Caught: Punished by Her Boss (4 page)

“Well, you have one now, babe, and you’re looking at him. From now on you work for me. We’ll keep our little arrangement to ourselves. If either Tony or Blake get wind of anything, the deal’s off. I’ve got the outtake video stored safely away, in case the police would like a look. And I have a pal in the IRS who owes me a couple of favors. If I ask him to, he won’t hesitate to open an audit on you. I’m taking a wild guess that you don’t report all, or even any, of the income you’re taking in on this little sleaze venture. Am I right?”

From the expression on her face, Eric was pretty sure he’d nailed that one. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and he could smell her fear. He couldn’t deny it—it turned him on. His cock nudged in his jeans as he lifted a hand to her throat.

“As of this moment, I own your ass. You’ll do what I want and toe the line, or pay the price.” He curled his fingers around her throat. He could feel her pulse throbbing beneath his grip. His cock hardened and his balls felt tight. He brought his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Understand,
Princess Lola
?”

Jessie didn’t answer, at least not with words, though her eyes sparked with barely suppressed anger. “I asked you a question,” Eric said, his voice hard. As he pressed against her windpipe, the anger was again replaced by fear, though Jessie still didn’t speak.

Letting her go, Eric stepped back and pulled his cell phone from his jeans. “
Someone’s
been using my warehouse unit illegally, and has stolen some very valuable equipment in the process. There’s also some suspicion of foul play. Maybe a quick call to 9-1-1 would be the first place to start.” He touched the cell phone screen and smiled slyly at Jessie. “What do you think?” He pushed the nine on the keypad, and then a one, angling the phone so she could see what he was doing. “I push the next one, all kinds of hell is going to break loose. You ready for that?”

“No!” Jessie shouted, suddenly lunging for the phone. Eric lifted it high out of her reach, grinning as she stumbled forward, swiping at the air.

“Okay, okay,” she said in a tight, angry voice. “You win. I’ll do it.”

~*~

“Get on your knees and worship my shoes, sissy boy.” Jessie pointed to the ground. Gerald dropped to the floor and began to lap at her shiny black shoes while she smacked his bare ass with a long-handled riding crop.

This was her first time working in Eric’s basement setup and while she still wasn’t used to it, she had to admit, it was a lot more luxurious than the concrete box she’d been shooting in. There was air conditioning so she wouldn’t have to sweat like a pig anymore during summer shoots. He had even let her take the company’s recording equipment and lighting, which was a good thing, since her own equipment was far inferior.

Gerald, her latest sub boy for her productions, hadn't minded driving out to the Heights, which was actually closer to his Montrose neighborhood than the drive out to the Bellaire office warehouse.

Eric was keeping scarce so far, thank god, though when she’d arrived this afternoon for the shoot, he’d showed her his home monitoring system, which allowed him to watch any room in the house from his smart phone, including the garage and the basement.

She’d spent a sleepless night trying to figure out how to get out of this blackmail setup but so far hadn't come up with a plan that satisfied her. She couldn’t just walk away, not yet anyway. As much as she hated to admit it, Eric was right. Frankie still remained an uncertain element in all this. Though she hadn't heard from in the two months since she’d paid him off, that didn’t mean she’d seen the last of him. Now there was the added complication of his high jacking all her gear. She’d spent years and a small fortune amassing her substantial collection of BDSM toys and equipment, and no way could she afford to just walk away from it. Until she could pull herself together enough financially to disappear, she’d have to stay and toe the line.

Not surprisingly, she was having a hard time getting into the scene. Her eyes kept drifting toward the little security camera set up high in a corner, its tiny red light blinking at her like some kind of evil eye. “I’ll be watching,” he had said with a shit eating grin that made her want to smack him across the face. “I’d better get my money’s worth. Oh, and do us both a favor—no more breath play, got it?”

She would have loved to string
him
up and tie the rope nice and tight. She’d soon have him singing a different tune. As it was, she was at his mercy, at least for the time being. They’d struck a deal, or, more accurately, he’d stated his terms—a fifty-fifty split in the gross revenues from her site until he decided she’d paid enough for the risks she’d taken, not to mention the loss of the Franklin account.

“You’ve been using my equipment and my space scot free for two years,” he had snarled when she protested that she had significant expenses. “You could have cost me my business, and might still if that guy decides to come out of the woodwork. Pay for your expenses out of what you owe me for
that
.”

Cabrón
. Along with making her work from his basement, he’d forced her to give him access to her merchant account for her credit card processor. No way was she going to let him extort her forever, with no end in sight. She’d pretend to go along for a while. She’d bide her time until she could get out without too much collateral damage.

Houston was a big city—Texas even bigger. Hell, she could go anywhere in the world. Her site was gaining in popularity every month. She’d get away from Eric, change her name, lock him out of her site and her accounts, and reinvent herself.

Until she could figure a way out of this, though, it was going to be more than strange to have to report for work at the ad agency, pretending to be Miss Bland-and-Innocent with Blake and Tony, while Eric stood by smirking.

He’d really thrown her for a loop yesterday. She’d had him pegged as an easy mark, someone she could twist around her little finger if she’d chosen. She had definitely underestimated Eric Chapman—she knew that now.

Not only hadn't she expected him to be such a hard ass, she’d also been taken by surprise by his comments about preferring floggers to cat o’ nine tails. Maybe he was just messing with her head—pretending to a knowledge and interest in BDSM to try to keep his upper hand. Or maybe Eric was a closet sub boy
,
just waiting for a strong woman to take him in hand. The way he’d stroked the leather on the flogger—could it be the guy was secretly aching to feel its sting? If he was a sub boy, she had no doubt she could push the right submissive buttons to get into his head and his pants on her own terms.

The thought almost made her laugh until she remembered the camcorder was recording. She needed to focus, damn it. She had a fan base depending on her. She looked down at Gerald, whose broad shoulders and back reminded her of Eric’s physique. Yes, that could be Eric kneeling before her, naked and groveling as he kissed her feet.

Jessie brought the crop down hard on Gerald’s ass, much harder than a moment before, drawing a gasp from the man. She struck his other cheek just as hard, putting her whole arm into it. She glared a moment at the tiny camera before continuing to crop the sub boy at her feet with energy fueled by fury.

Take that, Eric, you son of a bitch.

~*~

Eric popped another can of beer as his home computer booted up. It had been a stroke of genius the week before to make Jessie switch venues to his basement. Now she couldn’t disappear in the middle of the night with his expensive equipment, nor did he think she would just vanish, not when he had possession of the gear she used to make her videos. And it gave him the added control of watching her in action and making sure she stayed on schedule.

Using the information he’d forced Jessie to provide, he logged into her merchant credit card processing account. Her site didn’t accept PayPal, which apparently reported transactions to the government, instead going the credit card route only, where no such stipulations were required. She averaged about $7,000 per month in gross income from her little venture, with some months going as high as $10,000.

Let’s see…this month so far…
he added the numbers in his head and then frowned. The daily take was down significantly in the week since he’d signed onto the venture. What the fuck? Maybe it was just a fluke—a temporary lull. It was the first week of the month, after all. Maybe folks were too busy paying their rents and mortgages to buy a porn membership. He’d give it another week before he leaped to any conclusions.

Though Jessie had grudgingly agreed to Eric’s terms to keep him from blowing the whistle on her, she hadn't done much to disguise how pissed off she was. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to just roll over and accept the situation without a fight. She reminded him of a caged tiger, flicking her tail at him, ready to bite his head off the second she got the chance.

Eric clicked on Jessie’s website from his favorites toolbar and watched her home page load on the screen. There it was—this week’s new video. He’d spied on her while she was filming, and he had to admit she was seriously hot in action, doing things he’d only fantasized about doing himself.

For the shoot she wore a black leather corset, the stays drawn tight, cinching in her long, slender waist and forcing her breasts close and high, offered up like ripe peaches on a plate. Her hips flared nicely and that ass was just made for spanking. How he would love to smack the sass right out of the little bitch. He’d use his hand, savoring the feel of her skin heating as it reddened, the flesh jiggling with each hard smack. He’d spank her until she cried. Then he’d fuck her, forcing her up on her hands and knees so he could enter her doggie style. He’d slam into her cunt, using her hips to pull her hard onto his shaft.

As he watched Jessie whipping that poor loser in the video, the image shifted in his mind. He became the one with the whip, and Jessie was the one on the floor, naked and sweating, thanking her master for giving her what she deserved. Man, wouldn’t that be sweet?

The idea of overpowering and controlling a strong, fiery woman had always appealed to Eric. It was one reason he’d never been interested in Jessie before. He had no interest in passive women. He wanted a woman who struggled and fought—a woman it took power and force to subdue.

When the guy on the screen started jerking off at his mistress’s feet, Eric closed out of the site, wrinkling his nose with distaste. The creep better not have gotten any of his spunk on Eric’s carpet.

Still aroused from thoughts of Jessie as his slave girl, Eric clicked his personal favorite, a BDSM site called
S&M Trainers
that purported to train real slave girls, following their journey into total obedience and submission from week to week.

The camera work was head and shoulders above the amateur videos Jessie offered her viewing public. With the professional lighting and sound system, and the close-ups of the girls from all angles, it felt as if you were right there in the room with them. It was the only porn site he actually paid for, and it was worth every cent.

Two men, who called themselves Maestro and Sir Stephen, took normal, sedate secretary types, much like the persona Jessie projected at the office, and turned them into submissive, sex-crazed sluts who would endure ever-increasing levels of pain and humiliation to get the orgasms they became conditioned to crave.

Eric was pleased to see there was an update on slave Julia, a delicious little redhead who’d been sent by a displeased dominant lover to get the training she needed to serve him better. Eric was aware these were just actors making a buck, but this particular site managed to make everything seem so authentic, from the settings to the tears streaking down the slave girls’ faces to the welts crisscrossing their asses and thighs.

The video opened with Julia, naked and on her knees on the concrete floor in what looked like a basement, with a bucket beside her and a large sponge in her hand. Her face was smudged with dirt and her long golden hair was tousled and tangled, the ends brushing the floor as she leaned over to scrub.

The camera moved in for a close up of her shaven cunt peeking between her legs from behind. Eric reached for his fly and opened his jeans. She had a great ass, this girl. He pulled his underwear down enough to grab his cock, which hardened as he stroked it, his eyes glued to the screen.

A black combat boot appeared in the shot. It settled on Julia’s back, pushing her flat to the concrete. “I thought I told you to clean this floor, slave.” Maestro, a thirty-something guy who always wore army fatigues, was revealed standing beside the girl as the camera pulled back.

“I am, sir! I’m doing my best,” she wailed, as Sir Stephen came into view, a wicked looking whip in his hand.

“Your best isn’t good enough. You need to be punished,” Sir Stephen said, glaring down at the girl.

“This slave is filthy,” Maestro interjected. “Let’s clean her up.”

The two men hauled Julia to her feet and dragged her toward the wall. While she struggled, they forcibly bound her by the wrists and ankles to metal cuffs that had been installed for the purpose. Her arms were extended to either side, her legs spread wide. While Maestro stood beside her, roughly fondling her spread cunt, Sir Stephen moved out of the camera range and then returned with clover clamps and lead fishing weights.

He pulled at her nipples until they were taut, drawing a cry of pain from the girl as the tips were caught in the clamps’ viselike grip. One by one, he attached the teardrop lead weights to the chain dangling between her breasts, wresting more sexy moans from the girl.

The camera panned back to show Maestro, who was pulling a large coiled hose from its hook on the side wall. Moving toward the girl, he aimed the nozzle at her and pulled the trigger. She squealed as a powerful stream of water, undoubtedly freezing, hit her directly on her spread cunt. The weighted chain between her clamped breasts swayed as she jerked and tried to twist away from the relentless stream.

Sir Stephen was now rubbing Julia’s gorgeous body with a large soapy sponge while Maestro sprayed her breasts, cunt and even her face with a steady stream of water. Eric stroked his cock faster, feeling the telltale tightening in his balls that signaled he was about to come. Sir Stephen reached down, spreading Julia’s already splayed labia further, while Maestro moved in with the hose.