Sigrid rubbed her nipples through her silk blouse. She thought of that morning, before she'd left for work, and how Michalina had coated Sigrid's vulva with honey, and how she'd tied her down on her verandah and released the box of fire ants.
"I have to go to work, Michalina!" Sigrid had gasped, but Michalina had only laughed. "You're the big boss, you can go in at eleven.
You want to masturbate on the sly, let's see how much stimulation you can really take down there, Siggy."
Later, Michalina had rubbed calamine lotion on Sigrid's bald pussy and she'd kissed the older woman tenderly while flailing her fingers deftly up and down Sigrid's well-bitten labia.
"When will you learn, sweetheart, that this little triangle is mine?"
"Yes, yes ma'am." Sigrid had said, tears of regret mixed with passion rolling down her cheeks.
Since she and her husband had moved here from West Germany, it had been so difficult to find someone who could supervise them adequately...
And, here in her private office, Sigrid rubbed her nipples-there was a chastity snap on her clitoris-and wished she was home. How lucky Ivar was!
At home, Michalina connected the little rope of steel string around Ivar's cock and scrotum.
It was fairly thick string, more like a cable rope, and Michalina took the other end and put it through a metal winch, which she cranked up to the ceiling.
It would have been difficult for a fairly small, curly-topped little thing like Michalina to pull Ivar up to the ceiling, to be hung by his cock and balls, but much of it was mechanical.
Ivar was an industrial engineer, and had fixed it so she could suspend him mechanically.
Michalina didn't pull Ivar too far off the ground, just to the level of her shoulders, and she rubbed his engorged penis, snickering.
Finally, Michalina let the winch down and Ivar lay there, feeling the pressure on his twig and berries gradually cease.
"I do this because I care, Ivar." Michalina said as she knelt and stroked the tip of Ivar's suffering penis.
"I thought we'd just put my wrists through the winch to pull me up." Ivar said, wearily "I don't know if it's really good for my testicles-"
Michalina slapped Ivar across the jaw.
"I think maybe it's my role to surmise what is or is not good for you, right?"
Ivar knew his sweet Michalina was right, and she kept his mind occupied in so many ways.
The other day, she'd corralled a wasp's nest and gotten twelve of the vile things into a plastic bag and used a short bit of baling wire to wrap the bag around Ivar's groin.
And then Michalina had poked the sumbitch with a stick, and that was one of the times that she'd indeed suspended Ivar from his wrists.
She'd even hooked his ankles to his wrists around his head so only Ivar's bagged cock, balls and stinging wasps had hung below.
As Michalina had observed, It was like hitting a piñata, just glorious fun for her, not too many of the wasps had stung Ivar's genitals, fortunately, but enough to "wake you up."
"I'm moving on, soon, you know, Ivar." Michalina said, smiling. "I don't know if you've had much luck with your search for a replacement."
"I don't know yet, I really don't, Michalina." Ivar said sadly. "We had a wonderful woman, Fraulein Ingeborg, back home, but she refused to emigrate with us when we came to Buttermilk Falls."
"Oh yeah, I heard of Ing." Michalina said with a smile. "I think she's got a big dungeon in Budapest now. I guess you and Siggy can't just dominate each other, can you?"
"I don't think so." Ivar considered. "We're both hard-core submissives."
He knew it was hopeless to ask Michalina to stay, or to offer her more money.
Like in the Mary Poppins novels, where Mary would come and run the nursery and then leave at the end of the book, Michalina got called away quite a bit, but now and then she would return.
"Sigrid tells me they need you in Dubai."
"Yes, a tranny oil sheik. But I can return in the spring, maybe."
Downstairs, Sigrid had just gotten in.
It annoyed her that her husband could lounge around here all day and have Michalina all to himself, while Sigrid had to go out to work.
Of course Ivar worked at home and did very well for them financially.
Still, life seemed so cruel sometimes. Sigrid had to supervise a bunch of ungrateful plastics salesmen, and of course they just bitched and moaned when she kept them late working on a campaign.
The jowly, mid-level managers truly feared Sigrid, who was a frosty, icy blonde and she was rarely pleased with their memos, statistics or presentations.
But she made Buttermilk-Caplin Materials Limited quite a bit of money, and the group was more than lucky to have her.
Now, Michalina came trotting down the stairs. As Perky and winsome as only a twenty-two year old can be, she dimpled at Sigrid, who was about a decade older and twice as tired.
Siggy really had the weight of the world on her shoulders, poor thing.
"Hey there, I hope your day went well!" Michalina said breezily. "I found your little gift here."
Michalina was waving a two-foot long loop of quarter inch Delrin. The loop ended in a leather handle.
