You may download and keep copies for your personal use as long as all author related information and this paragraph remain on the copies. I don't mind if you send it along to a friend, repost it to an appropriate newsgroup, or post it to your adult-oriented web site, so long as you don't charge money for any of these activities. No alteration of the contents is permitted.
I don't even remember what I was looking for when I went through Joanne's desk that evening. It must have been a document I needed for a case I was working on. It seemed important enough at the time that I didn't want to wait until Joanne came back to the office the next day.
When I found the photographs in her desk drawer, though, I forgot all about what I was looking for. They were naked photos of Joanne. In the pictures, her hands were tied behind her back and she was blindfolded. In one picture she was kneeling in front of an oriental man, with his cock in her mouth. In another, she was bent over a woman's lap, being spanked. There were at least a dozen other pictures like those.
There was also a hand written note with the photographs. The note was in Chinese, so I couldn't read it.
It couldn't be Joanne, I argued to myself, maybe as an excuse to scrutinize the pictures more closely. She seemed like such a sweet girl.
Joanne Wa had been working at our office for a little over a month. She was recommended to us by a wealthy client. When we interviewed her, we knew we had a winner. Not only did she have experience as a legal secretary, but she was also fluent in both English and several Chinese dialects. Since most of our recent business had been for Chinese immigration hearings, we jumped at the chance to hire her.
I was glad to have another woman around the office. Not that I had any problem with the male partners of the firm, but it did sort of change the atmosphere of the place to have Joanne around. She was like a breath of fresh air. She was pleasant, respectful, and a bit on the shy side. I just plain liked having her around.
So I was totally shocked at the pictures. My hands were actually shaking. As much as I knew I shouldn't be looking at the obviously private photos, the voyeur in me forced me to go through them, one by one. They were dirty, and exciting, and I had absolutely no right to be looking at them. It was an intoxicating combination. I must have spent close to an hour going through them.
The thought of Joanne being dominated by this couple was making me horny. I had never considered myself a lesbian, or even very sexually adventurous. There were fantasies, of course, but nothing I had actually tried with any of my boyfriends. Unlike those fantasies, the pictures were real to me, all the more so because I knew Joanne personally. In the pictures, she allowed the couple to do all sorts of perverse things to her. I slid my hand down the front of my panties, and imagined what it would be like to have Joanne tied up like that. After I brought myself off, I tucked the pictures back away, and called it a night.
The next day, I couldn't get the images out of my head. I found myself looking at Joanne and thinking about her naked body. I thought about how she would look bent over her desk, and how it would feel to spank her with my bare hands. She obviously got off on that sort of thing. I couldn't wait until everyone went home, and I could retrieve the pictures again from her desk.
Every day the next week, I asked Joanne to go out for lunch with me, my treat. I found myself steering our conversations to more personal subjects, fishing for information. I was also hanging around her at the office. If she were a guy, I'd probably call my behavior flirting. I don't know what I was trying to accomplish. Was I trying to seduce her?
Finally, one day at lunch, she talked to me about the couple. My heart was in my throat. I tried to act surprised by what she was saying.
"I must confess to you, Karen, I don't have a boyfriend, " Joanne confided in me. Her face was going a bit red. " I do meet with some people to do some ... things."
She was so embarrassed.
"What kinds of things? " I pressed.
"I have sex with a married man and his wife. They make me do things for them, sort of like a servant."
There was an uncomfortable pause, as I tried to think of something to say.
"Are you offended by this? " she asked.
"No, of course not. A lot of people I know do that sort of thing, " I lied.
"Really?" Joanne seemed relieved by my reaction.
"Oh yes, in fact, I've had several servants myself. " I lied again. Anything to keep the conversation going.
Joanne's eyes went wide., then she really opened up.
"When Mrs. Tsay introduced me to it, I thought it was unusual. They brought over other servants, of course, but all Chinese. I would never have imagined that you would be interested in this sort of thing."
I was soaking up all the new information. Now I knew the name of the couple, and I knew that there were other Chinese servant girls. My heart was pounding with excitement. This was better than I had imagined.
Joanne continued to talk for a while about her experiences with Mr. and Mrs. Tsay. She left out most of the details, of course, but my mind filled in the blanks with images from the photographs. When we went back to work after lunch, I locked the door to my office, and masturbated right there at my desk.
The next day at lunch, Joanne seemed even more embarrassed than before. She was hesitant to bring it up.
"I have been instructed, " she told me, " to invite you over to meet Mr. and Mrs. Tsay. Upon learning your interests, they wish to show you the hospitality of their slaves."
Their slaves. That had a nice ring to it. This was my chance.
"Okay, " I said, hoping my nervousness wouldn't show in my voice. " When shall I be there?"
I had always envied the lifestyle of these wealthy Hong Kong immigrants. It's not that I didn't make a good living as a lawyer, but it doesn't compare to kind of wealth many of my clients had amassed. The sub-urban area where Mr. and Mrs. Tsay made their home was a neighborhood popular amongst these wealthy new immigrants. I tried to keep my confidence as I walked up to the front door, and rang the bell.
Joanne answered the door. She was fully dressed, but she didn't speak, or look me in the eye. She just motioned for me to follow her. I followed her up the stairs into the living room. My attention was immediately drawn to Mrs. Tsay. She was a tall, thin woman, with an air of authority around her. She said something in her native language.
"She asks you to have a seat, " translated Joanne. I did.