Caught: Punished by Her Boss (13 page)

As her hand closed around the cool metal her heart stumbled over its own beat. She was half expecting light to flood the room, and sirens to blare the moment she lifted the scissors into the cage.

But nothing happened.

It remained dark and still, the ever-present drip-drip-drip from the bathroom sink the only sound in the room, along with her rapid breathing.

Carefully she pulled the scissors through the bars and rolled onto her back again, clasping them against her chest like rosary beads. When her heart finally slowed sufficiently for her to think again, she shifted and lifted a corner of the thin mattress. Using the scissors, she pulled the points along the fabric on the underside of the mattress, tearing a small hole. She eased the scissors into the hole, nestling them between the fabric and the foam rubber, and let the mattress fall.

Closing her eyes, she fell almost at once into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~*~

Eric was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t obsessed with getting the deal closed. He was glad Tony was with him at the meeting with one of their most important clients, Clarence Catering, because try as he might, he just couldn’t seem to muster the enthusiasm to even pretend to care. His every thought was on J., and what he would do to her as soon as he could get the fuck out of the office.

“Eric? Do you agree?”

Eric realized all eyes around the table were on him. He had no idea what he was supposed to agree with, but took his cue from Tony’s eager expression. “Yes, that sounds good,” he offered, relieved when everyone smiled in agreement.

They wrapped up the meeting and walked their hopefully satisfied clients out. Blake was busy at Jessie’s desk, handling client emails and appointments. Tony turned to Eric. “You okay, boss? You seem, I don’t know, really distracted.”

Eric ran his hand over his eyes, thinking fast. “Yeah,” he said. “My head feels like it’s full of cotton. I think I might be coming down with something. I had a rough night.”

As he hoped, Tony took the bait. “I know what needs to be done for the CC account,” Tony said. “I can get the ideas for the branding campaign firmed up and send you the workup for your review via email. Why don’t you go home and take it easy, boss? You work too hard. We’ll survive a day or two, won’t we, Blake?”

Blake looked up from his computer screen and nodded. “You bet. You don’t have any essential meetings scheduled over the next few days, and we can handle things here till you get back. I’ve heard there’s a flu going around. You get some rest, maybe you can beat it.”

If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were trying to get rid of him, but since it was exactly how he’d wanted it to go, Eric sighed histrionically and said, “I hate to leave you guys to it, but yeah, I think I might be getting some kind of bug. I guess it wouldn’t be too cool to get the two of you sick, right? I’ll just collect some stuff and hopefully work from home for a day or two until I bounce back.”

Eric went first to J.’s apartment. He’d already paved the way via her email to the management company that handled the apartment lease. Using funds from her bank account, he paid off what she owed as a result of breaking the terms of the lease, and was now ready to clear the place out.

He’d been pleased to learn the furniture was rented, even down to the television set. That made things a lot easier. All he had to do was pack her personal belongings into boxes and haul them away. He would store them in his garage, he decided, until he could get to a local dump and dispose of them properly.

When Eric arrived home he unloaded the few boxes that were the sum total of J.’s pathetic belongings and shoved them into a corner of the garage. Eager to begin playing with his slave girl, he decided to head straight down into the basement, instead of going first into the kitchen. Grabbing the case of bottled water and the bag of apples he’d picked up for her on the way home, he made his way down the narrow, uncarpeted stairs.

Setting the stuff down, he moved toward the cage and unlocked the gate. Lifting it, he ordered, “Crawl out and stand up, hands behind your head, legs spread.”

J. was moving slowly, too slowly for him, so he bent down and gave her hair a yank to hurry her along. She stood up, her long, thick hair a tangled tumble around her face, her eyes downcast.

“Go on, move it.” Eric was impatient to get the show on the road.

Once she was in position, he ran his fingers beneath one raised arm and over her shaven cunt. “Not too stubbly,” he decreed. “We’ll stick to an every other day shaving schedule.”

He reached for her cunt again, cupping it in his big hand. J. winced and shifted slightly on her feet. “What?” Eric demanded.

“I need to, um, to use the toilet, sir. And I’m hungry and thirsty.” Her tone was somewhere between a plea and a whine.

He let go of her. “You can use the toilet. In fact, take a shower—you stink. Take that thing with you and dump it out.” He pointed to the plastic urinal at the back of the cage, which was nearly full of her piss.

“As for eating,” he continued as he watched her sidle back into the cage and retrieve the capped plastic bottle, “that’s a reward, not a right. You earn your food and water. Depending how obedient you are today, you might get to eat and you might not.”

While J. was in the bathroom Eric took off his shoes, socks, shirt and tie. He opened his belt and undid his fly. He had been boning up on training techniques on some of the more radical slave training sites and he was excited to try some of it out on J. While she was showering, he got things ready, including the wand and harness, an electric shock prod and a sleep mask. He tugged the St. Andrew’s cross into the middle of the room so he would have access to all sides of J.’s body for what he had in mind.

When he was done, J. was still in the shower. She’d had long enough. Entering the bathroom, Eric pulled the stall door open and shut off the water. Yanking her from the stall, he thrust the towel at her. “You have one minute to dry off. Then get your ass out here.”

She looked so hot standing there naked except for the dog collar around her neck, with the water dripping off her dark nipples and falling from her thick lashes like tears. He considered throwing her to the cold tile and fucking her then and there, but reminded himself he had other plans.

Besides, she had to
earn
his cock.

He led her to the cross and strapped her wrists in place, each arm stretched along the X. Next he attached the harness around her waist. He squirted plenty of lube on the head of the vibrator and then fit it through the holder until it was resting snugly against her cunt. Forcing her legs wide, he cuffed an ankle to each leg of the cross.

He held up the shock prod, which resembled a large plastic squirt gun that held four batteries in the handle, the barrel of which was long and thin, forking at the end into two metal points that could deliver a powerful shock on contact. Eric had tried it on his arm when first inspecting her gear and the effect was as much startling as it was painful. He watched with satisfaction as J.’s eyes widened in horror and her lips parted in a silent protest.

“That’s right.” He laughed. “You’ve been on the other end of this thing, eh, Princess Lola? Now it’s your turn. Ever had this baby used on you?” Without giving her a chance to reply, he touched the forked end to her right nipple. It made a cracking sound and emitted a small spark.

J. screamed.

Eric’s cock throbbed and he massaged it through his trousers. He placed the black sleep mask over J.’s eyes, aware this would add to the element of surprise when he zapped her. “Now listen closely, slave,” he said, leaning down so his mouth was close to her ear. “You’re going to have a lesson in discipline and orgasm control today.”

He set the vibrator to its lowest setting and it began to hum against her clit. “Your job is to resist having an orgasm until I tell you. And then when I do tell you to come, you are to give it everything you’ve got, no matter what else I’m doing to you. Is that understood?”

When she didn’t instantly respond, he zapped her other nipple with the prod.

“Yes! I understand, sir!” she cried.

“Good girl,” he said, gently rolling the reddened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “The idea is to learn that there is no difference between pleasure and pain, not for you. Your only goal is to please
me
. And right now,” he said as he zapped her thigh, “it pleases me to see you suffer.” She jerked in her restraints and gave another startled cry.

He turned the control on the vibrating wand up just a little. J’s bald little cunt lips were quivering. She took a deep breath and then pressed her mouth together in a tight line. Eric turned the control up a little more. She started to tremble and pant.

“Don’t come, J. Don’t you dare.” Walking in a circle around her, Eric used the shock prod, zapping her ass, her breasts, her stomach, her thigh. She jerked and squealed with each shock. The vibrator whirred mercilessly against her clit. Her nipples were erect and there was sweat on her upper lip.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” J. began to chant. Her body was shaking, her breathing ragged.

“Don’t you dare,” Eric warned again. He zapped her distended nipples, one after the other. J. screamed. Her body was shaking like a leaf. She began to grunt—deep guttural sounds like a wounded animal.

Eric watched her for several long seconds as he pulled open his pants and grabbed his rock hard shaft. When she slumped forward, he turned off the wand and stepped back, his cock still in his hand.

J. had dropped her head forward onto her chest. Eric lifted the sleep mask to her forehead. She groaned but didn’t open her eyes. Eric lifted her chin. “Look at me.”

Slowly J.’s lids fluttered open but her eyes seemed unfocused. Lightly he slapped her cheek. “You came, didn’t you?” Of course he knew the answer, but he would make her say it.

“I couldn’t help—”

He slapped her again, harder this time. “No excuses. Just answer the question. Did you come? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He stepped back and picked up the tube of lubricant. “We’ll try again. Any slave worth her salt can control her orgasm, no matter what’s going on.” Eric knew this to be true, as he’d seen it time and again on the BDSM sites. Those girls might be paid, but their reactions were real, especially at the skilled hands of Maestro and Sir Stephen. They learned through steady training and discipline to override their physical impulses and hold their orgasms until they were given permission. His slave would do the same, he would see to it.

He loosened the harness enough to get at the head of the vibrator, which he again smeared with plenty of lube. He pushed it back in place and pulled the sleep mask down over J.’s eyes.

“Please, Eric, sir, please—” J. began piteously, but he stopped her with a hand to her mouth.

“Shut up. You say another word and I’ll gag you. You want that?”

He himself didn’t want that—he loved hearing her cries and whimpers, and those hot guttural moans as he pulled climax after climax from her unwilling body. He was in complete and total control—the master of her universe. He could make her moan with pleasure or cry in pain. She belonged to him. The power trip was fucking incredible.

He flicked the vibrator back to life, a steady hum on its lowest speed. He had an idea, and went to get the clover clamps. Pinching her lovely fat nipples one at a time, he closed the clamps over them while the blindfolded girl gasped. He turned the wand up a notch and J., no doubt already sensitized from the first series of orgasms, began almost at once to shake. The girl simply had no discipline!

Zap!
He touched the forked prod to her stomach, her hip, her thigh, and finally to the chain between her clamped nipples. She screamed, a long, high-pitched whine. Good thing the basement was soundproofed. Eric turned up the wand and J. began to gasp in a series of breathy hiccups. She was shaking and her cheeks and throat were flushed and mottled.

“You want to come?” Eric, cock in hand, was about to come himself just from the thrill of what he was doing to her.

“Yes, yes, yessss!” she hissed.

“Okay. Do it. Come for me, you little whore.”

He flicked the wand to its highest setting and while she jerked and shook against the cross, he pulled the clamps from her nipples. As J. screamed in pain, he zapped her over and over again, focusing on her outer labia while furiously pumping his cock with his other hand. He was just about to shoot his load when J. went suddenly limp, her head lolling forward on her chest.

Eric dropped the electric prod and reached for the vibrator, switching it off. J.’s body was slick with sweat. He pulled the mask from her eyes but they remained closed. Her mouth was slack, a line of drool dangling from one corner.

Her pulse was strong, he was relieved to note. He moved quickly, releasing her ankles first, and then her wrists. Her legs wobbled and she flopped forward. She would have fallen flat on her face if he hadn’t been there to catch her.

She groaned softly as he carried her to the sleep cage. He set her down on the padded bondage table on the top of the cage. Her breasts were perfect, soft mounds of flesh with gumdrop tips, and her cunt, still glistening from the lube, looked swollen and inviting, just waiting for a hard cock to fill it.

Eric thought about training techniques, and how all the sites said you shouldn’t give your slave the gift of your cock until they’d earned it through submission and obedience. But those were consensual relationships, weren’t they? His situation was different. This wasn’t some mutual contract based on trust and love. J. was his personal property—his private piece of ass. There were no rules to what he was doing. He made his own rules.

Eric leaned over his slave, smoothing her damp hair from her face.

J. opened her eyes. “I’m thirsty,” she mouthed silently.

No harm in giving her some water, Eric decided, though the jury was out on if he’d feed her today. He went to the case of water and extracted a bottle. He also grabbed a large red apple. Standing near her head, he put his arm under her shoulders and helped her to sit. He rested the apple on her thigh and tilted the bottle to her lips. When she’d finished it, he set the empty bottle aside. Her eyes were fixed on the apple.