Caught: Punished by Her Boss (6 page)

She tugged against the leather cuffs, trying to get purchase on the clips just out of reach, but it was no use. She was exhausted and stunned. Though she’d reassessed Eric as a bully and a blackmailer, she never dreamed he’d go this far.

What would happen to her now?

He’d been gone for over an hour, at least it seemed like it—she wasn’t sure. She could hear the sound of the leaking tap in the small bathroom, dripping in a steady tattoo, reminding her again of how thirsty she was. Was he just going to leave her down here to die? She began to cry, panicked at the thought.

Just then, the sound of the bolt turning in the door at the top of the stairs made her startle and catch her breath. She gulped, her heart lurching as she listened for his footsteps.

“Hello? Eric?” she called, her voice a rasp in her throat. Somehow she had to make him untie her. She had to convince him to let her go. But how?

He didn’t answer, but she could hear him thumping down the stairs. It sounded like he was carrying something big that he kept hitting against the walls of the stairwell as he descended.

He came into view carrying a large oblong box, which he set down on the floor with a loud thunk. He had changed from the shorts and T-shirt he’d been wearing into jeans and a button-down shirt, making Jessie all the more aware of her own nakedness. She hunched and curled in on herself, trying to hide as much of her body as she could.

As she watched Eric approach she tried to keep her fear in check. If he was going to kill her, wouldn’t he have done it already?

He had a plastic shopping bag slung over his arm. He opened it, taking out a bottle of water.

Jessie struggled to keep her features neutral, hiding her fear and rage as best as she could. “Can you untie me, please? This is dangerous, to leave someone bound for so long. My feet are numb and I’m thirsty.”

Eric’s smile was cruel, his blue eyes hard and bright. “Not as dangerous as stringing an epileptic up in a noose and then beating the crap out of him, eh?” He approached her and knelt beside her. Instinctively she squeezed her eyes shut as he reached toward her face, afraid he was going to strike her, but he just tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“If I untie your feet, you better not try anything stupid, you hear me?”

Jessie nodded. She had to play along. “I won’t.”

She lay still as Eric undid the knots at her ankles. She wiggled her toes, wincing as her feet began to tingle painfully back to life. He lifted her to a sitting position and leaned her against the wall, her arms still cuffed behind her. His gaze moved insolently over her bare breasts and she drew her legs up, hating him. At least she was upright, though the position put more strain on her bladder.

“You want some of this water?”

Jessie nodded. “Yes. And I need to pee.”

Eric raised his eyebrows, looking amused. “You have a lot of demands, little girl. Is that how a slave girl talks to her master?”

“What the—” Jessie bit off the indignant retort that had immediately risen to her lips. Was that the game he was playing? She’d have to force herself to play along so she could somehow get the fuck out of there.

She tried to swallow, though her tongue felt thick and swollen. “Please,” she amended. “May I please have some water and use the bathroom?”

Eric twisted the cap on the bottle. “Better. But not good enough. May I please have some water,
sir
?”

Pinche idiota
.

Taking a breath, Jessie forced herself to parrot the words. This was about survival, not pride. Praying she could keep the scorn out of her tone, she said, “May I please have some water, sir?”

Eric’s grin was triumphant as he held the lip of the bottle to her mouth and tipped it. She drank greedily until he pulled the bottle away, causing it to splash between her breasts. “That’s enough for now. I want to show you the present I got for you.” He nodded toward the large cardboard box he’d heaved down the stairs.

“Eric, please, I have to pee really bad. When are you going to let me go?” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself enough to continue. “Look, I get it—we had a fight. Things went too far. I promise I won’t go to the police, if that’s what you’re thinking. Things just got out of hand. Please let me go. I just want to go home and take a shower.”

As if he hadn't heard her, Eric got to his feet and moved toward the box. Taking a razor knife from his jeans pocket, he cut the box open and pulled out what looked like prefab sections of steel bars, as well as a long rectangular padded table top.

He began to assemble the pieces, talking as he did so. “This cost a fortune, but I decided it’s worth it, since you’ll be spending a lot of time in here. It’ll make a perfect addition to the dungeon.”

She watched in silent horror as she realized what it was he was putting together. It was a sleep cage, about seven feet long, three feet wide and maybe thirty inches tall, The black padded table that fit on top of the cage was embedded with O-rings along its edges, no doubt for bondage play.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Eric said, glancing back at her as he worked. “You can get in and out through this panel, see?” He swung it upward. “When I allow it, that is. The dude at the BDSM shop said it’s the best model they carry.” He hefted a thin white mattress from the box and placed it inside the cage. “I even got you the padded mattress with a fitted sheet and a top sheet. Those came extra.”

This couldn’t be happening. Eric was totally freaking her out now. She’d hated, but understood, the cold, calculating bastard who’d tried to horn in on her business. She’d never dreamed he’d go ape-shit on her like this. Somehow she had to convince him she wasn’t a threat.

“Look, Eric. Uh, sir. This has gone far enough. Untie me and I’ll go. You can have all my gear, everything I own. You can even have my website. I’ll leave Houston. I’ll leave the state. I swear to you, you’ll never see Jessie Ramos again. It’ll be like I never existed.”

He turned slowly toward her, his eyes glittering in a way that truly frightened her. As she felt the puddle pooling beneath her, Jessie realized to her shocked dismay that she’d peed on herself in her fear.

“That’s right,” he said, staring down at her. “That’s just exactly what it will be like. As of this moment, Jessie Ramos has ceased to exist.”

Chapter 4

Eric saw the dark stain spreading beneath Jessie’s thighs. He frowned, but then brightened as an idea entered his head, drawn from the video of slave Julia scrubbing the floor at his favorite website.

“Did that scare the piss out of you, Jess? No wait, you can’t be Jessie anymore. From now on you’re J. Just J. Or
slave
. I like that too. I’ve always wanted my own personal slave.” He watched her taking this in. “You soiled my nice carpet. That’s disgusting, J. I’m going to get you a bucket and a sponge, and you’re going to clean that up, understand? Then you’ll be punished. I haven’t decided how yet.”

Jessie, no, J., began to cry. Eric felt almost sorry for her. He touched the scratches on his face and as his fingers trailed down to the welt, fading but still visible, on his neck, he hardened his heart. Leaning over her, he lifted her from the wet spot and set her down again beside it. “Don’t move, you hear me? You do and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.” He glowered at her to make sure she knew he meant business.

Satisfied his threat would keep her in place, he took the stairs two at a time and returned in short order with a roll of paper towels, a bucket of hot, soapy water, a large sponge and some old towels. These he set down near the stain. J. hadn't moved.

“I’m going to take off the cuffs now, J. You’re going to use the paper towels first, to blot as much of your piss as you can. Then scrub it and then use the towels to dry it, got it?” When she didn’t answer, he knelt beside her and gripped her throat, his cock rising with the thrill of his power.

He could feel her swallow beneath his fingers, and her eyes widened. She nodded and he let go. Pulling her to her feet, he reached behind her and unclipped the cuffs. “Once you’re done, you’ll have a shower. You stink.”

He watched as she dabbed at the stain and then used the sponge. She looked incredibly hot, crouching naked with her hair falling into her face, her breasts swaying gently as she worked. What would that ass look like covered with the welts from a cane? How would she look when he chained her to the bondage table on top of the cage and gave her forced orgasms until she passed out? He would get one of those vibrating wands with the big heads they used on the porn sites. With a thrill, he realized he was going to train her just like Maestro and Sir Stephen in the videos.

He’d spent hours watching the two men in action, and they were the real deal. Even if the women were paid to be in the videos, the techniques the men employed were very effective. Those women weren’t acting when they screamed while being whipped or came so hard they cried. He would condition J., as they did on the site, to obey his every command. Her entire world would shrink to this dungeon. He would reduce her to a willing, obedient slave girl who lived to serve him and him alone.

He massaged his cock through his jeans as he watched J. on her hands and knees. It was her fault she was here now. She was the one who had lied and cheated, and nearly destroyed his business in the process. Now she would pay.

Once she’d cleaned the mess reasonably well, Eric hoisted her to her feet. “Time for a shower.” He led her to the tiny basement bathroom. It was barely big enough for a toilet and a shower stall, but it would suit his purposes. He turned on the water and pushed her into the stall, allowing her to pull the glass door closed.

“Two minutes,” he said.

Closing the lid of the toilet, Eric sat down and watched J. through the clear glass. She was still whimpering as she soaped her body and shampooed her hair. Once she rinsed, he barked, “Out. Now.”

He could feel her reluctance as she turned off the water and stepped hesitantly out of the stall. He thrust a towel at her and watched her dry herself. When she started to wrap the towel around her body he said, “Nope. Drop it and then turn and face me.”

In the small mirror over the sink he saw the scowl move suddenly over her features, but to her credit she’d managed to wipe it off by the time she turned toward him, the towel puddling at her feet. He looked her over, purposefully lingering at her breasts and cunt, enjoying her obvious discomfiture.

“I thought all porn stars had shaved cunts. What’s up with the pubes?”

She didn’t answer. He would have to teach her to respond when spoken to, but there was time for that. He shifted his gaze to her face. The heavy makeup she’d worn for the shoot was mostly off, though there were raccoon rings of mascara left around her eyes.

While she was in the shower he had noticed the makeup bag perched on the edge of the sink and now he nodded toward it. “You got something in there to get that crap off your face?”

J. nodded and moved to reach for it, but Eric moved faster, grabbing it before she could. “Not so fast. For all I know you’ve got a nail file in there or something sharp. Slave girls can’t be trusted with sharp objects.”

Sitting back on the toilet seat, he rummaged through a huge assortment of lipsticks and eye makeup until he found what looked like a jar of cold cream. He held it up. “This it?”

She nodded and he placed it on the lip of the sink, along with a cotton ball he found floating in the jumble of jars and tubes. J. ran her fingers through her wet hair, combing it back from her face. She dabbed the cream around her eyes and used the cotton ball to remove the last of the makeup. Her fingers were trembling, but Eric couldn’t help but admire her stoic behavior. She’d stopped crying and seemed to be resigning herself to her fate. That was a good thing. For while Eric enjoyed the occasional wrestling match, he didn’t want to have to subdue her on a daily basis.

She turned to him. “Can I have something to drink? And I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“Good. Then you’ll be paying extra careful attention to the rules going forward.”

“The rules?” she echoed faintly, her face falling.

“That’s right.” Eric led her out of the bathroom, his grip firm on her upper arm. He noticed she was shivering. “Cold?” he asked.

J. nodded, wrapping her arms around her torso. Eric moved toward the stairwell and adjusted the thermostat on the wall. He returned to J. and pointed to the ground. “Slave girls kneel at attention when they are getting lessons,” he said, feeling a little silly but also deeply excited. He was playing out the fantasy of a lifetime, and he planned to make the most of it.

With obvious reluctance, J. dropped to her knees, rather clumsily, Eric thought. But they could work on that later. “That’s it,” he said. “Put your hands behind your head and your shoulders back. Keep your eyes down and pay attention.”

He watched her shifting on her knees. “You can do better than that. Shoulders back like a soldier. Show me those tits. And spread your knees as wide as you can. I want to see that cunt.”