Held Down

by Pamela Prim

  My fingers slid between my legs,and I masturbated to the sounds of Robert fucking me. I pulled the shower head from its holder and strengthened the force of the water. I moved the head to my pussy and allowed the water to hit it just right until I came hard.

  Walking into the office, I held my head a little higher. I walked with a confidence I didn’t think I had before. I settled into my chair, feeling the contours of the shape and I wiggled my ass back and forth. I barely turned my computer on when my phone buzzed.

  “Good morning,” I said, holding Robert’s button down.

  “Morning, Miss Jenkins.”

  “Back to formality, I see,” I teased.

  “We are in the office, Miss Jenkins. There is a time and a place.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I couldn’t help but feel the sexual tension begin to build again, regardless of how formal or professional he was trying to be.

  “When you get a moment, please come into my office.”

  I smoothed out my blouse and picked up the morning files on my desk. He wants to jump right back into work; I can be professional too, I thought. I walked to his office and went inside.

  “Shut the door,” he said, not looking up from his computer.

  He didn’t look pleased. I set the files on the edge of his desk and sat across from him.

  “Don’t sit,” he commanded. “Come here.”

  I felt a twinge of something deep in my stomach, wondering if it was fear or arousal. I walked to his side and waited for his next command.

  “Do you mind telling me what the fuck this is?”

  He held his hand out toward his computer screen and I saw the familiar video of our special night together playing on his screen. Arousal struck me as I watched it play out. I had forgotten that I told Camille to email it to him as soon as she had gotten it.

  I touched his shoulder with my fingertip and ran it down his arm, but he pulled back and grabbed my arms pulling me to him. I gasped feeling a warmth surround my pussy.

  “This is not a joke, Olivia.”

  “No, it’s not.” My lips parted,and I felt the heat from his breath.

  “You had better explain and fast.”

  “Well, I will admit I had ulterior motives in mind when I asked Camille to video our little sex act, but things have changed since then.”

  “I don’t understand,” he huffed, holding my arms tighter.

  “I wanted revenge.”

  “Revenge? On me? For what? I’ve been nothing but good to you.”

  “Not on you, Robert. On your daughter.”

  “My daughter? I don’t understand.”

  “She was my best friend. I thought she was so perfect, her family, her life, her looks and our relationship, until I caught her with my boyfriend. I wanted to ruin her perfect life, and how better to do so than to send a video of her cheating father to his wife?”

  “You are…!”

  “Hold on. I’m not going to send it. I have changed my mind.”

  “Why would you do this, Olivia?”

  “It was nothing against you. You just got caught in the line of fire, but lucky for you, I have changed my mind.”

  “So, now what?”

  I leaned in and kissed his gaping mouth and slid my tongue along his bottom lip.

  “You were so fucking good Saturday night. I don’t want it to end. I want to be your sexual play toy.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “If you don’t turn me away and you allow me the pleasure,” I cupped his balls and caressed him through his pants “of your company, I won’t release the video to anyone.”

  “You are one sick woman.”

  “No, obsessed maybe, but not sick.” I straddled his legs and sat down dangling my arms over his shoulders. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t want someone who is willing to do whatever you want her to do whenever you want it.” I kissed him again, and he finally responded forcing his tongue into my mouth. He grabbed my butt cheeks and pulled me into him, his cock pushing up into me. When he released me, I smiled. “I take that as a yes?”

  “Do I have any other choice?”

  “You do, but I think you want to keep your marriage. As long as I’m happy, your marriage will be too. It’s the ultimate revenge, don’t you think?”

  His cynical laugh melted my heart as he pulled my panties over from underneath my skirt and fingered me at his desk. A knock on the door was ignored,and for the entire morning, our private meeting climaxed to great heights.

  Story 2

  Chapter One

  The second thing Catherine’s father said to her after she graduated from her expensive all girls senior school was to start applying to universities. The first thing he told her was that she needed to get a job.

  That suited Catherine down to a tee. She had already decided to take a year out, see some sights, maybe travel a little — and a summer gig would put her in good stead for all that since Daddy was cutting off her allowance now that she was eighteen.

  This felt to her like one of most liberating moments of her life, Daddy had always micromanaged her life, ensuring things went her way. She had been captain of the hockey team at school, and had played doubles in the summer term despite being little more than solid on field and court. There were perks when your father had donated most of the library and took special interest in his only offspring.

  He had rid himself of her last stepmother because Catherine and she had failed to get on, and despite cutting off her allowance she was still left with a legacy of two cars and enough in the bank account and stock portfolio to keep her going in the style she had grown accustomed to. She also retained full use of a London flat and a wardrobe full of designer purchases made on parental credit cards in the past few years.

  When he told her she should get a job, he had a particular idea in mind. ‘If you’re going to take over when I’m past it, you have to get a sense of how the business works from the bottom up,’ he’d told her.

  To Catherine’s relief the bottom up meant working middle management at one of the smaller London branches of a subsidiary trust company. Not as she first thought actually dealing with customers in one of the electronics stores which Daddy had franchised by the half dozen early in his business building days and which now made up the meatier part of her father’s business holdings.

  So it was that she drove to work through the London weekday morning congestion. Slotted note after note into the carpark meter and clicked across the road — perched atop Louise Vuitton’s, wearing a pencil skirt and one hundred percent pure silk blouse, with a jacket and handbag which were hand stitched by a tailor on the Isle of Capri — to the glass fronted block in which the offices lived.

  ‘Hi,’ she said to the bored looking security guard. ‘I’m Catherine.’

  He perked up a bit and gave her a long look up and down. Smiling at her with a mouth full of yellow teeth he asked, ‘Who you here to see then, lass?’

  ‘First day at Burke & Bright Trust,’ she said and he clicked the computer, tapped a few keys and handed her a guest pass. ‘They’ll sort you out with a permanent ID upstairs. Good luck.’

  He seemed cheery enough and despite his common accent and buttercup teeth Catherine gave him a cheerful, ‘Thanks.’ She was rather pleased, however, that the barrier of the receptionists desk precluded any hand shaking or other physical contact.

  B&B Trust was on the third floor and the cramped elevator was a bit of a surprise. She was joined in the narrow space by a half dozen men aged between the foetal and the grave all of whom stank of Lynx deodorant and cheap shower gel.

  Maybe this really is the bottom, she thought.

  She pressed the buzzer — oily with the previous visitor’s breakfast grease — and was shown in by a girl who was clearly a few years older than Catherine but whose carriage suggested that Catherine was much older and more responsible. At least part of which was true.

  The girl, Catherine forgot her name almost as soon as it was told
her, took her through to one of the directors’ office where she sat and drank the foul instant coffee he offered her.

  ‘Lovely to see you, Catherine,’ he began, talking through a close cropped silver beard. ‘My name is Derek, I’m the CEO here and one of three directors. You’ll meet the other’s in due time, but your dad wanted me to take you under my wing personally, see that you got a solid education in managing what he charmingly called the “pond scum”. Nice guy, your dad.’

  Catherine laughed. ‘He can be a bit of a hard nut, but only to those who deserve it.’

  Derek raised an eyebrow. ‘I imagine you don’t often deserve it, in his book.’

  ‘I do try to be good.’

  ‘Well, since you’ve been delivered into my hands, and I am more or less under orders to give you someone to manage, despite your total lack of experience, knowledge or — as far as I can tell, sense of irony — I’ve moved two of my guys into a new team. I’ll introduce you in a moment. They know the clients backwards so pay attention to what they tell you and do your best not to get in the way.’

  Catherine felt her cheeks flush. How dare he speak to her that way. She had learned plenty from Daddy, and this little man in his little kingdom was just a speck in sea of daddy’s achievements.

  ‘I’d appreciate you showing me some respect, Mister…’

  ‘Call me Derek, we’re not at a Jane Austen ball. Do your job well, show a willingness to learn, and keep that entitlement under your hat and you’ll earn my respect. I never gave respect away for free to anyone who hadn’t earned it.’

  Catherine rose to her feet, and even as she was formulating the talking to she was going to give him, he matched her, rising to his feet and with one hand on her shoulder he ushered her out the door and into her small office where two men were sat waiting for her with a pile of open minute books for a half dozen trusts.

  ‘Ta-ra, Cat,’ said Derek and was gone.

  *

  ‘Hi, Cat. I’m Ted and this is Jeff,’ said the older of the two in an accent that suggested a similar upbringing to her own. He was sandy blond and wore a rumpled suit with a loose tie. He must have been in his thirties but had a kind of boyish good looks about him.

  Catherine immediately hated him.

  ‘My name is Catherine. It’s not that hard to cough up the extra syllables,’ she said in a commanding tone. ‘Now, bring me up to speed.’

  Ted shot his friend a look that seemed rather close to impertinence in Catherine’s book and she snapped: ‘Well, Jeff. Catch me up. What do I need to know?’

  Jeff had a more businesslike look to him. Shorter than Ted he seemed to have compensated by hitting the gym. His cheap suit looked ready to burst if he were to tense his arms, he had a shaved head and must have been a few years younger than Ted because it looked deliberate rather than to hide encroaching hair loss.

  His tie was on properly though and his shirt was ironed, so Catherine immediately gave him the authority over the room in her head.

  ‘First off, nice to put a face to the name, Catherine.’ The way he pronounced her name may or may not have had a flash of meaning in it, it was hard to tell with his cabdriver accent. ‘Derek gave us the rundown, we’re to bring you up to speed on these six clients. Without having the professional study you won’t be able to sign anything off, but we’ll run it all through you to look at before kicking it up the line for Derek’s stamp and squiggle. The key thing to remember…’

  What followed was nearly two hours of financial gibberish which Catherine did her best to follow, asking questions and studiously ignoring Ted who jumped in when he felt he could put something a little cleaner than Jeff but seemed content to eye her up like he was trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle.

  ‘I’ll go grab some coffee,’ Ted said eventually. ‘Gimme a hand, Jeff.’

  Catherine sat back. ‘Go one then,’ she said, waving them off. ‘Bring me a tea, milk and sugar.’

  The two men shared another smirk at what she took to be her expense and headed for the door. No sooner had they gone when she realised what she’d said.

  ‘Shit,’ she muttered to herself and headed for the door.

  Outside the little office kitchen she paused for a moment hearing four or five people moving around. Jeff was talking.

  ‘What a vicious little whelp she is,’ he was saying. Then putting on an RP accent, ‘It’s Catherine, not Cat. Snooty tart.’

  There was a rumble of laughter from the other’s present. Ted was saying, ‘She’s not that bad, if I met her in a nightclub I’d try it on. No doubt regret it in the morning, when she starts chewing out my ear on the subject of personal grooming.’

  ‘Boring lay, I suspect,’ laughed Jeff. ‘Lie there flat as a board’d be my guess. Turn up her nose at cunnilingus from either side.’

  With what she hoped was great gravity, Catherine pushed the door open. ‘I meant,’ she said to the shocked silence of the room. ‘Milk no sugar, not milk and sugar. When you’ve made it. I’d like to see you and Ted in the main conference room for a little chat.’

  Chapter Two

  She couldn’t believe it, and said so once they were in the conference room where she hoped her disciplining of them would be inferred by the rest of the office. It was always best to ensure maximum humiliation when teaching a lesson. She had found that out as captain of the hockey team at school. Easiest way to keep her team in line was ensuring they were all scared not to toe it.

  ‘You best be believing it, you stuck up bint. There’s lessons you need learning, that I doubt very much you are getting taught by your pa,’ snapped Jeff with a sharpness she had never heard from any man in her life. This was already going drastically off the rails. She felt her face flush.

  ‘If you were my daughter I’d give you a hiding, talking like that to your elders,’ drawled Ted.

  ‘An excellent thought,’ snarled Jeff, appearing immediately to cheer up.

  He had her wrists together in the grip of one hand a moment later, and with one smooth movement sat down, pulled her over his knee and jerked her hands back and up over her neck so that her own wrists were pushing her head down towards the floor.

  It had gone so well at first. Ted and Jeff had squirmed gloriously in their seats in the conference room, guilty and caught, as she lectured them on respect, values, and how one should treat their superiors.

  Now she was staring at the men’s four shoes, Jeff’s polished to a shine, Ted’s scuffed and worn.

  She had expected the mocking laughter of bullies, instead she heard the firm fatherly tones of Jeff saying, ‘Count em out for me, Cat.’

  Her mistake had been the bit about ‘their betters’. They’d turned that around sharpish hadn’t they, she thought to herself. They had both lost their hangdog look at that. She could have wound it in, but seeing that she was losing her audience she tried doubling down, got flustered and called Jeff a grubby cockney and Ted a grammar school oik.

  The first slap stung the bare backs of her legs so much she yelped.

  ‘That’s no number I ever heard,’ drawled Ted.

  ‘Try again lass or it won’t count,’ said Jeff.

  ‘One,’ she muttered, face bright red with humiliation and a pinprick of tears growing in the corner of her eyes.

  His hand fell in a flat sweep this time a little higher up. She wished she was wearing tights to soften the blow, or jeans — ‘Two,’ she whispered, hearing tears in the back of her voice — or chain mail.

  ‘Three.’

  Jeff was talking now about discipline and respect, about how she should teach her superiors. She tried to wriggle free but he held her tight. She wondered that she had ever thought he was attractive.

  ‘Four.’

  The blow was higher up now. Falling on her skirt which was already hitched rather higher than she was comfortable with.

  Why wasn’t she screaming? she wondered to herself. There was only a door between her and an office full of people. Just cry out and this lo
ut would unhand her. Go to a tribunal, to gaol for assault.

  ‘Five.’

  She heaved the word out through a half sob, and realised what it was. She was enjoying this, why she couldn’t fathom. The pain was pain and the humiliation hurt too, but there was something else in it under the surface.

  His hand cupped her stinging arse. Pinched it. She yelped again, but quietly.

  ‘Six.’

  His strength perhaps, those bulging muscles. She wondered what they looked like as he swung at her.

  He lifted her skirt and she was suddenly aware that her arse, enclosed only in black lace and some elastic was on show to Jeff and Ted.

  Even Ted was good looking in his own way. Did she really mind them looking. Or even laying hands on her like this?

  ‘Seven.’

  The next three blows fell in such quick succession, on the same spot, with such speed and vigour that she could barely breath. When the last one fell it took her what felt like several minutes to catch her breath and gasp out the word ‘Ten.’

  The hands loosed her and she jerked sideways onto the floor. She must look frightful, she thought. Snot trailed from her nose, saliva had wet her chin. Her hair was in disarray and she knew her mascara must have run. Her face felt flushed to that ugly red it took on when she cried and her skirt was up above her thighs, panties on show.

  With some astonishment she realised those panties, like her chin, were also wet. Looking up, she could see that fact had not passed unnoticed by Ted and Jeff.

  ‘Christ,’ she said aloud. ‘I can’t believe my first time is gonna be with a guy called fucking Jeff.’

  Chapter Three

  Jeff’s smile opened up like the Cheshire cat’s. ‘Alright lass. You’ll get yours, but only once you prove you’ve really learned your lesson.’

  She smiled as sweetly as she could looking up from the floor at the two men. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said still smiling.