Her Overseer
Don’t Piss Off your Owner
Book 2 of the ‘Client Trilogy’
RICHARD VERRY
Her Overseer
Don’t Piss Off your Owner
Book 2 of the ‘Client Trilogy’
Richard Verry
Copyright 2015 Richard Verry
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any printed or electronic form or means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except for brief quotations embodied in reviews, without the express written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events depicted are products of the author's imagination. Any similarities to persons or places are simply coincidental.
This book is intended for adult mature audiences only.
This book is a dark, gritty, realistic depiction of the darker side of human depravity. It contains criminal scenes of sexual assault, violence, bondage, brutality, sadism and strong language. This book is not suitable to readers under the age of 18 or who are offended by realistic dark topics.
It is part erotica and part suspense thriller. Read it with an open mind or don't read it at all.
Concepts presented in this book are not the beliefs or morals of the author. An open mind is strongly recommended.
Edited by Janet Maggio
Published by Richard Verry
Rochester NY
www.richardverry.com
Cover design by Kamakazi
Table of Contents
Prolog
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Author’s Notes
Other Books by Richard Verry
About the Author
Prolog
What happens when you piss off your owner?
What happens when you disrespect your owner?
What happens when you disobey your owner?
They punish you.
They enjoy punishing you.
They enjoy hearing you scream.
Jolene must suffer the punishment of her owner.
Jolene delivers scream after harrowing scream,
Jolene begs to be let go, to let her go home.
Jolene plans her own revenge.
Jolene plans to kill her owner before he kills her.
Her story is gritty and brutal.
Her torment is cruel and it is sadistic.
It is terrifying and it is never, ever ending.
What happened to her could happen to anyone.
It could happen to you.
Chapter One
You know that state between half awake and half asleep? Well, that’s how I woke up hoping that it had all been a bad dream. A nightmare is really what I hoped for even though a part of me knew that it wasn’t true.
My nightmare was real. I had been assaulted and like some trinket in a second hand store, I was sold off as goods.
As an account executive for wealthy clients, I had traded, bought and sold goods all the time. I did this to increase the profits for my clients. Never had I tried to capitalize on their creativity. I had wished I had many times over. I had never believed I could be thought of as goods, to be bought and sold.
Reluctantly, I knew it was true. However, I couldn’t help hope that it had all been a nightmare. I couldn’t help wish that I would wake up in the morning ... in my bed, with the sun shining. I wanted to feel like a princess waking up, on her birthday, with her prince charming lying next to her. It was not to be.
As I slowly regained consciousness, I feigned sleep so that I could sense my surroundings and my situation. I was sore and in pain. My body had suffered terribly the night before. Had it only been last night? I had been assaulted, raped, tied up and beaten. There wasn’t a part of my body that wasn’t stiff and sore. I had a sore raspy throat from when it had been brutally fucked. Other parts, such as my tits, my ass and my back, still throbbed with the painful torment they had suffered the night before.
As I continued to sense my surroundings, I figured out that I was again bound, upright on my knees, straddling something akin to a saddle. What’s more, a dildo perhaps, was shoved up by pussy. I could also feel something stuffed up my ass. A butt plug perhaps?
The ropes had been removed but my arms were pulled tightly behind my back. Wide leather straps wrapped my neck, chest and waist keeping me firmly attached to some sort of heavy wooden device. The ropes may have been removed but I felt like I was nothing less than a lamb waiting for slaughter.
The ropes tying my arms behind my back had been replaced with a leather arm binder. Though instead of my arms being secured close to my back, they were secured to some sort of structure well out from my body and pulled high in line with my head. The severe angle of my arms straight out behind me tended to force my shoulders and head forward and down. My hands were free of any encumbrance though I resisted the urge to flex them in order to continue feigning sleep.
The thing that disturbed me the most was that my head was harnessed in some sort of contraption. While I wasn’t sporting a gag, I could feel the straps, wrapping around and over my head and under my chin. They held me firmly against some sort of pad at the back of my head.
In short, I was bound to some sort of device. A device whose purpose I did not yet understand. I knew though that I was to find out soon enough. What was it that my abductor said to me when he sold me into bondage? That starting tomorrow, I would be screaming almost constantly the rest of my life?
“Wait a minute, was it just last night? Just how long have I been unconsciousness?” I asked myself.
I tried to remember what had happened to me since she had been put into the duffel bag. I remembered that as soon as the zipper sealed her in, the air got stale and stuffy. He said that I had about twenty minutes until pick up. I recalled that it seemed like hours. Hours where she laid there in agony and unable to move and relieve her anguish. I had been bound into a tight little ball with my joints forced into unnatural and painful positions. The only thing I could move were my fingertips and toes.
What seemed like hours, I finally heard my front door open and footsteps entering my home? “My home. Would I ever relax in the comfort of my home?” she waxed. Without talking, two individuals entered and sealed the door behind them. I knew that there were two of them as different pairs of footsteps could be heard moving about the room. I could hear the new intruders moving things and possibly wiping down surfaces etc. At one point, I heard the clicking of the keys on her laptop, presumably sending the emails to my boss and family telling them that an emergency had come up and that I had to leave town, possibly for a very long time.
Listening to them, they worked quickly and efficiently. Soon, I could hear them return to my position, still lying on the living room floor sealed up in the duffel bag. Like a suitcase, they picked me up and carried me to someplace else before dropping me back down. A moment la
ter, I heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner, methodically sweeping every inch of the floor in the living room. I also thought I detected the smell of disinfectant cleaner, though it was hard to tell through the heavy cloth of the duffel bag.
Moments after the vacuum cleaner went silent, I heard the footsteps approach me, grab the handles of the duffel bag, pick me up and carry me out the door. I remembered hearing my door close and being carried to the elevator. I thought about screaming but the gag in my mouth barely allowed even the simplest of sounds to escape my lips. As it was, I had a hard enough time breathing, so screaming seemed an impossible task.
Exiting the elevator at the garage level, I was carried a short distance, presumably to a waiting vehicle. Hearing a click, I heard the sound of a trunk lid being opened and I was dumped carelessly in the trunk of a car. The last thing I remembered was the zipper being opened and a cloth laced with a chemically nasty smelling odor was placed over my nose. I tried to avoid the breathing in the revolting smell. My body betrayed me and demanded that I breathe.
Moments later, everything went black.
Chapter Two
“Ah, you’re awake.”
“Come on now. I know you’re awake. Your body is no longer limp. It is now supporting itself. Ergo you’re awake and I can see you feigning sleep. Well, I can help you with that.”
Watching his new prize slowly open her eyes, he stared at her. Jeremy was right. So far, he had been very pleased with his new acquisition. She was exquisite. Why she wasn’t a fashion model was astounding. She had the looks to make it in the world of modeling, perhaps even a supermodel.
Her long blonde hair, smooth white skin, petite frame and perfectly proportioned body should have been the envy of every fashion designer. She had to be a size ‘0’. Well, now, she was his. To do with as he pleased. If she was the screamer that Jeremy promised him she was, she would please him for days. Yes, he was going to take his time with her.
“So, are you all that was promised?” he asked her.
“I don’t know. What were you promised?” Jolene answered reluctantly.
“That you are a screamer. I intend to find out if that’s true” he told her.
Closing her eyes, he could see that she was resigned to her situation, trying to figure out just how to escape. There would be no escape for this cunt except on a slab. Till then, he was going to love pushing her boundaries and making her scream loud and often.
Opening her eyes, she asked him. “Who are you?”
“Me, well you can call me Jon. Not my real name of course, though I shouldn’t really care. You won’t be able to tell anyone about me anyway.”
“Ok, Jon. I don’t know what you were told but I don’t belong here. If you let me go, I promise, I won’t tell anyone.”
“What’s your name?” Jon asked.
“Jolene.”
“Well Jolene, let me tell you. You do belong here. I bought and paid for you. Now you are going to earn it. So, yes. You do belong here and you will never leave.”
As he spoke these words, he was happy to see the tears well up in her eyes and begin to drip down her cheeks.
“Please, don’t do this? You don’t have to do this. I promise, I’ll pay you back. I will!” she begged while crying allowing him to smile at his good fortune. So far, she was promising to live up to his expectations.
“Jolene, I don’t want your money. I want your screams. Let’s go over the rules.”
Closing her eyes as she listened to him, her tears flowing down her cheeks, Jon went on.
“First, I decide everything. I make all the decisions. You will decide nothing. You will do as I ask, whenever I ask. You will do it to please me.”
“You will perform for me, you will cry for, and oh, I see you’re off to a good start with the crying. Thank you very much. You will also scream for me. And don’t worry, scream as loud and as often as you want. No one but me, will hear you scream. And I want you to scream ... often.”
“Understand so far?”
Between her tears and sobs, Jolene answered him softly. “Yes.”
“Good. And just so you know, once, you stop screaming for me, whether you are unable to or unwilling to, I will no longer have a need for you. And once I don’t need you, you will die. You will die a most gruesome and painful death. Hopefully, then you will scream because I may just give you a reprieve. Are you following me?”
“Yes” she answered plainly.
“Either way, no matter how well you entertain me, once I get bored and I always get bored, you will die. ¿Comprende?”
Jolene blinked her acknowledgment.
“First thing first. Open” he commanded her.
Chapter Three
Jolene couldn’t believe her ears. Jon, though that wasn’t his real name, had just told her that she was his, to do with as he pleased. What’s worse is, his pleasure would be her pain. He wanted her to scream, scream again and scream some more. Then, went he was done with her, he was going to kill her. “Oh, God, she was going to die. She was going to die horribly. Not peacefully as she had always envisioned but horribly, screaming in pain to the end. Oh my God. Please help me," she thought.
“Open” she heard him command her.
Opening her mouth, she expected him to want her to give him a blowjob. Easy enough. I can do that. I’ve done it often enough over the years. The problem was, those other times, she wanted to blow the guy. This time, she didn’t but she would be forced to.
"Shit!” she thought again.
As he stepped into view, she saw her tormentor for the first time. Jon was a hunk. Tall, dark with broad shoulders. He was wearing a thousand dollar suit, crisp white shirt, red tie and shiny polished shoes. "Damn, I might have allowed him to pick me up at a bar". He was so cute, except of course for his sadistic homicidal side.
As Jon approached her, he stopped and squatted down in front of her. Pulling out a flashlight and a tongue depressor, he shined it inside her mouth and looked around.
“Good, no gingivitis, no cavities to speak of and no halitosis. All very good. You certainly take care of your teeth” she heard him tell her.
“Gaaggghhhh” was all she could say in response, as he poked around the inside of her mouth, pressing down on her tongue with the tongue depressor.
“Good, though the back of your mouth is a bit red, nothing to be concerned about. Is your throat sore?”
“Uugghh” she mumbled her affirmative response.
“Well, I shouldn’t wonder. I was certain that Jeremy would have taken you out for a test spin before calling me. I see that he did. Tell me, how deeply did you take him?” he asked as he removed the tongue depressor.
After swallowing, she answered. “Deep. He forced himself down my throat.”
“Did he cum?”
“Yessss” she answered as she resumed crying. “Tw … Twice.”
“Really, you must be good” she heard him say. “Jeremy is almost impotent. He can’t cum unless stimulated to the extreme. He’s almost in my league. Only, I’m not impotent. I’m just impressed.”
Between sobs, Jolene couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Realizing what she just heard, her thoughts began whirring with disbelief. “Jeremy, is that who assaulted me last night? Was it he who sold me into bondage? Jeremy, the client who tried to call me? The Jeremy whom I felt bad about and promised to make it up to him the next day. Today? I knew he was a high maintenance client but I never thought he was a criminal.”
Jolene and her thoughts traversed the implications of this revelation. Her thoughts reeled so much that she hadn’t heard Jon’s next command until she felt the stinging slap across her face.
Returning her attention to Jon, she uttered “Sorry.”
Her face stinging, tears welled up in her eyes once again. Something she figured, she would have to get used to.
“Sorry Sir” he corrected her.
“Sorry, Sir” she answered.
“That’s better. Oh, a co
uple of more rules for you. One, you will respond to my commands, instantly and without hesitation. Second, you will always call me Sir. Third, you will thank me for each and every thing I give you. Do you understand?”
As her tears continued to flow, she responded. “Yes … Sir.”
“So?” he asked.
What? What am I missing? I have no idea.
“Sorry, Sir. I don’t know what you want.”
“Jolene, I told you, you were to thank me for everything thing I give you. Everything. You didn’t thank me for the slap you forced me to give you.”
“Uh … Sorry Sir. Thank you. Sir.”
“Better but since you failed to thank me after you were told the rule, I owe you a punishment.” Jon told her as he walked over to a large glass bowl containing what looked like small scrolls tied with a ribbon.
Reaching in, he pulled out a scroll and after untying it, showed her the stylized script that read ‘Spank’. He then reached into another bowl and extracted another scroll tied with a ribbon. Untying this one and opening it, showed her the stylized script that read ‘Face’. From a third bowl, he pulled out a scroll that had the number ‘10’ written on it. Jolene was horrified to realize that each bowl contained dozens of scrolls, perhaps a hundred or more, each tied with a ribbon.
Walking back to her, he showed her each in succession. “Do you know what this means?”
“Sir, that you will slap me on my face ten times?”
“Very good. You do understand. Just so you know, whenever you fail me or my instructions, you will suffer a punishment decided by those very bowls. In this case, you lucked out. The punishment is fairly mild in comparisons to what it could have been. Take the bowl with numbers. There are dozens of scrolls in there each with a number ranging from five to fifty. The other scrolls are similarly labeled with every part of the body and every possible form of punishment. I have no doubt that by the time we are done, those bowls will be empty and you, cunt, will be a quivering mass of flesh, begging relief of your agony in death.”
Her Overseer: Don’t Piss Off your Owner (Her Client Trilogy Book 2) Page 1