A Lesson From the Boss

Only when the first blow hit did I finally realize something had gone horribly wrong.

This trip was supposed to be easy--a three-day conference in DC, mostly listening and learning at the seminars. Only one presentation; no marketing. Just taking notes in sessions on our industry's latest trends. The new CEO, Mike, had wanted his senior VPs to attend at least two conferences like this every year. This time it was me and one other SVP, Darren, from production.

When we'd checked in to the luxury hotel, we had each gotten two room cards, and Mike had asked for our extras, "just in case" he needed to look over any of the presentation materials while we were out. He promised he'd never enter without knocking and only use the key if he knew we weren't in the room.

I believed him. He was the boss.

That evening, we went to one brief welcoming session, then out to dinner with one of our vendors. A juicy steak, a glorious pinot noir, and three hours of laughing meant I returned to the room exhausted, tipsy, and ready for bed. I heard the door open about one in the morning, but my mind didn't really register what was happening. I am slow to wake up any morning, but now my head was clouded with wine. I struggled up and reached for the lamp when a blow across the side of my face slammed my head into the pillow and lights danced before my eyes. Hands grabbed my arms and spun me sideways across the bed. I opened my mouth to scream, only to have a silken cloth shoved deep into the back of my throat.

Two figures hovered over me, illuminated by the moonlight from the window. We were on the 22nd floor, so I'd left the drapes open. The room seemed bathed in silver shadows, giving enough light for me to see the two men but not enough to tell much about them. They wore ski masks and a duffle bag over his shoulder made the one gripping my arms look hunched and menacing. "Hurry!" he hissed.

His partner grabbed my nightgown and pulled it over my head, using it to tie my wrists tightly. Then he looked down at my bare breasts. "Damn! He was right about her tits. They're huge! Magnificent!" He grabbed my left breast, pulling it up to a point and pinching the nipple hard. My body, now shot full of adrenaline, bucked under him.

Hands tightened on my arms, even though my wrists were now tied together, and fingers dug into my forearms. "Don't get distracted! Get her legs!"

The partner went to the duffel bag and opened a zipper, pulling out a long bar, with what looked like cuffs on either end. Now fear shot through me as my mind finally comprehended what they were about to do. Terror. Real, honest-to-god terror. "NO!" I screamed, but the sound around the cloth was no more than a muffled whine.

I fought, my body bucking and twisting. But my feet slipped on the sheets and struck only air as I kicked. The partner grabbed one leg and tucked the ankle neatly under his arm, his hands like a vise on my calf. He buckled the cuffs around my knees, one by one, the bar holding my knees so far apart that my hips ached. He then turned me over and pulled me toward him, lifting my hips easily and shoving two pillows under my stomach. My ass and legs now dangled over the edge of the bed, spread and exposed.

He pulled another rope out of the duffle and tied it around my wrists on top of my gown, then secured it tightly to the bed frame, stretching my arms so tightly over my head that my muscles protested. I wasn't tall enough for my head to reach the other side of the bed, and I jerked my head to the side so that I didn't smother in the covers, air burning as it rushed in and out of my nostrils.

The first man, finally releasing my arms, slung the duffle off his back, letting it hit the ground with a thud. "Damn, she's a fighter."

His partner laughed, low and dark. "I do like a feisty bitch. You ready?"

"And eager."

I still fought, even as the fear clawed through me like an animal. Were they going to kill me or just rape me?

They rustled through the bag in front of me, and my eyes widened as they pulled out a riding crop, a paddle, and a handful of clamps. They dropped them next to my face, amused by the look on my face as I stared at the clamps.

"All in good time, slut."

Then the blows started. One worked the paddle on my ass and thighs; the other used the crop on my pussy and back. Soft at first, then harder, building the red and the burn. I screamed into the bed, thrashing uselessly against the bonds, tears streaming from my eyes. Pain seared through me, and my clit felt as if someone had struck a match on it.

I tried to count the blows at first, then it all became a endless round of slaps and pops, and pain swelled over my lower body and filled my mind.

Then they stopped, and the partner rubbed his hands slowly over everything, pressing in on the flesh, while the first man returned to the bag. Hands caressed me, rubbing my ass, then fingers moved gently in and out of my cunt. "You like it, don't you, bitch? Like the burn. Like the arousal of it."

I struggled in a burst of fury, but they only laughed. Then I heard a soft humming, and I twisted my head. The first man held in front of me a huge vibrator, one with a large clit stimulator. I tried to shake my head, but I knew my own body was about to betray me.

I have one of the same kind of vibrators at home, and it's my favorite toy. I can't resist it, and I can come multiple times in one night with it. Sometimes as soon as I insert it. This was not good, not good at . . . .

The head touched my swollen, painful clit, and I moaned, my back arching.

"He said she'd love it," the partner said. "Said he knew she was a slut in disguise."

Humiliation racked me. Who was "he"? How would "he" know? Was this arranged by someone who knew. . . .

I groaned as the big head moved down, rubbing me, up and down, making my juices flow. I fought it, my eyes squeezing tight. Go somewhere else, don't think about it. Let your mind . . .

Then the vibrator was in, deep, the clit stimulator pressing hard against me, massaging, working its magic. The humming increased as the speed did, and my hips reared, pressing into the arousal. I hated it, and loved it. My orgasm peaked quickly, and my cunt tightened, my body rocking, jerking with the waves of pleasure.

They laughed, and I heard more zippers. With a sudden jerk, the first one shoved his cock, hard as a pipe, into my ass above the vibrator. Pleasure turned to anguish again, as my asshole resisted, tight and virginal, and he had to pump hard to get fully in. Lights danced in my eyes from the pain, but I had little time to react. He drove hard and fast, opening me, and he let out a low moan of satisfaction as he finished, pulling out and dumping semen on my back and ass. He pulled out the vibrator and shut it off.

I felt empty, used, and spent. My mind reeled with the pain, the humiliation of the unbelievable orgasm. I panted for breath, and my body gave in to exhaustion, deflating limply on the soaked sheets.

"Oh, no, you little whore," the partner said. "No time to relax. We've only just begun." With that, he gathered up the clamps near my face and the first one grabbed my hips, flipping me over. My arms twisted across each other as he did, wrenching my shoulders. He readjusted the pillows under my lower back, so that now it was my pussy that was most exposed, spread wide. He picked up the crop again and slapped my thighs and lips several times, causing me to jump each time.

With a grin of wicked pleasure, his partner spread my lips and attached a clamp to each. I screamed against the cloth as the teeth bit in, to no avail. "Scream all you want, my little slut. It only makes us crazier to fuck you." He attached weights to each clamp and draped them over my thighs, ensuring my lips were pulled as far apart as they could be. Then he attached two to my clit, the fire of it soaring through my cunt and all the way to my brain.

He stepped back, and the first one began with the crop again, sharp, snapped blows on my pussy, thighs, and ass, as his partner went to work on my breasts.

"Magnificent," he muttered again, as he massaged them, rolling the flesh in his large hands. "You like having these played with, don't you, whore? Like having them pulled and spanked and pinched."

I shook my head furiously, but the truth was, he was right. One former boyfriend had been so adept at teasing my breasts that he'd once brought me to orgasm just by using them. I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the thought, but the partner seemed a master at his job, and my mind, my body, gave way as he massaged and licked, teased, sucked, and pinched my nipples. "You love it," he whispered. "You want more, slut."

The crop slapped harder, and arousal spread through me like rain, and my nipples tightened, wanting more. Without warning, I moaned with the pleasure, and they both laughed.

"We have her," the partner said, and he reached for more clamps. One for each nipple and one each for the side of my breasts. He then got off the bed and the first one stepped to the side and grabbed the spreader bar, pulling it up over my body. The partner pulled the clamps from my pussy lips and clit, and I bucked as the blood rushed back. He stepped up, pulled his cock from his pants, and rammed it into my cunt. He was big, bigger than the vibrator, and he plunged in hard and deep, grabbing my hips and riding me unrelentingly. His thrust were so deep and powerful, my entire body bounced and moved on the bed with each one.

I struggled, screeching into the cloth, but I came hard, my juices coating both of us. He pulled out at the last minute, showering my pussy, belly, and thighs. The first one released the bar and my legs dropped loosely, limply over the pillows and the edge of the bed.

They moved quickly, uncuffing the spreader bar, and gathering all the toys. I couldn't move from the pain and exhaustion. The partner untied my wrists last, and as he did so, he whispered, "He just wanted to make sure you knew who was in charge. He wanted you to feel it tomorrow, in your chair. No panties. He'll know."

With that, they were gone.

I gingerly pulled the cloth from my mouth. My own panties. I got a drink to moisten my parched mouth, and I almost picked up the phone and reported the attack, but his last words haunted me. Mike? Was this Mike's doing? But why?

None of the SVPs had challenged his taking over, especially me. I was good at my job, but I sure didn't want his. And I wasn't qualified for it. Did he think I would challenge him?

I took a shower instead, cautiously washing each bruised and welted area of my body. It was almost 6am. I was supposed to meet Mike and Darren for breakfast at 7am. It was definitely going to be an interesting day.