textfiles/sex/EROTICA/O/over.txt

Over
by deirdre, 1/22/95

I guess I expected a fancy place but I was still amazed.  I looked out the 
limousine windows at trees and more trees--a veritable forest on both 
sides of the road.  We had just passed through iron gates and I was sure 
we were on the grounds.

The woman was wealthy--that was for certain.  She had flown me all the 
way from NYC in her own private jet.  This was all new to me--I'd never 
experienced anything like it--and all because she liked one of my 
paintings.  I looked ahead out the limousine and at last saw the house.  Or 
castle, or mansion, or chateau, or whatever you call it.  It was beyond 
anything I'd seen before.

The limousine stopped at the front door.  From there I couldn't actually 
tell how large the mansion was--I could see some of it off to the right but 
couldn't see how far back it went.  The chauffeur retrieved my bag, walked 
up to the front door and opened it for me.

The front hall was huge--certainly larger than my apartment or even the 
house I grew up in.  A woman in a maid's outfit approached and took my 
bag from the chauffeur and put it on the floor to the side.  "Hallo" she said 
and I had the impression that she didn't actually speak English.  She was 
pretty.  The chauffeur left and I stood there with the woman.  She just 
stood there, not looking me in the eye, but looking unconcerned.  Or maybe 
she looked a little nervous--I couldn't quite decide.

Double doors to the right opened and I turned to see another woman enter.  
She entered and walked up.  As she approached, she said "Welcome;  Come 
with me."  Her English was perfect and without accent but something still 
told me she was French.  She glanced at the maid who picked up my bag and 
walked out of the room.  She turned and waited for me to follow, then led 
me back through the double doors she had arrived in.

She was wearing a suit--an incredible suit; I knew it was absolutely the 
best.  She was tall and had black hair which hung down to the middle of 
her back and had a slightly severe expression though she was very 
beautiful.  I judged her to be a little older, perhaps thirty five.  We walked 
through another large room and then another.  The rooms were lavishly 
furnished.  More and more rooms and no sign of when they would stop.  It 
vaguely reminded me of walking through an up-scale furniture store or 
perhaps a museum.  We finally emerged into a long corridor.  Its walls 
were plain white and it was large: wide, and very long, and the ceiling was 
high and had skylights.  I'd been glancing at the art work as we passed 
through the rooms and noticed a huge abstract on the right wall of the 
corridor up ahead.  When we passed it I looked up at it and almost
gasped--I'd have sworn that piece was in the hands of a museum.  We just 
walked on, our footsteps echoing up and down the corridor.  The woman 
didn't say anything at all but just kept walking and I followed.  We finally 
turned and walked into a room only to pass through it to another room and 
another.  I couldn't believe how big this mansion was--it was beyond 
comprehension to me.  We had passed a few maids at work along the way 
but hadn't seen anyone else.  These rooms were different from the ones 
we'd passed through earlier--the first rooms had had a traditional feel 
about them and these mostly had lower ceilings, walls painted white and 
more modern furniture--a more stark feeling.

Finally we stopped in a room where a woman was seated on a couch.  The 
room was large but the furniture, a couple of chairs and a couch, were 
gathered in a little circle in the middle around a little coffee table.  One 
wall was completely glass, revealing a very green garden in a little 
courtyard.  The woman looked up at me and smiled.  She had light brown 
wavy hair that fell to her shoulders and wore a white blouse and dark 
skirt.

"Good afternoon, please sit down," she offered and waited until I was 
seated.  I sat in one of the two chairs and the woman who brought me sat 
in the other.  "I am Beatrice Moreau and I will guess that Juliette did not 
introduce herself: she has been my secretary forever.  I am so glad to meet 
you at last."  She was absolutely beautiful and I was so glad to see her--
something about the other woman, Juliette, had made me nervous.  
Beatrice Moreau looked to be about my age, perhaps even a little younger.  
Her voice--she definitely had an accent though her English was perfectly 
clear.  Juliette had picked up a silver teapot and was pouring something, 
tea I suppose, into two cups.  I noticed that Beatrice Moreau already had a 
cup in her hand.  "I hope you had a pleasant trip," she offered.  Juliette 
added cream and sugar to the two cups.  I never have cream or sugar in tea, 
but I didn't mention that.

"Fine, thank you."

"I have been so excited waiting for you, to meet the artist," Beatrice went 
on.  Juliette placed the cup in front of me and took the other one for 
herself.  "As you must know, I adore your painting."

"Thank you," I said, feeling tongue-tied and not very witty.  Juliette was 
holding her cup and saucer in her hand and I realized I was the only one 
who wasn't.  I felt clumsy and wondered if I could manage to pick mine up 
without spilling it.  I did my best.

"I feel that I have found a secret that the world has yet to discover."  
Beatrice's slight French accent mesmerized me, probably preventing me 
from blushing too much at the praise she was giving me.  "You must tell 
me who bought your earlier works.  I will find a way to get them.  Forgive 
me, but are you tired from the journey?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Good, but you let me know when you are feeling weary and Juliette will 
show you to the room.  And I have to know: have you finished another 
painting?"  She was positively glowing.  It was all like a dream and I 
briefly recalled my normal life in my studio.  Juliette just sat there, 
sipping her tea.  I felt I should be too and lifted the cup to my lips.  As 
sweet and milky as it was, it didn't really remind me of tea, but didn't 
bother me as much as I thought it might.  "I assure you that I will pay you 
well for it," she continued.  "Have you visited France before?"

"No Ma'am."

She laughed in response to my answer, "Please call me Beatrice," she 
said, still laughing.  "I apologize; this must all be very strange to you."

"Yes, it is...uh..."

"...Beatrice.  Go ahead and say it, to please me."  She smiled again.  She 
was so beautiful when she smiled.

"...Beatrice."  She smiled again and I felt a little like a circus animal 
doing 
tricks for a reward.  *Say 'Beatrice' for the audience*.

"You will feel comfortable with me before you leave;  I can assure you of 
that," she went on.  Juliette had put down her cup and saucer.  So had 
Beatrice Moreau, I noticed and I put mine down too.  While she was 
speaking Juliette moved the cups onto the silver tray and picked up the 
tray and carried it away.  She left it on a small table that in the corner 
next to the window and returned to her seat.  "It has been a long time 
since I invited an artist here, and I plan to enjoy it.  Are you sure that you 
are not fatigued?"

"No...Beatrice."

"Very well, but I will send you to the room before too much longer.  But 
before then perhaps you can tell me about the piece that you are now 
working on."

I usually don't talk about what I am working on and I thought for a moment 
about whether I should break the rule for Beatrice Moreau.  I was inclined 
to talk, but it struck me that if I did, I'd be changing myself to encourage 
her to buy my paintings.  That made me feel wary, but my thinking was 
interrupted by the sight of a woman entering through the door by the table, 
picking up the tea tray and leaving again, closing the door behind her.

Quiet as the woman had been, I was caught off guard.  I'd stared at her.  It 
was her clothing: she was wearing a plain long dress--the material was 
sheer, like a nightgown's.  And when she'd been in front of the window, it 
was obvious from her silhouette that she was wearing absolutely nothing 
underneath!  I must have sat there for a second with my mouth open, 
wondering if I were remembering correctly.  "You seem intrigued by the 
girl," said Beatrice.  I suddenly felt so embarrassed--but it was so weird 
and had caught me by surprise.  What did Beatrice think of me?  I sat there 
tongue-tied.  "You can have her," she added.

"W... What?"  I stammered.

"I will have her sent to your room.  She is a gift."  I was shocked.  Of all 
the surprises of the day, this one left me feeling the most out-of-it.  What 
did she mean?

"I... I'm not lesbian."

"Then do not make love to her," she said and giggled, "But I will wager 
that before three months are completed that you will try it with her just 
to see what she can do."

"Months?" I said weakly, wondering what she meant.

"You will have her with you every day, always ready and willing, and the 
temptation will simply overwhelm you.  But I will guess that you will 
yield to temptation tonight!"

"Have her?  In New York?"

"Yes, she is yours!  Do you not like her?  I have others..."

"What do you mean *mine*?"

"Your slave, to do what you tell her, naturally."

"Slave?  You must be joking."

"Joking!"  She laughed some more.  "Yes, I like to laugh, but she is your 
slave.  Did you not always wish to have a housemaid?  Or to have a 
roommate who gives you all the money she earns every week?"  Juliette 
just sat there and didn't say anything.

"How can she be my slave?"

"Simple.  You tell her what to do and she obeys."

"I... she's *your* slave?"

"I gave her to *you*."

"You have slaves?"

"Many.  Would you like to see more?  Would you like another? ..."

"But how can you *do* that?  Do you lock them up?"  I didn't know what I 
should be doing.  This conversation was ridiculous in a way and a part of 
me told me I should not be there.  Where could I go?

"Oh no, only when they are naughty.  They like to obey."

"They do?"

"Yes, is that not so, Juliette?"  Juliette gave a little half smile and 
nodded her head ever so slightly.

"Where... do you find them?"

"Anywhere."

"People who *want* to be slaves?"

"Oh, they do not *want* to be until I train them.  That is a little 
unpleasant at first, but then it is all right."

"Train them?"

"Oh yes.  I have Bridgette who is very good with the new slaves.  
Tomorrow I will show you how she does.  Is the girl OK?  Or would you like 
to see some other slaves to choose from?"

"I don't want a slave."

"Of course you do.  Juliette, have Bridgette bring some girls here to show 
our guest.  You may have your choice of all the slaves.  Or any of the girls 
that you see working here.  Did you see one that you like?"  Her smile had 
a wickedness that I hadn't noticed before.

"Listen, I can't do that.  Uh, are the maids slaves?"  I couldn't help 
myself--I wondered what it would be like to own a slave.

"No, but they will be.  Anyone who works for me will eventually be 
trained.  If you choose one, we can begin their training tomorrow."  
Juliette made a noise--the first thing I'd heard from her since she asked 
me to follow her at the front door.  Then she leaned over and talked to 
Beatrice in a low voice, in French.  She kept talking for a while but I 
watched Beatrice and she didn't show by the slightest gesture that anyone 
was talking to her--she just continued looking at me in her friendly way.

Juliette started talking louder and more excitedly, then suddenly stopped 
and the whole room was completely silent.  Beatrice still hadn't taken any 
visible notice of her.  Suddenly Juliette stood up and kicked off her shoes 
and darted out of the room.  It all was so weird, I felt my sanity was 
leaving me.  Beatrice calmly picked up a telephone and said a couple of 
words in French.  Then she put down he receiver and faced me.

"I did not intend to train Juliette for a few more years, but now I have no 
choice.  Would you like Juliette?"

"Juliette?" I answered weakly.  This was too strange.

"She will be ready in about two weeks--no more than three.  Do not worry, 
the unpleasantness is over after the first day--then she will be willing 
even if not yet enthusiastic.  You can use Juliette tomorrow night if you 
like.  You can watch the beginning of the training tomorrow.  Or if you 
wish to be wicked, I can have her brought to you for tonight, *before* the 
training begins."  Her smile looked so sly.  This beautiful woman in front 
of me: talking about slave training!

"No... no thank you."  I tried to think of those slaves: trained until they 
like 
to obey?  What would I do alone in a bedroom with a woman who wanted to 
obey me?

"OK, but tomorrow you will tell me about the girl.  And choose a second 
one too."  I felt almost trapped.  It was the most ridiculous position to be 
in, having a slave pushed on me.  It was all so strange: this wealthy woman 
and these women who loved to obey her.  Slaves.  Juliette being trained.  
"But we digress... we were talking about your art."

"Uh, yes."

"Were you going to tell me about your new painting?  You are shy, are you 
not?  Listen, I have a good idea: I have an art studio that is not used: why 
do you not come here and work just for me?  I will pay you a salary that 
you will like."

I froze, my mind and my heart racing.  This was *Beatrice Moreau* I was 
dealing with.  I chose my words carefully: "I'm very flattered, but... I'm 
afraid I *need* the freedom to choose my own projects."

"I will let you choose them.  So it is settled."

I opened my mouth to protest, but ended up staring at her knowing, 
inviting smile.  She was so beautiful.  That's when I should have spoken up.  
Right then.  But I couldn't manage to say a word.