Disclaimer:
	The following story may involve explicit sexual descriptions
	and unconventional sexual relations.
	
	By continuing you agree to the following:	
	I am not offended by the description of sexually explicit 
	scenes or the description of alternative sexual lifestyles
	and I do not consider such material to be obscene.
	I am 21 or older.
	The above material is not illegal under the standards of 
	my community.
	
	This story is offered as an insight into current social mores
	and is not intended for prurient purposes.
	
	Author: Unknown
	

In less than three hours, she'd gone from being an office temp to 
holding the whip hand over the company president.  

A bizarre turn of life-events led Paula -- utilizing her knowledge of 
certain men's need to submit and of their fetish-related obsessions 
 -- to turn her life around as she approached her mid-thirties.  And 
now, as she worked the relatively menial job in these new 
surroundings, she was about to increase her prestige and power 
markedly.

Paula's temporary jobs weren't unusual since she didn't want 
or need a Monday-to-Friday position. Her weekday hours were 
often reserved for her prime interest; the male toys who 
visited her apartment to be tormented, teased, whipped and 
humiliated.  Her stable of slaves however, was not so large that 
she could rely upon their monetary tributes to earn a comfortable 
living.  That's why she often made herself available to the temp 
agency for a day or two during the week.

She'd been working for over two hours this particular Monday 
morning when the corporation president walked through the 
department.  Paula had already heard that this fellow was 
an intellectual bully; a person who delighted in causing his 
underlings grief.  As he approached, she smiled in recognition. 
He was a slave who'd sought out her services for the first time 
over a year ago and had seen her regularly in the interim.

Drawing drew even with her desk, he stopped and looked at 
the beautiful Paula, looked again, and couldn't determine where 
he'd met this woman.  She was dressed appropriately enough 
for the office environment and, perhaps, that's where the confusion 
arose.  She was out of context.  This fellow, you see, had only 
known her as Mistress Paula -- the woman in black leather and 
spiked boots.  And when he saw her, she always held a whip as 
he knelt naked before her.  He didn't recognize her in the 
relatively conservative clothing until he curtly asked, "Have we 
met?"

She smiled, looking down past her tight skirt and black stockings 
to the higher-than-usual black patent spikes on her feet.  His 
eyes followed hers.  

There was no mistaking his immediate blush and his awkward, 
"Oh, yes, of course.  Well, welcome to DynaGlo.  Please drop 
by my office at noon."

When he'd moved on, the regular staff looked at Paula in awe, all 
anxious to know why he would be so civil to her and why they'd 
never been on the receiving end of an invitation to his office.  She 
did her best to be evasive, offering only that they'd met socially.  
Silently, Paula revelled at the fact that this corporate tyrant would 
soon be anything but when she paid her visit to the corporate wing.

Just before 12, Paula picked up her briefcase and headed for the 
ladies room for a quick make-up inspection.  Satisfied her lip 
gloss and eyeliner were exactly as she wanted, she made her 
way to the president's office, announcing herself to his personal 
secretary.  Paula received a quick, "Go right in... He's expecting 
you."

She opened the door, closed it, posed for a moment to emphasize 
the curves within her tight sweater and allowed him to gawk at her 
 long legs, short skirt and high-heeled shoes before pushing the 
dead bolt into place.  He sat watching, speechless, as she walked 
toward him, briefcase in hand, past the side of the huge oak work 
table until he had to turn in his swivel chair to face her.  Paula 
snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor.  He stood and sank 
to his knees as she took his place in the executive chair.  Pulling 
the briefcase onto her lap, Paula crossed a leg and extended her 
foot, saying, "Kiss and lick, slave, and don't forget the heel.  Suck."

Wordlessly, he paid homage to her shoe, foot and high heel. 
Paula, meanwhile, dialled the combination locks on her briefcase 
and opened it.  She didn't need a briefcase for her work but never 
left home without a few of her special toys.  One never knew what 
might happen and today proved the point.  Paula lived by the boy 
scout motto, Be Prepared.  Reaching inside, she withdrew a black 
leather dog collar, put it around his neck and fastened it tightly.  
Next came the leash.  Paula held him, allowing no slack, as he 
continued his shoe and foot worship.

"My new friends here in the office tell me you're quite the guy, slave.  
They say you've never given anyone an even break if you could 
help it.  Is that right?"

"Well, not exactly," he began, "but they have to know that this 
company runs on discipline."

She drew her small whip from the briefcase and slashed his back.  
"When you speak to me, it's to answer, "Yes, Mistress" or "No, 
Mistress."  Nothing else, slave.  Do you give your people a hard 
time or don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," he responded.

"Take your clothes off.  Fold them neatly and put them on the floor.  
Now!" she ordered.

He moved quickly, removing his suit, shirt, socks, shoes and 
underwear -- all the time under the constriction of the leash held 
firmly in Mistress Paula's hand.  Erection prominent, he moved back
into the kneeling position before her.  Paula had allowed her skirt to 
rise, showing a fleshy expanse of thigh above her stocking tops.  
She sat looking down at him as she alternately pulled his leash 
even tauter and played with her whip.  Raising her leg so it pointed 
straight out, she put the sole of her shoe directly above his nose and 
aimed her heel at his open mouth.  She simultaneously pushed his 
head away with her foot while pulling his neck toward her with the 
leash.  His sucking noises on the heel and the push-pull effect 
made him work all the harder to keep the heel in his mouth.  At the 
same time, she removed a pair of black leather gloves from her 
briefcase and alternately smoothed them on, exchanging whip and 
leash hands as she did.

Paula dropped her foot from his face, ordered him to extend his 
hands and, with slow, exaggerated and precise motions, slipped 
a pair of manacles around his wrists, connecting them.  Pausing, 
Mistress Paula looked deep into her slave's eyes, then drew her 
gloved hand back and slapped his cheek with full force.  The 
surprise of it, combined with the sting of the blow, brought a 
tear to his eye.  Her hand remained near his face as he heard 
her say, "Kiss it, kiss the hem of my skirt, then lick my leg, 
slave... And beg me to punish you some more."

She watched as he obeyed, kissing her leathered hand, the hem 
of her skirt and as he began licking her leg.  His passion and 
the ardor he displayed as he licked her stocking reinforced 
Paula's belief that an immediate dose of pain, such as a severe 
slap, only served to enhance a slave's submission.  The proof 
was in his enthusiastic worship.

She let him use his tongue for an extended period even as she 
stroked his head, giving him the mixed pain/pleasure message 
that if he wanted to serve her and be appreciated by her, he must 
also endure her small tortures.  Paula knew her signals -- patting 
his head while he knelt before her, worshipping at her direction -- 
reinforced her position; made him even more dependent upon her.

"That's a good slave," she said.  "I love having you nude and on 
your knees, watching you follow my orders.  And if you disobey me 
or don't do the kind of job I want, I can just tug the leash I've put 
onto your slave collar and whip you, can't I?"

"Yes, Mistress.  Thank you, Mistress," he said.

"But now it's time for something a little more severe before you take 
me out to lunch."

Ordering him to stay on his knees, Paula led the president to the 
door of his private washroom.  She had him stand as she brought 
the leash over the door itself so she was able to loop it to the 
handle on the other side.  He was forced to stand on tip toes facing 
the door, held in place by the collar and leash.  Ankle manacles 
quickly followed.  Standing back, she allowed him to watch as she 
slowly drew her sweater over her head, exposing her black bra and 
heavy breasts spilling over the cups.  She posed for a moment, 
giving him the eroticism he needed, before moving her hand to the 
middle of her back to draw down the skirt's zipper.

"Are you ready to be whipped, slave, really whipped?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress Paula."

"That's good, slave, because for the rest of this day any 
appointments you had are now cancelled.  You and I are going 
to spend the afternoon in behavior modification therapy."

Mistress Paula reached between his legs and fondled his balls.  
"Is your cock up nice and hard for me?  Are you getting the door 
wet with your pre-cum?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Spread your legs, slave," she commanded.

Paula pulled his balls as far back as she could and, using a long, 
leather thong, tied and separated them.  Drawing the remaining 
end upwards, She wrapped it around the back of his collar, tightly.

"I want your balls exposed back here because they deserve the 
chance to feel the leather of my whip, too, don't they, slave?"

He whimpered a "Yes, Mistress.  Thank you, Mistress".

His testicles now seemed to be a lower appendage of his ass in 
the form of two small balloons.  Paula smiled as she took in at 
the tableau she'd created.  Grasping the whip in her right hand 
and moving to his left, Mistress Paula lashed his buttocks, the 
whip landing well above his exposed balls. Still, though, she 
could see him tense every time she drew her arm back and she 
knew he was mentally exhausting himself worrying over whether 
or not this would be the lash that struck his sensitive jewels.  
Pausing for a moment, Paula let the ends of her cat'o nine tails 
dangle over the president's testicles. 

She teased him by saying, "So far, these little devils have 
escaped punishment.  What do you think, slave?  Shall I whip 
them for a while, too, or do you have any other suggestions?  
You may speak freely."

"Thank you, Mistress.  Please, Mistress, please don't whip my 
balls.  Let me serve you in any other way, Mistress. Please."

"What did you have in mind, slave" she asked.

"I don't know, Mistress.  Just anything except whipping my balls."

Mistress Paula began putting her skirt and sweater back on, saying, 
"Since you leave the choice up to me, slave, I'm going to make it."

She released him from the door handle, removed the shackles 
from his legs and wrists, and freed his balls from being tied to 
his slave collar.  However, Mistress Paula left the thong tied to 
his bag and told him to get dressed, that they were going out 
for lunch.  She said he could remove all of the bondage gear 
except the thong.  Telling him she'd meet him in the parking 
lot in ten minutes, Paula unbolted the office door and left.

On her way out, Paula almost bumped into the president's 
secretary.  The lady held a finger to her mouth begging Paula 
to be quiet and led her into a nearby hallway.  

Once there, the secretary said, "I couldn't help but overhear and, 
frankly, for years I've been looking for a way to get beyond his 
tough veneer.  You see, I've always had a thing about him despite 
the fact he can be a bastard most of the time.  I had no idea he 
could possibly be into bondage and discipline."

Paula smiled, now knowing exactly how he'd make up for not getting 
his balls whipped.  Whispering, she told the secretary that if she 
truly felt this man could become more to her than simply her boss, 
that if she was willing to be an active participant in fulfilling his slavish 
desires, then a most interesting scenario could be put into play that 
very afternoon.  

Nodding eagerly, the secretary said she'd do anything Paula asked.  
Paula explained what she had in mind.  Saying it was worth it to be 
out a little cash, the secretary grabbed her purse and went 
shopping.