Kitten
Copyright© 2026 by InSpite
Chapter 2
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 2 - What would you do for enough money to solve all your problems? Hailey Jordan had one last summer to save up for college, and one entirely inappropriate offer that might save her. The man making that offer had a rather unusual philosophy: “You can buy people. You just do it an hour at a time, at a set rate.” This story has a heavy focus on roleplay/pet-play. It's exploring those elements and building relationships fairly slowly and in detail.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Age Gap BiSexual Fiction Petting
I thought I’d given myself an extra 10 minutes to get there.
But I’d also thought it was a 30-minute walk.
In the end, after picking up the pace to a quick hustle, I arrived slightly breathless, with one minute to spare.
The gates looked imposing, with a six-foot-high stone wall stretching off either side of them, but I didn’t have time to be imposed, so pressed the buzzer.
Ten seconds later, a light came on, momentarily blinding as it illuminated me and the road behind me.
A deep male voice calmly said, “Yes?”
“Erm ... I’m Hailey,” I stammered, suddenly sure that he’d have no idea what I was talking about and this was all a setup. “I was told to come here ... about a job...”
I was sure he must have heard my heart hammering in my chest over the intercom, but no reply came.
Instead, with a faint electric buzzing sound, the gates swung open.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself.
Then blushed, realizing that the intercom was probably still on.
Apologizing or saying something else to the intercom seemed like it would be digging a deeper hole, so I walked quickly down the driveway, burying my hands inside the hoodie pockets to hide the fact they were trembling.
Lights lit up either side of me, mapping out the long driveway ahead like a runway.
It made the walk easier.
I seriously doubted many people walked down this driveway, though. The house was still a long way ahead.
After a few steps, my phone bumped against my hand inside the hoodie, reminding me suddenly that I was supposed to delete the texts.
I quickly got to it, breathing a sigh of relief and shoving the phone back into my pocket as I cleared the last one ... and I still had another 30 seconds of walking to go.
I caught sight of Penny’s battered Toyota, parked outside a huge garage just before the main house. She was here, and this – probably – wasn’t all a joke
Relief washed over me.
For about five seconds, until I realized that meant this was all real.
I realized I’d dug my nails into my palms, as I seriously considered bolting.
Until I saw the door open and Penny smiling at me.
Suddenly a whole new wave of anxiety washed over me.
Penny’s red hair was mostly tied back, with a few stray strands framing her face.
The maid uniform showed off her hourglass figure and C cup bust, and its top half was surprisingly respectable; it showed the tops of her breasts, but just a hint, and it had a formal looking ruffled collar and short sleeves.
The bottom half was another matter. The flared frilly skirt was at least six inches too short, barely avoiding showing her underwear off while she was standing straight.
Below it, a gap of smooth skin showed before her stockings began, held in place by straps from a garter belt.
Topping it all off was a little frilly headband and a black ribbon bow tied beneath the collar.
I was certain that when she turned around, I’d be able to see the bottom of her ass ... and if she bent over...
That wasn’t what stopped me in my tracks though.
Penny looked stunning.
I was pretty sure I could pull out my phone, take a picture of Penny right now, and she’d come out looking like a centerfold from one of my brother’s magazines.
Perfect smile, perfect looks, perfect figure, and now a hot outfit.
What the fuck was I doing here in a too small yoga outfit with a fucking tail on the back of it?
My fears of being abducted or attacked vanished, replaced by fears of being rejected and humiliated.
They weren’t as serious, I’ll admit, but they ran much deeper.
“You came!” Penny squealed, running easily despite her heels to hug me. “I’m so fucking glad, and you’re already wearing the outfit? Let’s see.”
Before I could object, Penny had unzipped the hoodie and was shucking it off of me.
This was Penny, a relentless wave of enthusiasm and optimism that somehow destroyed all obstacles in its path. Including my reluctance to be parted with the hoodie.
I hated and loved her in ... mostly equal measure.
“You look fucking hot,” Penny gushed, as always oblivious to the fact that she normally outshone me. “It’s even tighter than last year. He’ll love it.”
“He?” I grabbed onto that word, focusing my anxiety there, as this all started to seem very real.
“Mr. Harrison,” Penny said, quite formally. “He’s waiting for you in the drawing room.”
“The fuck is a drawing room?” I muttered.
“It’s, like, where he meets people.” She gestured me inside, giving me a quick slap on the ass as she walked past. “Sorry, couldn’t resist ... now, follow me, serious faces on for the boss.”
As Penny led me through a huge entrance hall, with staircases winding up both sides, I belatedly realized the hoodie, with its emergency shank, was thrown over Penny’s arm.
’Hey, Pen, can I just grab my anti-rape knife?’ wasn’t really going to work.
The scale of the room I’d entered interrupted that thought, though.
I was pretty sure my whole house would fit inside it without touching the sides.
Everything was dark wood paneling, oil paintings and maroon rugs on dark hardwood floors. Rich and opulent instead of modern or sleek.
I blocked it all out, focusing on calming my nerves and following Penny, whose ass I could indeed see the bottom of.
Penny walked across the room, directly between the staircases and under an overhanging balcony. She knocked on one half of a pair of dark wooden doors, before waiting patiently.
“Come in,” the same deep, calm voice from the intercom called out.
Penny opened the door and called out in a surprisingly mature voice, “Miss Hailey Jordan to see you, Mr. Harrison.”
“Ah, Miss Jordan, please come in and take a seat.” The tone was warm and friendly, despite the formality that I really had no frame of reference for.
Was running away still an option?
I managed to convince my legs to move and walked through the doors.
The room was decorated much like the entrance hall, but with the addition of desks, tables, a bar and several sofas and armchairs.
As I entered, a man stood to greet me, and the sight of him made me forget anything I’d been thinking about saying.
He was dressed formally and immaculately in a fitted black suit with the faintest hint of gold embroidery. Beneath it was a black waistcoat with similar embroidery, and beneath that, a plain black shirt and tie.
The word fitted was doing a lot of work, as the suit was clearly made to measure the man’s broad chest. Even the long suit jacket that came down to midthigh was tapered in to hug his waist, a perfect fit without being too tight.
If I’d seen him from the neck down, I’d have thought it was the body of someone who maybe spent just a little too much time in the gym, but the face short-circuited everything.
Medium length white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard framed strong, masculine features, with just a hint of crow’s feet around his eyes.
The suit, the physique and the face should have jarred together, and he certainly would have looked a little odd walking into Starbucks, but I couldn’t help thinking ... not bad.
I certainly wasn’t into older guys, and I wasn’t desperate like Penny, but he looked like a slightly older Chris Hemsworth or Henry Cavill.
He definitely had that superman build, neat, handsome and powerful-looking, without looking like he took steroids.
God, I kept coming back to his build, and I hadn’t said anything. He was going to think I was a freak.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, offering my hand.
The words came out like a squeak, and I’d never ‘offered my hand’ before in my life, but he took it, his hand engulfing mine to give a quick, powerful squeeze.
“Please take a seat. Would you like tea or any refreshments?” he asked, waiting until I had sat down opposite him before settling himself.
“No,” I answered, before remembering to add, “thank you.”
The sound of the door closing made me jump a little.
Had Penny been waiting to see if we’d needed ‘refreshments’?
And I really should have said yes.
A glass of water might have given my hands something to do other than tremble.
I looked up, realizing he’d been watching me carefully the whole time, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth.
It didn’t help my nerves, but thankfully he started talking.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Jordan. Now, before we begin, I’d like you to read and sign this non-disclosure agreement.” He slid a neat document on expensive looking paper and an even more expensive looking fountain pen over towards me. “Once you’ve signed, I’ll tell you about the role, its requirements and we’ll begin the interview.”
I looked down at the paper in front of me.
Some numbers jumped out. $500,000, $1,000,000, and a lot of legal jargon that made my head spin.
I picked up the pen, contemplating just signing it for a second, then flat out said, “I’m sorry, I don’t really understand what I’m signing here.”
He nodded with a patient smile and explained, “NDAs are usually used to protect sensitive information or secrets. It’s common for wealthy or famous individuals to ask household staff to sign one, to prevent them gossiping about that person or leaking details of their personal affairs.”
He stood, moving smoothly to slip onto the sofa beside me before picking up the pen and using it to point to the amounts. “These are penalties you’d need to pay if you break it but, to be clear, the point is not to get you to pay money. It’s to ensure that you never break it.”
I could smell his aftershave, rich and subtle.
He seemed even bigger up close (he must have been at least 6’3”), and I’d already felt how powerful those hands were, but despite that, his voice was still patient and gentle. “To be very clear, this is a contract to protect my privacy. It doesn’t affect normal legal rights and protections ... it wouldn’t prevent you talking to the police, for example, should you feel the need.”
‘OK,’ I thought to myself. ‘You’re nervous. Penny’s horniness has rubbed off on you. But you’re smart. Read the fucking document and get it together.’
I took a deep breath and scanned the document, actually taking it in this time.
Once I was done, I stretched out a hand. He passed me the pen, and I signed.
“Excellent.” He stood, carefully picking up the document and pen from the table and walking over to a desk with them.
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