It started as these things usually start, a text message from my Mistress telling me to expect a package and to prepare myself. You think back on the previous packages and the events that followed. The pencil skirt and business attire and the business meeting that followed – actually, it was not the meeting that you think of, but being bent over the conference room table, your arms stretched across the table as you were taken from behind. And then there was the time that your Mistress sent you to a bar wearing a long coat, heels and a collar – and nothing else.
The doorbell interrupts your daydreaming. Ah, Federal Express. You often wondered whether the driver had any idea of what was in the box and always thought from the looks on their faces, sometimes they were men sometimes women, tha
