Introduction

I had been a shy girl with a privileged and strict upbringing in which the traditional attitudes to sex were drilled into me from a very early age. As a result I explored my sexuality with my mind rather than my body, reserving the latter for the special man that my mother promised would sweep me off my feet, marry me and with whom I would raise beautiful children.

I respected this doctrine through my teens, enviously listening to my classmates talk about their exploits in darkened woods and boyfriends houses.

At University, girls were outrageously adventurous and promiscuous and yet I somehow managed to resist the unbearable desire within me. At 21 I graduated with honours, as virgin with a mind of a whore and a degree in business management. How I would change those days if I could turn back the clocks. At that time I was (and still am) a porn addict, trawling the internet for thrills, masturbating continuously while waiting for a god of a man to come and make me his. The god never came, and instead I became engaged to Simon, a banker from Sheffield and the son of a friend of my father, with the same strict views on sex and marriage.

In my frustration I turned to a girlfriend, perhaps my only real friend, for help. With her support, I lost my virginity to her brother, Jake. He was a nice enough boy, a couple of years younger than me with a nice firm body. The encounter was painful and brief. Not at all what I expected, but a seed was planted inside me, a seed that would grow into the multi-million pound business I now own. Jake was strong and powerful and when he pinned my wrists above my head with one hand while fumbling to find my baron fissure with his cock I felt a surge of sexual energy that left me breathless. I barely remembered the feel of his erection inside me or the cum that too quickly filled me, but to be helpless beneath his bulk, my hips pounded under his animalistic thrusts was more thrilling than I ever imagined.

Of course I told Simon that I was no longer a virgin and the revelation soon found its way back to my parents. Dad was all for disowning me, but mum took a more sympathetic stance, though things between us were never quite the same again. I found a place of my own and took a menial job stacking shelves in a supermarket while feeding my imagination with ideas of dominance and submission, bondage and sexual torture. I kept a sex diary that I swore I’d publish one day and I fucked almost anyone that asked, but no longer thought of romance and love. I frequented chat rooms and exchanged my fantasies with anyone that would talk to me and I found that my need to be controlled was far more common than had I imagined.

My father became ill shortly after and died within a year. I moved back in with mother, but the stress of father’s illness had weakened her and she followed him within a few months, leaving me alone and sole heir to their moderate country estate. It didn’t take me long to realise that a Meagre sales assistant’s salary wouldn’t even stretch to pay the heating bills in the manor. There was money of course, but after lawyers and the government took their share, there wasn’t too much left for me. There were two options, I’d decided; sell up or use the property and grounds to pay for its self. I chose the latter. The estate wasn’t grand enough to open to the public and so I chose to move in the opposite direction – a private members club. The contacts I had made in the chat rooms and sex forums had given me a starting point and I had no trouble at all persuading six female and two male submissives in joining my little adventure. Finding Doms to orchestrate matters was far more problematic as they needed to perform for the members rather than simply feed their own fetishes (although these were not totally exclusive). I found two men and a woman that seemed suitable, though the men were quickly replaced by women. Within six months I had a family of sexual deviants and had transformed all but the upper floor (which was used as our private accommodation) into a pervert’s paradise. The stables still housed four horses, but the leather thongs and whips were generally not for equine use.

Initially I worried about publicity, but word quickly spread and regulars returned again and again. I didn’t consider myself to be a madam to a string of prostitutes. Every one of my staff was here because this was the lifestyle that they chose to live, whether dom or sub. Besides, once we were fully up and running they all received a very generous salary.

Within two years we’d expanded to 5 houses in four countries including Italy, France and two in the US, and with plans to develop another two properties in the UK.

My little empire was growing at a tremendous rate, but I envied the girls who offered themselves up for abuse and humiliation on a daily basis. I wanted to be ordered to perform those perversions that I heard being discussed in the green room after hours or to be punished for disobedience, but I was known to employees and customers who treated me with the respect I longed to leave behind. Only on one occasion I was brought into the ‘games’ (my 30[SUP]th[/SUP] birthday). I was stripped and punished, but the flogging was no more than a gentle spanking with velvet paddles. However, having all of those eyes upon me was a thrill that will live with me forever.

I rarely had time for TV, management duties kept me far too busy, but on one occasion I wandered into the girl’s common room while they were watching a program called undercover boss and from that moment a single thought implanted itself in my mind and refused to leave. I wanted to go undercover and be one of the girls, to be used as they were.

I found a perfect excuse.

One of our ‘Spas’ in the US seemed to be running far smoother and profitably than the others and I was desperate to know their secret. I booked a flight to Houston without contacting Jennie, the manager of the Texas ranch in which we’d built our S&M brothel.

I dressed down on my arrival and checked into a very ordinary motel, my mind racing as I planned my next move. I pulled on a pair of tight jeans and silk blouse and headed out of the city. The hire car was a very basic model and the Air con was broken. I arrived at the Houston Oaks shimmering in perspiration and hoping that the sweat hadn’t stained my jeans. It was a fantastic building, purpose built with cellars and dungeons, there were multiple performance areas with seating for spectators. Cameras beamed activities to every room so that guests could flick through live shows or watch something from our back catalogue.

I wandered into the lobby and was immediately challenged by a large African-American who looked like he wrestled cattle for a living. His shoulders and chest bulged through his shirt and his biceps were comparable in circumference to my waist. When I caught my breath I asked him to direct me to Jennie Spooner’s office, which, he would not do until I assured him that I had an appointment. Still sceptical, he lead me to the office door and left me in the corridor while he spoke to the manager.

Of course, I was ready to reveal my real identity, but to my surprise, when the man emerged it was to usher me inside rather than expel me from the grounds.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked politely, just failing to disguise her southern twang.

“I heard that you may be taking on girls.” I offered nervously in my eloquent English accent.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Where did you hear that?”

Of course I couldn’t tell her that I read it in her monthly report. “I’m really sorry.” I replied. “I desperately need work and I thought . . .” I let my voice trail off.

“Do you know what we do here?” She asked pouring herself a coffee and offering me one.

I nodded. “Yes. Your girls perform sexual favours. . . “

“Quite.” She interrupted. “And you are experienced in such matters?”

I shook my head. “I must confess that I’m not, but I have an uncontrollable desire that I’ve not been able to satisfy.”

“Indeed?” She sat at her desk. “Tell me about this desire.”

I took a deep breath. “I have been in control all of my life. At school I was taught to be a lady and keep myself for the man I would marry. My parents were influential and those around them treat me with more respect than I deserved or wanted. I want to be used without consideration. I want to be fucked by men and women without any regard for my own pleasure, to be overpowered, tied, punished, humiliated.”

“I see.” She said half laughing and I felt my cheeks burning. This was the first time I had told this to anyone

“We’re a close knit family here.” She said “From me at the top right down to John who works the door. What make you think you’ll fit in?”

“I don’t know if I’ll fit in.” I replied, “But give me a chance. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

“As it happens I am short a couple of girls.” She offered a glimmer of hope. “And I do see possibilities, especially with that pretty accent of yours.” She tapped her pen on the pad in front of her for a moment. “Take your clothes off.”

I had expected that I’d be tested and quickly undressed. I stood before her, holding her gaze for a moment.

“Do not make eye contact with guests or doms unless ordered to do so.”

My eyes dropped to the floor while she examined me.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty Thee.” I lied.

“Kneel.” She barked. “put your hands on your head.”

I did as she commanded. She reached down with a narrow cane and raised my chin.

“Can you dance?”

“I attended ballet school until I was 18.”

“Do you ride.”

“I’ve been around horses all of my life.”

The cane came down on my back and I could feel the sting welt rising. I bit my lip but said nothing. She struck again, harder this time and I felt a tear welling in my eye.

“Do you like the feel of the cane on your flesh?”

“Yes,” I replied honestly and the stick came down upon me again.

“Have you ever been raped?”

“No.”

“Have you had multiple partners?”

“No.”

“Ever been fucked in the ass?”

“Have you ever been hung from the ceiling and flogged?”

“No.”

“Do these things frighten you?”

“Yes, but they also excite me.”

“Can you act? Can you cry on command?”

“I . . . I’ve never tried. I don’t think so.”

“Good. There are no actors here. The tears are real, the screams are honest. Do you still want to work here?” She brought the cane down with such force that I cried out.

“Yes.”

She considered for a moment before pressing a button on the desk “Gary, its Jennie. I have a girl here I’d like to try for a couple of weeks. I’m going to move Tammy into Marks team and drop the new girl in as a waitress. If things work out we might be able to use her in that little scenario we discussed last month. Ask Sally to come up.”

I could hardly believe it; I’d been taken on and could scarcely hide the excitement that was threatening to burst from me. It felt so liberating to be naked and on my knees before this woman who conducted her business as though I was no more than piece of furniture.

“You will need to sign our basic contract and undergo a short period of training. Where are you staying?”

I told her.

“We’ll have your things collected and held in storage. Everything you need will be provided.” She smiled. “Welcome aboard. From this point forward you will do as instructed to the best of your ability. The initial instruction will take 3 days and you’ll be monitored and assessed for an extended period that will be determined by your mentor, based on your attitude and progress. Do you have any questions?”

“No.”

The intercom on Jennie’s desk buzzed and she answered.

“Sally’s here.” The voice crackled.

“Good, show her right in.” Jennie replied, her attention returning to me. “Are you absolutely sure?” She said with a serious edge to her voice. “In here there are limits that we do not cross, but on the whole, you will be exposed to almost every perversion and fetish imaginable. You will be publicly beaten for the slightest transgression and humiliated at the whim of any client or dom.”

“I understand.” I replied. Of course I understood, I’d written the original contract.

“Your induction will be difficult, but we will meet in four weeks to discuss your future.” She smiled reassuringly. “In other words, you have a month to decide whether this life is for you and we will decide whether you will fit in with our family.”

She placed a sheet of paper on the desk. “Read and sign.”

I quickly skimmed through the familiar legalities and signed ’Cathy Montrose’ at the bottom.

 

Very good start Morgana7 , looking forward to enjoying the rest of this tale

 

Great start. I like the undercover boss angle, you've added an interesting twist on what could have been a generic story about submission. Nice slow build-up of the main character's background, although I would like to get a more detailed physical description so I can picture her in my mind better.

I can't wait to see where you go with this.

 

Oh how I would love to live there for at least a month and experience the same things you will in your story. Yes I am a bi sub male