The Editor in Chief – Part 2: Final Cut

The fitting was long and ruthless and silent. She pinned a length of black silk to his sleeve and unpinned it, and pinned it again. She made him hold still while she looked at him from every angle. She told him in a cool, unhurried murmur precisely what was wrong with him, and every flaw was absurd. She tapped a pencil against the mirror's edge when he fidgeted. She put a finger under his chin and tilted his face to the light, and he almost wept with the relief of being looked at so carefully.

Every half hour: "Do you wish to continue, Pierre?" "Yes, Madame." "Say it clearly." "I do. Thank you."

By one he was past thought, floating in a calm as deep as fresh snow.

"Retake," said Cassandra, softly.

It was her word. She set down the tape and took off her glasses. The coat came away, and she was suddenly just Cassandra, hair coming loose, laughing, an arm round his shoulders.

"How are you?"

"Photographed," said Pierre, with a hiccup of laughter. "And developed."

"Good." She kissed his cheek. "You were beautiful."

"Will the magazine require me again?"

"The spring issue has a very large feature." She poured the coffee, which was cold, and made a face. "On obedience."

"I'll write it," said Pierre.

"You will pose for it," said Cassandra, and handed him a cup. "Warmed up, naturally."

More consensual femdom stories: Velvet Contract · Silk and Steel · Gentle Hands, Gentle Femdom