Poor Little Rich Slut

by Dusseau, Lizbeth

  He smiled, then went on. “This is a unique situation. You’re in charge of Country Manor, while at the same time you’re a sworn sexual submissive to Garrison Tate, and now to me. It may seem a little odd, but I see no reason why this can’t work. I thought it best if the truth was out in the open.”

  “Open?” I said panicked.

  “Between us,” he corrected.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “You know, these arrangements are more common that you think.”

  I was a little confused. “By arrangement, you mean?”

  “I mean Dominant/submissive relationship. Most relationships like yours with Garrison couldn’t exist in this working environment.”

  “Yes, I see. But I think so far we’ve managed well.”

  “Indeed, you have. I can already see the changes.”

  “Changes?”

  “In your demeanor, Eleanor. You’ve softened considerably. You’re less shrill and more open-minded. Less aggressive in the way you attack a problem.”

  “And you think this is because of my ‘arrangement’ with Garrison?”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  We exchanged a meaningful glance as he let me chew on that thought in silence.

  “So, about the chain,” he finally jumped in. “Let’s see it.”

  “Right. Yes.” I jumped from my seat.

  With a guiding hand he escorted me to the coffee table that sat in front of his leather sofa at the far end of the room.

  “Up.” He lifted my hand to indicate what he wanted me to do.

  I could hardly keep my balance as I climbed up that step of nearly eighteen inches in my high heels. Facing him, I shuddered miserably. Any poise I might have clung to was out the window, vanished. I was that bad kid again paying for some unknown crime, feeling diminished and very small and most certainly aroused in a way I hoped he would not see. What I was learning to deal with comfortably in Garrison’s presence was downright embarrassing with a man like Robert Harrington.

  I shuddered again, as Robert carefully raised my skirt above my knees. He pushed it further up my hips until he exposed my cleanly shaved pubic mound. The chain was obvious in the front, but it required I spread my legs for him to see and feel its full length, in particular where it connected to the ring on the backside of my vagina.

  “Spread,” he said. Unlike the men in the warehouse, he used his normal voice, no put-on intonation, no gruff air of command. He was clearly a natural in the sexually dominant role he played. In fact, it wasn’t so much a role but his very essence.

  He placed his one hand on my left thigh, steadying me, as I stepped to the side to unveil my secret. He tugged at the chain quite hard and I tried to muffle my gasping reaction. Then he fished around in my crotch, inspecting it as best he could, although I imagine it was still difficult to see the full effect.

  “Turn around,” he finally ordered.

  With my back to him, he bent me over, tapped on my inner thighs so I’d spread my legs again, then inspected the jewelry from the rear were it dangled in plain view. He tugged a little more.

  “Nicely done.”

  I had nothing to say to that. The humiliation made me blush as bright as his handkerchief.

  Finished with the inspection, he helped me down.

  “Over the back of the chair,” he pointed to the overstuffed club chair. I could guess what would happen next. Fuck me or punish me; I wasn’t sure. Bending over, I clutched the arms of the chair for support and gritted my teeth, waiting with uncertainty until Robert played his hand. When the awesome paddle first struck my ass, I was taken off guard. I’d never felt anything like it in my short sexual initiation. He didn’t stop with one blow to my buttocks—that damn paddle was big enough to cover both cheeks in one strike. Six fucking times that horrible thing hit my poor derriere.

  When he said, “That’s enough,” I couldn’t have been more grateful. I felt like one of those cartoon characters that has just been knocked out and is in a daze. My ass was blistering hot and, as usual, the pain only amplified the terrific ache of desire that always accompanies my punishment.

  “Stand up,” he ordered and so I did. I wanted to shove my skirt back down but I managed to stop the urge. He was a hands-on sort of man who seemed to like to do things like that himself.

  Once he was back behind his desk and I was standing in front of him, I listened to his following monologue, feeling both awed and, as his message sunk in, about two inches tall.

  “I can respect what you’re trying to do here and I think you might just be successful at it. However, I do have my reservations about your sticking with Country Manor. I’m not sure it’s your calling. But that is not my decision to make. I will enjoy the game, however. Call me a sadist if you will, but just figure, if you can survive in the publishing world under the situation you’ve created for yourself with Gar, then you’ll be one helluva force to be reckoned with. That is, of course, if you can survive it.”

  “You obviously have your doubts,” I said.

  He shrugged, his eyebrows raised tellingly. Then he cocked his head a bit while still considering the dilemma of Eleanor Rule. “I wonder, Ms. Rule, why you’d even enter into an agreement like the one you have with Garrison Tate, especially when you have not yet mastered your career.”

  The comment was sincere, even a bit intimate. “You know I sometimes wonder that too.”

  I could see he understood, but he had more to say.

  “Let me be blunt, Ms. Rule.” He leaned in on his desk with his hands clasped in front of him. He seemed even grimmer than before. “When it comes to sexual deviancy, I enjoy a good game as much as the next man with proclivities like mine. But one thing I will not allow you to do is compromise this magazine. There are a lot of good people working here, we put out the best product in the industry and I intend to make sure that nothing about this venture suffers because you have a driving passion for sexually aberrant behavior.” If that sentence didn’t stun me, nothing would. “Garrison Tate knows the publishing business and the game you’re playing with him very well; I trust him in both instances. But frankly, I don’t know you well enough yet to trust you. You’re young, you’re a little reckless and you certainly have a lot to learn. If you should harm this magazine in any way, you can be sure that I’ll personally come down on you harder than Gar ever will. And, because I happen to know you in this particular way, as a sexual submissive willing to submit to corporal punishment…” There was a glimmer of a smile now, though it seemed just as damning as the rest of his speech. “…I’ll have an arsenal of weapons at my disposal to deal with your mistakes that most men would never have permission to use. I’m told I’m a cruel man, but I do get my point across.” He finally sat back in his chair and I was able to breathe again. “Is all that clear to you?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “Yes, very much, sir.”

  “Good.” He nodded satisfied. “That’s all for now.” He smiled warmly.

  I think this may have been the most intimidating moment of my life. I practically wet my pants—of course, I wasn’t wearing any. Seeing this glimpse of his brutality was fair warning. I now had no clear idea of how I felt about the man, his subtle sexual intimations, or his out and out threat. I left his office shaken, but so terribly aroused that I returned to my office and masturbated before I did another thing.

  It was quite clear that Robert Harrington’s presence in my world had taken on new meaning, perhaps it was best if I allowed his great stirring presence to pleasure me as much

  Garrison’s did—while I hoped and prayed I did nothing to tick him off when it came to running the magazine. My secret had just become more deliciously sinful and dangerous. The sobering exchange gave me reason to be more careful.

  After that day, Robert Harrington’s intrusion into my life as another Dominant was rare, although I could not forget standing shivering on the coffee table exhibiting the chain, or bending over the chair and that awesome punishment, or t
he way he drilled me with a warning I had every reason to heed. If our eyes met during the course of my workday, a shiver of fear immediately coursed my body as the strong gaze of his deep-set eyes penetrated me to my core. I think, most times, I flushed a bit feeling as awkward as a clumsy schoolgirl.

  Nonetheless, Robert’s effect on my everyday life was fairly minimal. He backed off and allowed Garrison to handle me as his own, while he stood sentry, ready to act.

  Chapter 8

  Some Months Later

  As I sat primly in the dining room of Daddy’s country estate carefully spooning in my lobster bisque, I could feel Garrison’s chain rubbing against my clit, even when I wasn’t moving in my chair. The executive dinner was an annual affair, but my first time at the lavish event. A company that produced the defining magazine in the arena of refined epicurean taste would certainly go all out to make their executive dinner one of the most gracious and elegant parties anywhere.

  I wore a dress of sequins in addition to the chain between my legs. Except for a pair of high heel sandals, that was it. But who would know I was so scandalously attired other than Garrison, Angelica and maybe Robert Harrington? At least this time I didn’t suffer a vicious caning because I was wearing the wrong dress—although having my bottom warmed before the dinner might have eased my nerves. The sparkling evening gown had been handpicked by my sexual mentor and I wore it with grace—so said Robert when he bowed and kissed my hand like an old-time suitor. His smile looked dangerously evil.

  While I sat at the head of the table, Daddy was at the other end and, oddly enough, Robert was on one side of me, Garrison on the other. No one thought anything of the way the place cards were arranged but me; apparently, I needed them both to keep their eye on me, lest I do something improper, as in failing to sit on my naked ass as Garrison instructed. It wasn’t a new instruction, but it was one that I regularly dismissed, or simply forgot, especially around the office. Not this night, however, not with two men looking at me with ghoulish delight. I was sure they had something planned for later, but so far they were acting perfectly normal for an occasion like this one.

  The table glittered with crystal; the flower centerpiece was spectacular; and the warm glow of candles and the chandelier above made everyone feel special. I felt sensuously aroused, and as the wine flowed, my nervousness began to fade and I became more comfortable with the conversation around me. For the most part I let the men do the talking since I had very little to say. Even when I was younger I clammed up on fancy occasions like this one.

  At the appropriate moment, the soup bowls were removed and the salads served. The entrée of roast duck with apricot glaze and another handpicked wine came next, followed sometime later by three desserts, after dinner liqueurs and coffee. I was just about to take a sip of Grand Mariner when Garrison leaned in next to me and whispered. His voice had an odd ring to it that I couldn’t quite make sense of with so much noisy conversation around us veiling his words. “I want to see you in your Daddy’s study.”

  I looked at him questioningly. “Now? Why?”

  “Don’t argue, just excuse yourself politely and meet me there.”

  My heart skipped that clichéd beat; my nerves suddenly on edge again.

  I made my excuses, which were hardly necessary since everyone was contently enjoying the fine glow that comes following such an elegant meal.

  I must have waited in Daddy’s study at least ten minutes before Garrison finally appeared, and by then, I was more than a little scared. Despite the gaiety of the event, it had not been a good week for the magazine. Sales reports were off and I knew that some looked to me as the reason why.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when Garrison finally entered the study. I noticed again how great he looked in his tux, so handsomely official, so chillingly dominant.

  While I wanted to greet him affectionately, he held me off, strolling into the room with an air of curt command; something was definitely on his mind. “So…” He inspected one of Daddy’s Chinese vases while he formed his words, then he finally looked up at me. “You certainly didn’t think I’d let the night go by without punishing you? Especially when it’s so obviously deserved.”

  “Who says I’m deserving punishment?” I immediately protested, although I can’t say I wasn’t already twittering with excitement realizing what he planned to do. At that moment, however, Robert Harrington slipped in the room. I looked his way, feeling myself thrilling to the picture of authority he made in his jet black tuxedo, however the memory of that dreadful meeting with him months before suddenly disturbed what I initially thought was just another scene in our sexual play.

  “Rich slut here is disputing my need to punish her,” Garrison complained to Robert as soon as the man closed the door.

  “No, no no no!” I hastened interject.

  “Were you asked to speak?” Robert instantly drilled me.

  I stepped back startled by the force the two poured out on me. This was bad! I shook my head, now too afraid to open my mouth.

  Robert went on. “If the man to whom you owe your allegiance says you need to be punished, your only response is to submit.”

  “Yes, of course, I understand that…” I blurted out…immediately regretting that I’d said anything when Robert barked right back, rebuking my effort:

  “Again, you were not asked to speak!”

  “I’m sorry.” I must have been a glutton for punishment.

  “You’re damn right you’re sorry.”

  My heart rushed on anxiously. I looked at the door, worried that the sound of our voices would travel further than the walls of the room.

  “Oh, don’t worry about anyone hearing us, Ellie,” Garrison read my mind. “I’ve cleared this with your Daddy.”

  My face must have gone white with alarm.

  “No, darling, he knows nothing about how we’re going to tend to this little downturn at the magazine. But I did ask him to keep his guests in the dining room until we returned.”

  “This is about the sales report?”

  “Oh, it very much is,” Robert answered coolly. “It would seem that against the very competent advice you were given, you started a little experiment in advertising a few months ago that you swore would succeed. It obviously hasn’t. The way you went into that campaign is exactly the kind of thing that worried me about you from the start. Your stubborn insistence cost us market share.”

  “Yes, that came as a complete surprise to me.” I had no defense but that, and it wasn’t much. “But I have already planned to implement some immediate changes. Last thing I did before I left the office today was send a memo about our Monday morning meeting.”

  “That’s good. We’ll be sure your changes closely reflect our previous and very successful advertising plan,” he said tersely.

  “Of course,” I said. I felt as if I’d already been beaten.

  I could see that brutal something smoldering in Robert that I’d seen in his office when he warned me, although I sensed there was more to this scene than just the sales figures.

  “It’s my guess that the last few months for you have been a thrill ride of sexual adventure,” the man continued. “You have your daily orders, your quickie sex breaks, the chain to keep you focused, I’m sure there’s more. What you haven’t had is a good dressing down. This advertising slip-up is just a symptom. It’s time you were pulled up short, Ms. Rule.”

  Was that true? I looked to Garrison.

  “It happens,” he said, casually shrugging, as if it was no big deal, though we both knew it was. “When you’re young, full of spunk and ideas, your sexual juices flowing as they are,” Unlike Robert’s crisp behavior, Garrison’s manner looked nonchalant on the surface, almost flippant, “you get a little too full of yourself,” he chirped. “I’ve been a little distracted the last month, country hopping. Whether you know it or not, Robert has been keeping an eye on you. Word is you’re difficult to work with, sometimes bossy and otherwise a little grim.”

  Th
is was not what I expected to hear and his words stung. But it was true. There’d been a lot of tension over the last month, and I’d had fewer scenes with Garrison to ‘calm me down.’ I felt a little ashamed, but also betrayed. It was my guess that punishment as part of the sexual agreement with Garrison was one thing, punishment because I was failing in my job—which I didn’t believe I was—was quite another thing. I took it personally, was feeling defensive, and that short-circuited any submissive feelings I’d earlier had. Any sexual arousal I had was quickly transforming into a slow, boiling rage.

  “Reporting on me?” I said, leveling my first volley.

  “Your behavior has been discussed.”

  “Behind my back!”

  “Not behind your back right now,” Robert interjected crisply. “You’re planning to make this hard?”

  I was so confused and so terribly emotional, I was about to break down and cry, but I refused, absolutely refused to look that weak in their eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” was all that I could think of to say while I tried to calm myself.

  “Yes, we know you’re sorry,” Robert said, “now come here.”

  I looked to Garrison, who I swear had a self-satisfied smirk submerged under his righteously indignant expression. He had to be gloating inside—the devious bastard, but for the moment, he maintained the grimmest of guises. His eyes infected me like poison and I shriveled under their glare.

  Turning back to Robert, I reluctantly moved his way until I was standing a properly comfortable distance away. He reached out and pulled me closer so our chests actually touched. He was almost a head taller than me, which meant that I was looking directly at the tiny buttons on his starched white shirt. Although I could no longer see his eyes without looking up—which I did not—I could smell his pheromones; even they reeked of the substance and charm that were natural to him. More than that, I could feel him, his breath, his powerful essence, that tremendously dominant allure. My legs felt like jelly and my heart just kept up its rampant beating.