The Job (3)

He watched. She felt it, sometimes. But it felt–and how stupid did this sound–protective. He was definitely checking her work, but with an openhandedness that was relaxing. She set her own pace, coming in early most mornings. She began to get a feel for the building; each place had its own resonance. She eventually found all the light switches, knew which doors would swing back fast and try to slap the vacuum out of her hands, and which step creaked the loudest in the back hallway on the 2nd floor.

So too she began to feel the rhythms of the place. By the end of the third week, she had met many of the ‘dominants’. She knew a little bit about female ones from tv shows, which wasn’t the best forum for facts, but at least gave her some knowledge. Of male dominants she’d been mostly unaware, except for that whole ‘gray’ book which had come out a few summers ago. According to both media forms, they were all mysterious and dark. With that lack of information, she had no idea what one would be like in person.  So far she’d met a few of each gender, and it had been an experience. For one thing, they almost unilaterally had a wicked sense of humor. All of them -male or female- often had a terseness in their manner of speaking. Or maybe “terse” wasn’t the right word, more, that they were very intense, very direct. They were often very kind, and their busy eyes missed nothing. Her contact with them was, by virtue of her early schedule, limited.

A few times she’d shrugged off offers to “play”–as if play could be defined by paddles and whips. Shaking her head as she vacuumed, she thought about Roderick, the latest dominant to proposition her. He certainly had a magnetic personality; intense, focused. She’d actually seen him do a scene one afternoon as she was finishing up for the day. A leggy blonde with a really big ass had been spread over that pommel horse, her wrists tied together and secured to a large bolt in the floor. Mandy had stopped, transfixed. She thought about all those “women in jeopardy” movies that she’d enjoyed as a teen. It was playing out in real-time right in front of her. And then the man had stepped forward, the many-tailed whip swinging like the tail of a horse. The blonde jolted as the leather lines had landed on her skin, and Mandy gasped at the sound it made. The woman was moaning, red stripes appearing on her pale bottom.

“She is enjoying this, not being tortured.”

She’d about jumped out of her skin then, having her boss appear magically, silently, beside her.

“She’s … crying…”

“Well, sure. She’s being hit with a very painful instrument. But it’s part of her ‘thing’. People come here, Mandy, to explore. Some kinks may look ‘horrible’ to someone not used to them, but I assure you, we are all about getting consent first.”

“She wanted someone to beat her with that…that thing?”

“The flogger is an interesting toy. And she wanted Sir Roderick to do it as he is a master at that particular toy.”

“A doll is a toy. A truck is a toy. That–that’s a weapon.”

“In this setting it is a toy. If you went over there right now and put your fingers against her cunt, you would find her dripping wet. She gets off on this. It’s her thing. It helps her de-stress from her day-to-day life.”

Mandy blushed at the crude word. She watched for a moment more, then excused herself to finish the work on the main floor. It was while she was cleaning the men’s room on the second floor that she met Sir Roderick face-to-face. She backed out of the stall she’d just cleaned, and there he was, coming through the door.

“Well, if it isn’t my little voyeur.”

” I’m not. I was walking through and there you were.”

She’d adopted a no-nonsense, brisk tone when brushing off club members. It didn’t always work, but it usually deflected some attention.

“It’s my job to be here in the mornings, and your session wasn’t on the calendar; sorry if you feel that I interrupted.”

“On the contrary, I was intrigued by your interest. And then you scurried away…”

“On the contrary. I was going back to my job, which I need to continue doing. I don’t have free time to fritter away, sorry.”

He stood for a moment, just looking at her, with that amused smile on his face. It made her nervous, which made her mad.

“Excuse me. I need to go. And obviously, so do you or you wouldn’t be in the men’s room.”

Sliding past him, she heard him laugh as the door closed between them.


And now here it was, a full week after that first embarrassing meeting and he was here again, solo this time. She didn’t see any sub kneeling at his feet, hadn’t seen anyone in the main room. Jakob was talking to him in the corner, the two men sitting and drinking coffee at 930 in the morning, for crissakes. Not that she could begrudge her boss time to sit and have morning coffee, it was just…awkward.

And the awkward stuff needed to be faced. With a deep sigh she took up her tool bucket and walked through the room.

“Morning Boss, morning Roderick.”

And she was through the room and in the back hallway. Breathing a sigh of relief, she pelted up the steps to the third floor. It was easiest to start at the top and work her way down. Already the work had settled into a comfortable routine. Slipping her headphone buds into her ears, she put on her music and began to clean. Thirty minutes later she jogged downstairs,  slipped her cleaning bucket into the first room, then dashed upstairs to sweep them. Backing her way down, a step at at time, she was humming under her breath until she fetched up hard against a solid object. A solid, warm, man-type of object. With a small shriek of surprise, she whipped around, taking in the amused smile on Roderick’s face.

“That was really stupid,” she fumed, tugging out one earpiece. “I could have hit you with my broom.”

“Oh my, that’s a terrifying scenario,” he replied, his lips twitching.

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m ever so glad you’re amused.”

“Good, then perhaps you’ll consent to play with me sometime.”

“Sure! Perhaps when Hell freezes over!” 

Shoving past him, she muttered imprecations under her breath, then drew up short as she saw Jakob standing near the door.

“What?” she growled.

“Nothing, calm down little one. I did tell you that she would not be responsive, friend.” This to Roderick.

“So you did. Perhaps another time, then,” he spoke to her, giving her a look that she was sure wet the panties of all those little subbie girls who swooned over him night after night.

“Or perhaps not. You’re not my type. I’m not interested. Like–at all. Sorry. Now, I have to go scrub some toilets.”

Turning on her heel she left the dirt pile where it was. She’d get back to it once the other pile of…men…left.


“You have to expect that the members here will be intrigued by you. You’re a pure vanilla girl and some will find that–a challenge.”

Jakob handed half of  his sandwich to her.

“It’s stupid. I’m not a challenge. I’m a fucking janitor. Not a side of beef. Not a…submissive. NOT interested in that shit.”

Waving her hand to encompass the playroom on the other side of the building, she bit into her half of the sandwich. If he thought that she protested overmuch, he kept that strictly to himself.




8 thoughts on “The Job (3)

  1. Pingback: The Job (4) | Vanillamom's Blog

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