Author’s notes: When Aaron refers to Pamela as darling, the g is silent.


As I sit here reading her laptop diary, my submissive lover has been standing in the corner for almost an hour. Her buttocks are freshly spanked because I caught her masturbating in the bathtub without permission. Pamela has five minutes left in the corner. Afterward, she will finish getting ready for a night of dinner and dancing. Pamela is a store manager with a large grocery chain. She is also ten years older than me. Today is Pamela’s birthday and she will be a youthful and sexy forty.

I am an independent painting contractor-sometimes jack-of-all-trades. I prefer to do residential houses or small businesses. I am also a perfectionist. I always work alone.

"May I come out of the corner now, Master? I'm sorry for disobeying you. I promise to be a good girl."

From the beginning of our unique relationship, Pamela wanted to address me as Master. However in my opinion Master seems so trite and overused. I’m not one for titles. Persistent, my beautiful Pamela wore me down. We compromised. It was a very minor concession on my part. Master in private and Sir used discretely in public; both being contingent and proper for the given situation. Sir is a title of respect. It is good for most occasions. For Pamela, Sir holds a special meaning. When we were first together it was a little awkward for Pamela, she being chronologically older me, although not at all in appearance.

After a year’s time, Master or Sir, flows easily and lovingly from Pamela’s luscious, generous lips. It seems that Pamela can't get enough kisses from me. Not that I find this annoying. I rather enjoy her intimate kisses and touches, as well as her almost total obedience in our private life. Master has become a term of endearment, much like honey or sweetheart.

I do not interfere with Pamela's career or the day-to-day operations. Pamela is very good at what she does and can be tough and ruthless if the situation calls for. She is anything but that with me. On occasion I will send her to work without a bra or panties to remind her of her submission. When I correct her in public it is nothing overt or obvious. Pamela is certainly aware of it. She obeys when I correct her that way. On some level Pamela enjoys these little embarrassments; hence her submission to me. Not to mention the hot sex afterward when she returns from work.

The people working under Pamela have benefited from our relationship. Especially since the last employee’s July weekend hotdog fundraiser held outside the store for their annual Christmas party. In the past, Pamela always delegated this task to one of her Assistant Managers. At the last one I worked side-by-side with Pamela selling hotdogs, soda and chips. It was a very successful gesture of good will on Pamela’s part. Several people working there told me privately that they never saw Pamela so relaxed or happy. They encouraged me to keep up the good work. Pamela has the reputation for being overbearing and bit of a shrew when angry. Pamela’s unofficial tile is the Ice Queen. When she first hired me to paint the inside and outside of her house I might have first concurred.

"You may, but first come here,” I said putting the laptop to one side. Pamela rushed over and knelt by the easy chair I was sitting in.

"You know better than that, little girl,” I sternly admonished.

"Yes Master, I know better, I'm sorry?"

"If I catch you masturbating again without my permission, your hair will be in twin braided pigtails whenever you leave the house for an entire week, Ms. Rogers, Executive Manager.

"Please Aaron, I hate when you do that to me. People won't take me seriously."

“You have me now. I will take care of your sexual needs and desires,” I buried my hands in her damp hair and kissed her luscious lips. I then stood up and stretched, "I don't care where we go for dinner tonight as long as I can get a big rare charbroiled porterhouse steak. It is your birthday after all and you may choose.”

I don't drink at all because it dulls the senses. Pamela will have one or two glass of red or white wine with dinner which is fine with me.

“May I suck on your cock, please?” She asked, putting her head on my thigh and hugging me. I touched Pamela’s beautiful face and caressed it lightly with my hand.

“You may, my love, my naughty lady….after another hour in the corner.”

“Aaron!” She exclaimed, lifting her head to look up at me.

“I’m teasing, darling. You know you are never punished without good reason. Have I ever abused you?”

“No, Master, you have always have kept your word to me about everything. I have only used my safe word once, which I regret,” She touched her sore bottom, wincing, “And I never shall again because I know that you love me,” Pamela put her head back and sighed, “But the spanking stung, and now I’m horny….after all, I am your cock slave.”

“You love using titles, don’t you darling; such as Master and slave? It is enough for me that you are my submissive lover. I have always contended that your imagination and intellect compliments you my love. I do love you, Pamela. We have our little compromises and aside from some minor naughty behaviors you always keep your word to me.” I wrapped my hands in her long damp hair tugging, “Start with your tongue, cock slave and look in my eyes when you are licking.”

I slid my boxer shorts off and got comfortable in the chair, “Yes that's right. Lick the entire shaft................Marvelous. Take your little tongue and lick the entire circumference of the tip. Very good that feels wonderful. Start sucking, good..........yes....ah, yes, you are doing fine. You have such beautiful eyes darling, such beautiful eyes…….

I exploded in her mouth and my orgasm was incredible, but so is my Pamela. She swallowed every bit of my come and then licked me clean, giving my stomach a playful raspberry when she finished. Pamela truly is my cock slave. I have never met a woman like Pamela who enjoys giving head as much as she does. This is the only time that I allow Pamela to masturbate, when she is sucking on my cock, when I can watch her. Very satisfied I got out of my chair and helped her to her feet.

I pulled Pamela close to me and said. "I have laid out your clothes for you on the bed. We still have plenty of time before dinner and I want to see lots of curls in your hair. If you are extra good, I may let you to suck on my cock when we get back. Perhaps I will allow you an orgasm this time; scoot, little girl,” I gave her shapely ass a little slap for good measure and sent Pamela on her way.

How did I meet Pamela? We have been together for a little more than a year. Let me go back to page one of her laptop diary and our story will unfold:

"Good morning, this is Aaron Bronson. How may I help you?"

"Good morning Mr. Bronson, my name is Pamela Rogers. I'm calling to get an estimate to have my house painted. You come highly recommended which is good. I am very particular about my home."

"Yes, Ma'am, what time would be convenient for you?"

"I'm calling from work at Deluxe Foods on Woodcrest Avenue. I am the Executive Manager there," Pamela let the title hang in the air before continuing, "Please drop your resume off at my office no later than 8:00 a.m. tomorrow morning for me to look over. I will then meet you at my home at 6:00 PM sharp."

"Ms. Rogers, I....,” Pamela interrupted and gave me her home address and then dismissed me with a curt “good day,” I was thinking, ‘Is this woman for real, a resume?’

I arrived early to look the house over. It was large Victorian at the top of a hill. I was waiting in Pamela’s driveway when she arrived. As she got out of her red Mercedes with her briefcase, Pamela was frowning and looked angry. I sighed and went over to introduce myself, holding out my hand for her to shake. Pamela declined.

"Mr. Bronson, we agreed that you would drop your resume off for me to read."

"No, Ms. Rogers, I did not agree to that at all. You assumed that I would bring you one. You then cut me off before I had the chance to tell you my work is my resume."

"I don't like your tone, Aaron. Do you talk to all of your employers this way?" She announced, glaring at me, and planting her feet.

"As I recall, Pamela, you called me,” I replied firmly, while thinking, ‘What beautiful eyes she has, like a cat or a tiger.’

“I am not one of your.... what's the politically correct word for subordinates these days... oh yes, associates. I am not one of them.”

"Are you intimidated by strong women, Mr. Bronson, because that would explain your attitude?" She asked, taking a step forward in challenge.

"Do you mean strong women like Wonder Woman with her Golden Lasso of Truth?" I asked in turn, stepping forward until we were almost nose to nose. I was looking into her beautiful, fascinating eyes. I was smiling at her. I wanted to kiss her pursed lips.

"No! Why would you ask such a stupid question? Are you that obtuse?" Pamela asked, angrily.

I took off my white painters cap and ran my fingers through my hair before I answered, "That's a shame, darling, because you left your Mercedes in neutral. It’s rolling backwards down your driveway. A magic golden lasso would come in handy right about now."

Pamela's Mercedes rolled halfway down the driveway ending up against the thick stands of pine and ground ivy planted on the hillside by previous owners to prevent soil erosion.

"Well don't just stand there!" Pamela exclaimed, dropping her brief case and running down the hill after her car, “Help me you dunce!”

Not saying a word, I got into my truck and drove past her. I parked in front of her Mercedes. Pamela stopped and then stood there with her hands on her hips watching me; at that point I was starting to get angry and contemplated leaving. Fortunately for both of us I didn’t. I have an electric wench mounted below the brush guard on my truck. I used it to pull the Mercedes out with little trouble and no damage. Pamela walked over to my truck as I was getting ready to leave. I rolled the window down to see what she wanted.

"I owe you an apology, Mr. Bronson."

I just smiled at Pamela not saying a thing. I was undressing her with my eyes and Pamela knew it.

"I want to thank you for pulling me out of the ditch,” I remained silent letting her squirm but still wanting to kiss this annoying woman. In my imagination Pamela was standing there naked with her hair unbound.

"I'm sure that you will agree that it was a miscommunication between the two of us," she proposed.

I got out of my truck and stood next to her thinking about cupping her breasts in my hands, “To the contrary, I do not agree. We both know where we stand but you are welcome."

"Are you always this difficult... so hard to handle, Mr. Bronson?" Pamela said, smiling for the first time. I definitely wanted to kiss her, and then throw Pamela over the hood of her red Mercedes to poke her on the spot.

"Always and no. Strong women are a challenge. I am not intimidated by strong women. Especially pretty ones that smile so nicely. Frankly Ma'am, I don't believe that you can handle me."

"Then I'll take that as a challenge, Sir,” Pamela replied, extending her hand for me to shake and I took it. Pamela had a firm, strong handshake, excellent. She was checking me out. If Pamela could read my mind she would be blushing for sure. I could tell that Pamela was quite strong and was holding back….interesting. The tigress had pulled back her claws.

"You are quite cocky for such a young man, Aaron. My best guess is that you are not much more then twenty-five? Will you please give me an estimate? Now that we are properly introduced. I insist on paying for the tow?"

"Yes for the estimate, Pamela and no for the tow."

"I insist. May we at least negotiate the tow, perhaps compromise, Aaron?"

"Well, perhaps there is something, a minor gratuity in consideration for the tow, Pamela."

"See! We can agree on something and I will return the favor."

"If you will show me the house I can get started. You will have my answer tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. sharp along with your written and detailed estimate..............


*******************************


There is nothing unreasonable about asking for a resume. Aaron would generate more business if he had one. At least he was presentable.... no, make that more than presentable. Clean white pants and a white polo shirt tucked in neatly. He was wearing a white painter’s cap on his head. He was wearing a black belt and black shoes. Aaron made a very good first impression in that department. He smells like peppermint. Aaron has dimples in his cheeks below his blue eyes. They are very noticeable when he smiles. When I was undressing Aaron with my eyes he had me almost naked with his. Not that he was leering mind you, nothing that obvious, I just knew.

Aaron is also taller than me and that is saying something. I have to look up to meet his eyes. Aaron’s thick, unruly hair is almost golden blond, the color mine used to be. Nordic is the word for Aaron; he is like a big and strong, clean-shaven Viking. As I said, Aaron was undressing me with his eyes, eyes like hot blue flames. He knew that I was aware of it and didn’t care… how wonderfully bold of him. I didn’t intimidate him at all…we will see about that tomorrow morning.

Aaron could have been more reasonable and cooperative. But on the other hand, he didn't laugh at me or rub my nose in it when he pulled my Mercedes out of the drainage ditch. Aside from being cocky and blunt, Aaron was more or less polite while he was checking me out…I wonder? How very interesting… he wouldn't accept money for pulling me out but he must want something?


**********************************


The following morning when I walked into her office, Pamela was dressed almost the same as yesterday in navy blue slacks that matched her fitted navy blue jacket. She was wearing a white ruffled blouse, black stockings and black pumps. Pamela deliberately dresses this way, businesslike and conservative to be imposing. It accentuates her height of six-four at 160 pounds. Pamela must have magnificent legs hiding underneath those pants. I meant it when I said Pamela was a pretty woman; no! Make that a big, beautiful woman.

Pamela's long dark blond hair was pulled away from her face quite severely in a braided chignon. However, today, Pamela had a red silk scarf wrapped around her chignon, perfect. Pamela’s golden brown eyes were taking me in, boldly and assuredly, excellent. She reminded of a tigress ready to pounce.

Pamela invited me to sit down with her over a cup coffee while we reviewed the figures. We discussed the details and made small talk to feel each other out. Finally, I stood up and we shook hands sealing the deal with her personal check for a third down. We a signed detailed contract. I was walking out the door when she asked, “About the tow, have you made a decision, Mr. Bronson?"

"You strike me as a lady of your word, Ms. Rogers. I am not being condensing. I mean what I say. I speak my mind which is why I prefer to work alone. If you find me cocky or blunt or difficult, so be it. You hired me just the same and you did agree to return the favor. I enjoy looking at beautiful women and you are a beautiful woman, Pamela. Please take your hair down."

"You want me to take my hair down?" Pamela, asked, looking a bit surprised before quickly regaining her composure, "I hope you are joking, Aaron."

"It’s a simple enough request. Do strong, blunt men intimidate you, Ms. Rogers? Do you still think that you can handle me?"

"Touché, Mr. Bronson. You may look but do not touch." Pamela then walked past me to her office door locking me in the tiger’s den.

Pamela took the silk scarf from her braided and laid it on the desk. The hairpins came next. Pamela took her bun down letting her long braid drop down past the middle of her shoulder blades. I wanted to take her braid in my hands to feel its weight and gauge its thickness. Pamela then turned her back to me and took the braid out leaving a silky and wavy ponytail that I wanted to stroke and wrap my hands around in the worst way. Finally, Pamela took then elastic band from her ponytail and shook her head. Her long and thick dark blond hair fell past her trim waist to end down below her shapely ass. Pamela’s hair was magnificent. Smiling, Pamela turned to face me.

"I believe that I have met my obligation to our compromise. I hope that I fulfilled your little fantasy?”

Pamela got close and put her fingers like a cat’s claw on a scratching post and lightly raked them down my chest, stopping at my belt and then lightly touching my groin. She then squeezed my crotch, smiling, "Young men are so transparent and predictable," Pamela announced assuredly.

I picked up Pamela’s silk scarf from the table, folded it from corner to corner and tied it around my neck, "Thank you for the scarf, darling. Silk is much smoother and softer then the red cotton bandanas I normally wear.

"What do you mean thank you for the scarf? If all you wanted was the scarf why not just ask for it? Why did you make me take my hair down?"

"Make you? I said, feigning surprise. “I did not make you do anything, darling. You did that on your own. Closing and locking the door to keep me from escaping was a nice touch. At the expense of sounding bold your performance was quite erotic. I really enjoy watching a beautiful woman take her long hair down. What man doesn’t?”

"But I thought?" Pamela started to say.

"You thought what, Ms. Rogers? Oh, I see, you assumed that I find you sexy and desirable, how interesting. From the inferences you have made about my age you led me to believe that a mature lady like you would never be interested in toddler like me. You were toying with me, my little fantasy as you put it.”

"It was a miscommunication. I'm sure that you can agree on that. To save us both the embarrassment?"

“A miscommunication you say? I say a politically correct retreat. I am not the least embarrassed.

There was no miscommunication. You were flirting with me. You were flirting and you were doing it nicely. I obviously enjoyed it and so did you. Unfortunately for me you said look but do not touch. I withdraw from the field. However I would love to touch your silky hair, Pamela. Thank you again for the red scarf for it smells of you and your perfume. I am not forbidden to smell.

Although now that I have it next to my skin, I am sure that it pales in comparison to how soft and silky your hair must feel. I have seen it unbound and I would rather experience your hair caressing my neck, face and chest as it caresses yours. For the record, darling, I'm thirty and you assumed right; Good day,” I left her looking totally and beautifully bewildered.

The following Monday I started scraping outside. Pamela’s Victorian house is 2 1/2 stories with a tremendous amount of gingerbread work to scrape and repair. In some sections I had to fabricate and replace rotted or damaged wood. Pamela wanted everything restored original to the nineteen eighties color theme. Even though she was good for the money Pamela was a bit of a pain in the ass. She questioned everything, making suggestions or changes from day to day. It was a good thing that I didn't buy the paint ahead of time because the color scheme changed slightly each time I revealed a new layer of layer of oil or latex paint.

I was on my second week of scarping when I discovered a carpenter bee's nest in the wall where the inside staircase went to the second story. The bees were going in and out of the dry rotted wood frame of the beautiful octagon stained glass window common to houses of that period. I telephoned Pamela’s office and apprised her of the situation.

"I am going to have to kill the bees before I can get the window out. Don't worry, Ms. Rogers, I have run into this problem before and I have the equipment. There will be no extra charge if you bring me a large Genoa Salami sub with extra meat, provolone cheese, lettuce, onion, tomato, hot peppers, roasted peppers, Italian dressing on the side and a quart bottle of skim milk."

"Do you want a nipple on your bottle of milk?" Pamela offered, laughing, ”Perhaps I can burp you afterward.”

"Touché, darling," I replied in turn, laughing along with her.

"Thank you Sir, it's nice to score a point for a change."

"You are welcome. The bees should be dead by the time you get home. Tomorrow I will remove the window and get them out. The replacement parts for my high lift are finally in. It will be out of the repair shop tonight. If you like I will take you up on it tomorrow and show you.”

I was on a ladder chalking the opposite side of the house and letting the insecticide do its work when I saw her red Mercedes in the distance. I climbed down and then went inside to use the bathroom and to wash my hands. I was thinking that it was taking an awful long time to get into the house with my submarine sandwich when I heard Pamela scream. I ran outside to find that Pamela had put one of my ladders up against the house and climbed up to look at the window not wanting to wait for my high lift. Instead of putting the ladder to the side, Pamela put it on the windowsill, causing the sill to give way and shift. This allowed the ladder to slide from underneath. Pamela had panicked and was frozen in place, afraid to move or to climb down.

"Aaron, I'm going to fall, I'm going to fall...ah its slipping!! She screamed "Get me down; Get me down, ah, ah, Aaron!!

I grabbed the ladder and held it. "I have the ladder darling. Just climb down. You will be fine."

"I can't, I can't I'm going to fall, get me down Aaron, get me down, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah,......

I let go of the ladder and as I ran to my truck, I shouted. "You'll be fine, darling, don't panic.

"Don't leave me!" Pamela screamed, closing her eyes and starting to hyperventilate.

I drove my truck up against the ladder blocking the bottom with the front bumper stabilizing the bottom. Next I took a second ladder and put it beside the one Pamela was on and then tied them together with a coil of nylon rope. I started from the bottom and tied sections of our ladders together as I worked my way up and finished tying when I was standing next to her.

"You are not going to fall. You will be fine so open your eyes and look at me. Good, now takes some slow deep breathes and relax. You are doing fine and the ladder is stabilized. It can't move. Keep looking at me and breathe…. wonderful.... you have such lovely eyes, darling... is that a smile I see, you have a beautiful smile. Don't look down, look at me. You can do this and I will help you. Will you let me help you?"

Pamela nodded her head for yes and smiled.

"Good, I'll be right here next to you until you are ready. Remember slow deep breathes. I'm going to put my hand on your back and I promise that I won't let you fall.

I talked Pamela down one step at a time with my hand on her back to assure her. I stayed beside Pamela until she reached the bottom rung where she stopped. I could see from the look on her face that she was starting to cry.... good, let her get it out of her system. I jumped to the driveway and put my hands around Pamela’s waist, picking her up and helping her down. As soon as her feet touched the ground Pamela turned and put her arms around my neck and put her head on my shoulder. Then the floodgates let loose. Pamela started sobbing and shaking while I held her and rubbed her back. It was nice to hold a tall, substantial woman for a change. Pamela complimented my own height of six foot/ seven inches.

"It's all right you're safe now and don't be embarrassed. I won't tell anybody. Let yourself have a good cry, darling because I have a feeling that it is long overdue.”

After I held her for a long while, Pamela lifted her head to look at me. I took her hand and brought her into her house.

Once there she sniffed, "I must look terrible" Pamela said, wiping her face with her hand.

"Yes. But you had a terrible scare. You were crying and that is to be expected. I want you to lie down and take a nap."

"You really are blunt,” Pamela said showing the hint of a smile, “Really, I'm fine, Aaron, I don't need to take a nap."

"You will take a nap, Pamela, even if I have to spank you until you do."

"You wouldn't dare!" She said, looking a bit unsure, "You would spank me, wouldn't you... what if I called the police?

"You won't call the Police, Pamela. This is between the two of us. It will always be between the two of us. You felt the connection between us from the very beginning the same as me.”

That was our defining moment. Pamela looked at me for a good minute before she answered as if fighting with herself, "I don't want to be spanked and you are right. I won't call the Police even if you spanked me."

"Good, it is settled then. Let me help you with your shoes, and then I will help you off with your jacket," which I did, and then said,

"Please turn around."

Pamela's hair was fixed in a simple bun. I started by taking the hairpins out. I slid the elastic band from her ponytail

Finally, I arranged her hair over her back and shoulders, gently turning her to face me.

"I am tired now, Aaron, actually I'm exhausted. Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Yes darling, I have a good three hours of daylight and want to get as much work done as possible."

I again took Pamela's hand again and led her to the couch in the living room. I touched her face gently with my hand, then pushed her long blond hair to one side.

"Get some sleep, darling. For when you wake up you will be a new woman, my woman?" I brought her a zip-lock bag full of ice cubes and wrapped in a dishtowel to sooth her red from crying eyes before I went outside.