Helen was our company lawyer. She was very good at her job, although she was a bit frosty around the office and some of the women considered her a bitch. She was 40, tall, slim and striking, and she dressed the part with pencil skirts and high heels, she made an impression wherever she went. She was married but childless as far as the rumor mill knew. She was the kind of woman I fantasized about: classy, older, sexy, strict.
Six months after I started with the company I was working late since my Fiancé was working nights and another evening of dressing up and satisfying my porn addiction in my empty house was for once not pulling me away from the office. I picked up on an anomaly in the charges from one of our suppliers and started digging through old invoices and deliveries. It wasn't easy, the delivery notes were scrappy at best, but it piqued my interest. The next morning, I went to my boss, and explained my findings, our supplier had been overcharging us for almost four years and it came to a total of over two million dollars.
One phone call and ten minutes later Helen stepped into the CFO's office, looking every bit my fantasy woman, as usual. She was astonished with the news we had for her and then her admiration became evident as the CFO had me outline what I had discovered and how. By the time we broke up from the meeting she was far from frosty towards me.
Over the next few months, we spent a lot of time together putting together the documents she needed to confront the supplier and then, having been met with a firm denial and refusal to cooperate, the filing of a suit. She had a surprisingly wicked sense of humor and she seemed to be warm to my quirkiness and certainly delighted in my eagerness to please her. At some point she moved from calling me James to the more feminine form: Jamie. I loved the way she said it, loved what it implied about how she viewed me. I looked forward to every meeting I had with her, reveled in the time I was able to spend with her and dreamt of her in my fantasies and daydreams. When she was busy discussing things with others in the room, I would study her drinking her in. A couple of times she caught me looking at her legs, the first time she just raised her eyebrows at me, the second time a couple of weeks later she gave me knowing and rather suggestive little look. I couldn't have been more embarrassed, but it did fuel my fantasies even more.
Then the shit hit the fan. With trepidation I knocked on the door to her office and, seeing that I was interrupting her, I quickly told her I was no longer able to be involved in the suit.
"Why not?" The obvious question. She was clearly busy with something else, but I immediately had all of her attention.
I stammered and flushed my way through the answer I had prepared, I might have fooled most other people I knew but not Helen.
"Shut the door." She said quietly, not taking her eyes off me. "Sit down and tell me what I'm missing. I can't lose you as a witness."
Nervously I tried to dig my way out of my situation, but she wasn't fooled. I was sweating, I hated to lie to her, but I couldn't face telling her the truth.
She sat quietly looking at me for what felt like an age. "Has someone threatened you, Jamie?"
She had hit the nail on the head. I nodded silently, dropping my head. My heart breaking, knowing my secret had to come out.
She must have read my panic and desperation, because in a quiet voice she said: "I can protect you, Jamie. Completely! But I need you to come completely clean with me. I need you for the case for sure, but the case aside, I don't want anyone threatening you."
Through a nervous pounding heart I stammered out my situation, knowing that it made me look pathetic and that she would most likely think less of me. I had been threatened by the man we were suing. He would reveal things about me that would ruin my relationship with my fiancé and humiliate me with friends and colleagues. Eventually she coaxed out that I had been posting pictures of myself in lingerie and been visiting femdom and male-dom sites for years, photographing myself in all sorts of compromising positions, staging some photo's to look as if I was not alone. It was something my fiancé would not entertain and that she was revolted by, but my compulsion led me to do it anyway and so I did it in secret. I promised her that I never involved anyone in any of this and that it was just my fantasy life.
When she was satisfied that she had got all of the facts from me, she said. "Jamie, you can live your life the way you want. It's not for him or me or anyone else to judge. But he cannot legally threaten you like that. He is a thug and a bully, he broke the law by doing this to you. I can get him to back off! Give me three days, then if you still want to back out I won't force you to testify."
Reluctantly, humiliated I agreed.
She called in an IT guy she trusted and told him the basics. He grinned at me, I flushed red and Helen immediately said: "This is absolutely confidential, not a hint of this can become public, it's not negotiable at all. We have to nip this in the bud. I need to know how he got the information on Jamie and who else he has threatened."
Three humiliating hours later I left Helen's office. As I was opening the door, she looked at me and said: "I'm sorry this is happening to you, Jamie. I don't like seeing my friends suffer. I'll beat this bully for you and then I'll make him suffer in court." Then almost as an afterthought: "No more of this until the trial is over! Nothing online, no porn, no forums, no messaging! Not even any dressing up in private! Nothing! Do you understand?" It was an order, sternly given, with not a hint of warmth.
I nodded, chastened. "Yes Mrs. Watkins." I replied, my face a hot red of humiliation as I turned to leave.
"Phah!" She chuckled, as I was closing the door. "I hoped you were going to call me "Mistress!""
My head was going to explode with the turmoil of humiliation and self-disgust mixed with the thrill of being considered one of her friends and that last throwaway comment: "Mistress". That final comment fed my fantasies for weeks! My fiancé never had to find out about my dressing up and Helen made the threats go away. Unfortunately, my promise to Helen meant the lack of playtime online and dressing up alone in my bedroom. That brought home the stark reality of the waning relationship with my fiancé. Her lack luster performance in the bedroom was just a symptom of her loss of interest in me.
The case was tried months later, by which time my fiancé had left me anyway, putting me into a lowly depressed state. True to her word Helen had closed down the threats and in doing so had ensured my loyalty to her and to her case.
On the second day of the hearing, I had to go on the stand. Helen guided me through a series of questions that I was prepared for and then smiled at me as she sat down. She then watched me being cross examined. The attorney was quick and gave long winded questions that were difficult to answer simply. I could feel myself squirming as I tried to answer the questions artfully, all the time looking to Helen for approval and help. She was still smiling at me, she never seemed to take her eyes off me and that made it more awkward still. There was something predatory and proprietary about her look, she was watching my discomfort and she seemed to like it.
We won the trial. Everyone had left as soon as they could, I stayed to the end for no other reason other than to be close to Helen. As we walked out of the courthouse lobby the very pissed off defendant rounded on Helen and yelled "You're a fucking Bitch!" Then turned to me and sneered: "You're just a worthless fucking sissy!"
Helen pushed between us and Hissed: "You're a pathetic thief! You are both morally and financially bankrupt and, if you ever threaten any of our staff again, I'll make sure you go to jail for it." She turned and walked away, linking her arm with mine. Grinning at me she said loudly: "Great feeling, winning! Come on, this Bitch lawyer is going to take her favorite sissy out for a celebratory lunch!"
With my heart singing, we went to a steakhouse and ate and drank too much, having a good time reveling in the win until Helen, more than a little drunk, asked: "So! Did you keep your promise? No porn, No surfing online. No Dressing up?"
Sheepishly I nodded.
"Say it!" She said, a stern note in her voice.