Call me “M” — for Martine, or Mistress. Context is everything, but in my world, business and pleasure are usually one and the same.

I run both a gentlemen’s massage service and a dungeon full-time, so life is very full and I depend on a diligent personal assistant to help with daily errands and other routine things.

Even though there’s nothing erotic about picking up my dry cleaning, or calling my internet provider, the person I let so closely into my life must be okay with the nature of my job and lifestyle. I don’t just bring work home — I live my work.

My assistant needs to be like one of those “two in one shampoo/conditioners” — I need a sweet-tempered switch capable of taking charge of things when I delegate, but also pliable and “trained” enough to be take orders without question.

Last month, my assistant of three years quit to move out of state. I was so upset to lose her that my poor client, who wanted to be whipped that afternoon, probably ended up with the lashing of a lifetime. (He loved it, don’t worry!)

But realistically, there were only so many willing bottoms to take out my frustrations on, so I tried to channel the strong emotion I was feeling into the search for a suitable replacement for my departed PA. Obviously this is not the kind of job that’s easy to advertise on Craig’s List or Indeed, so I’ve learned over time to put the word out in my local kink community. Nothing could have prepared me, though, for the email I received from Malcolm, a former flame of mine and fellow dominant.

We hadn’t parted on bad terms or anything, but years had passed since I last heard from him. Without padding his message full of too many pleasantries, Malcolm informed me that he’d moved back to town with his new wife, Cora, and thought she might be ideal for my needs. His email contained some attached photos of her — and despite their tame, PG-rating appearance, I was feeling lust at first sight.

Cora had ivory skin that reminded me of freshly fallen snow. She was pin-up glam without the glaring red rockabilly lipstick — a classic, traditional kind of beauty that honestly you do not see much of these days. I could also see from one of the photos that she had incredible legs that looked great in heels.

I quickly wrote back that I wanted to meet his wife as soon as possible — and that he was welcome to swing by as well. I received a one-line reply stating that Cora could come by at the end of the day.

At exactly a minute after five, I heard a pair of heels come clicking through the tiled entryway of my “office” building. There was Cora, all five-foot-four of her, with her adorable, petite figure wrapped in a pencil skirt and a little silk blouse.

Halting when she saw me poised in the end of the hallway, Cora gave a startled smile. “Hello!” she said quickly. “You must be Martine?”

Could she tell I was already undressing her with my eyes? I smiled and approached her, feeling like a great white shark eyeballing a sweet little seal. But since it’s generally rude to salivate when you first meet someone, I erred on the side of professionalism. Extending my hand, I said, “Hello, Cora,” and we shook. Taking note of her neat French manicure, I added, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

Cora smiled sweetly. “Well, thank you for taking the time,” she said. “I know Malcolm really appreciates it — and he sends his regards.”

I led Cora to a sofa in the adjoining parlor.  “It’s quite an operation you have here,” Cora commented after peering around.

“It’s grown. And I’m hoping to keep it growing. But as you can imagine, this is a lot for one person to take on singlehandedly. Which brings us to you.”

At this Cora smiled, her eyes gazing modestly toward me. Then, in an earnest tone, she said, “Malcolm mentioned you needed a hand with basic, day-to-day things.”

“Exactly.” I sized her up again. She had excellent posture and sat very gracefully with her ankles crossed. The stockings she paired with designer, almond-toe pumps were high quality. Crummy stockings piss me off and are a non-negotiable “no” in my presence. I said, “Can you handle bookkeeping and receptionist duties?”

Cora nodded. “I did that and more for a small marketing firm back East.”

“But as you can imagine, this is a very different work environment.”

“Of course.”

Locking eyes with her, I said, “Cora, tell me why is it that you want to work here with me? Also, what are you hoping to — for lack of a better term — accomplish, by working here?”

Cora broke eye contact and blushed a little.

“Well, I guess you could say I’m new to the lifestyle.”

Now this was interesting. Leaning a little closer, I said,  “Oh really?”

“Well, I got to know Malcolm mostly in a vanilla way, but since we got married things have been changing in our relationship — in a good way. I like letting him take charge. Though sometimes, I still have a hard time totally letting go.”

“Letting go how?”

“Sexually,” she said, shrugging. “It’s a work in progress. You know, getting beyond my super-strict upbringing.”

“Well, I know all about that. You’re in good company.”

“Malcolm thinks it would be good to get a broader perspective on what it means to serve. And also on the BDSM scene in general. I agree — I want to try.”

Ah, so Malcolm wanted me to act as a surrogate master and help break in his sweet, sexy wife. I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. “I understand,” I replied. “I say we see how things go. There’s nothing quite like learning on the job anyway.”

“Really?” Cora said, smiling. “Oh, thank you so much!”

“First, though, I need you to stand up.”

Cora blinked, then said, “Okay.” She stood up, smoothing her skirt.

“I like the way you present yourself,” I told her. “Especially since you’ll be representing me and my business. But there’s one thing I insist on.” Gazing into her eyes as I spoke, I commanded, “Lift up your skirt.”

Cora looked a bit taken aback, but soon, and silently, she did as I asked.

I gave her a grin of approval as she revealed the lacy tops of transparent nude stockings and a white satin garter belt with matching panties. “Perfect,” I said, clapping my hands emphatically once. “You can fix your skirt and sit back down. That’s what I wanted to see, Cora.” Smiling her sweet smile, Cora then asked a natural follow-up question: “So it’s important I wear stockings?”

“I’m a stickler for proper attire in my presence. But I always take care of my assistants and make sure you have discretionary funds for nylons and garter belts. There’s nothing quite like the sight of a heart-shaped ass framed by thigh-highs and a garter.” As I spoke, an adorable blush crept up beautiful Cora’s cheeks.

“Let me show you the play rooms,” I said. “Feel free to ask questions.”

As a high-end domme who’s also a certified massage therapist, I prefer my dungeon to resemble more of a sex spa than a dank cellar. The first playroom I showed Cora had gleaming hardwood floors and a wide bay window. A station for horizontal suspension sat directly across from the door — and Cora was clearly captivated.

“Is that like a sex swing?”

I smiled. “Sort of,” I replied. “Do you want to try?”

After a brief hesitation, Cora nodded.

“Malcolm mentioned something like this once. I’m curious.”

“Excellent. Take everything off. Minus the stockings and garter belt, of course.”

Cora began unbuttoning her blouse, exposing a white satin balconette bra that matched her panties, and revealed the tops of her pale, lovely breasts.

“Very pretty lingerie,” I said, pacing in a slow circle around Cora so I could take in every aspect of her fine form.

“Thank you,” Cora smiled, wiggling her sweet derriere out of the pencil skirt. Her bra and panties came off next — and it was all I could do to keep from pouncing on her right then and there! Cora had pert, tear-dropped shaped B-cup breasts with small, rosy nipples, and a neatly groomed patch of dark pubic hair.

I reached for my riding crop and began slowly sliding it up and down her back and her bottom. I traced it along the curve of her waist. “Very nice,” I purred, giving one her nipples just enough of a tap with the crop to startle her. A moment later, I said, “Now, do you see those hand and foot restraints over there?”

Cora nodded. I gave her other nipple a tap. “Go ahead and slip those on. Once you’re in the restraints, I can adjust the height of the suspension. Some people find the experience of surrendering in this way to be quite liberating.”

Cora said, “I did a silk tie yoga workshop once. I liked the feeling of weightlessness.” She held out her arm. “Is this on right?”

I nodded. “You’re a fast learner.”

Once Cora was all set with the bindings, I had her recline on the mat so nothing would tangle. She was so petite hoisting her up was a breeze. I maneuvered her into a position so that her legs were raised and spread wide apart, with her back parallel to the ground. This meant I had an unobstructed view of all her charms, from her pussy down to her pink asshole. Reaching out to steady her, I inspected her from inches away. “Beautiful,” I said, gently pressing on the hood of her clit.

Cora shuddered and closed her eyes. As you can imagine, I wanted to dive right in with my tongue, but with her small, sexy frame bound at my mercy, I couldn’t resist being a little devious. I retrieved my cordless wand vibrator from the nearby chest of drawers and flipped on the switch.

Cora opened her eyes when she heard the distinctive humming.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” I said. Without further ado, I pressed the buzzing head against her bare pussy, teasing her outer labia.

Cora cried out and wiggled against her restraints. God, the sight was delicious, watching her try to close her spread legs. “See, not all BDSM is about pain, dear,” I commented. I lifted the wand away and ran my hands through her dark, luxurious hair. “Sometimes it’s about pleasure — overwhelming pleasure.”

I put the wand back on Cora’s pussy, grazing the top of the vibrator ever so slightly against her clitoral hood. “Ahhh!” Cora exclaimed, body rippling with pleasure in the restraints. She bit down on her lip, still struggling in vain to close her thighs.

Without letting up, I wiggled the buzzing wand between her inner lips. As excited as I was, I continued speaking to her with a cool, professional demeanor. “As my assistant,” I said, “I need to know you’ll comply with my demands. I need to know you’ll do what I say, exactly as I say to do it.” At this, I flipped off the switch.

Cora was panting, her hips gently swinging. “Yes, I will,” she gasped. Then she looked at me, eyes glazed with desire for more. “Please,” she begged.

I held her gaze. “Please what?”

“Please let me come!”

With a tiny smirk, I said, “It’s a good sign that you’re asking me permission already. And so politely. But let’s get clear about something. Your pleasure is a reward. And I like to be generous about letting my assistants experience a wide range of it. But coming as we play? You’ll only do that when I allow it. Is that clear?”

I picked up the riding crop and gave Cora’s perfect ass a few slaps.

She winced and nodded. “Yes, it is.” The expression on Cora’s flushed face was priceless. It always is when a newbie is introduced to that perfect storm of pleasure and pain, of control and release. Cora’s juices drenched her crease all the way to her asshole. I couldn’t wait to thank Malcolm for this.

“I must say you’re showing lots of early promise.”

Cora heaved a breathe, trying to manage her arousal. “Thank you,” she said.

I moved the crop down to her wetness and let it rest on her clit. “Do you squirt?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’m not sure — ”

“If you don’t know, you’ve never done it. Oh, well, lucky me…” I put the riding crop down and picked up the wand again. “Hope you’re ready to work.”

Cora’s eyes widened as the wand began to buzz again. I teased her all around, slowly increasing the intensity until I found that sweet spot right above her clit.

She squealed sharply, her face contorting in pleasure. “Oh my god!”

At that point, I licked my middle and index fingers — not that she wasn’t already lubed — and slid them inside her, turning them so I could stroke the anterior wall of her cunt and find that sweet G-spot. If you’ve never tried out G-spot play before, it’s like a come-hither motion with your fingers, moving along until you find that spongy little patch that can singlehandedly short-circuit a woman with the right amount of pressure. Cora moaned louder and louder as I went to work.

“You like that, huh?” I crooned, her body writhing below me. With her face glowing and starting to sweat a little, Cora could only muster a nod.

I dialed up the wand’s intensity and pumped my fingers in and out of her pussy, stroking her G-spot in waves.

“Are you almost ready to come for me?”

Cora nodded again, desperate for release, and I pulled the wand away, scolding her. “I want you to look at me and give me a verbal yes or no answer!”

Gasping, Cora opened her eyes. “Yes. I’m ready to come for you, please.”

“Very well.” I switched the wand back on, and brought it into full contact with her clit. Cora’s buttocks and leg muscles clenched as the wand and my fingers did their work. I love how horizontal suspension lets me see every inch of my partner’s most private areas. But with shy, kink-newbie Cora, it was even more of a thrill. The view of Cora’s soaked pussy and asshole spasming in ecstasy under my control made me hornier than I’ve felt in a long time. A few moments later, Cora screamed, releasing a crystal-clear stream of girl-juice as the orgasm rocked her world. I let her ride out the ecstasy, then patted her on the thigh. “Good work, baby.”

Taking a moment to catch her breathe, Cora sighed blissfully. “Thank you,” she said.

“Would you like to come down now?”

“Yes, please,” she said, nodding.

No sooner had I released Cora from the restraints than she seemed to realize her nakedness and vulnerability. She tried to cover herself. I rolled my eyes, picked up the riding crop, and swatted her arms. “Don’t ever let me see you do that again,” I said firmly. “Covering yourself in this place is a no-no.”

“Of course,” Cora said. “I’m sorry.”

“Now, look down. You see that? You left a puddle on the floor. That’s how hard you came.” Cora looked down and smiled at the sight. “Wow,” she said.

I folded my arms and gave her a stern look of reproach. “Are you just going to stare? Clean it up. Supplies are in that cabinet. You can also wipe down the wand. Under no circumstances do you ever leave a mess in my play room!” 

Cora looked at me a bit dazed, but quickly nodded. “Yes, of course. I understand.”

“Go on now, I’ll wait.” I relaxed on the chaise lounge, and thoroughly enjoyed the view of fully nude Cora on her hands and knees wiping up the floor, and then polishing the Hitachi wand like bone china.

“Very good work, dear,” I said when she finished. “Time for another reward.”

I got up and retrieved my favorite purple strap-on and leather harness. I slipped off my pencil skirt and panties, but left my red corset on as I donned the strap-on. I brandished the shaft. “Do I need to tell you what to do with this cock?”

“No, ma’am,” Cora said softly, getting on her knees.

I face-fucked Cora for a few moments, ensuring the toy was nice and wet. Then I strapped her to the padded spanking bench in the middle of the room, positioned on her hands and knees, and got ready to enter her with the strap-on, doggy-style.

But first I teased her opening with the thick shaft. “Do you want this big cock in your pussy, Cora?” In response, this petite beauty moaned. “Oh yes, please fuck me!”

Her pussy was already soaked from our earlier play, so I reveled in stuffing her hard and fast with the toy, knowing I was tormenting her G-spot all over again.

Whimpering, Cora said, “Can I — Can I please come again?”

I pulled the strap-on cock out of her pussy. “Maybe,” I whispered in her ear. “Tell me something: Has Malcolm fucked you in that sweet ass of yours?”

Cora nodded in reply, her hips swaying gently before me.

“Good, because I think we need to pay that ass some attention.” I lubed up one of my stainless steel butt plugs and slid it right into her rosebud.

“Oh, fuck,” Cora whispered, tensing as the plug slid all the way inside.

“Yes,” I said, smirking. “That’s better.” I resumed fucking her pussy with the big strap-on cock. And this time when she begged to come, I gave her permission. She wailed, her body shaking. Afterward, of course, I made her clean the toys and put everything back the way it was — including herself.

Relaxing on the chaise lounge again, I watched this beautiful woman get dressed.

“The job is yours if you want it. But only if you really want it.”

Buttoning her blouse, Cora looked square at me. “I can start tomorrow.”

“Perfect. I’ll need you to stop at the dry cleaners first thing — and don’t forget to change your stockings either. I’ll be checking.”

“I hope so,” Cora said, smiling, and touched my arm.

I raised an eyebrow and moved my arm away from her hand. “Uh-oh, it seems we need to address some other rules.” I led her down the hall into another playroom.

That night I sent my new personal assistant home to her husband still quite wet. Being wanded and fingered and fucked in every hole will do that. A few hours later, I got an email from Malcolm consisting of only two words: “Thank you.”