The paperwork for this establishment is a special kind of torture. Endless forms, regulations, ledgers. It requires a different kind of discipline than my usual craft. But even here, my mind wanders. I recall the delightful squirm of a new sub over my knee yesterday, her bare ass turning such a pretty shade of red under my palm. The sharp gasp she made when I traced my fingers over her wet cunt, teasing her before pushing a vibrator deep inside and securing it with a tight pair of latex panties. She had to sit through a full financial meeting, trying to remain professional while I controlled the remote in my pocket. The memory of her trying not to buck her hips or moan makes this administrative hell almost bearable. The art of control extends far beyond the dungeon walls.