by ANDREA SMITH
"I appreciate your agreeing to this meeting on such short notice, Mr. Sheridan," I said, taking a sip of mineral water. "I know when we spoke in Belize a couple of months back you indicated you weren't thinking of selling your company for another three years or so. I'm here today hoping to change your mind."
Martin Sheridan was a somewhat laid-back man in his early sixties with salt and pepper hair, moustache, and very well-groomed. He gave me a nod. "Please call me Martin," he said, digging into his pasta salad.
"Martin, it is then," I replied. "Please call me Easton."
"Well, Easton, as I mentioned in Belize when you inquired about my firm, the reason I don't want to sell immediately is actually because of my daughter, Darcy. You see, she's fresh out of college now working as a management trainee. I'd intended on grooming her to eventually take over the business. As it stands, I'm not sure three years is enough time, or if there ever will be enough time to make that happen," he said, shaking his head in irritation. I sat back, reading his body language. He was obviously showing signs of frustration with his beautiful, sexy, likes-to-be-spanked daughter.
"Yes sir, I completely understand and respect your rationale on that matter. Is your daughter interested in a career path at Sheridan and Associates?" I was subtlety digging for more information. Perhaps Darcy was feeling pressured to follow in her father's footsteps.
"Who the hell knows?" he snorted, half-smiling. "She says she is. I mean she's 22 years-old, and I know these days that's still considered practically a teenager. However, I can tell you this, when I was that age I had a helluva lot more responsibility and work ethic than what she's exhibiting. Take this morning for example," he continued. "She breezes into the office more than thirty minutes late, gimping around like she'd injured herself. God only knows what the girl was doing all weekend. I guess its better she no longer lives at home. At least now, Denise and I are spared the worry we had when she lived under our own roof. Darcy has a bit of a wild streak. Her mother and I desperately hope it's something she'll outgrow eventually."
Certainly not anytime soon I hope.
"I can imagine," I replied in a serious tone. It was obvious Darcy stuck to her own agenda and it was pissing her old man off royally.
"Don't get me wrong, I mean she's our baby girl, and Denise and I've spoiled her rotten. I suppose that's why I want to stick around long enough to undo some of the damage we've done if you know what I mean. The girl's smart as hell, she just needs some self-discipline and guidance, someone to take a firmer approach with her development. Her mother and I seem to have neglected that aspect of it during her formative years."
He put his fork down, wiped his mouth and laughed. "I'm ashamed to admit this, but for the life of me I can't recall ever having spanked the girl, not even as a toddler."
"Do tell?"
"Darcy was a bit unexpected for us, having tried for years to conceive we simply felt it would never happen, so you can imagine how thrilled we were at her late arrival. I suppose Denise and I over-compensated for her being the only child and discipline was a stranger to our home where she was concerned. Still, I don't think it's ever too late for anyone to learn discipline."
My thoughts exactly, Martin.
"You know, Martin, perhaps this is perfect timing for both of us," I offered.
"How so?" he asked, buttering a dinner roll.
"Well, I'm sure you've done some basic research on Baronton Group."
He nodded and I continued. "So then you know my vast holdings are very diverse, not to mention global. I employ over 2,800 full-time employees in seven different countries. My transition team is one of the most talented, widely-recognised, results-oriented staff anywhere. They've received national recognition from Global Business Review three years in a row for their proven expertise in talent retention involving the companies we've acquired. Perhaps what Darcy needs most is mentoring and grooming from expert management development staff such as Baronton can offer. No offense meant, sir, but it's a difficult position for a father to be in when it comes to making unpopular decisions involving your off-spring I would think."
"No offense taken, you've nailed that one right on the head," he chuckled. "So, what are you offering? Are you willing to be contractually obligated to see that my daughter learns the ropes at Sheridan & Associates regardless of her current lack of dedication?"
"I'll do you one better, Sir. Instead of an out-and-out acquisition, perhaps you'll consider a merger of sorts; a joint venture so to speak. I'm prepared to make an offer to buy 51% of your company and personally over-see the transition team. I'd like to move one of my counter-terrorism surveillance software development firms to D.C. from London. Since your company's already approved as a Tier 1 government contractor, there'll be no issues with the merger. The benefit to you is that you'll still retain minority ownership, but won't have to be involved in the day-to-day operations. You'll be a consultant for as long as you choose on the Sheridan segment of the business. My team and I will work hard to develop all of the management trainees at Sheridan per the merger agreement. You'll be free to have more leisure time along with the peace of mind in knowing your daughter's getting trained by the very best."
I saw the look in his eyes and I knew he was going to agree. I could already tell he was on-board.
"So in other words, I don't have to be the one cracking the whip anymore, huh?"
"Well put, sir."
"You know, I've wanted to get back on my golf game for quite some time. Denise and I've been planning a trip to Hawaii as well. I'll get a prospectus to you next week. How soon after will you be able to provide Baronton's proposal?"
"I shouldn't think it would take more than a couple of week's tops."
"I think this just might work out well for all concerned," he replied, reaching to shake my hand. "I'll look forward to pursuing this merger. You've somehow managed to put my mind at ease with your plan, Easton."
"Splendid," I replied, giving his hand a shake. "I think this will be a win-win for all concerned, but for now, let's keep this confidential. It's been my experience that rumours of a merger or acquisition make employees skittish on both sides, interrupting productivity."
"You have no worries there," he assured me. "I'm not a novice by any means."
"Very good, Sir. I'll be in touch."
We exchanged business cards which listed our private mobile numbers. I paid for lunch and departed feeling the satisfaction I always felt when a negotiation went as planned.
Having attended to the business that delayed my departure from D.C., I instructed Carlos to take me to the private airfield where my pilot was preparing for our flight to New York. Back to New York for a few weeks, back to Lacee's pouting face and the surliness she'd direct towards me for banishing her from the long weekend she'd planned for us in D.C I could handle Lacee, I always had, only this time would be different. I'd handle her upon my return; not with cuffs, clamps or crops and not with a sheathed cock either. It was time Lacee focused solely on her career with Baronton and not on its President and CEO.
It was a short flight from D.C. to New York. The best kind. I managed to fall asleep on the leather couch in the cabin, dismissing the first officer's offer of refreshment. The flight time would allow for a quick power nap before I faced my staff in New York.
I was almost nine years old when Mother hired a live-in governess for me; one of the many times Mother had forbade my grandparents from seeing me or coming to our house. Mother was an only child and her tantrums were notorious. I never knew the details of her snits with my grandparents, only that during one of them I might not see Grammy and Papa for weeks; not until one of them came begging for her forgiveness in order to spend time with me. I loved spending time with them. Life was normal - with them.
The governess' name was Gennifer DuValle; her bedroom adjoined mine through a connecting door. A door which had no lock or I would've used it.
It happened the first time just after my ninth birthday. I'd been so e
nraptured with the presents Mother had lavished on me that I hadn't done my lesson plan from the previous day. Gennifer had spent most of the day sequestered in her room, drinking rum and Diet Coke the way she always did. Mother was traveling; it was just Freda the live-in housekeeper and Levon, the groundskeeper, Gennifer and me at the estate. I noticed Gennifer took more drinking liberties when my mother traveled, not that Mother would've noticed anyway.
I'd spent the better part of the day playing multiple video games I'd received for my birthday. My father had sent money, so I begged Gennifer to take me shopping and bought even more games. I was addicted to Nintendo. Just after tea, whilst Freda took her daily nap, Gennifer came into my room.
"Time to review your lessons," she half-way slurred, coming over to where I was and shutting off the game system.
"Please Miss Gennifer," I whined, "just let me play for a few more minutes?"
"After you've shown me your completed lessons," she said, pointing her finger at me.
"Sorry, Miss," I conceded, lowering my head. "I haven't completed them as of yet."
"What?" she hissed loudly. "Easton, your first priority is your studies. That's what I'm paid to do; to make sure you stay current with your study plan. How do you think your mother will react should I tell her I've failed in this?"
"I'm not sure, Miss," I said softly, feeling ashamed I'd put her in such a precarious position with my mother.
"Well I'm sure," she snapped. "She'd take disciplinary measures you can be sure. Maybe even the ultimate disciplinary action by dismissing me from her employment. Then I'd starve or be forced to peddle myself on the streets of London like a common strumpet in order to eat!"
"I'm sorry, Miss," I mumbled sincerely. "I'll get to it straight-away."
"The fact remains, Easton, you still need to be punished so you won't forget your priorities again. Your mum may allow you to do as you will, but I happen to think you've lacked discipline in the past which needs to be rectified. That pretty face of yours will only get you so far in this life. Perhaps now is the perfect time for you to get a lesson in paying the consequences of irresponsible behaviour. Don't you move," she hissed, waggling her index finger in my face.
I stood like a statue hearing her going through her dresser drawers in the next room. I was frightened by her tone; the smell of rum on her breath, the anger in her eyes. She returned to my room carrying an armful of items I didn't recognise. She approached me tossing the items on my bed except for a long scarf. She instructed me to open my mouth. I did as instructed fearful to resist while she tied the rolled-up scarf around my face to serve as a gag. I felt the panic set in that I'd suffocate.
"Breath through your nose," she instructed harshly. She grabbed both of my wrists and pulled them roughly behind my back, placing a pair of handcuffs around them so I was immobile except for my feet. I immediately pushed my body against her, trying to run for the door, though of course I had no way of opening it and no means of screaming for help.
"If you resist, I'll be that much harder on you," she warned, coming up behind me and leading me back to the bed. She unzipped my pants, lowering them to my ankles; she grasped my boxers and did the same.
"Well what a nice little willy you have already even at your age," she said, laughing harshly. I watched as she took a stick that had long strips of leather attached to it, noticing there was a metal edge at the end of each of those leather strips. I had no clue what it was.
"You've earned a flogging, Easton," she purred. "Miss Gennifer's going to show you what happens to bad boys who don't complete their lessons."
She turned me around so my back was to her, then shoved me face-down onto the bed. I turned my head to the side so I could at least see what she intended to do in my peripheral vision. As she got nearer, I felt my eyes widen in horror as she straddled my legs, raising her arm high, ready to deliver the first blow of the flogger against my bare ass.
"Excuse me, sir. We're getting ready to land and I wanted to make sure you were buckled in safely."
"I'm fine," I snapped, sitting up abruptly, taking a deep breath. I should've been grateful to the first officer for interrupting the horrible dream I was having rather than reacting so harshly.
"Sorry, sir," he apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's quite alright, David," I said, composing myself. "Just a bit over-tired from the weekend."
"Very good sir. We should be on the ground in five minutes or so."
I fastened the seat belt on the leather couch and prepared to deal with being in New York and not in D.C. I wondered how Darcy was doing, immediately chastising myself for even thinking about her. I wouldn't go there. She was a diversion for now. No more than that.
God! Would this work day ever be over? I looked up at the clock on the wall. Shit! It was only twelve-fucking-thirty! I hadn't even arrived until eight-thirty, so four hours seemed like ten! It was my own damn fault. I should've listened to the angel on my shoulder instead of that rat bastard devil! I didn't mean it; I didn't regret the choice I'd made, though my ass was still throbbing from the lashing I'd received. Christ! Easton was a freak, but hey, I was so down for something different than the generic fucking I was used to.
You can imagine my surprise the other night after we'd had our "break-in" fuck when he'd placed a stack of boxes on the bed. I almost felt as if Easton had a soft spot and was lavishing expensive gifts on me, though God I don't know when he would've had the time. Hah! Inside one box, I pulled a black, leather bustier with a matching thong. Another box contained matching leather wrist and ankle restraints, the third box contained a beautiful purple, single rose that I discovered was also made of leather! Dude obviously had a thing for leather. I must've had a look of shock on my face because very soon after extricating the contents I heard a chuckle from Easton. He saw my puzzlement over the items.
"It’s for play, love," he explained. "Are you into it?"
I’d wondered if he'd shopped at some "One size fits all" perv shop. I won't bore you with the details, but obviously I was game for it or my ass cheeks wouldn't be burning now like they were on fire. Okay - don't misunderstand me; I was down for it all. It was new, different, and like anyone else, I was a FSOG whore, I admit it! We'd spent a delicious several hours fucking, fucking hard, and fucking harder. I was spanked several times when I'd been naughty in ways that didn't please Easton. The funny thing was I had no clue what constituted 'naughty' behavior. I suppose I'd learn soon enough according to Easton.
I shifted for the umpteenth time in my chair, continuing to add raw data into my computer which was boring enough. It wasn't interesting enough to take my mind off the pain in my freaking ass!
I knew my dad was pissed when he saw me trying to discreetly sneak in at 8:34 this morning. I got the familiar 'Darcy what've you been up to?" look, and I heard an audible grunt from him as I wished him a "good morning." And that was never a good sign. But, seriously? I couldn't get comfortable in bed yesterday; I was restless and had overslept. Eli hadn't bothered to make sure I was up before he left for his morning ritual of meeting some of his buds for coffee at Starbucks before he went into work. Finally making it into work albeit late, I quickly sat down in my cubicle and started this data-entry shit that I'd been working on for better than a week.
Yeah… this was so not what I had in mind when I went to college to pursue my Bachelor’s degree.
The pain on my ass cheeks might not have even been noticeable had I been able to walk around, but planted firmly on the thinly-padded chair at my desk only exacerbated the discomfort. I mean it wasn't like I had bleeding welts or anything; just some read streaks that at the time they were administered, actually felt delicious. My God, I'd come so fucking hard over and over again! I'd even antagonized Easton verbally, knowing quite well by that time he'd only be too willing to dole out more punishment for the disrespect I'd shown him. I wondered if this made me some kind of a perv. I was contemplating the pros and cons of that when I decided to quit ref
lecting on everything Easton and find something that would make each and every reminder of him a little more . . . work appropriate.
I slipped from my cubicle and went down the long, winding hall to where the executive offices were located. Hopefully, Daddy was out for lunch and his executive assistant as well. As I rounded the corner to the glass enclosed offices, I could see that the lights were out. All clear! Thank God!
I quickly and silently crept into his office, looking around in his closet for what I needed. There it was; thank God! It might make me more comfortable right now. Hopefully no one would pass me in the hallway on my way back and wonder what the hell I was doing! I'd stayed in over lunch to make up for my missed time this morning.
See, I do have a work ethic despite those spoilage comments made by my oh-so-loving parents.
I made it back into my corner cubicle with the item, and sat back down to resume my data entry feeling much more comfortable.
It was probably twenty minutes later when I recognized Eli's whistling as he came into my department and poked his head over the top of my cubicle.
"Hey sweetie! Glad you finally made it in," he teased. "Wanna me to bring you some --- what the fuck?"
"Shhh," I hissed, squirming in my chair, trying to pull my short skirt down to cover the inflatable donut I was perched on. There was no way that was going to happen with the skirt I was wearing.
"What the hell's that?" he whispered loudly, trying to contain his laughter. He moved inside my cubicle, his eyes glued to the inflatable donut my sore ass was resting on. He finally looked back up at my face waiting for some type of an explanation.
"I think you know what it is," I halfway snapped at him.
"Hemorrhoids, babe?"
"No," I whispered through gritted teeth. "I don't have hemorrhoids! These things have multiple uses."
"Uh huh," Eli replied. "How'd you over-sleep this morning?"
"I just didn't sleep well," I snapped, nearly flinching as I moved in my chair.
"Don't be snippy with me," he warned. He was looking at me a little more shrewdly now. "I'm sorry you're in pain."