Caught: Punished by Her Boss (8 page)

Jessie watched in silence from the cage as Eric walked past her, heading toward the wall where the whips were hung. He selected her short-handled riding crop and came over to her, crouching down. He pulled on a thin chain he was wearing around his neck and she saw a small key at the end of it. He inserted the key into the padlock and lifted the panel.

Eric stood and stepped back, pointing to the carpet at his feet. Jessie crawled out. Every muscle and bone in her body ached. “Into position,” he snapped.

What position
she wondered, trying to recall what the fuck she was expected to do. Eric reached down and grabbed her roughly by the arm, jerking her up.

“Kneel at attention and show respect to your master!” He smacked at her shoulders and upper back with the riding crop in a series of stinging blows while she struggled to kneel upright and place her hands behind her head.

The pressure in her bladder reminded Jessie that she desperately needed to pee. On top of that, her intestines were cramping painfully. Eric must have read her distress in her face. “You need to use the toilet?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Did you forget rule number one already? We haven’t even had the test yet.”

“Yes, sir,” she quickly amended. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Better. Okay. Go ahead. But crawl. I like to watch you crawl.”

His words hit her like a slap in the face and she stiffened, despite her promises to herself to lull him into believing she was going to submit to his bullshit. Jessie Ramos crawled for no man.

Eric lifted the crop and smacked her hard across the left breast. “Do what I say, slave, or I’ll take away the privilege of using the toilet. You’ll pee on newspaper in a corner.”

Her bowels cramped again, and Jessie forced herself to her hands and knees. She began to crawl over the nappy carpeting, moving quickly before she had an accident. She rose once she reached the bathroom’s threshold, relieved that he didn’t try to stop her.

“Door stays open,” he informed her, though thank god at least he didn’t enter the small room behind her. She tried to ignore his presence as she used the toilet. She could feel her face heating as she emptied her bowels. She finished as quickly as she could and flushed the toilet.

She could feel his eyes on her as she moved toward the sink. Glancing around, she saw that her makeup bag had been removed. She washed her face and hands with the crappy bar of soap that was the only thing available, missing her own bathroom and her toiletries, longing for her soft robe, wishing fervently that the bastard staring at her from the doorway would drop dead on the spot.

“Hurry up,” he said. “Get out here.”

As she walked out of the bathroom, he pointed to the carpet. “Crawl. I like to see your tits sway.”

Jessie pressed her lips together, clamping her jaw to keep from cursing him out.
Just do what he says,
a voice in her head urged her, but her knees refused to bend. Eric slapped her right breast with the crop, catching her hard across the nipple. Instinctively covering the spot with her hand, Jessie yelped with pain.

“On your hands and knees, bitch!” Eric lifted the crop again and brought it down hard on her other breast, and then began to smack her shoulders until she dropped to her knees, gasping and yelping.

“Wait right there. Don’t move,” he ordered. Jessie stayed as she was, watching as Eric strode toward the set of drawers where they’d put most of her BDSM paraphernalia. He yanked one open, rummaging until he found what he wanted. He returned with a black leather dog collar and a chain leash.

“Move your hair from the back of your neck,” he said brusquely. Jessie was furious at the thought of this prick placing a collar around her neck, but she didn’t dare refuse. He buckled the collar in place and attached the leash to the ring at the buckle.

Jerking it, he moved ahead of her, walking so she was forced to scramble to keep up. He led her to the St. Andrew’s cross. One of Jessie’s sub boy clients had built it for her—two sturdy planks of hardwood with a support beam in back, all firmly anchored onto a thick wooden platform. It had eyebolts placed at intervals along both sides of the X to allow for a person of any height to be stretched spread eagle from the adjustable wrist and ankle cuffs. It was the centerpiece of many of Jessie’s most popular videos and her personal favorite device for securing her boys for hours of cock and ball torture and other erotic BDSM play.

She well understood the heightened feeling of helplessness that being tethered to the cross engendered and had no desire to experience it at the hands of a novice would-be Dom on a power trip. No telling what harm this asshole might do, and there was no one to stop him.

Though she’d promised herself to pretend to go along, she found herself unable to obey when he told her to get onto the platform and spread her arms and legs. “This isn’t a good idea, Eric. You don’t know—”

“Shut up. Don’t tell me what I know or don’t know, cunt. I know a lot more than you think.” He pulled her upright, forcing her onto the platform.

Panic rose in her chest and in spite of herself, she struggled against him, but she was no match for the big man. “You’re not doing yourself any favors, J.,” Eric growled through clenched teeth as he forced her unwilling limbs into position. He lifted her arms one at a time and cuffed them in place. Then he crouched and forcibly spread her legs along the X, buckling her ankles into place. Jessie’s heart was pounding and she closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath and regain control.

She was facing the wall, but she could hear him moving behind her. She felt the soft stroke of the flogger’s tresses moving over her back and she shuddered, pressing against the wood of the cross in a vain effort to get away.

“We’ll start with the flogger,” Eric announced from behind her. At least he hadn't gone straight for the cane or the cat o’ nine tails. In inexperienced hands they could be quite dangerous, and though he’d hinted otherwise, Jessie had the bad feeling that the sum total of Eric’s so-called experience was jerking off alone while watching BDSM porn.

“I hope you did your lessons, J.,” he said. “It’s test time. I’ll ask for a rule. You recite it and if you get it right, I’ll ask you the next rule. You mess it up, you get a beating, and then we try again. Ready?”

She didn’t answer. She’d spent as long as she could stand trying to memorize his stupid list of rules, something he’d probably gotten from one of those blogs written by clueless men who pretended they had dozens of willing subs who worshipped the ground they walked on, when in reality they were probably lonely middle-aged men with thinning hair and dicks they hadn't seen in a decade beneath their beer guts.

She gasped in startled pain as Eric gripped her by the hair and jerked her head back. He put his face close to hers so she could feel his hot breath. “I
said
, are you ready? Answer the fucking question, and answer it right or the beating starts now.”

“Yes, sir,” she managed, relieved when he let go of hair.

She heard the sound of rustling paper and then Eric said, “Recite rule number one.”

“A slave girl always answers a direct question,” she said, glad her brain had decided to retain the information.

“Good. Rule number two.”

“A slave girl always addresses her master with respect, referring to him as either Master or Sir.”

“Good. Rule number six.”

He laughed softly. “Rule number six. Spit it out.”

“Um…” Rapidly Jessie moved through the rules in her head, thrown off by his going out of sequence. Finally she offered, “A slave girl never engages in any bodily function without permission, including but not limited to use of bathroom, eating, drinking, masturbating.”

There was a pause and then, “Wrong. That’s rule seven.”

He began to flog her, hitting not only her ass, but her thighs, back and shoulders. It stung and she squirmed against the cross but she couldn’t move an inch. She tried to think through the flogging. What was rule six? What the fuck was it? Oh yes! “A—a slave girl never sits on the furniture!” she cried, gasping as the leather strands rained over her back and shoulders. “Without permission,” she remembered to add. Still he didn’t stop. Gasping, she pushed on. “She always kneels at attention when he, when the master, enters the room, oh fuck!” The tips of the flogger had curled cruelly around her side, catching her left breast in a burst of pain.

“That’s your fault. You moved,” Eric said, but he’d stopped hitting her. Her skin felt like it was on fire and she realized her hands were clenched into fists above the cuffs. She could hear him behind her unzipping his jeans and then she felt his naked body pressing hard against hers. She stiffened, hating him, but powerless to stop him. She could feel his hard cock against her ass.

After a few seconds he stepped back and began releasing her ankles and then her wrists. Before she could get her bearings, he spun her around. He was gripping his cock, which was as big as the rest of him, in his fist. She recognized the look on his face—he was stoked by the flogging, drunk with power and lust.

“Lie down at my feet. Spread your legs and arch your hips up so I can see that cunt. And cup your tits and press them together.”

She stared at him, frozen. How dare he order her, a professional Dominatrix, to behave like some kind of sleazy stripper? He took a step toward her, the muscles rippling in his shoulders and arms as he clenched his fists. She took a step back, still angry, but frightened too.

“Don’t you get it yet, J.?” His voice was soft and dangerous, scaring her more than if he’d shouted. “This isn’t a contest of wills. I
own
you now. You can make this very, very hard on yourself or you can make it easy. You decide. Lie down, or I throw you down, and you won’t like what happens next, I assure you.”

Panic rippled through her gut. He was going to rape her again. He would impregnate her and then what? It didn’t even bear thinking about. “I’m not on birth control,” she finally whispered, covering her pussy with her hands as if that would somehow protect her.

The bastard actually laughed, though, to her relief, he said, “I’m not going to fuck you. You haven’t earned it.” He tilted his head as he regarded her, a cruel glint in his eye. “And yeah, I thought about that. I thought about the fact that I stuck my dick in a whore’s cunt.”

Anger shot through her at this insult but fear kept her mouth shut. The fear was suddenly overridden when he shrugged, adding casually, “It was an act of passion, I wasn’t thinking—”

“It was an act of violence!” The words had leapt from her mouth before she could censor them.

Eric scowled but then just shrugged again. “It’s a bit hard to be sympathetic to a woman who gets off on beating a bound man with a cane while he jerks off on her shoes. Spare me your outrage and do what you’re told.” He took a step closer and she could sense his menace as if it were a palpable aura.

“Lie down,” he said again in a hard voice, lifting his hands as if he would place them around her throat. “This is the last time I tell you.”

It’s okay,
she told herself.
He’s not going to rape you again. Just let him get his rocks off and maybe he’ll go away.
Jessie forced herself to lie on the carpet, which felt scratchy and rough against skin made tender by the flogging. Humiliation dropped over her like a net as she forced herself to spread her legs and angle her hips so her pussy was exposed. She pressed the sides of her breasts together with her hands, closing her eyes and turning her head away in an effort to distance herself from what was happening.

“Open your eyes. I want your eyes on my cock,” he ordered.

Of course you do, asshole,
she thought, but she obeyed him. Straddling either side of her body, Eric loomed over her and began stroking himself, pulling and pumping his shaft as he defiled her with hungry eyes. It wasn’t long before he was grunting, his hand flying, and she knew he was about to come.

She couldn’t help it—she didn’t want to see this man shooting his load on her, and she closed her eyes, turning her head away. She felt the warm blobs of ejaculate landing on her breast, her stomach, her cheek, each spurt adding to her humiliation and fury.

She heard him crouching beside her and felt his finger gliding over her breast. Her eyes flew open as he tried to push his goo-covered finger between her lips. “Suck it clean,” he ordered.

Jessie simply could not bring herself to obey him. Her jaw was clenched shut, her lips a tight line. His face darkening, Eric grabbed her by the chin. Holding her still, he scooped another blob of come with his finger and smeared it over her lips.

“Lick it off. Do it. Now!” He slid his hand from her chin to her throat and closed his fingers tight around her neck. He squeezed hard, completely cutting off Jessie’s ability to breathe. Terrified, she clawed at his hand, trying to pry it from her throat, but he just slapped her hands away.

Desperate to breathe and afraid he might choke her to death, Jessie opened her mouth and forced her tongue out, sliding it over the salty jism he’d smeared over her lips. Mercifully, he let go of her throat and she gasped, drawing in a large, tremulous breath, her heart thundering.

Pulling her to her feet, he half-dragged, half-carried her back to the cage. Pushing her roughly to the ground, he ordered, “Get back in there. You’ve been a very, very bad girl. Very bad girls don’t get to eat. They don’t get to drink. What they do get is time to think. When I come back down, you better have thought long and hard about what the fuck you think you’re doing. You’re my cunt now. My property. I own you. You do what I say. You bend to my will, or I
will
break you.”

Nearly sick with fear and shaking with exhaustion from the ordeal, Jessie crawled back into the cage, relieved when he closed the bars and locked her in. At least he was also locking himself out.

~*~

“Quick meeting, guys. My office in ten minutes.” It was Monday morning and though he’d arrived an hour before, Eric had been completely unable to concentrate. Since leaving that morning, he had checked the dungeon a dozen times on his smart phone. J. was sleeping peacefully in her cage.