There is a very old saying," Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it." My fathers name had been James Bradley. He had been a CEO of a top Wall Street investment firm. My father didn't climb to the top by being a good guy. He was a total prick who would stab anyone he had too in the back to climb the corporate ladder. He also treated his subordinates from his top officers to his secretary like chattel. He was an abuse jerk who would tell his employees that when he said jump they were simply to ask how high.
My father was also a pervert and a masochist. Like many powerful men who were abusive at work he would often slip away from the office to head to the dungeons in Midtown to visit a professional dominatrix on his extended lunch hours. James had a fetish for gorgeous, young blondes in leather. His ideal fantasy involved Barbie doll type blondes in crotch high kid leather boots, long kid leather gloves and tight leather corsets. If his blonde Barbie doll Mistress also smoked he would fall into to total submission.
Money was of no concern whatsoever to him as he sought out his perfect Mistress. He was a client of New York's most upscale and private dungeon. He was also known as what the dominants would call a slut. A client who would take sessions with several dominants and not devote himself to just one. James liked variety in his kinky games. He would even hire up to five dominants at once to abuse him. He adored being bound, whipped and burned with cigarettes and for his mouth to be used as an ashtray. He would at times take extended sessions where he would serve as an ashtray, urinal and ass licker to all the females of the house. His sessions would always end the same way. A gorgeous, blonde leather dominant would masturbate him with 800 kid leather gloves as she smoked. It was his ultimate fetish and in the end his ultimate downfall.
It was on one of his lunchtime excursions that he met her. The receptionist at "The Institute" told him they had a new Mistress just in from Sweden.
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