In less than three hours, she'd gone from being an office temp to holding the whip hand over the company president. A bizarre turn of life-events led Paula -- utilizing her knowledge of certain men's needs to submit and of their fetish-related obsessions -- to turn her life around as she approached her mid-thirties. And now, as she worked the relatively menial job in these new surroundings, she was about to increase her prestige and power markedly.
Paula's temporary jobs weren't unusual since she didn't want or need a Monday-to-Friday position. Her weekday hours were often reserved for her prime interest; the male toys who visited her apartment to be tormented, teased, whipped and humiliated. Her stable of slaves however, was not so large that she could rely upon their monetary tributes to earn a comfortable living. That's why she often made herself available to the temp agency for a day or two during the week.
She'd been working for over two hours this particular Monday morning when the corporation president walked through the department. Paula had already heard that this fellow was an intellectual bully; a person who delighted in causing his underlings grief. As he approached, she smiled in recognition. He was a slave who'd sought out her services for the first time over a year ago and had seen her regularly in the interim.
Drawing even with her desk, he stopped and looked at the beautiful Paula, looked again, and couldn't determine where he'd met this woman. She was dressed appropriately enough for the office environment and, perhaps, that's where the confusion arose. She was out of context. This fellow, you see, had only known her as Mistress Paula -- the woman in black leather and spiked boots. And when he saw her, she always held a whip as he knelt naked before her. He didn't recognize her in the relatively conservative clothing until he curtly asked, "Have we met?"
She smiled, looking down past her tight skirt and black stockings to the higher-than-usual black patent spikes on her feet. His eyes followed hers. There was no mistaking his immediate blush and his awkward, "Oh, yes, of course. Well, welcome to DynaGlo. Please drop by my office at noon."
When he'd moved on, the regular staff looked at Paula in awe, all anxious to know why he would be so civil to her and why they'd never been on the receiving end of an invitation to his office. She did her best to be evasive, offering only that they'd met socially. Silently, Paula reveled at the fact that this corporate tyrant would soon be anything but when she paid her visit to the corporate wing.
Just before 12, Paula picked up her briefcase and headed for the ladies room for a quick make-up inspection. Satisfied that her lip gloss and eyeliner were exactly as she wanted, she made her way to the president's office, announcing herself to his personal secretary. Paula received a quick, "Go right in... He's expecting you."
She opened the door, closed it, posed for a moment to emphasize the curves within her tight sweater and allowed him to gawk at her long legs, short skirt and high-heeled shoes before pushing the dead bolt into place. He sat watching, speechless, as she walked toward him, briefcase in hand, past the side of the huge oak work table until he had to turn in his swivel chair to face her. Paula snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor. He stood and sank to his knees as she took his place in the executive chair. Pulling the briefcase onto her lap, Paula crossed a leg and extended her foot, saying, "Kiss and lick, slave, and don't forget the heel. Suck."
Wordlessly, he paid homage to her shoe, foot and high heel. Paula, meanwhile, dialed the combination locks on her briefcase and opened it. She didn't need a briefcase for her work but never left home without a few of her special toys. One never knew what might happen and today proved the point. Paula lived by the boy scout motto, Be Prepared. Reaching inside, she withdrew a black leather dog collar, put it around his neck and fastened it tightly. Next came the leash. Paula held him, allowing no slack, as he continued his shoe and foot worship.
"My new friends here in the office tell me you're quite the guy, slave. They say you've never given anyone an even break if you could help it. Is that right?"
"Well, not exactly," he began, "but they have to know that this company runs on discipline."
She drew her small whip from the briefcase and slashed his back. "When you speak to me, it's to answer, "Yes, Mistress" or "No, Mistress." Nothing else, slave. Do you give your people a hard time or don't you?"
"Yes, Mistress," he responded.
"Take your clothes off. Fold them neatly and put them on the floor. Now!" she ordered.
He moved quickly, removing his suit, shirt, socks, shoes and underwear -- all the time under the constriction of the leash held firmly in Mistress Paula's hand. Erection prominent, he moved back into the kneeling position before her. Paula had allowed her skirt to rise, showing a fleshy expanse of thigh above her stocking tops. She sat looking down at him as she alternately pulled his leash even tauter and played with her whip. Raising her leg so it pointed straight out, she put the sole of her shoe directly above his nose and aimed her heel at his open mouth. She simultaneously pushed his head away with her foot while pulling his neck toward her with the leash. His sucking noises on the heel and the push-pull effect made him work all the harder to keep the heel in his mouth. At the same time, she removed a pair of black leather gloves from her briefcase and alternately smoothed them on, exchanging whip and leash hands as she did.
Paula dropped her foot from his face, ordered him to extend his hands and, with slow, exaggerated and precise motions, slipped a pair of manacles around his wrists, connecting them. Pausing, Mistress Paula looked deep into her slave's eyes, then drew her gloved hand back and slapped his cheek with full force. The surprise of it, combined with the sting of the blow, brought a tear to his eye. Her hand remained near his face as he heard her say, "Kiss it, kiss the hem of my skirt, then lick my leg, slave... And beg me to punish you some more."
She watched as he obeyed, kissing her leathered hand, the hem of her skirt and as he began licking her leg. His passion and the ardor he displayed as he licked her stocking reinforced Paula's belief that an immediate dose of pain, such as a severe slap, only served to enhance a slave's submission. The proof was in his enthusiastic worship.
She let him use his tongue for an extended period even as she stroked his head, giving him the mixed pain/pleasure message that if he wanted to serve her and be appreciated by her, he must also endure her small tortures. Paula knew her signals -- patting his head while he knelt before her, worshiping at her direction -- reinforced her position; made him even more dependent upon her.
"That's a good slave," she said. "I love having you nude and on your knees, watching you follow my orders. And if you disobey me or don't do the kind of job I want, I can just tug the leash I've put onto your slave collar and whip you, can't I?"
"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress," he said.
"But now it's time for something a little more severe before you take me out to lunch."
Ordering him to stay on his knees, Paula led the president to the door of his private washroom. She had him stand as she brought the leash over the door itself so she was able to loop it to the handle on the other side. He was forced to stand on tip toes facing the door, held in place by the collar and leash. Ankle manacles quickly followed. Standing back, she allowed him to watch as she slowly drew her sweater over her head, exposing her black bra and heavy breasts spilling over the cups. She posed for a moment, giving him the eroticism he needed, before moving her hand to the middle of her back to draw down the skirt's zipper.
"Are you ready to be whipped, slave, really whipped?" she seductively whispered.
"Yes, Mistress Paula."
"That's good, slave, because for the rest of this day any appointments you had are now canceled. You and I are going to spend the afternoon in behavior modification therapy."
