Mira Destovsky was sitting at her desk when I entered the office, ushered in by her tall, svelte, Russian secretary, Ivanova. She was all business, looking at her watch to confirm I was on time. I could only see her top half and she looked as gorgeous as I remembered her although her hair was drawn severely back. Her pale blue silk blouse was buttoned to the neck and she wore a man’s tie, loosely knotted and dark blue. Her jewellery was silver, ear rings and a bracelet on her right wrist, a silver watch on her left. Her nipples showed like small bumps suggesting she was braless as I was too. My own dark blue dress was tight at the waist and full to my knees. I hoped she’d approve.

She indicated a seat in front of her desk and I sat, smoothing my dress under me.

‘You have been allocated an office down the hall. I don’t expect you to be in it too often. Your duties fall into two areas, one to advise me on design matters, the second to deal with PR for the business when I need you to. As a journo that should come easily to you?’ Her statements, I was to find, were often questions.

‘Ivanova will give you details of current plans but the Mira is the priority since my father wishes to have a reception for some donors to his Afghan charity as soon as she is ready. We will spend the next few days on her meeting textile providers and discussing matters with those who will be fitting out the rooms. There will be a press conference before the reception so you will prepare for that. You will find your own secretary – Ivanova will assist you. Is all that clear?’ I confirmed it was. ‘We will stay aboard the Mira, that will be more convenient for the next few days. Do you have a packed suitcase?’

Since this was the first indication I’d had that we would be staying on the ship I had not brought a case and told her so.

‘My driver will take you home so you can collect enough for say ten days and then bring you to the dock. You will need at least one formal dinner outfit, some clothes for dirty work and some ordinary work clothes such as you are wearing now.’

I had not thought of my clothes as ‘ordinary’ since I had made quite an effort but I wasn’t going to argue. She shouted to Ivanova to call her driver and the meeting was clearly at an end. I thanked her and left to find a liveried chauffeuse waiting for me. She, tall and willowy, led me to the sleek Mercedes that waited outside the office in contravention of all parking laws, held the back door for me then closed it as I settled into the soft leather seat. I learned that her name was Michelle, a former model forced to give up that game due to an injury. Mira had been at the show where she had sustained her injury by falling from the catwalk when some scenery collapsed and had visited her in hospital and offered her the job. She was clearly devoted to her and I wondered if she, Ivanova and others were Mira’s lovers too but I did not ask.

Almost two hours later I walked up the steps to board Mira clutching only my briefcase cum handbag. Michelle had assured me that my bags would be taken to my cabin. A member of the crew welcomed me aboard and advised me that ‘Miss Mira’ was in the stateroom aft. I had to have ‘aft’ explained to me then made my way to join her – managing only two incorrect turnings on the way. It was now about 1pm and Mira was standing at the window of the stateroom studying a large drawing.

As I entered she turned to face me, smiling. She spread the drawing on the large table and invited me to stand next to her. She described the drawing as a working design plan for the ballroom, drawn up following our conversation about it. As I studied it her hand caressed my arse. It continued to when a waitress, uniformed, brought a trolley of food and drink into the room without knocking before she entered. I stood up but Mira’s hand remained firmly in contact.

She thanked the waitress politely and the girl, about 30 and pretty, left.

‘I like to surround myself with beautiful things.’ Her hand slid up under my skirt and she caressed my arse. Her finger traced between my cheeks through the material of my panties.

‘Ah, so you brought it back to me.’ She touched the tip of the plug nestling inside my knickers and kissed my ear. ‘Good girl. You may keep it there for me. I hope it will be safe.’ There was laughter in her voice.

The food was sumptuous but there was only water to drink. We ate, discussed the plan, made notes, argued gently and finally and much later reached decisions.

‘You have your own cabin. It is next to mine and there is a communicating door to which I have a key but you do not. You will come to my cabin when invited. I will come to yours whenever I please. Do you understand?’ I nodded. ‘You will find a maid has unpacked for you. Everything you need or want, within reason, will be supplied. If you decide to have sex with one of the crew you will ask my permission first, is that clear?’ I said the thought had not crossed my mind. ‘The servants are all Russian and belong to me. If you wish to, you may but only if I say you may. Be sure I will know if you disobey me. Now, go to your cabin. We will dine aboard at 9. You do not need to dress for dinner tonight, it will be just we two but we always dress appropriately. If you are uncertain if your clothing is suitable, your maid will assist you. She is there for you and you have my permission to fuck her if you wish to. Now, go.’

A short woman of about 35 was waiting outside and introduced herself in perfect English as my maid, Irina. She wore a simple dark red dress with a white pinafore. She was attractive in a quiet way and led me, mostly in silence, to a light oak door on one of the corridors. My name was on a plate fastened to the door. She handed me a key and opened the door with her own. She led me into my ‘cabin.’ It was huge, like a suite really and she showed me the sitting room, bathroom with shower, a vast tub and a separate glassed off section with toilet and bidet.

My clothes had been unpacked and placed in drawers and wardrobe and she carefully showed me where everything was. My toiletries were arranged in the bathroom. She showed me a few extra items of clothing she had selected from the ‘ship’s wardrobe’ since my selections was, in her opinion, deficient for the dinner this evening and also meant I could change my outfit a couple of times each day if necessary.

“The Mistress said that she had given you something. She has instructed me to remove it and cleanse it and place it in your bedside drawer in case she requires it later, Miss.’

I said I would be sure to put it there.

‘I must do as the Mistress says, Miss.’ This was proving to be a most interesting job! Irina showed no sign of embarrassment as I pulled my dress up and my knickers down and she gently removed the plug and thanked me. She washed it, placed it in the drawer then asked if I needed anything else.

‘Only to know where dinner will be.’

‘I will take you there, Miss. Would you like me to prepare your bath?’

I told her I had some work to do before I showered and changed and she politely thanked me and left. I poured myself a large gin and tonic from the well stocked bar in my sitting room.

‘This,’ I said to myself, ‘is surreal.’ The payment into my bank account which had preceded my joining Mira’s staff was, however, not; fabulous it was but definitely real. I sat at my desk and sipped my gin.

At 8.30 there was a tap at my door. Irina entered at my invitation and found me wearing a robe (provided of course) of red silk over my clean knickers, suspender belt and stockings. I had two dresses spread on the bed, one calf length and black, the other knee length and cream linen.

‘Which do you suggest, Irina?’

She did not hesitate. ‘The cream, Miss.’ She picked it off the bed, unzipped the back and held it for me.

‘Really, Irina, I can dress myself.’

‘Forgive me, Miss, but it is my job to assist you.’ I wondered if she’d have ‘assisted’ me in the shower and rather thought she would have. Was this some hedonistic, Sapphic pleasure ship? She zipped me into the dress and looking at the clock advised me that it was time for dinner.

I followed her, feeling hungry suddenly, to another deck and another oak door which she opened and led me inside. Mira was there already and, as before, glanced at her watch.

‘Thank you, Irina. You may go.’

Mira came to me, her heels different from those she had worn that first time but equally dangerous but silent on the thick carpet. Her dress was a deep blue, one shouldered and hugged her figure. She kissed my mouth.

‘It is not all pleasure, working for me but we take pleasure where we can, no?’ A waitress brought me a gin and tonic (was my room filmed?) and then retired to stand to one side of the table at the end of the room. Mira kissed me again, rather more passionately, oblivious to the girl waiting at the table. She led me to a low sofa and we sat, sipping our drinks and she asked if my quarters were adequate, was the dress mine or from the ship’s wardrobe, was Irina attentive? I replied positively to all and smiled at the last question.

‘Ah, the intimate search.’ Mira laughed. ‘I had instructed her to do that. I did so for two reasons. The first was because I thought it would be a small thrill for you. The second so that she knew your position.’

I asked her to explain.

‘I can buy or have any woman on this ship or my father’s organisation. I have not bought you,’ here she quieted me as I tried to say that in a way she had, ‘I have paid you a salary suitable for your talents. That little item of jewellery will be known to all on the ship by now and it says, quite clearly, that I have taken you for a lover and that you are mine. One, more perhaps, of them may be your pleasure but you are mine. That will not be exclusive probably. Are you comfortable with that?’

I considered this question.

‘If you have any doubts, express them.’

‘I am simply not sure what being yours means.’

In the context of work it is defined in your contract. Outside of work it is whatever I choose. I may wish you to be my whore, my lover or my servant. You will be safe and you will find enormous pleasure.’

‘Then, yes, Mira, I am comfortable with it.’

‘Excellent. Let’s have dinner. But first, lift your dress.’

I lifted it to reveal my stockings, she waved her hand and I lifted it further to reveal my knickers, silk and cream.

‘Take them off, please.’

I took them off, flushing a little and as we walked to the table she handed them quite openly to the waitress and said, ‘Have these returned to Irina please.’

Throughout the meal that followed her foot slid up my leg and pushed sometimes at my pussy, her stockinged foot toying with me deliciously under my dress. My knees were open to her and she smiled wickedly at me over the poussin in morel mushroom sauce, as we ate the sorbet of lemon and lime and the delicious cheeseboard.

We retired back to the sofa for brandy. Her arm went around my neck and she pulled me to her, kissed me deeply. She tasted of brandy.

‘You will find I do not work once I have decided the workday is over. That may be at 10 in the morning or at midnight. But when the work is done it is time to enjoy. Go to your cabin. Irina will have selected something for you to change into. Shower, change and wait for my summons.’

Obediently, so unlike me, I left her to find Irina waiting outside the room and ready to lead me back to my cabin. On the bed was spread a nightdress of the finest, pale blue silk. She helped me to undress and led me to the shower. She stood outside holding a large towel until I was ready and then draped it around me and rubbed me dry. I found her attention slightly embarrassing, conflicting with my rather liberal attitudes. She left me.

The communicating door opened and Mira entered my sitting room. She did not knock or ask permission. She was wearing silk pyjamas, her hair loose and her feet bare. Her girl cock poked out from the front of her pyjama trousers. She came to me, admired my nightdress and then said, ‘Pour me champagne. You may have some too.’

I poured the wine and took her glass to her.

‘Are you always so commanding?’

Mira looked at me, a severe look in her eyes which flashed in the subdued light. I felt a moment’s fear which was allayed by a sudden softening of her demeanour.

‘Oh, you English women. In Russia, money is power and a lot of money is absolute power. I have in my own realm absolute power. You are not of my realm but you are a guest in it, a very welcome guest. I have promised you pleasure and you will have it. It will be, mostly at least, on my terms. If you are not happy with that I will leave.’ Her hand moved to push my hair back from my face.

There are often times in relationships when attitudes conflict. I am an independent woman, a freelance journalist, my own woman. Here was I hearing this ultimatum from a beautiful woman, my employer and lover. I wrestled with my thoughts and I knew she could see the conflict within me. She put her champagne down on a small table and sat in the chair beside it, her legs spread, the dildo poking up, not obscenely but invitingly. There was a subtle smile on her face. She was enjoying this.

I moved forward to where she sat and placed my glass beside hers. I lifted my nightdress and straddled her thighs, slowly settling down until the tip of her dildo touched my lips. She did not move.

‘Good girl,’ was all she said then placed her hands on my waist and pressed gently down so that my wet pussy allowed her to enter me. I sighed as it slithered into me and leant forward so our faces were close. With our eyes locked she began to lift her hips and lower them, holding me tightly at the waist. Together we moved in time, both clothed, both knowing that an agreement had been reached. Her pace increased but her eyes never left mine, nor mine hers. I lifted and lowered myself on her then, unable to resist, I leant even closer until our mouths touched. The kiss that followed was long and deep, passionate and arousing.

Mira lifted me – her strength remarkable, her eyes alight. She had me stand, then she stood and with her arm around me she led me to the bedroom.

At the foot of the bed she bent me so my hands were on it and lifting my nightdress she entered me again, her hands firmly on my flanks. She began to thrust into me, almost withdrawing then entering again, so that the tip of her girl cock was one moment between my lips, the next buried deep. Her hands moved to cup my breasts, to squeeze my nipples and she thrust faster and deeper. Her breath was coming faster, as was mine. Just like that first time her climax was close, her cries becoming more guttural, her language coarser until she emitted a huge groan and I felt her body stiffen and heard the wail of her orgasm.

She stayed deep inside me, recovering then I felt her slowly slither from me, lingering between my lips. Then she pulled me up b gently pulling my hair and turned me to embrace me and kiss me, firmly but tenderly. I asked if we might get on the bed and she smiled. As she went to move I stopped her by putting my hands on her hips. I slowly knelt and, as I did so, I pulled her pyjama trousers down, lifting them over her dildo.

When they were at her knees I unbuckled her strapon and eased it from within her and placed it on the end of the bed. Then, and for the first time, I put my face to her and licked slowly between her lips. She lifted me again and led me to clamber on the bed where she lay on her back, legs spread wide and invitingly open to me. I gave her my face and tongue and she accepted. I slid a finger into her and slowly began to stroke inside her, curling my finger as I licked and sucked her clitoris. Her orgasm was quieter, more restful but her back arched and she moaned softly as I felt her tighten around my finger and a new flood spread over my finger and face.

‘You take liberties,’ she said with a smile as she caressed my face. We were lying face to face, each on her side. ‘I did not tell you to lick me.’

‘An employee must show initiative, Mira.’

‘True but I hope you realise that this means I will fuck your arse?’

‘You can fuck me any way you want to.’

‘I know.’