On the Monday morning, I awoke earlier than usual, my nipples throbbing from the piercing and my mound still stinging from the waxing. I showered, applied lotion to my mound, and treated my nipples with saline solution, before taping gauze over them. Looking at myself in the mirror, as I donned the lacy bra, I shook my head, wondering what I was doing; a woman of forty-five dressing for a nineteen-year-old student. Acknowledging to myself that it really was what I wanted, I fastened the matching suspender belt around my waist, rolled on my stockings, and clipped them to the belt. Once I'd got my blouse and skirt on, I checked myself in the mirror again. The outline of the bra was clearly different from my usual ones, but I reasoned that it was not out of place. I sat and checked that the hem of my skirt was not going to ride up and show my stocking tops; plenty of clearance there!

Feeling more confident in myself, I left the building and caught the tram to the office. The pull of my stockings on the suspender belt and the breeze up my skirt served to remind me that this Monday morning was different. Arriving at work, I greeted Chantelle, my PA, as I went into her office, which was outside my own; the perks of being a partner! Chantelle had been assigned to me when I started here. She was a lady of colour, of Jamaican extraction, in her mid-twenties, and very efficient. She was rather curvaceous and I have to admit that I'd admired her bum more than once! She had, in fact, been instrumental in helping me to settle in, inviting me to the girls' Friday after-work drinks at the local pub. If they had been suspicious of a partner joining what was really a bunch of PAs and secretaries, they soon got over it and I never stayed late.

I went through to my own office leaving the door open, as usual, removed my jacket, and settled in at my desk. Chantelle came through with my morning cup of coffee. "Thank you, Chantelle, you're a life-saver," I said. After that, it was just back to the daily grind.

As I had to meet Miss Susan fairly early in the evening, I decided I'd grab a sandwich and have lunch at my desk. Telling Chantelle that I had to leave on time in the afternoon, I said I was going for a sandwich and did she want anything. She smiled and said she'd love a sandwich. Returning with the sandwiches, I filled two glasses with water from the cooler and perched on the edge of her desk; something I usually did if we had lunch like this.

As we were chatting inconsequentially, I saw her sneaking a peek at my legs. Glancing down, I cursed myself for being careless, as sitting on the edge of her desk like this, part of the welts were showing; nothing I could do about it now! "Looking very glamorous today, Joanna! I did notice that your bra seemed a bit fancier than your normal ones; going somewhere special?" Blushing, I admitted that I was meeting someone after work, making a mental note that I would really need to be more careful how I sat, in future.

Finishing at 4:30, I went back through my outer office, saying goodbye to Chantelle, who winked at me and told me to enjoy my evening! As I made the twenty-minute walk to the pub where I was meeting Miss Susan, my stiletto heels clicking as I walked, I could, once again, feel the tug of my suspenders and the breeze on my bald pussy; that and the thought of seeing Miss Susan again, started to make me aroused. Entering the pub, I soon saw Miss Susan, sitting in a quiet corner. She waved me over and told me to get her a glass of Merlot and to get myself what I wanted. Choosing Chardonnay for myself, I returned to the table, waiting for Miss Susan to tell me to sit; she just grinned and motioned for me to sit down. Picking a carrier bag up from the floor beside her, she handed it to me, telling me to go to the loo and change into the skirt that was in it.

Entering the cubicle, I removed my skirt and sat down. Taking the new skirt from the bag, I checked the label; Miss Susan had bought it at the same shop, but instead of being size 12, it was size 12P! Before putting it on, I made sure my stockings were pulled right up and firmly held by my suspender belt. I exited the cubicle and checked myself in the mirror; it was a good inch or inch and a half shorter, now clearly above my knees.

Returning to the bar, Miss Susan smiled her approval and motioned me to sit again; as I sat, the pencil skirt rode up very close to my stocking tops; I was going to have to be very careful at work! She told me to make sure that all my work skirts were 12P and to take the old ones to a charity shop. She asked me how my day had gone and I told her it that it had been very strange for me. I hardly ever wore stockings and had never been without knickers. On top of that my nipples were quite painful. I told her about lunch and Chantelle, at which she giggled and told me to be more careful in future.

We only stayed for a couple of drinks at the pub and then caught the tram back to my apartment. Miss Susan had me strip naked and kneel for her, at which she fastened the collar around my neck, saying that we really had to get a name tag for it. I had already made the preparations for our dinner, so all I had to do was cook it; it certainly felt strange to be cooking naked with a collar around my neck! As I served Miss Susan, I marvelled at the hold this young girl had over me. She was so confident and assertive and I was loving it.

After dinner, it was time for my training; I was told to crawl to the bedroom to clip the leash to my collar and return with the riding crop between my teeth. Returning with the leash dragging on the ground, I immediately sensed her displeasure. Taking the crop, she swatted my arse, saying, "Joanna, this really is not good enough; I don't ever want to see your leash dragging on the ground."

I apologised profusely, promising not to let it happen again, at which she grinned widely, saying, "It had better not, my girl, or it will be more than a swat with my crop!"

There followed what must have been about an hour of "training", with me crawling after her around the apartment, learning to keep to heel, with frequent reminders from the crop.

Before she left, she had me remove her skirt and knickers, bending to show me her arse and telling me to kiss it properly and thank her for the training session. Diligently kissing and licking her puckered hole, there was a definite aroma and taste, which was hardly surprising as she had been wearing her knickers all day! I thought to myself that I should have been appalled by this, but, strangely, I found it rather arousing. Once I had satisfied her and brought her to orgasm with my tongue and mouth, she warned me not to play with myself and told me to meet her again the next evening. Before she left, she had me stand so we could cuddle and kiss; not all punishment then!

The following morning, before I dressed, I checked my stinging arse in the mirror; I couldn't believe the bruising there, with obvious signs of a crop having been taken to it! Dressing, I worried about what Chantelle might say, hoping that she would be discreet. Needless to say, she noticed as soon as I entered her office, smiling and saying that it looked like my date must have gone well, if I had another one today. I said that it had gone very well indeed and, that yes, I had another one.

Entering my own office, I placed my attaché case on the ground and sat very carefully, mindful of both my stinging arse and the length of my skirt. When Chantelle brought my coffee in, she remarked on my skirt, asking if it was new, as it appeared to be shorter than usual. I blushed and had to acknowledge the fact that it was shorter and said that my date liked me in shorter skirts. I noticed that she raised her eyebrows at that, but I didn't elucidate any further and she didn't ask. Thank goodness for that; why did my PA manage to get me so flustered?

At lunchtime, I once again bought sandwiches for both of us and stood by Chantelle's desk. She smirked at me, saying that she didn't mind at all if I wanted to take my usual place on the edge of her desk. I blushed again and took my place on the edge of her desk, knowing that she would be able to see my stocking tops. As I sat, I asked myself why it was that I was so easily manipulated by younger women; as though I did not know the answer! When it came time to leave that day, as I said goodbye to Chantelle, she winked at me, saying she did like the new me, making me blush again!