Nearly three years ago, I’d reached the point of total burnout at my job. The situation came to a head after an 8 a.m. fender bender during my morning commute — nothing serious, thank goodness, but majorly stressful. By the time I finished dealing with police and arranging for a tow truck, I had dozens of text messages from my boss and coworkers. They seemed to be collectively reprimanding me for not calling in to the morning meeting while standing on the side of the road next to my wrecked car. To this day, my favorite text is: “You’re really harming the group dynamic.”

As I scrolled through the messages, my chest tightened and I began to feel lightheaded. I knew I needed to regroup, so I walked over to the nearest strip mall parking lot and called a taxi. A few moments later, the cab arrived — and with it, an interesting twist of fate.

“Hey,” the driver said with a friendly smile. She had sunglasses on and wore her long blonde hair in a braid. Her tight tank top and jeans showed off her athletic physique.

“Good morning,” I said.

“More like afternoon now.” She smirked a little.

“Sorry, I’m a little disoriented.” I shook my head. “Can you take me to… ”

Suddenly, it occurred to me I didn’t want to go to the office, and I didn’t feel like sitting at home either. She must’ve noticed my confused expression.

“Why don’t I just drive, and you tell me what comes to mind?”

“OK, that works.” I settled into the backseat and exhaled.

“Bad morning?”

“Traffic mishap turned panic attack.”

She studied my reflection in the rearview mirror and said, “Well, that’s no good. You need to relax.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying to me. No hope of that with my job.”

“Are you in tech?”

“How did you know?”

“It shows,” she said knowingly. “I’m Joan. And don’t worry, I’m not judging you.”

“Kate, and I wouldn’t be offended if you did — all the clichés are true, I’m afraid.”

We both laughed, but then Joan slipped off her sunglasses and looked me in the eye via the mirror.

“I do this driving as a side hustle, but I’m also the private chauffer for someone you should really meet.”

“Oh?”

“Ms. E runs a very special kind of retreat that many stressed-out people really find helpful.”

“Like a yoga retreat?”

“No.” Joan chuckled. “Think less New Age, and more… discipline.”

Sensing the subtle shift in the tenor of our conversation, I asked: “Is she a dominatrix?”

“In a manner of speaking. I see her as something of a life coach. Ms. E especially loves helping other women.”

“Sounds intriguing. Do you have a business card?” I asked hopefully.

“Actually, you were my last fare before heading back to the house. Would you like to come along?”

“Sure, what the hell.”

Joan switched off the meter and merged on to the freeway as she told me, “I think you made the right choice.”

We eventually pulled up to a gated driveway lined with trees. The house at the end was a gorgeous Greek revival. As we drew closer to the property, I noticed a lone gardener on the grounds. He wore only work boots and a leather thong, with a matching strappy headpiece and collar.

Joan parked the car and opened my door.

“Thank you.” I paused. “Um, who’s that guy?” I couldn’t stop staring.

“Oh, he’s Ms. E’s favorite grounds-keeper, and he’s also a day trader, specializing in Asian markets.”

Joan waved hello to him. I followed her lead — and to my pleasant surprise, he smiled and waved back at us, as casual as ever.

Mind you, during an experimental phase in college, I had actually attended a few local munches, but nothing could have prepared me for the BDSM scene I would become part of through Ms. E.

As Joan motioned me through the front door to a beautiful glass conservatory, Ms. E immediately locked eyes with me. She had an old Hollywood look about her, with intense eyes and waist-length chocolate hair that fell in perfect waves. Her matte red lipstick matched her mani-pedi in perfect pinup fashion. She wore a fitted black slip dress and strappy black heels.

“Joan,” Ms. E said as she stood up. “I see you’ve brought some company.”

“I didn’t think you would mind, Ms. E,” Joan replied. “This is Kate.”

“Of course not.” Ms. E smiled at me. “You’re lovely, Kate.”

“Thank you. You have a beautiful home.”

“All the better to entertain you in,” Ms. E replied.

“Kate’s had a pretty rough day so far,” Joan explained.

“No, more like a rough one and a half years,” I chimed in as I rolled my eyes.

“Well, Kate, you’ll find some sympathy here, but no self-pity is allowed.” Ms. E slowly circled me. “In my house, everyone takes responsibility for their behavior. Is that OK with you?”

I nodded, feeling her eyes roving up and down my body.

She whispered in my ear: “Good.”

Tingles rushed down my back as she continued to whisper: “I ask for total submission. But nothing ever happens here without your complete consent. You can say stop at any time. Are we clear?”

I nodded.

“Say it aloud, please.”

“Yes, Ms. E.”

“Good.” Ms. E tenderly caressed the side of my face. “Joan? Help get her ready.”

“As you wish, Ms. E.”

I followed Joan into Ms. E’s lofty, sunlit dungeon space. I couldn’t believe all the props, toys and high-end furniture.

“Wow, it’s like a luxury sex store blew up in here,” I observed.

“It is an adult heaven on Earth, isn’t it?” Joan teased. “Now, start stripping, Kate. Ms. E likes to work with a fully exposed canvas.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled my hesitation away. This was already the most alive I’d felt in months. Why not completely take the plunge? I unbuttoned my blouse as Joan appraised my body.

Even with a sedentary desk job, I’d kept my toned figure from college. I have B-cup breasts with large nipples, which were already standing at attention when my bra slid off. My heels and dress pants came off next, leaving me clad in only my thong.

Joan tugged on the elastic strap at my hip and teased, “I bet your pussy is already wet.”

“You don’t have to bet. This is already the hottest thing I’ve done in months.” And then, feeling bold, I asked her: “What about you? Keeping your clothes on?”

“All in good time.” Joan ran her hands through my hair. “Now, let’s get you rigged.”

She led me to a cushioned area of the room dedicated to suspension bondage.

“I think you’d benefit from experiencing the feeling of total freedom and surrender. This is what I did my first time,” she explained.

“I did silk yoga once. Is this similar?”

“You’ll see for yourself. But don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

Joan had me rigged and ready to go in maybe ten minutes — no joke. Ms. E had a special suspension harness, which enabled my weight to be fully and safely supported from above. Meanwhile, my arms and legs were each individually bound with silken ropes. Joan staged me so I was upright with my limbs spread and my tits spilling out of the harness’s openings. I was maybe only a foot off the floor. I’d later realize it was just enough to let statuesque Ms. E in her heels be at eye-level with petite me.

“Very nice.” Joan stepped back and gave her work a final inspection. “How do you feel?”

“Good. And… horny,” I admitted, before licking my lips. “Can’t you help me with that, too?”

Joan tugged on one of my nipples playfully before saying, “I’m technically not allowed. We’ll both get in trouble.”

“Come on,” I begged as I strained to lean forward. To my surprise, Joan stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against mine — but then we got busted!

“Excuse me,” said Ms. E as she strode into the room with a riding crop in hand. “I didn’t say this was allowed.” She glared at Joan. “And you know better.”

“Sorry, Ms. E,” Joan said, bowing her head.

Ms. E tsked and added, “I’ll deal with you later. Step back and let me tend to our guest.”

Ms. E ran the crop’s smooth leather keeper down the side of my face in a menacing caress before sliding it down my arm and then cutting across my chest to circle each of my nipples.

“Concentrate for me, Kate. I want you to think of the times you’ve let people take advantage of you.”

I began to speak, but she sharply slapped my breast with the crop.

“I didn’t say to talk. I said think.”

She slapped my other boob. I gasped upon the impact but otherwise stayed silent. The crop continued to rove over my body, causing goose bumps to erupt all over me.

“Focus, Kate. You’re here because you need to be reminded about boundaries, and about what it is to remain in control of yourself. You need to be reminded of these things because you’ve let your job and other situations in your life control you.”

Naked and suspended, I couldn’t have agreed more with that assessment. I nodded.

“I’m going to help you.” Ms. E picked up a cordless wand vibrator and switched it on low. “Do you want this on your clit?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She applied the vibrator to my pussy, but only for a few seconds, leaving my cunt soaked and desperate for more. That orgasm denial torture went on seemingly forever. My beautiful captor alternated between giving me the wand for a few precious seconds and using the crop to deliver a few hard slaps to my ass or my nipples. I was on the verge of coming when she stroked my clit with the crop, but then she pulled it away to show me its tip was covered in my juices.

“I must say, I’m quite impressed with you, Kate,” Ms. E said. “You’ve behaved admirably by not coming without permission. You deserve a reward.”

She motioned for Joan to join us, and they lowered the suspension mechanism, so I was still bound but standing comfortably on the floor.

Joan was permitted to suck on my swollen nipples and then lick my clit, while Ms. E donned a strap-on and fucked my pussy from behind.

As she filled me to the hilt with the rubber cock, the aggravation of the last year and a half melted away.

“Come for me, Kate.” Ms. E tugged on my hair. “I know you need the release.”

Again, my chest tightened — but this time, from bliss. I climaxed so hard that I would have collapsed without the supportive restraints — and that was only the beginning of my spontaneous weekend retreat.

Before I left on Sunday, I gave my company cellphone to Ms. E’s gardener with instructions to bury it forever, then Joan and I made plans for my imminent return.