|Your cart is currently empty|
A dark-haired woman in a black leather corset, thong panties and stiletto heels appeared on the screen, a riding crop in her hand. A naked guy with a jutting cock knelt at her feet, his face obscured by a black hood.
“Dios mio,” Jessie cried softly.
Eric’s eyes were glued to the screen. He forgot all about his presentation to their potential clients as a jolt of raw lust hurtled from his brain to his cock. A fraction of a second later he realized what, or rather who, was up on that screen.
He whipped his head in Jessie’s direction, stunned.
“Close it,” Jessie whispered urgently.
Coming to his senses, Eric quickly hit the X at the top of the page to close the image, but it wasn’t quick enough.
The CEO jumped to her feet as if springs had propelled her out of her seat. “What is this? Some kind of sick joke?” She jerked her chin toward her underling and began to head for the conference room door.
“Wait, sit back down, please,” Eric said urgently, also coming to his feet. “There’s been some kind of glitch.” He flashed a glare at his assistant, who had flushed a dark red. “We’ll get this fixed right away so you can see the presentation.”
“We’ve seen quite enough, thank you,” the CEO snapped without breaking her stride.
Her second-in-command flashed Eric an apologetic half smile as the woman flounced from the room. “She has a thing about porn. I’ll get her calmed down and we can reschedule.” With that, he, too, left the conference room, and a moment later, they heard the front door of their small suite of offices bang shut.
Eric sank back into his chair at the head of the table, still trying to get a handle on how his prim and proper assistant had transformed into that scorching hot sex queen in the photo. A part of him—the dark part that he never let anyone see— wanted to throw her over his lap, flip up her skirt, yank down her panties, and use that riding crop on her ass. He’d had fantasies about fucking her before, but this new, added layer of intrigue about who the hell she really was had set him on fire.
He swallowed hard, ordering himself to get a grip. A whipping was hardly an acceptable punishment for an employee’s gaff, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d ruined a meeting with a potential client, one his company desperately needed. Just thinking about it made his blood boil. All those months of hard work, gone up in smoke because of Jessie’s brazen stupidity. His fury just seemed to fuel his lust, and it was a struggle to keep himself under control.
Jessie, tears in her large, dark brown eyes, said plaintively, “Eric, I’m so sorry. I have no idea how that picture got there. You have to believe me—”
“What. The fuck. Was that?” Eric said in a hard voice, talking over her. He focused on his anger, willing his erection to subside. “How in the hell did that picture end up on my laptop?”
Jessie reached for the laptop, but Eric snatched it from her reach.
Jessie blew out a breath. “It’s not your laptop, Eric. It’s mine. The network operating system crashed just before the presentation. You were busy on the phone so I didn’t want to bother you with it. I guess the software I had running on my computer to view my jpegs didn’t close properly.” Her voice caught and she bit her lower lip. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Eric snapped. “If we lose that account, it’s on your head, missy.” God, he wanted to punish her. Christ, he wanted to fuck her.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll find a way to fix this. But I need that laptop. You have to give it to me. Please.” Again Jessie reached for it.
Eric kept his hand firmly on the laptop. “What else is on this thing, huh?” He couldn’t wait to find out. “This is company property, not a repository for your dirty pictures. I should fire your ass for this.”
A flash of anger passed over Jessie’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a contrite, submissive expression. “Please, Eric. There’s nothing else on there. I swear. It was, um, it was just a joke. A friend just pasted my head on there. It isn’t even me. The photo was sent as a joke. Please, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Was she telling the truth? Was that her head on someone else’s body? He let his eyes move brazenly over her shapely curves, which she couldn’t altogether camouflage, even in that hideous, high-necked blouse. No—he’d surreptitiously examined her tits, legs and ass often enough to know for certain—that was Jessie Ramos in the photo—from the top of her pretty head to the bottom of those stiletto heels.
She stood and moved closer, so close he could smell her perfume—and her fear. His cock hardened again, his muscles twitching to pull her down and take her then and there.
She managed to keep her voice relatively calm and steady as she again said, “Give me the laptop and I’ll make sure there’s nothing else on it.”
No fucking way. Based on how badly she wanted it back, he’d bet his bottom dollar there was more incriminating evidence on there—lots more—and he planned to find it. And use it.
He shook his head. “No can do, Jessie. That laptop is company property. I’m quite curious to see what the hell you’ve been doing on my time.” He got to his feet. “Meanwhile, you’ve done enough damage for one day. Go home. I’ll call you later when I’ve decided what to do.”
Her passive demeanor slipped again, a thundercloud of anger moving over her face as her dark eyes flashed. She opened her mouth, but then seemed to think better of it. The submissive mask fell back into place, and she nodded. “All right, Eric. Again, I’m so sorry that happened.”
As soon as he could, Eric locked himself in his office, telling his two associates he had some work to catch up on. A thorough search of all the laptop files failed to turn up any more dirty pictures, though he did find the one that had opened during the presentation. It had been saved in a temporary download file. He opened it again, taking his time as he stared at the sexy slut with the flashing eyes and the gorgeous tits.
“Jessie, Jessie, Jessie,” he mused aloud. “Who the fuck are you? And what will you do to make this up to me?”
He massaged his cock through his trousers as he imagined coming up behind the Dominatrix and catching her by surprise. She would turn around, haughty and imperious, demanding that he get out of her dungeon, but he would turn the tables on her. He would grab the crop away from her, rip that sexy corset from her hot body and throw her down, caveman style. After he raped her, he would crop her ass until she begged for mercy.
Focus, Chapman, he reminded himself. Returning to his task, he checked her browser history, but, not surprisingly, it wasn’t set to save. Undeterred, he used his administrative password to tap into the company’s firewall logs and get a list of all the places she’d visited on the internet while on the company network.
The first ten or so were sites she would have visited in the course of her work, but the eleventh click opened on a porn site that read: XXX PussyWhipped–for Dirty Little Boys Who Need to Be Punished. Enter Princess Lola’s Dungeon and Prepare to Suffer.
“Bingo,” he said aloud.
A long whip in hand, there stood his office manager, transformed once again into a Dominatrix in full makeup and black leather. “Holy shit,” Eric breathed.
In the two years she’d worked for him, Jessie had never talked about her personal life, nor had she ever gone out with him and the guys for a beer after work, always hurrying away at the stroke of five. Originally from El Paso, she was in her mid-thirties and had been married briefly at one point, but had been divorced for a long time. That was the sum total of his knowledge of her personal life.
He thought about that old Billy Joel song about discovering the stranger in your lover—about the secrets we all keep hidden from the world. He had quite a few dark and secret fantasies of his own, come to that, but he’d never dared act upon them, certainly not to the degree she evidently had.
He had always enjoyed tying up his lovers and playfully spanking them, when they’d allowed it, but it had never gone much past playful slap and tickle. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to, but that he’d wanted it too much.
He had never dared give free rein to his sadistic impulses, not sure where it would lead him. If he really acted out all the nasty shit in his head, he’d end up in jail. His fantasies could be very, very dark.
When he watched porn on the internet, he always sought out the BDSM sites, the rougher and more intense the better, though sites like Jessie’s did nothing for him. No ball-breaking bitches with whips for him—no fucking way. He liked his fantasy women naked and in chains, mascara running down their cheeks as they begged him for mercy.
One of his favorite fantasies involved a slave girl he would keep in a cage by his bed. He would let her out when he wanted to fuck and whip her, and then he would force her back into her prison. It was a fantasy he would never have admitted to anyone, and barely acknowledged himself, except when he had his cock in his hand and his inhibitions lowered.
Though it was hard to wrap his head around the idea of Jessie Ramos as porn queen, he was wildly curious to view her site. When he clicked the button certifying he was over eighteen, he was greeted with a video of Jessie, or rather Princess Lola, walking slowly across a room toward a man with a black hood over his face, his hands bound behind his back. As she approached the man, her high heels clicking across the floor, he knelt and lowered his hooded head to the ground.
She stood imperiously over him and raised her whip arm, turning dark, burning eyes heavily outlined in black liner toward the camera. Her large breasts were pushed high, nearly spilling out of the black leather bustier. He could actually see the crescent moon tops of her brown areoles against her tan skin. Unable to control himself, Eric reached into his trousers and fisted his cock.
When the twenty-second video ended, he clicked around the site, which included a dozen or so stills of the sexy Princess Lola, as well as video links with static images of naked or nearly naked men in various stages of bondage. His cock wilted, and he pulled his hand from his pants.
When he clicked on one of the video links, instead of opening, flashing words replaced the image, urging the viewer to “Join now for the low cost of $29.99 per month,” with a hot new video provided weekly, featuring the sexy and delicious Princess Lola as she gave her slave boys the treatment they deserved.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “Where does the little bitch find the time to do this?” He watched the sample video again. Something about the setting looked familiar, but there wasn’t enough there to properly jog his brain.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card. He wanted to see Jessie, or rather, Princess Lola in action. Once he entered his information, he was redirected to the home page. This time when he clicked on a video, it opened. The video looked amateur, but still of high quality.
Along one concrete wall hung all kinds of BDSM gear—floggers, paddles, rope, cuffs, chain, canes and whips. A hairy, naked guy stood in the center of the room, his purple, erect cock and balls tied with thin rope in a way that looked quite painful. Clover clamps hung from his nipples. His arms were extended overhead, hanging by cuffs at his wrists that were attached to chains secured in the ceiling.
Princess Lola stood behind the guy, hitting his ass with a wooden paddle, the thudding sound of wood against flesh echoing against the walls of the room. “You are a bad little boy,” she said in a haughty tone. Her voice was deep and strong, nothing like the timid, halting tone Jessie used at the office. It was like she was a whole different person. Eric stared, fascinated at the transformation. “You need to be punished. After I’m done paddling you, I’m going to make you jerk off and then lick it up. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, pussy boy?”
Eric was about to close the video and try another one when he noticed the high horizontal windows above the BDSM gear. They were unusual windows, long and narrow, like the kind he’d seen in warehouses. In fact, like the kind in the warehouse out back.
Chapman Media rented a suite in a small office building located near one of Houston’s ubiquitous strip malls. Not prime real estate by any estimation, but the rent was cheap and, as the main tenant, he’d been given access to the large storage unit located on the back of the property, though to date they’d had no use for it.
Eric closed the browser and left his office, heading toward the storage closet where spare keys were kept. He found the one labeled warehouse in Jessie’s neat hand. Grabbing it, he headed outside and walked around the building toward the back lot.
As he approached his unit, he saw a hasp had been screwed into the frame of the door, a sturdy padlock locked in place. He pulled at the padlock, examining it more closely. Why would someone padlock an empty unit?
Because it wasn’t empty.
Returning to the office, Eric went through Jessie’s desk, though he didn’t really expect to find the padlock key. He thought about calling her to ask where the key was kept, but decided he wasn’t ready to confront her. Instead he got in his car and drove the few blocks toward a hardware store, where he purchased a pair of bolt cutters and a new padlock. Returning to the unit, he cut through the padlock and stepped into the room, flipping on the light switch by the door.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he whispered in awe. “She’s running it from here.”
There it all was, just like in the videos—the gear, the bondage equipment, the chains—and in a corner, several thousand dollars worth of photography equipment and professional lighting.
Eric moved toward the equipment and unscrewed the top-of-the-line digital camera from the tripod. Turning it over, he found what he was looking for—the small tag with the words Chapman Media, along with the camera’s date of purchase and serial number.
“That little bitch,” he breathed. “What else of mine has she stolen?” There was a wardrobe in the corner of the room, beside a twin mattress covered in red satin sheets. He moved toward the wardrobe and pulled open the doors. Inside were several outfits on hangers, including bustiers, corsets and shiny black latex pants. Pairs of stiletto heels and thigh-high boots were lined neatly beneath the clothing.
He pulled open the row of drawers on the left side of the wardrobe. Inside were all kinds of sex toys, including dildos, vibrators, lubricant, latex gloves, nipple clamps, ball gags, collars and other paraphernalia he couldn’t even identify.
Eric left the makeshift dungeon, relocking the door with the new padlock and pocketing the key. Returning to the office, he opened Jessie’s laptop again and began to search the files more carefully. He didn’t find anything else suspicious. If she used the laptop to upload her videos, she’d been careful enough to delete the evidence once she was done.
Using a flash drive, Eric copied his undelete software from his laptop and then downloaded it onto hers, aware that deleted files can still exist since the operating system just removed pointers to these files but didn’t immediately overwrite the space of deleted files. He ran the program, recovering all that he could.
Scrolling through the data, he saw several video file extensions and clicked on the first one. It appeared to be an outtake from one of her porn videos, with Jessie stumbling in her stiletto heels as she walked toward a naked dude tied over a sawhorse. He opened several more, skimming quickly through them.
The fifth one he opened made him stop breathing as he stared, disbelieving, at the screen. A skinny guy with an obscenely big cock was strung up against a wall with plenty of rope. His face was red, the rope around his neck tied like a noose. Princess Lola was in the shot, smacking the guy’s erection with a riding crop.
Suddenly the guy started writhing, his eyes bugging out, his tongue protruding as he jerked and spasmed, his face turning nearly purple.
Princess Lola didn’t seem to be paying much attention at first, focused on the dude’s cock and balls. Finally she figured out something wasn’t quite right, as he began to seize in earnest. Clearly this wasn’t supposed to be part of the scene.
Jessie screamed and dropped the crop, struggling to get the guy out of the ropes and onto the ground. Eric couldn’t tell if he had just passed out or was dead. She bent over him, slapping his face and calling his name, the panic ripe in her voice.
All at once, she looked toward the camera, then lurched toward it, shutting it off.
Eric stared at the blank screen. “Holy fucking Christ,” he swore softly. “What in the hell happened there?”
The sun was warm on her face as she drifted on the raft. The ocean was a clear, deep blue and the tall, cold drink felt good in her hands, and even better going down.
The persistent sound of the seagull’s cry somewhere near her head was annoying her. “Slave,” she called to her favorite sub boy. “Get that fucking bird away from me.” The sound persisted. Where the hell was her boy? He was going to get a serious beating for this.
Abruptly the bird’s piercing cry stopped, replaced by the ringing of her cell phone.
Jessie sprang awake, nearly tumbling from the couch as she reached for the phone, which was somewhere on the floor. The ringtone played “The Boss” by James Brown. Was Eric calling to fire her, or give her a second chance?
As she fumbled for the phone, she managed instead to knock the half-empty bottle of bourbon onto the rug, where the spilling liquid bloomed in a dark stain.
“Fuck,” she cursed, struggling to sit up and focus. The clock said two thirty. Had she really been asleep for three hours? When she’d come home that morning after Eric basically threw her out, she’d been freaking out, and the unopened bottle of bourbon one of her sub boy clients had given her had looked awfully inviting. It had burned going down, but each successive swallow had pushed Chapman and her troubles a little further from her mind, until she’d fallen into a deep, drunken sleep, filled with beaches and naked slave boys and iced drinks.
Her phone was vibrating near her right foot, and she grabbed it, swiping the screen to accept the call. “Eric,” she said breathlessly, hoping she didn’t sound too frantic. “Sorry, took me a minute to find my phone.”
“Listen, I want you to come in tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. We have some things to discuss.” His tone was controlled, hard to read.
At least he hadn’t said pack your things and get out. She still had no idea how that damn picture had got on there. Maybe she could still get out of this free and clear. Hopefully he would just lecture her about her moral deficiencies and what it had cost the firm.
She’d always been a good actress, having learned early on at home how to deflect her father’s drunken rages—something her poor mama had never mastered. It hadn’t been that hard to adopt the persona of the proper, eager-to-please worker bee who admired her boss without reservation. She’d ignored his occasional not-so-subtle sexiest remarks. She’d been dealing with guys like that all her life—what woman hadn’t?
Though the dude was good-looking, in a muscle-bound, football player kind of way, and had a certain charm and charisma when he felt like turning it on, he wasn’t as clever as he thought he was, and he’d been fairly easy to manipulate—until now.
She’d gotten careless, assuming no one would ever catch on to what she did after hours in the warehouse. That had been her mistake. Now she had to clean this up. And then maybe it was time to get out and make a fresh start somewhere new.
“I’ll be there, Eric,” she replied meekly. “Thank you.”
Jessie hauled herself off the couch and went into the kitchen, where she made a pot of strong coffee. She drank two cups and made herself a sandwich while she pondered what to do.
She was still paying off poor Johnny for his “pain and suffering” after that seizure episode a few months back, but with a little luck, she’d be done in a year or so, and back to racking up pure profits.
That had been the main thing that still kept her tethered to the Chapman Media job. Once she got solvent again, she had already planned to hit the road and go legit. She would rent real studio space and maybe even hire someone to help her shoot more professional videos.
Okay, so things had changed. Time for a new plan. The damage was done. There was no going back. She’d rent a truck and go there tonight, as soon as it got dark. With a little luck, she could return the cameras and equipment she’d borrowed to the office with no one being the wiser. Then she’d pack her few possessions and hit the road.
Though Eric often worked late during the week, he usually took the guys out for a beer on a Friday. When she pulled into the lot, she was relieved to see it was empty. She parked the truck just beside the entrance to the warehouse and hopped out.
Glancing left and right, she quickly let herself into the building and moved toward the unit. When she inserted the padlock key into the lock, it wouldn’t turn.
What the hell?
She bent down, looking more closely at the padlock. A cold gush of panic spurted through her veins. Someone had changed the lock.
She heard a rustling sound and swung around. Eric stood there, his smile grim. Clearly, he must have been waiting for her. She was definitely busted. He held up a padlock key.
“Looking for this?”