I love BDSM phone sex. Have you ever seen the kinky movie Secretary? I have that kind of relationship with my boss. Every day I dress sexy for him. He loves me in pumps, pencil skirts and stockings. Prefers a white blouse with a black bra. I start my morning off by modeling my outfit for him. If it is not perfect, which it rarely is, I get spanked; actually I get hardcore whipped. Yes, a grown ass woman gets thrown over her boss’s knees with her bare ass exposed. He has quite the assortment of things to spank me with: paddles, his hand, hairbrushes, whips, cat of nine tails, canes, even old fashioned switches. Just about every day I start work with a mouth full of his musky spunk and a severe spanking. He will paddle me so hard he draws blood and the flesh tears from my body. I am incapable of sitting for days. But I like it because I am a submissive slut.
I call my boss, Master. Master has a private dungeon in his executive office. It is a nightmare room for me. Ropes, chains, floggers, bondage gear, scalpels, razor blades, whips, chains, handcuffs, ball gags, shackles, St, John’s cross… you name it. If it is considered BDSM equipment it is in there. I would like to say Master pays me to be his paralegal, but truth be told, he pays me to be his torture doll. He does his best to not mark up my trashy face, but the rest of my body is fair game. I try to be very obedient to cut down on the caning and flogging, but he is so very particular. I once was sodomized for an hour with a baseball bat for misspelling a word on a legal brief. Another time he made me chug a gallon of his urine for getting to the post office 5 minutes late.
Every day , I go to work with both fear and excitement. Fear for not knowing how far he will take our BDSM games, and excitement because I have grown to love the pain, the humiliation, the uncertainty of the condition I may return home in. If you were my boss, would you treat me as your slave? I need a dominant man to put me in my place.
