"Sasha, I'd like to talk to you in private. Would you mind locking the office door so that we won't be disturbed, and then come over here?"
I watched a brief flicker of surprise and then hesitation flash briefly in Sasha's sultry almond-shaped eye before a look of acquiescence reappeared on the attractive Asian face of my private secretary. With a subtle nod, Sasha complied as I knew that she would with my unexpected request.
Watching Sasha straighten from the filing that she was doing, I enjoyed the subtle sway of her hips and mid-back-length ebony hair as she casually walked to my office door. After discretely checking outside, she closed and locked the door, and I realized a pleasure it was to have a compliant personal assistant like Sasha.
Besides being extremely competent, Sasha was beautiful in a demurely Oriental way. There was an indescribable grace to her five-foot-four-inch lithe frame. Her shapely legs which were amply displayed by her short skirts blended into the curves to her hips and feminine softness in her firm tight buns. Her creamy modest breasts were enticing but not because she flaunted them, but rather from her inadvertently flashing me glimpses down her neckline whenever she casually leaned over to show me where to sign.
Yet, what made Sasha compelling attractive to me was her subtle submissive femininity. She was the epitome of what I looked for in a secretary -- quiet, attentive, and while this may sound demeaning, subservient to my desires and needs in the office. Whereas others in the company were put off by my aggressive or what many say, demanding or domineering manner, Sasha wasn't bothered at all.
In fact, Sasha seemed to relish working closely with me and my direct (if not blunt) supervision. In the several months as my secretary, she came to anticipate and unconsciously cater to my every wish as we put in long hours of overtime. I realize now that if I hadn't been so consumed with my career and new job, I might have seen her unspoken needs and desires sooner.
My name is Nick and I had recently undergone a rather messy divorce with my now ex-wife accusing me of domestic abuse. Although her claims were never substantiated, my personal and professional reputation had been irreparably compromised. To get a proverbial new lease on life, I asked to be transferred to another city and a managerial job.
Fortunately, an old-time manager in another state had decided to retire, and I was quickly reassigned with carte blanche authority to improve the flagging production rate. Given this challenge, my primary focus was to make a name for myself by being uber-successful in my new corporate assignment.
The private secretary whom I had inherited had decided once she sampled my supervisory style that she couldn't take an alpha-driven boss at this point in her life. As a result, she opted to retire early shortly after my arrival. It was then Sasha entered my life.
Stella and her husband, Darren had recently relocated to our city, and of all those who applied to my job posting, she was the only one who demonstrated outstanding secretarial skills and the necessary demeanor that I required. But what really sold me on Sasha was her willingness to put in the long hours that I demanded.
This was in large part due to Darren becoming a long-haul trucker which had him delivering and picking up loads from various cities around the country. He was currently on his first cross-country round-trip since relocating and wasn't due to return to Sasha until nearly four months. Darren's plan was that upon his return, he'd rest up for two weeks before doing another cross-country round-trip journey. To Darren, this was the ideal job since it paid great and was always changing as he stopped at various cities and towns along the way.
While that Darren made enough that Sasha didn't really have to work at all, she did so to fill the void in her life created by Darren's long absences. She willingly put in the long at work with the understanding that when Darren returned, she would be able to take off for two weeks of supposed marital reunion and bliss.
Well, the eventual finally happened with Darren a week out from rolling back into town. "Nick, I've met with the organization's clerical pool. The girls will be filling in for me during rotating during my two weeks of vacation. Detailed instructions as to what to expect and do have been left. There should be no need for me to be contacted during my reunion with my husband that I've been looking forward to for so long. Thank you, Nick, for being so accommodating," Sasha reminded me of our agreement that I begrudgingly remembered and had relented.
During her two-week absence, I endured other inept clerical substitutes and became acutely aware of just how much Sasha had become a part of my life and how much I missed her. I missed her feminine Asian ways and their soothing effects on my caveman approach to life. I recalled how much I really enjoyed Sasha's skirt slowly slipping up her soft thighs as she casually crossed and uncrossed her pleasing legs when seated; and that telltale jiggle in the front of her blouse when she rushed in her high-heels to me once summoned.
Towards the end of the two weeks, I began relieving myself nightly to the wet-gooey fantasies about what I would be doing to Sasha if I were Darren. These nasty stress-relieving sexual urges that had contributed to my divorce and which had laid dormant began to stir. God, I was delighted when Darren finally left town and Sasha returned to work.
If I hadn't been so occupied with getting rid of the backlogged work and reestablishing our busy routine, I might have noticed that Sasha seemed depressed and moved rather gingerly, wincing when she thought I wasn't looking. At the end of her first day back, Sasha bent over to file a stack of documents causing her short skirt to ride up in the back of her legs. Long purple-red welts across the backs of her ivory thighs were surprisingly revealed and it was clear that Darren had given her sensuous tush and thighs a good old painful "whupping." The mental image of Sasha being disciplined "aroused" within me a darkness that I had long suppressed.
"Sasha, when you bent over the back of your skirt rode up, and I couldn't help but notice that what looked like welts on the backs of your thighs." When Sasha blushed a bright pink and hung her head so as not to look at me, I continued, "Now look, what you and Darren did on your two weeks off is none of my business. However, domestic violence is illegal." At this pronouncement, Sasha squirmed in her seat and I wasn't sure it was due to pain from her welts or what I had just said.
"Sasha, I've come to -- care -- for you, and you shouldn't be abused like this. I simply cannot ignore the matter. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to report it to the authorities."
"No! Please, don't," Sasha blurted in an emotional plea as she wrung her hands in obvious anxiety. "Nick, it's not what you think. Don't call the police, please. Let me explain." Struggling to collect her thoughts, and, Sasha then looped her long hair over her ears to clear her face and whispered "Nick, it's not domestic abuse.
Murmuring breathlessly, Sasha continued, "Darren is into rough sex and has always been quite 'physical.' However, when he was on the road all alone on his first long haul, he couldn't find women who'd enjoy his type of pleasure even though he knows I would understand." Then after a pregnant pause, she looked at me in the eye and mumbled, "You see, what he did to me...well...it's not spousal abuse -- especially when I willingly submit. You see, I 'love' rough sex and being dominated by a real man."
My jaw must have dropped at Sasha's disclosure, and I had to quickly adjust my seated position to discretely hide my throbbing penis. Seeing my reaction, Sasha hastily stammered, "You must think that I'm sick -- and perhaps I am -- but I've always been attracted to strong, overbearing men who...just take me...and use me. I can't help it. Being controlled, told what to do, and made to sexually please -- God, this sounds so perverse -- but. it just turns me on to no end."
Tears start to well in Sasha's averted eyes as she struggled to explain further. "Maybe, it was because... well...it goes back to when I had just turned eighteen and my family had hit bad times. My father had a stroke, went bankrupt, and lost his business. Our house was next and then nearly everything we had. Our few relatives couldn't help much, and so out of desperation, it was decided that the kids would be sent to different family members and friends.
"As the oldest girl, I was sent to live with a close family friend by the name of Jimbo. He was a 'bear' of a man who was big, rough, and crude. I was scared silly of Jimbo, but my mother made it explicitly clear he was the only one who was trying to co-write a loan for my father and as such, was very important to our family.
Because he was single, I was bluntly told to take care of his house, his meals, his washing, and his 'personal needs.' I needed to ensure Jimbo's goodwill since our family's well-being and future depended on him and his loan. 'Do whatever Jimbo wants -- no matter what -- you just do it!' was my mother's final words before abandoning me."
I told a sobbing Sasha that she didn't have to say anymore, but she shook her head and pleaded tearfully, "I want to...I need for you need to understand and accept the way that I am." She took a deep breath before continuing, "I was all alone and frightened. I couldn't stop crying when I realized just how helpless and hopeless my situation was. But Jimbo didn't care.
"That first night, I learn just how hard and demanding Jimbo was. It was bedtime and there was only one bed... his...and I balked. This got me quickly thrown over his lap and spanked hard. All I could remember was thundering big palms, searing pain that I had never experienced before, and me screaming and crying. But Jimbo didn't stop until I was a blubbering mess, promising him that I'd do whatever he wanted if he'd only stop.
"However, instead of ravaging a scared teenager, Jimbo surprised me with caresses that soothed me as he kissed away my tears. He promised that if I did as he wanted, the pain would become pleasurable. With that said, Jimbo slowly undressed me and sucked on my breasts until my pink nipples were ruby red and painfully rock-hard. Boldly exploring my young body, he stimulated me with wincing pain -- biting, nipping, tugging, and tweaking -- and showed me how pain could be arousing.
