Caught: Punished by Her Boss by Claire Thompson Page A

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.”
    He watched the storm of emotions rolling over her face like thunder clouds, but she kept her mouth shut.
    Jesus, she looked amazing like that, with her breasts thrust proudly out and that cute pussy peeking from between her legs. His cock itched to be inside her again. It had probably been stupid to fuck her like that, unprotected. God only knew where this whore had been. He’d be more careful next time.
    As he looked her over, he decided he would shave that cunt, just like he’d seen Maestro and Sir Stephen do in one of the shoots. They’d strapped a woman down on a bondage table and lathered her spread cunt with plenty of shaving cream. The cameras had zoomed in close as they carefully shaved her labia and mons until she was as smooth as a baby. Then they fingered her and fucked her with dildos until she came.
    Just the thought of doing that to his personal slave girl made Eric’s cock, already rising, stiffen to steel. Feeling like he was in a dream—a dream come true—he began to spell out the rules, which came to him fully formed while he was speaking.
    “Rule one,” he began. “You are always to answer a direct question, and you will address me as sir. Do you understand?”
    She lifted her eyes a moment and met his, the flash of pure hatred so stark it nearly took his breath away. Tough shit. He didn’t want her love, only her obedience. He waited, tapping his foot. “Don’t fuck with me, J.”
    “Yes, sir,” she replied through clenched teeth.
    “Rule two: you are going to repeat each one of these rules as I say them, to help drum them into your thick head, do you understand?”
    “Yes, sir,” she replied, and then, after a beat, “I will repeat each one of these rules as you say them, to help drum them into my thick head.”
    Eric laughed and clapped his hands. “That’s right, J. Very good. We’ll continue. Rule three: every time you break a rule you will be punished. I will decide the form and duration of the punishment.”
    He pointed at her and she repeated, her voice a monotone, “Every time I break a rule I will be punished. You will decide the form and duration of the