Peter the Dominatrix Maker

Peter went from awaking while screaming in mortal terror to the sudden and embarrassing realization that he was seated in a quite white walled HR office. In front of him was a white marble desk with a phone and computer as well as stacks of manilla folders. There was the back of a tall blue silk chair behind the desk and a counter with shelves and what looked like file cabinets all in the same white as the desk. Peter looked around. He didn’t remember coming into an interview.

“No, you didn’t Peter,” a woman’s sultry voice came from behind the chair.

The chair spun around and Peter was amazed by the tall strict red haired woman in a smart red velvet suit with a white turtle neck shirt.

“Peter McNamara, Age 27, Resident of Austin Texas, Five foot eleven, brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin with freckles…” the woman read off a sheet on top of one folder, “Says here you are fluent in English, French, Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese. You work for a media company writing translationed scripts for imported anime.”

“Ah, I do the subtitles as well,” Peter interjected.

The woman put the folder down on the piles of folders on her desk and looked Peter in the eyes. Her irises were pink.

“Do you mind if I call you Peter?” The woman stated before continuing without waiting for an answer, “Well Peter, you aren’t here for a job as a translator. You are here because you are dead.”

“What?” Peter gasped.

“Company trip to a comic convention, you were on a flight from Denver to Los Angeles. You were napping when the aircraft suffered an engine explosion,” the woman said, “I doubt you want to remember this part…”

*

Peter Screamed as he looked at the gapping hole in front of him where the aircraft had been as he watched the spinning ground coming closer at rocket speed….”

*

“AHHHHHHHHHH!” Peter screamed until he realized he was back in the white office.

“So let’s just skip that part and look forward to the rest of your eternity, shall we?” the woman smiled.

“I am dead?” Peter gasped, “Is this the entrance to heaven?”

“Do I look like Saint Peter?” the woman glared at Peter.

“So then not heaven… I am going to hell?” Peter felt his heart sink.

“Well these are your good deeds,” the woman put her left hand on a tall stack of papers the put her right on another stack, “And these are your sins. Of these, these are mortal sins.”

The woman held up a three-inch-thick stack of papers.

“Great, I am going to end up a Ma Doi wondering purgatory for all eternity,” Peter leaned back in the chair.

“Nice way to mix your grandmother’s Vietnamese beliefs with your Catholic upbringing,” the woman smiled as she put the papers down, “But I have another deal for you.”

Peter watched as the papers disappeared from the woman’s desk and a new set of folders appeared.

“Of your girlfriends, you had 6 serious, 8 not so serious and a dozen that lasted less than a month…” the woman thumbed throw the folders before going throw them, “Jenny, the girl next door while you were growing up, never had sex… but you having her tie you up set her on her way to her current job. A professional dominatrix charging six figures an hour to tie up and spank some of the most powerful people on the planet. Yesterday she hired a private detective to find out what ever happened to you since she is looking to retire and wants a forever /husband that loves her for her.”

“Well talk about bad timing,” Peter put his hands over his face.

“Erica, that high school sweetheart,” The woman continued with the next folder, “She went on to be a pro-dom too, married her frequent costar in her moonlighting as a lesbian fetish porn star. She wanted to invite you to the wedding, but ended up eloping.”

“I always did wonder why she changed schools in the middle of Junior year,” Peter said.

“Family mellow drama, not your fault,” the woman continued, “Charlie the Cheerleader, ended up dropping out of college after realizing what her feminism studies teachers didn’t match up with the love she felt with you, went on to become an editor at a prominent magazine, met her current live in at a BDSM club party.”

“Ok…” Peter said as the pattern became clear, “I was a submissive boy toy and women found their calling tying me to the bed.”

“Not exactly. Remember Ashanti? The reason you two never completely clicked was she was a sub herself. But thanks to you she found her place and a master to take care of her. No, you are a natural dominatrix maker Peter,” the woman put the folders down, “You help women uncover their path to BDSM and fetish. You are a natural at it. Have a look at your funeral.”

“My funeral?” Peter said as he was handed a framed picture, “Wow.”

“Miss Harrison in HR thought that since it was a company event, the company should pick up the tab, notice all the ex’s that have come to pay respect?” the woman smiled, “Want to see them from a different angle?”

The woman handed over another framed picture, but here it was clear to see all the ex-girlfriends that showed up and some of the girls he worked with, including Sue the receptionist and Miss Harrison herself were wearing latex lingerie under their funeral suits.

“I really had that effect on people?” Peter asked.

“Once Miss Harrison and Sue cleaned up your apartment for your elderly parents, they realized what were into and both decided to wear their own ‘fun-der-wear’ to the funeral as a sign of respect. You really did have a way of finding the kink in women, and I have a job for you…”