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An uneasy tension prevailed for ten minutes, until the reports were finished, and the three managers were on their way. Then, taking a deep breath, Jocelyn left her desk and walked down the hall to Reggie’s office.
Inside Reggie’s inner sanctum, she found the man sitting at his desk pouring over paperwork, not bothering to look up. She waited at least five minutes before she spoke, although she was fuming the whole time. “I suppose this is some penance I’m paying for not following his highness’s orders?” she snapped, impatiently. The anger that had been brewing all day long was turning livid.
Reggie looked up from his work. If he was moved by her sharp tongued remark, he didn’t show it. “I suppose you have more to say before I begin with you?”
“Yes, in fact I do. If you intended to infuriate me, you certainly have. If you intended to be rude and unkind, you’ve been that, too. I’m not clear the game you play, but I promise, I will outlast you.”
He smirked.
“Don’t you dare smirk at me!”
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
“My clothes, here?” she said, the second time in two days responding to such a command.
“Take off your clothes,” he repeated.
“You’re going to punish me?” she asked, finally remembering what he’d said just before he’d sent her home.
“Take off your clothes,” he repeated, the third time he spoke as calmly as he had before.
And that third time shook her resolution to be angry. Whether it was fear, or lust, or shock motivating her, she let herself calm to his calm repose. Without really understanding what was happening to her, she was moving into his world.
Undoing the buttons on her black suit, she pulled the coat apart. The corset remained, her breasts bouncing on top of the sturdy undergarment, then settled in against her chest. Slipping the skirt off of her hips, it was on the floor, Jocelyn not bothering to pick it up. Naked now, she stood before him, finding that she was actually a little scared. She felt vulnerable and very small, feelings she was unused to, though she found them curiously titillating.
“Thank you,” Reggie said. “You can stop there.”
Her only response was silence, the only one required.
“Have you ever been caned?” he asked.
She looked at him horrified.
“Of course not,” Reggie said, remembering that she was no natural submissive. “I saw how much you admired my cane in the display at Tahoe. It seems only appropriate given your classic attire.” Viewing her carefully, noting the subtle emotions playing across her pretty face – confusion, arousal and a bit of fear. He liked where the scene was headed.
Rising from his chair, he left Jocelyn standing before his desk while he retrieved a cane from a closet on the far wall. The long, glimmering implement took her breath away at first glance. It was worse yet when he whisked it through the air, and it sizzled ominously.
“It will leave marks on your ass if I want it to,” he said.
“You wouldn’t,” she blurted out. Dozens of held back protests came down to those two words.
“You can grab your ankles, or you can rest your palms on the table,” he gave her the choice.
He saw her trepidation, her faltering poise.
“This is my world,” he reminded her. “I could think of a host of grievances I have with you, your haughty attitude, your disobedience with the corset, your snappy tongue, to name a few. But the fact remains, what I really want to see is you bend over with your naked ass facing me, this cane laid across your bare behind. It’ll be my great joy to see the nasty lines etched in your skin when I’m done. I want to see how you respond to pain.”
Hearing this, she trembled even more. But nonetheless, she heeded his instructions and turned around toward the coffee table. Bending over, palms on the flat surface, she waited, feeling as if her legs might just collapse beneath her, they were so weakened from the strong emotion. The only heartening thing in the whole episode, somewhere in the middle of Reggie’s speech, Jocelyn saw what she was looking for. It was that adoration again, and a trace of affection. What a curious man he was, with such curious desires.
The impact of the first cut practically knocked her from her feet.
“Oh, my god, noooooo!”
The second cut was worse, because the pain of the first hadn’t yet died away.
“God noooo!” she wailed again.
She stamped her feet, wiggled her ass, and begged him not to strike her again. Though in the middle of her passionate plea, the third cut landed, and a searing shot of heat brought tears to her eyes. In the middle of her tears, the fourth cut landed. Why she stood firm surprised them both.
