Page 33 of His Private Assistant

The Contract

Electra

Howwouldyoudescribeyour life?

That was the question I’d been asked in the job interview at Thorn Enterprises eight years ago. Back then, my life had been a fairytale. I’d had perfect grades at school, an impeccable reputation, and a supportive family. It’d been easy for me to be successful.

Yet, my private life had been a disaster. My first serious relationship had ended because, according to my partner, Simon, I sucked in bed. I wasn’t passionate enough. The second man had broken up with me because I’d gained weight after I had ovarian surgery. I've been on pills since the day I walked out of the hospital, and my hormones had been crazy for a long time. He considered me sickandfat. What a great man he was. And the third and final one had shattered my hopes for a happy and consensual relationship with the opposite sex completely.

Still, here I was. Sitting on my bed in my apartment, reading the contract Mr Thorn had given to me. If I wanted to continue in our specific meetings, I had to sign it. Otherwise, everything I’d experienced with him would be just an exciting, steamy, and alluring memory.

It took me the entire weekend to go through the contract. On Sunday, I drank almost a whole bottle of wine as I studied the papers. Sometimes, I had no idea what the words meant because I’d never come across them in my life. However, after I’d found an explanation, I was genuinely surprised by my own reaction to them. My brain had a hard time understanding some things, yet my body was a different story.

I’d been researching all kinds of punishment, and my pussy was so wet it was almost insane. With every picture that appeared on the screen, I was more and more aroused. And when I let my mind drift to my personal favourite fantasies about Mr Thorn, I had to take care of that insatiable hole between my legs.

But it just wasn’t enough. My fingers didn’t fill my desperate pussy as well as Mr Thorn’s. My hand on my breast wasn’t as satisfying as his when he’d pinched my nipple, and I whimpered. Even when I rubbed my clit, fucking myself with my preferred purple toy, I didn’t feel the orgasm as strong as with him. I’d found my release, but still, it was as if a bunch of village drinkers wanted to play Guns and Roses. You heard music, but after a few seconds, you forgot the song.

Desperate, I know.

I’d known for some time that I needed something else in the bedroom. Something more thrilling than the men I was with had given to me. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but after the night in the hotel with my boss, I’d found a whole new point of view on sex, which the lunch in the restaurant had confirmed. I wanted to be on my knees, waiting for Mr Thorn's commands like an obedient little fucktoy.

I desired to please him in every way he wanted me to. Punishments scared me a little, but Mr Thorn had proven to me that he was paying attention to my every move, every whimper, and despite him beating my ass with a belt, he’d been gentle and caring.

However, the paragraph about physical punishments in the contract was, for me, as an inexperienced woman, frightening. It basically said I could be chastised for anything from making him a sugar-free coffee, which he despised, to being unfaithful to him. Part of me knew I would enjoy it very much; still, the idea of being caned because of burned pancakes felt weird.

Another level of shock was the underlined text at the end of the paper. I could be punished for no reason other than my master’s pleasure. Great! I really didn’t like how it sounded. I was in desperate need of a lecture about being a submissive plaything.

Of course, I’d noticed Mr Thorn had extremely enjoyed belting my ass. His erect cock was the biggest proof of it. But my limited experiences weren’t enough for me to know if I was ready to take a leap of faith and let him control me. Because that was what the whole contract was about.

Mr Thorn wanted me to be his submissive, not only in the bedroom. He demanded everything. My life, my body, and my soul. And it was too much to ask when I’d known him only for a few weeks.

With trembling fingers, I closed the file and lay down on my comfortable bed, hugging my favourite stuffed teddy bear. I wasn’t confused about my feelings; I wanted Mr Thorn, but I just wasn’t sure if I was enough for him.

As his assistant, I knew it was hard to live up to his expectations. Everything had to be perfect; nothing could be out of place. In the contract, it stated that I should exercise. I could agree with it. However, what if my chubby thighs won’t ever be firm enough for him? Will he leave me because of it? I knew it was stupid to think it, yet I couldn’t help myself. He requested absolute submission and obedience from me. Could I ask for something in return from him? Could I ask to have him only for myself?

All those thoughts and feelings were torturing me until two am when I finally fell asleep. When I got to work on Monday, five minutes before seven, I looked like a zombie. I also had a horrendous headache from the wine I’d drunk.

I entered Mr Thorn’s office, thinking about all the things I needed to prepare before his arrival, and my jaw almost hit the floor. He was standing behind his desk, half-naked. A white towel was wrapped around his waist, covering his most private area, and I immediately licked my dry lips, remembering how it had felt to have him in my mouth. His black hair was wet, and drops of water ran down his neck to his shoulders and his muscular chest and arms.

"Good morning, Miss Hernandez," he greeted, stirring me from admiring his broad chest. "Did you forget how to knock?"

I drifted my gaze from the tattoo around his nipple to his face. He wasn´t shaved, and it suited him well. Along with his messy wet hair, he looked like a carefree playboy.

"Good morning, Mr Thorn," I replied, still taken with his appearance. "I didn’t know you were here."

"Well, now you know," he said, dropping the paper he was reading and looking me in the eyes. "What can I do for you, princess?" he whispered seductively, and I took a quick sharp breath. The door was still open, and the cleaning lady was in the tiny kitchen. She could hear our every word.

"I came to prepare your office for you," I answered, trying for a highly professional tone, and he raised one of his eyebrows at me in amusement.

"Do your magic, Miss Hernandez," he commanded sternly, but his crystal-blue orbs were glowing with mischief.

I put my hand on the knob, closing the hefty wooden door. He was still standing in the same spot when I walked to his desk, and I started putting his things in order. Pens and pencils were all over the table, and papers covered the whole surface. He kept his notebook and calendar under one pile of files. It was a mess. Clearly, he had been working the entire night.

He sat in his huge office chair, and I felt his heated gaze on my back. I used the opportunity to tease him a little, and I slowly bent over the table. The high slit on my black pencil skirt ended right under my ass, and he could see the lacy hem of my stockings. I’d hoped for some kind of reaction from him, and I got what I wanted.

He put his hand on my calf, caressing it gently before he moved his palm up to my knee.

"Have you read the contract, princess?" he asked huskily, and I bit my lip.

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