Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Living The Dicestyle
Author: anonymouse
Part: 2
Summary: A young woman who struggles to pay her rent plays a dice game
of chance with her landlord neighbor.  His domination and control of her
begins slowly as he lures her ever more deeply into his trap.
Keywords: MF, slow



   LIVING THE DICESTYLE - Chapter Two

   The dice hit the floor silently and then shot off like a bullet across
the carpet.  Mr.  Adementos quickly lifted his foot out of the way and the
dice rolled past him and disappeared under a sofa.  A brief moment followed
during which we both just looked at each other.  My fate still hung in the
balance and yet I laughed; an uncontrollable fit of giggles that brought
tears to my eyes.  Mr.  Adementos also laughed.

   "Well then," he said.  "What should we do now?"

   I shrugged.  "What should we do?"

   Mr.  Adementos remained silent for a long moment and then said, "I'll
tell you what; let's leave the dice where it is for now and assume it's
either a three or a four.  You carry out your duties barefoot today and
later this afternoon we'll move the sofa and see what might have been. 
What do you say?"

   "Yes!" I replied enthusiastically.  "Can I?"

   "Not so fast," he said.  "That's all well and good for you but what's in
it for me?"

   I blinked at him.  "What do you mean?"

   "I mean, what if it's a six under there?  I could be really missing out
on this deal, don't you think?"

   "I suppose so," I reluctantly agreed but wasn't sure how to remedy that.
"What do you propose we do about it?"

   "The simplest solution would be to move the sofa right now.  Then we'd
both be put out of our suspense.  Or..."

   "Or what?" I asked.

   "Or; I could roll another dice," Mr.  Adementos said.  He reached into
his pocket and pulled out another dice.

   "But, you just said we could assume the one under the sofa is either a
three or a four; and I agreed," I said, not to strongly object but simply
to try and fathom Mr.  Adementos's thoughts.

   "You didn't let me finish," he replied.  A sly grin appeared on his
face. "If we assume it's either a three or a four, you do your duties
barefoot for me today.  I'll roll another dice now and that number will be
the number of days you'll serve me in whatever costume is dictated by the
dice under the sofa when we retrieve it later today.  Agreed?"

   I gently nibbled my lower lip while I thought about Mr.  Adementos's
proposition.

   "Keep in mind," he added, "That you still have a four in six chance of
serving me in your clothes."

   There was something about the way he said *serving* that slightly
unnerved me but I agreed.  "OK," I said.  "Roll the dice."

   "I'll try not to send this one under the sofa," Mr.  Adementos chuckled.
He shook the dice in his hand, crouched down slightly, and then rolled the
dice across the carpet.  "Four!"

   I leaned over and confirmed the dice result was a *four*.

   "Four days," Mr.  Adementos smiled.

   "Yes," I nodded.

   "Well then; it's time you were barefoot."

   "Yes," I intoned quietly.

   -=0=

   When I emerged from the bathroom I was barefoot as per the agreement I
had with Mr.  Adementos.  Ordinarily I wouldn't have given a thought to
being barefoot but under the circumstances it made me tingle with a
strange, almost perverse, delight.  This sensation intensified once I
returned to stand in Mr.  Adementos's living room.  He looked down at my
feet to see I was barefoot but it clearly wasn't any casual observation. 
He seemed to stare at them; ogle them just as a man might stare at my
breasts or butt.

   "I'm barefoot," I said as if to state the obvious.

   "Yes, I can see that," Mr.  Adementos said.  His gaze lingered a moment
longer and then he looked me directly in the eye and said, "Very nice!"

   "Well, what do you want me to do first?" I asked.

   "Be careful not to ask leading questions like that, Ingrid," he laughed.

   I blushed and tried to laugh with him as if I thought it really was a
joke and nothing more.

   "You can make me a cup of coffee," Mr.  Adementos said in a less jocular
tone of voice.  "While you're doing that I'll get the list of your duties
for today.  Make one for yourself as well."

   We sat at the dining table to drink our coffees and go over my list of
duties.  They appeared to all be straightforward cleaning tasks: kitchen
and bathroom first, then vacuum the whole apartment.

   "It's not too much for your first day, is it?" Mr.  Adementos asked as I
read through the list.

   "No, it should only take a few hours," I replied.

   Mr.  Adementos left his coffee half finished and stood up from the
table. "Alright then, I'll leave you to it.  I have some office work to do
and will be in my den if you need me."

   "OK," I replied absently; my thoughts still engaged on the tasks ahead.

   -=0=

   Later in the morning when I was cleaning the bathroom, Mr.  Adementos's
voice behind startled me.

   "Do you mind if I get a photograph of this?" he asked.

   Before I could say one way or the other he snapped several pictures of
me on my knees leaning over the side his bathtub to scrub the inside of it.
I wiped my disheveled fringe of hair from my eyes with the back of my wrist
and laughed.  "Why on earth would you want a photo of me cleaning your
bathtub?"

   "Because I think it's very erotic, Ingrid," Mr.  Adementos said
casually; but seriously.

   His response surprised me.  I'd never thought cleaning could be
considered *erotic* in any sense of the word but his suggestion seemed to
make it immediately so.  "What's so erotic about it?"

   "Well, just look at you," he said; barefoot and kneeling.  There are
some men - me, for example - who think that's very erotic."

   I didn't know how to reply.  All I could think was the only way to reach
into the bathtub to clean it was to be on my knees.  There was simply no
other way the task could be comfortably completed.  I held up my hands,
made a silly face at the camera, and hoped the very *un-erotic* sight of my
rubber gloves and the scouring pad I held might deflate some of the arousal
I sensed affected Mr.  Adementos.

   He took one more photo and then turned to leave.  "Back to work," he
said as he left the bathroom.

   It took considerably longer to clean the bathroom than I anticipated. 
The hand basin and bathtub weren't dirty with soap scum; only brown rust
stains that refused to budge.  The walls also proved especially
problematic. The paint on the walls was very old and brittle and every
place I wiped removed handfuls of it.  This created *more* mess than
there'd been when I started!

   -=0=

   Mr.  Adementos's remark earlier in the morning of me as his *serving
wench* came sharply into focus at lunchtime.  He emerged from his den
shortly before noon and said he would prepare lunch while it was my task to
ensure his wine glass remained full.  We chatted idly about nothing in
particular as he prepared a fresh green garden salad on two plates.  He
cooked a small cut of steak for himself and was amused when I declined the
same.

   I explained I used to eat meat but gave it up years ago; not for any
philosophical reason but simply that I don't like the taste.  This led to a
series of playful innuendos from Mr.  Adementos that I pretended not to get
but which made me blush nonetheless.  Finally, right before he asked me to
take the plates to the table, he removed a small clear glass jar from the
refrigerator and emptied its contents onto my salad.

   "What's that?" I asked.

   "Salad dressing," he replied; "It' my own secret recipe."

   It appeared to be a mayonnaise of sorts only its color was much paler
and its consistency more like egg white.

   "Aren't you having any?" I asked as Mr.  Adementos emptied the entire
contents of the small jar onto my salad.

   "That's all I have at the moment and it's special so; you have it all.
Besides, I can always make plenty more later," he said.

   "If you're sure?" I asked, concerned he might regard me as greedy.

   Mr.  Adementos then looked directly into my eyes and gave me a very
curious look.  "I'm sure," he said.

   -=0=

   www.asstr.org/~anonymouse/index.htm

   (C)2000 - 2011 bonkgirl (All Rights Reserved)
www.fetishcreatives.com/bonkgirl