Sadistic Woman Humiliates Her Boss
“A bit of rope and you are helpless. Converted into a stool.”
Her tone intersected laughter and condemnation. She sounded disgusted. He became a disgusting joke.
“A leather hood covers your head. You are not an individual. Not even a person. Just a creature of my will.”
In response, her mood shifted. Sarcasm dimmed. His pain made her feel jolly.
She laughed. For a moment, her present and past fused. That day her boyfriend slammed the door on his thumb.
He fainted. Instantly she orgasmed.
The best sex of all time. It did not require penetration. Merely the sight of a man’s anguish.
The surge of raw pleasure was instantly addictive. She wanted to hurt men. It was a need.
Discovery of her sexual orientation changed everything.
She had never been ambitious. Now she wanted to succeed. Success in her career would require she triumph over men.
Pushing men down was another way to hurt men. Subtler but just as satisfying.
Her focus and energies redirected, her talent emerged. She flourished.
Excellence alone was not enough. She took men down. Uncovered secret scandals. Sometimes she blackmailed her prey. Or sent photographs to wife, boss or newspaper.
Shaming a man was as much fun as whipping him. Some victims quit, others promoted her.
She displayed such talent, so much skill, no one questioned her rapid ascent.
Originally, she just wanted enough money to outfit her dungeon. Cruelty proved to be its own reward.
She enjoyed a stunning stroke of good fortune. She discovered the CEO visited ProDommes. He wanted dominatrices to whip him. Even more he craved shaming, degradation.
She rented a space. Then placed an ad. She proclaimed herself The Degrader, a professional humiliator of men.
She could have made her fortune as a professional dominatrix. But she met no clients. She waited.
One day she heard the voice she hoped for. Her boss wanted to meet The Degrader.
When he arrived at the rented space, she met him wearing a mask. For a moment, she thought might run away. His pants betrayed his excitement.
She felt a flicker of guilt. She enjoyed the sessions. Were he not in her way, she would have played with him for fun.
She filmed each visit. Her mask never came off. He rarely wore one.
She put on the hood for what would be the final session. (Though if he wanted, they could continue.)
She unstrapped and removed his hood. Then slipped off her own mask.
Never had she seen a man’s face turn white. She thought he would cry. So did he. Instead he asked:
“What do you want?”
Citing poor health, he resigned, recommending she replace him. The board of directors agreed.
She made herself wealthy. Then quit.
She has the finest home dungeon and plenty of time to use all the implements and devices on men. All sadistic women should have her good luck.