good buzz going, and then you're going to tell me all about Candy. Consider this your initiation into the female ritual known as 'girl talk'." Candice absolutely hated it when anyone else called her 'Candy,' but hearing that name spoken in her Mistress' voice had a comforting effect. The two ladies talked well into the evening, and opened three more bottles. They cried together when discussing the death of Mistress' fianc?, and Candy being rejected by her family. They laughed at some of Mistress' lighter military stories, and a few of Candy's awkward transsexual situations. Mistress was touched by Candy's recollections of Mr. Simmons, and she showed sincere compassion as Candy described how lost she's been feeling while trying to adjust to all of the changes she'd experienced in such a short period. They hugged several times, exchanged a few platonic thigh pats, and at one point, when Candy was crying about her family, Mistress kissed Candy on the forehead and held her close, as though Candy were her little sister. The two bonded faster than either expected, and it wasn't just because of the wine. Eventually, Candice nodded off in Ms. Rockwell's arms, who now had the obligation of getting her employer upstairs. "Come on, sweetie; stand up. We can't let the staff find you here tomorrow morning, certainly not in this condition." Ms. Rockwell supported the half-awake girl, practically carrying her upstairs to her bedroom. She sat Candice on the bed and began to undress her. The visual confirmation of Candice's transsexual status brought a smile to the woman's face. "Aw, how adorable you are!" she whispered. Although fully intact, the effects of the hormone therapy on Candice's male genitalia, not to mention her perky breasts, were obvious. "Let's find a pretty gown for this pretty girl." Ms. Rockwell searched the nearest dresser and found a suitably frilly nightgown. She pulled it over the girl's head and tucked her into bed, again kissing her forehead before turning out the lights and leaving Candice to her dreams.