Joy learns how to host guests

Cooking wasn’t quite as intense as learning about makeup, but Eileen and her use of the learning aide made sure I got the meal prepared quickly, efficiently, and tastily. Eileen displayed the recipe for me to see and rewarded me with every correct move. The only punishments she gave me were when I tried to sit down for a moment’s rest, when I tried to take my heels off for more comfort, and when I tried to leave the kitchen and find Sterling.

By the time Bradley and Kylan walked in, dinner was almost finished. The cheesy cream of asparagus soup was simmering and ready to eat while the chicken croquettes, honey ginger carrots, and creamed onions and peas would all be done at the same time as the fresh made biscuits. The raspberry chiffon pie was cooling in the fridge and would be ready as soon as dinner was finished. I’d even found a bottle of red and white wine and had them ready.

I could tell my dress was hitting all the right buttons as Kylan couldn’t keep his eyes off my chest and even Bradley kept looking at me, his eyes wandering from my head to my painted toenails. After a quick hug and kiss to both of our guests, initiated by Eileen of course, I had hoped to sit down and talk with them. Not only could I maybe get them to change Sterling’s programing, but I could take a few moments to simply rest my feet. But Eileen was there with her ‘suggestions’.

While I could understand this society’s fascination with women treating their guests well, there didn’t seem any thought given to efficiency. When Eileen brought up the message that I should get Kylan a beverage to drink I turned to Bradley, knowing eventually I’d have to get him something to drink and hoping to knock out two birds with one stone. But before I could do more than open my mouth, let alone ask what he’d like to drink, I could feel my stomach turn and the light shock from my aide. All I could get out was a quiet “Excuse me” before heading into the kitchen and getting Kylan a glass of juice.

The Eileen generated euphoric feeling I got as I set it down on a coaster in front of him was enough to make me genuinely smile. I let out a little “eep” as Sterling walked in and took advantage of my bent over position to give my rear a light slap and a long caress. Turning to address him, he surprised me by pulling me into his arms and giving me another long deep kiss. Evidently displays of affection were fine in front of guests and even their children. When he let go of me and sat down in the ‘command’ chair I started moving to the couch were I’d end up sitting next to Bradley, but Eileen was there to remind me of my next chore.

With a little frustrated sigh, I turn to Bradley and ask “So what can I get you to drink Bradley?”

Bradley leans back in his seat and says comfortably “I’ll take an old fashioned with an extra dash of bitters.”

I smile in reply and turn to Sterling, but as before, Eileen physically reminds me to get Bradley’s drink before waiting on Sterling.

Moving over to the bar I follow Eileens directions. Grabbing a rocks glass I drop a cube of sugar into it. I add four dashes of orange bitters, then splash another dash on as requested. Grabbing out a muddler, I muddle the bitters and sugar into a nice paste before getting the jigger and measuring out and covering the paste with a couple ounces of bourbon. Opening the little freezer at the bar I find a huge cube of perfectly clear ice and gently place that in the glass. I find a long spoon and give it a few gentle stirs, making sure not to crack the ice cube. While keeping my smile in place I can’t stop the frustrated huff of air from my nose as I’m directed to pull out a fresh orange and using a swivel peeler cut a one-inch-wide orange peel for garnish.

While I’m sure the glass would be fine carried the five feet between the mini bar and Bardley’s position on the couch, I follow Eileen’s directions and use a serving tray to bring the glass over to him. After Bradley takes a sip and smiles his satisfaction at me, I’m rewarded with a pleasant buzz in my rear and a dose of endorphins from Eileen. But that’s turned on its ear when I try to ask Sterling what he’d like. The instructions from Eileen are clear… clean up the bar first.

Excusing myself, I move back to the bar and clean everything up. I place the ice tongs, peeler, spoon, jigger, and muddler all on the serving tray and take it into the kitchen. I then go so far as to fill the sink with hot soapy water and give all of the tools, tray included, a thorough washing and drying. I turn to leave, but quickly turn back as my stomach does a flip and follow Eileen’s instructions of cleaning up the soapy sink first. Only when the sink looks like it’s brand new can I take the tools back to the bar and set it back to right, putting the bourbon back, capping the sugar cube dish, and pulling out a fresh rocks glass.

After a brief buzz from my rear, I finally move back to the living room. I glance at the empty seat next to Bradley and actually feel my calves beg me to sit down and rest, but I don’t bother knowing damned well that Eileen will want me to finish my hosting duties before allowing me rest. Turning to Sterling, I keep my Holly Homemaker smile on and ask him what he’d like to drink. His answer is as frustrating as it could possibly be. “You know girl, that old fashioned looks delish. Why don’t you whip me up one too!?”

After giving Sterling his “Of course Mr. Bannon!” happy answer, I repeat the entire process. Rocks glass, cube of sugar, four dashes of bitters, another dash, muddle, bourbon, ice, gentle stir, orange peel garnish, tray, and delivery. With an approving nod from Sterling, I return and again clean up the bar equipment and reset up the bar. After another approving buzz from my rear, I head into the living room and hear Bradley’s punchline to a joke. Playing the good hostess, I make sure to laugh along with everyone else as I smooth out my skirt and take a seat.

I’m not off my feet for four seconds when Sterling calls out “Hey Bradley, I’m glad I tried it, but I don’t really like the extra bitters. In fact, I think I’ll go back to my old standby.” Feeling my stomach drop I still manage a smile as Sterling looks at me and asks, “Joy, could you make me a Manhattan? And see if anybody else needs a refill.”

I know I should get up and move. It’s the leave-it-to-beaver polite thing to do. But my rational sensibilities refuse for a moment, and I seethe. Not at the continued hostess game, not at the sexualized appearance I have to wear, and not even at the lack of rest for my howling feet. I seethe because I haven’t yet had anything to drink myself. I’d settle for a sip of water!

The shock in my rear is enough for me to jump up and get to work. I follow the same pattern as before. Kylan is just about done with his drink, so I go to the kitchen and pour him a new glass. When I see Bradley’s glass almost empty, I try to head to the bar and make him a replacement, but am reminded by Eileen that I have to clean up Kylan’s dirty glass first. Once the kitchen is spick and span, I see Bradley is now finished with his old fashioned and make him another one. I frustratingly clean up the bar tools and restock, before I take Sterling’s half finished old fashioned, clean it and the kitchen, then make him a Manhattan.

When I hand off the drink to Sterling and get his “Mmm Hmm!” approval, and after I clean up and restock the bar again, I don’t even try to get back to the couch and instead return to the kitchen. My track to get a glass for a drink of water is interrupted though by a new instruction from Eileen. I earn a shock for cursing under my breath, but I can’t believe I have to make hors d'oeuvres!

It only takes me fifteen minutes to whip up a tray of peanut butter and pimento cheese stuffed celery, but when I set it out for Sterling, Bradley, and Kylan, Eileen reminds me that I need to now clean up the kitchen. Again. Once the kitchen is clean, I’m told to go check on everyone. I’m surprised to hear that everyone is satisfied and am even grateful when Bradley offers the seat next to him, “Joy, you’re working awfully hard. Why don’t you come take a seat for a bit, Hm?”

I don’t even get half a step toward the couch before Eileen gives me a shock and a script to read. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all Bradley! I’d love to sit down, but I must finish getting dinner ready for my men!”

As my mood continues to darken, Eileen gets more forceful with her shocks. I’m not even allowed to set the plates and flatware down loudly, let alone slam them down, without a shock to my rear. The table setting would be **** even for a full holiday meal in my time. Each place has a dinner plate, soup bowl, bread plate, napkin, two forks, two knives, two spoons, three glasses and individual salt and pepper shakers. More concerning than the over-the-top setting are the number of settings. Three. I can only hope that Kylan, as a child, will eat separate from the adults, but I fear its more of me treating ‘my men’ to a meal and me not getting to join them at all.

My fear is made real when I call them in for dinner and everyone sits down, including Kylan. I serve the soup and biscuits then return to the kitchen and do the finishing touches on the chicken, carrots, and onions and peas. By the time I bring those in and pour the wine, everyone is done with their soup, so I take up their bowls and soup spoons and bring them to the kitchen. I’m allowed enough time to check on everyone and get applauded for the delicious meal before I return and start cleaning. After I have the bowls and serving wear cleaned, I return and gather up all the dirty dishes as dinner is now done. Once I have the table cleaned, I try to take just a second of stillness, just a quick lean against the counter, but a light shock to my rear gets me moving again. I set up the dishes to be washed but before I begin them, I clean my hands and bring out the pie.

Everybody oohs and aahs at the pie and loves the dab of freshly whipped cream. It’s not easy whipping cream by hand in front of a rapt audience, but the way it made my breasts jiggle certainly helped keep their attention. Once they were all digging in, I returned to the kitchen and resumed cleaning.

Even when everyone was finished with their dessert and I’ve washed the remaining dishes, I’m not allowed a moment to rest. After I serve them after dinner coffee, I have to clean up the food prep area, the oven, the stove top, and even the damned fridge. Only when the kitchen is as clean as the day I moved in am I allowed to take off my apron and return to the living room. I notice Kylan was gone and jump ahead of Eileen’s wifey duties by getting Bradley and Sterling a drink.

As tired and as frustrated as I am, I surprise myself by not sighing out loud when they not only simply ask for a bottle of beer but ask me to get myself a glass of iced tea. Yes, I’d love to actually have a beer myself, but I’ll take any respite at this point. I half expect Eileen to demand I make fresh tea but realize when I’m pouring a glass from the store bought tea that I’d only have to do that for guests. Store bought is probably just fine for me.

Once Sterling and Bradley have their beers and I have my tea I take a seat on the couch next to Bradley. It hasn’t even been a single day of training under Sterling, but it’s so intense and so deeply ingrained that it surprises me a bit when Bradley speaks up instead of the robot. “So, Joy, you seem to have come a long way today. I love what you’re wearing, and you really seemed to get into being a good hostess. Your dress, your makeup, your hair… everything is perfect. I can tell you that Kylan was really impressed and is so looking forward to next week. We both loved hearing from Sterling how he helped you learn all about orally pleasing a man. I can’t wait to see just how good you’ve gotten!”

I nearly **** on my tea when I hear that they’ve been talking about me blowing Sterling. “Um… thank you? I... uh… well, I’m surprised to hear that you talked about that in front of Kylan. I mean, I’m still learning and all, but I thought there was a distinct line between children and adults. Isn’t he too young to have a conversation like that, even if he has the natural attraction?”

Bradley’s answer sends another chill down my spine. “Oh, you’re right Joy. We wouldn’t generally discuss such things in front of him. But his birthday is in four days, and he turns 18. He is really looking forward to helping you out as an adult. Sterling even said he’d carve out some time in your day for him!”

Everything swirls in my head for a moment. I try to focus on my goal, but I feel like getting to what I want is like holding back a tide. I have to continue to learn how to be a woman in this culture from my mechanical boyfriend. I have a neighbor that’s doing his best to help me, by offering to fuck me as often as he can. And now his own son is coming of age and will do his best to ‘help’ me, sounding like he’s particularly interested in me going down on him.

I put my hand to my forehead, look down, and shake my head, feeling overwhelmed. I just need to get a moment’s respite. When I look up, I see both Bradley and Sterling looking concerned. Putting a fake smile on my face I try my best to ‘go with the flow’ while working a way out, at least a way out for tonight. “That sounds fine. He’s already been so helpful. But today has been a lot and I think I want to go talk with my friends. Atticus and Catty. I… um… I want to share how much I’ve learned.”

I feel a sense of relief wash over me as both Bradley and Sterling relax back smiling. My relief is short lived though as Sterling speaks up, “That’s understandable babygirl, you’ve had a rough day. Your friends actually stopped by while you were making dinner. We offered for them to stay, but they said they couldn’t and that they’d see you tomorrow. So, with them occupied, and with Kylan back home doing homework, why don’t Bradley and I take you to the bedroom and give you a reward for being such a good girl!?”