Part One of the Secret Society of Sadistic Secretaries
A fictional tale about a real world secret
There are many secret societies around the globe, but once the world finds about you, it is silly to hang on to the adjective secret. Then there are those institutions that are truly private. One of them is the Secret Society of Sadistic Secretaries. Hindsight is always 20/20 and upon hearing about it, it made sense. There are those who believe they are in charge and then there are the ones who are really in charge.
White collar workers are very much aware who really rules their world - the secretaries or management assistants as they are called nowadays. I have encountered many, some sweet, others beyond bitchy. Some are hired for their good looks and others are simply phenomenal. What I didn't know is that a number of them congregate once a year. Those in attendance share one characteristic: they are sadists. Most people understand how a nurse can be a sadist or perhaps a dentist, but a secretary? Well think again, cause once you step into the office, you enter their domain, which they usually run with an iron fist, without you being aware of it. That said, some have rather unusual methods to support and guide their bosses.
Mistress and I don't live the 24/7 lifestyle. It is something that never appealed to either of us. Still, she is very much in charge and asked me to take a couple of days of for a big surprise, she had planned for "us". Not sure whether that was good news or bad, I came home that night somewhat curious.
"In a couple of days we are going to do something very special, sweety boi. We will perform at the annual gathering of the Secret Society of Sadistic Secretaries"
"Huh? What"
"Manners please boi!"
"Sadistic Society"
"of management assistants?"
Then I started thinking. "Secret Society". What secretary would want to join such an organization? Then it hit me, the devious ones. I've come across some of them and I feel intimidated by them every single time.
There were a few more words that caused great dis-concern such as "perform" and I started to feel uncomfortable right away.
Mistress enjoys a lot of things, but one thing she revels at is my frustration. Over the years she has become a true artisan at maximizing my desperation, in no little thanks to the invention of electricity. Many nights I've spent tied up, getting more and more frustrated as the tens unit worked my private parts, increasing my desire and frustration. Sometimes it was followed by pain, other nights by more frustration. There were some good nights as well, but not that many I've often been called her sweet battery boy, referring to her ability to increase my desire so easily.
We had dinner reservations that night and as if nothing happened we went out and enjoyed a lovely meal. We didn't discuss it over dinner. Mistress knew my mind was racing. She loves that. Good thing she loves me. It is the only reason I can cope with the stuff she comes up with. We went to bed early that night and rather than turn out the lights, i had other ideas. In the restaurant, mistress had been wearing my favourite dress but once I had her in my arms she gently dismissed any plans I might have for the night.
"Sorry baby, but we got important things to prepare for" Adding insult to injury, she snuggled up even closer to me, grabbed my hand, placing it over her breast. She fell asleep within seconds but not before she pushed her lovely bottom backward. The stuff dreams are made of. As always the devil is in the details. Me, I was very much thinking why I ever signed up for the kinky part. When I noticed her heartbeat slowing as my super-girl was falling asleep, I began to drift as well. The only reason I accept whatever scary, bizarre and intimidating plan she comes, is that, above else, she looks out for me and it is full stop if necessary, no matter what. But that only tells you, you'll always be safe with her, not safe from harm, fear or whatever else she plans.
The next morning we had breakfast and discussed the papers. Around ten AM mistress said: "about last night" and ordered me to strip. It all was rather sudden. We live in an old house with built in cupboards, annexes and several other tiny spaces. When we moved in, we knocked down a few wall and some doors, but left two door posts for adult fun. Five minutes later I found myself secured between two sturdy beams.
"You know baby, I don't want the same thing happening as last time, so let's get you ready". That usually means hooking me up to TENS device and tease the hell out of me until my brain stops functioning and I firmly believe jumping of a cliff is the better option. This time I didn't see it coming.
If you love someone, you get to know each other, kink and vanilla. It also adds to the control mistress has over you. She knows exactly what works and what doesn't so I knew tomorrow was going to be bad. After she switched on the unit, she went back to the dining table and started working on her laptop. I wasn't gagged or anything and before long I began making noises, wishing I'd jumped of that cliff.
"Not now honey", she said as she gagged me. But first she gave a kiss, a very greedy, happy one.
"I really have to finish this. With you all tied up, having all the fun, I have to do all the work myself. The least you can do is be quiet and show a little gratitude"
After an hour or two she went to the kitchen and got us some water. I desperately needed that.
"You know honey, this might be a good moment to try out that gorgeous new whip you got me last month."
I could, should and would have disagreed if it wasn't for the gag and the doorpost to which I was restrained.
It didn't take long for her new whip to rain down on my back.
"Don't worry, you don't have to thank me for each one, I understand the gag makes that difficult. I just hope you appreciate the effort I put into it", she said as she laughed.
I didn't count and let go. Usually there is some link to the number eleven, but with the whipping on one hand and the frustimulation on the other, it was simply too much.
When she was happy with the number of strokes, mistress came up to me from behind and pinched my nipples. I felt the warmth of her body, something that never fails to me make me happy or think of a different kind of intimacy. Who needs complicated toys when you can mess with a men's mind like that? Then she left me to her own devices - aka her TENS torture toy - for at least another hour. By that time I had crumbled to pieces and my world was been reduced absolutely zero. Everything collapsed around me when mistress finally switched of the electricity. My mind tried to convince me, I was being ejected by force from an out of control Ferris wheel.
As mentioned, mistress and I are not into the lifestyle. For us the idea of me being in permanent chastity is also a no no. The obvious reason is me not being able to focus in the office, but mistress also explained how she liked my attention to be "natural" rather than an act of desperation. "Seriously darling?" Thinking back of last night after dinner, it is hard to think of a word other than desire. Enhanced, naturally.
On rare occasions mistress believes chastity is advisable and for that purpose she ordered a scary device some years ago. It is a full metal chastity belt with additional stainless steel butt plug that it is capable of sending out electrical pulses. The manufacturer calls it a training or correctional device. There is no special name for the metal butt plug, but they as well might call it the devil. Before I was released from bondage I was strapped into that monster. A lot goes on when that happens, but when you are invaded by a large cold metal butt plug, it devours all your attention.
Now that the electricity was turned of - after several hours - my body started to calm down a bit. It took just one whiff of mistress' perfume to alert all my senses again.
Mistress was holding a pair of wrist cuffs in her hand. "If you are going to give me trouble, putting it on, I'd be glad to focus your attention on something else" mistress said as she grabbed my nipples. Even then I couldn't help but to notice her beautiful hands. With so much pressure applied to my nipples however, that didn't last long. Mistress also put a pair of cuffs around my ankles, severely restricting my movements. My arms were bound at the waist, and after I was released from bondage, I was effectively restrained and could only take tiny steps.
As we were having lunch, mistress put the receiver of the device on the table. I knew what it was capable of and the black box with buttons looked rather menacing. Usually I'd say something like:
"I hope you didn't forget to replace the batteries"
Today I opted to enjoy a quiet lunch instead. I had never experienced anything over forty percent, which was more than enough to consider filing for divorce. Mistress loves me. She is also a sadist and can be ruthless. I never worry she will ever truly harm me, but hurting me is a constant in my life. That and her smile when she makes me suffer.
After lunch we had some paperwork to go through and some family stuff we needed to discuss. For obvious reasons I had a hard time focussing.
"You know baby, those papers you signed, could easily have been you agreeing to finance an expedition to raise the Titanic" mistress said as she played carelessly with the remote control. Of course I knew better. In the past - at moments neither of us expected it - she had showed me her love in such an overwhelming way, it made me wonder if I can ever live up to her expectations.
"Time for some more exercise sweety." I looked at her in complete disbelief and froze. Now that was a bad move. She smiled. I wasn't mesmerized by her smile, but by the level of harshness her words signalled.
"Come on, no need to get nervous, you already know it will be bad" my love said as she got up. My mind started to race. Never before she had asked this much of me.
"Last time and on the double" she said, but I didn't hear her. Zapp. I tried to get up but couldn't. Mistress now somewhat agitated pressed the button again as I was getting up. A shock to my lower regions as I fell to the floor. Imagine everywhere you underwear touches your body there is pain, and then there is pain inside your body as well. We clearly had entered a new stage in me serving mistress.
"You have exactly 10 seconds to assume position in the doorpost" Not even sure I understood what she said, I rushed over.
"Good boy" mistress said as she secured my arms and legs. She released me from my torture device and hooked me up for another session with the TENS unit.
"You need to think how you can avoid being a bit slow next time boy. I'll go upstairs and sort some clothes that I can donate to the charity shop".
"And don't forget you want this to be real. Guess this is a real treat for you then" she said as her finger came dangerously close to that button. Then she went upstairs.
No idea how much time passed, but my mind had a complete meltdown more than once. When when mistress came down, she asked for my "advice". She was wearing a bra and a pair of jeans.
"I'm thinking of donating these jeans to charity, don't like how my butt looks like in it." Did I mention mistress is a smart, sexy sadist? She turned away and bent over so I could make up my own mind. Of course that pair of jeans looks absolutely amazing on her. I knew and she knew.
"You're not really thinking with the correct part of your body, my love. What good is your advice to me? Fortunately, there is a solution for that" she said, as she pulled out a pair of nipple clamps. It is a weird unpleasant sensation. Your nipples are hurting badly, while the lower regions are filled with so much desire, you wish you never discovered what the word meant. After putting on the nipple clamps, mistress took a step back.
"Now that I have your attention, what do you think of this bra" The smell of her perfume filled my nose. Looking at her bra and what they were supporting I clearly remember thinking: "who needs a whip, with a mistress like that?" You cannot improve perfection. Meanwhile mistress was smiling, she loved every minute of it. She is a very smart woman who understands at times we men suffer more from desire than pain.
We both knew what she meant with the bra. Maybe there is such a thing as happy suffering, after all. Even if that were true, I was desperately looking for less happiness. I wanted it to be over. As I was gazing at Her Wicked Gorgeousness, the doorbell rang.
Continued in Part Two.
| Writing femdom fiction is risky. I used to stay clear of it. Too often an idea turns into a - fixed - script. Some say, the more detailed the story, the more it takes away control from mistress. I used to agree. That is, untill I realized fiction is an excellent way to explore activities you are uncomfortable with. So remember this is not a script, nor is it part of my wishlist. Exploring the scary stuff in writing helps find mistress and slave find common grounds. |
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