Her Personal Assistant

by J. W. McKenna

  Her hand went to her blouse and she unbuttoned a button. She looked to James for approval and he simply tipped his head. She unbuttoned another one. James sighed. Now a third button slipped loose and Evelyn knew the swell of her breasts could be seen above her lacy bra, the marks from her recent whipping visible now.

  “Perhaps she needs further correction, Thomas,” James said to the butler. “Would you like to assist me?”

  “No!” she said at once, unbuttoning the remaining buttons and allowing her blouse to fall open. “I'm doing it!”

  “Thomas, can you see the marks?”

  The butler stepped forward and peered at her. “Very nice, sir.”

  Evelyn felt like falling through the floor. She sat there, her dinner untouched, her blouse open, her chest heaving with embarrassment.

  “Good. Now, let's eat.”

  How could she eat like this? But she did manage, especially after Thomas retreated to his post by the kitchen door, ignoring her unless he was needed. Her embarrassment faded and she ate, her blouse open, her marked breasts on display above her bra. After a while, it all seemed rather silly that she should be hiding her true masochistic self. So what if she liked being whipped and told what to do by a strong man? It didn't make her any less of a woman. She was just a woman with some unique needs.

  Thomas cleared away the dishes, barely glancing at her breasts and Evelyn finally felt better, almost normal. She smiled at James as if to say, You were right. He smiled back.

  “Tomorrow, you lose the bra.”

  She froze. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He got up and left the room. She just sat there, speechless.

  That night, alone in her bed, Evelyn wished James would come in and sleep with her. She didn't need sex, but she missed having a man in her bed. Why would he not come in after their amazing love-making session earlier? Was he just using her? She fretted about it for an hour before she finally dropped off to sleep.

  In the morning, James still did not come in and she showered and shaved and slipped on her robe and waited a few minutes for him to tell her what to wear. Today she did not have to go into the office and looked forward to a relaxing day around the house. By all rights, she should pick out some shorts and a casual blouse and be done with it. Yet somehow she felt she was being tested. Evelyn stood up and went downstairs to breakfast dressed only in her robe.

  James was already at the breakfast table, sipping a cup of coffee. “Ah, there you are. How did you sleep?”

  “Uh, fine.” She sat down at the table and Thomas brought her a cup of coffee.

  “Please remove your robe from your shoulders,” James said.

  She stared at him. “What?” She remembered that he had said she wouldn't be allowed a bra at the table, but this was different!

  “Your robe. Just slide it down to your waist.”

  She glanced over at Thomas, who was standing to the side, face expressionless. He turned to James. “It appears you were right, sir.”

  “Right? Right about what?”

  “That you need some additional correction,” James said.

  She felt hot all of a sudden and looked from one man to the other. James had not been kidding when he said their little games would no longer be kept a secret from Thomas. She loosened the belt and shrugged the robe from her shoulders, allowing it to puddle around her waist. She clasped it tightly around her, giving some modesty. She stared straight ahead, feeling the men's eyes on her and she shivered. But it also aroused her, she could tell from the heat in her loins. Evelyn managed to look down at her empty plate and took a deep breath.

  “Some eggs, I think, Thomas, scrambled—and some toast.”

  “Very good, ma'am. How about you, sir?”

  “The same.” He nodded and left.

  She looked over at James who was smiling. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  She glanced down at her breasts and noted how the red marks had already faded overnight. For some reason, she felt a bit of a loss, as if the marks represented something. Ownership, maybe. James was claiming her as his woman, apparently with Charles’ approval. She still couldn't quite get used to it.

  Thomas brought the eggs and they ate. She soon forgot she was sitting there with her breasts hanging out and started up a conversation about the board and what might be done to establish herself as more of a leader.

  “That's the problem,” James told her. “You're not a leader.” He held up a hand when she started to sputter. “Don't get me wrong, you're an intelligent, accomplished, amazing woman. But you're not a leader like Charles was—you're a submissive. You are only taking on that role because you had to. I'm sure you'd much rather let someone like Charles take it over, as long as he took good care of the company.”

  She nodded. Pretending to be in charge only made her stomach hurt and her head ache. She could not have done it without James.

  “So you were acting as Charles’ surrogate. I was just the puppet.”

  He shrugged. “You were hardly a puppet. You had excellent insights and I think we worked well as a team. But I also knew this was hard for you, getting dressed up in suits and being the hard-ass. That's not what you like doing.”

  “No, it's not. But what else can I do?”

  “You mentioned selling the company. There's another solution: Find someone like Charles to take over. Surely there are a few board members you trust.”

  “Well, Rene Anatole is a strong ally and I consider him a friend.”

  “Yes, and Charles mentioned Steve Porter as well, one of his vice presidents.”

  “Yes! He's a good man.”

  “So why don't you groom one of them to be CEO? Then you could step back and enjoy your life.”

  “And do what?”

  “Whatever it was you did while Charles was alive.”

  She snorted. “Shopping? Charity work? That grows boring after a while.”

  “What would you like to do?”

  Thomas came in at that moment and she was suddenly acutely aware that she was sitting there, half naked. And she knew what she wanted to do—she wanted to be owned. She wanted to be spanked and fucked and told what to do. It was perverse, of course, and went against everything she had been brought up to think, but it was still part of her. How could she tell that to James? Especially with Thomas standing nearby?

  “Uh, I don't know.”

  “We can keep on doing what we're doing until we figure it out.”

  Evelyn wanted to shout, YES! but she kept her mouth shut.

  “Come, let's go upstairs and get you dressed for the day.”

  She slipped the robe up over her shoulders and followed him, tying the belt as she walked. When they got to the stairs, James paused and untied the belt and pulled the robe from her body. She gasped and hunched over, trying to hide herself, and he merely tsked and gave her a slap to her bare rump. She scurried up the stairs, James following, carrying her robe.

  In her bedroom, she sat on the bed, still hunched over. James opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the riding crop.

  “What's that for?” she cried, feeling that familiar sensation of desire and fear, the push-pull of the submissive.

  “Don't hunch,” he said. “Present your breasts.”

  With some trepidation, she threw her shoulders back and received four perfunctory slaps with the crop. It aroused her more than it hurt. She felt her pussy grow damp.

  “Now, if you hunch again, the punishment will be worse.”

  That didn't worry her—she could take it. She was more concerned about walking around naked, her body on display. Charles would never have done that. James, she was beginning to realize, was his own man. A Dom, to be sure, but a Dom like she had never known.

  “Sir?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Yes, my pet?”

  “Um, are you going to make me walk around naked?”

  “Only when it suits me.”

  She nodded in relief before she paused, wondering if
that meant all the time. Before she could clarify it, James asked her another question.

  “Have you showered yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He went to her drawer and picked out a bra and panty set. “You don't have much here. We should go shopping.”

  She smiled. A man who likes shopping? He was a rare breed. “I got used to not having panties. I only wore them for special occasions.”

  “Well, you need more. It makes you feel sexy.”

  That puzzled her. He acted like a lover, yet he didn't sleep with her and had only made love to her once. The other times he had simply fucked her—and she had sorely needed it. His actions, she realized, seemed only to keep her off balance.

  She put on the undergarments while he selected a knee-length black skirt to put on. She frowned, hoping she would be allowed to wear slacks, which she felt were more comfortable. But she said nothing and simply stepped into the skirt and zipped it up. James found a tan blouse and handed that over.

  “Are the colors all right together?” he asked.

  “Yes, they're fine.” She slipped on the blouse and buttoned it up. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and decided she seemed perfectly proper. So different from this morning!

  “Here.” He handed her a pair of black shoes with four-inch heels. She sighed inaudibly. Men and their love of heels! She knew her calves would ache before the day was over.

  She sat on the bed and put them on. Looking up, she found herself waiting for James to tell her what to do next. She realized she was falling back into her submissive mode that she and Charles had down to perfection.

  “Call Paul and tell him we're going shopping.”

  Evelyn noted how he still deferred to her when it came to ordering Paul about. While Thomas had seemed to come around to James’ side, Paul was still her employee. She liked that. She picked up the phone and dialed the garage and asked Paul to have the Town Car ready in a few minutes.

  When they stepped out into the bright sunshine, Evelyn pulled her sunglasses from her purse and slipped them on. Paul opened the rear door and she slid into the back seat of the Lincoln. James sat right beside her.

  “Where to, ma'am?”

  “Uh...” She glanced over at James who gave her a slight nod. “We're going shopping. How about the Sundowner Mall?”

  “Very good, ma'am,” he said.

  They were silent on the way. At the mall, Evelyn looked questioningly to James, who responded. “Have Paul wait. I don't think we'll be more than an hour or so.”

  She felt disappointment, mixed with relief. At least her legs won't ache. After Paul dropped them off, they entered the mall and James headed at once to a lingerie shop. Evelyn followed, with a funny feeling in her stomach. It was as if James was her new lover and yet he wasn't.

  Inside the store, he went at once to the displays of panties and began selecting several pairs he liked. She noted they all were very sexy—not a one was practical. Bikinis, French lace, thongs—James picked out several in different colors.

  “How about this?” He'd ask and she'd nod. They did look very nice, she had to admit. It still felt strange, having James—her personal assistant!—selecting her underwear for her.

  Once they had several pairs selected, he went to the bras and picked out just a few pairs. “You have a lot of bras already,” he told her. “I just want to get a few, uh, sexy ones.”

  Of course you do, she thought.

  James found some he liked in her size and asked her to try them on. It embarrassed her, because she knew he'd insist upon seeing them. Standing in the dressing room while James peered at her made that funny feeling in her stomach grow. She still didn't quite know what to make of him.

  The saleswoman, a tall thin woman in her fifties, appeared to have seen it all and was unfazed when James asked to see each bra on Evelyn. No doubt she assumed they were lovers. In a way, they were. Evelyn felt extremely self conscious, standing there in a skirt and bra, while James and the saleswoman tugged at the edges, tsking over the fit. She realized she was getting wet and that embarrassed her all the more.

  “This is the style I like,” James said to the saleswoman, making Evelyn turn around and show off a particularly lacy number that barely contained her breasts. Furthermore, her nipples were clearly outlined by the sheer panels.

  “Oh, we have some others like this too, in different colors and offering a wide range of support,” the woman cooed. “Would you like to see them?”

  “Yes, we would,” James answered for Evelyn.

  She stood there, the richest woman in two counties, and allowed James to dress her intimately and she wasn't sure why. Had she become so used to Charles that James seemed to be an extension of him? Or was she just so submissive by now that any Dom could push her buttons?

  Both were true, she realized. And it wasn't that she was unable to make decisions—she really preferred not to. The information gave her some comfort when James and the woman brought back two more bras for her to try on. This time, she didn't bother trying to hide her breasts from them. She simply shrugged off the old model and put on the new, feeling like a mannequin.

  But she had to admit, the bras made her feel sexy.

  When they were done, she put the items on her credit card and left the store, James carrying the packages like a personal assistant should. In all, they had bought a dozen pairs of panties and five bras. He had made her wear a lacy number that gave her good support, but felt whisper light, her old bra stuffed in a bag. Evelyn felt younger already.

  She called Paul and he glided up and helped James put the purchases in the trunk. “Home, ma'am?”

  She looked over at James. He tipped his head. “I think we would like to stop and have some lunch.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Where to?”

  “Did you and Charles have a favorite restaurant around here?”

  She raised an eyebrow. He wanted them to go to there? Then she realized she was being silly. James was her assistant. So what if they went to her favorite restaurant—it was just a restaurant, after all.

  “Paul, take us to Le Claire.”

  Paul's bullet head nodded and the car headed out.

  “You'll like this place, I think,” she told James. “They have a very good chef.”

  “Good.”

  Nothing more was said as they headed deeper into the city. Ten minutes later, Paul pulled up at the restaurant and paused at the door. “While you're inside, may I go get something to eat, ma'am?”

  “Of course, Paul. I'll call you when we need you.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  They got out and Paul drove away. The restaurant, James noted, was pricey and elegant. It befitted the social status of Charles and Evelyn Rothschild. The olive-skinned maitre'd was obsequious without being annoying.

  “Welcome back, Mrs. Rothschild, it's been a long time.”

  “Yes, it has, Ahman. This is my, er, personal assistant. He will be eating with me.”

  The maitre'd gave a small bow and his eyes twinkled when he took in James’ tall, muscular body. “Of course, ma'am.” He didn't seem to be fooled by their relationship and Evelyn guessed he was thinking James was her new boy toy.

  Although he was hardly a boy! He was her age or perhaps a few years older. She had never asked.

  They were taken to the leather booth where she and Charles had eaten so many meals. She balked. “Uh...”

  James picked up on it right away. “I think we'd like a new table, please.”

  Evelyn was immediately grateful. “Yes, please.”

  “Of course. Sorry.” Ahman led them to toward the back of the room where it was quiet. “Will this do?” he asked, pointing out another leather booth.

  “Yes, this will be fine,” James said.

  They slid in and the maitre'd gave them menus. “Oh, I already know what I want.” She stopped. “I'm sorry. This is your first time here, James. I'm sure you'll want to study the menu.”

  “Can I tell your
waiter to bring you some cocktails?”

  “It's a little early,” James said. “How about some iced tea? Would that be all right, Evelyn?”

  “Yes, quite. Thank you.”

  The maitre'd bowed and left. A few minutes later, the waiter came by with two tall glasses of iced tea and placed them on the table. He went over the specials and left, giving them time to decide.

  “What do you recommend?”

  “Oh, I just love the salmon here. I have it all the time.”

  “Perhaps, just to be different, you should try something else.”

  It was a simple suggestion, but Evelyn read a lot into it. Don't have what you always had with Charles, he's gone. It actually made her feel cared for.

  “Yes, I think you're right.” She picked up the menu and began to read.

  She decided to have a Caesar salad with grilled salmon on top—a nice compromise, she thought. James chose a steak sandwich with a side salad. The waiter bowed and took away the menus.

  “You may be wondering why I like you to wear panties,” James said out of the blue as soon as they were alone.

  “Uh...” She was flummoxed. Why bring this up now?

  “Here's one reason why. I'd like you to go into the ladies room and remove your panties and bring them back to me.”

  She stared at him. It was a daring request from her employee. Except he wasn't her employee—he was hired by Charles. It was impertinent and yet, she couldn't deny the wave of pleasure that swept from her pussy to her stomach and breasts. All the times she and Charles had eaten here, she was naked under her skirts or dresses. It had become routine. But to suddenly remove her panties, right here in this restaurant, well, that gave her a very naughty feeling.

  She smiled and nodded. She rose fluidly and went to the restroom. Finding a stall, she went in and slipped her panties down and balled them up in her fist. They were an older pair, a lacy bikini that James had picked out. She had been surprised he did not give her one of the new ones, but now she understood. She thought about stuffing them in her purse, but knew James would want her to bring them back in her hand. She left quickly, feeling the air on her pussy and it made her feel alive and sexy.