Hostile Takeover: Humiliated and Dominated by My Business Rival

For years Sandra Trufant has been working nights and weekends to get her start-up off the ground, but when long overdue success begins to turn heads, it attracts the attentions of heavy hitters that Sandra is not prepared to contend with. Such a one is Jackson Rivers, dashing CEO of the Rosemont Group, who has come to meet with Sandra personally about the prospect of a buyout. What begins as a bit of simple maneuver and professional strong-arming soon becomes much more as he turns to more elaborate means of bringing Sandra around to his point of view. Sexual manipulation, spanking, and sheer charismatic dominance will all come into play before he has had his way with our heroine and left her gasping on her office desk, hungry for more.

Excerpt:

He drew another folded sheet of paper from his coat pocket and laid it in front of me. "First, you sign this contract, finalizing the sale for the amount I've offered you. It will make you a very rich woman."

I managed to shake my head. "This is all happening too fast."

"Too fast?" he repeated. "I thought I had been very generous with my time. I have given you months to withdraw from my markets."

"I can't," I stammered.

He nodded, as though deciding for himself. "Do you know what it is like when a little startup like yours wanders in and starts trying to underbid companies like mine? It is like a child that insists on sitting at the grown-ups' table. The child refuses to acknowledge objective reality. It only understands one thing."

He pushed the stacks of paper which remained in the center of my desk off to the side. One of them wobbled, tipped, and cascaded to the floor, but he did not notice. "The only thing they understand, Sandra, is a firm hand."

He was standing over me, now, and I had shrunk back into the chair, feeling very small and physically intimidated.

"I can make you regret your stubbornness in any number of ways. I can underbid every contract you receive, headhunt every name you hire, and grind your company into the dirt until every last investor you have is serving you papers. Is that what you want?"

I stared up at him, mute.

"Stand up," he said.

I stayed frozen in place.

"Stand up," he repeated. "You call yourself the owner of this company. You can't even stand and look me in the eye in your own office? You have to cower in your chair?"

Shakily, I complied.

No sooner was I standing than he had put his hand to the small of my back, pushing me over and pinning me down upon my desk.

"I'm going to do something much less permanent than all of that," he said. There was not so much as a single note of strain in his voice as he held me completely helpless against the smooth oak of my desk. "Because I'm beginning to like you, because in a certain way I can admire stubbornness, I'm going to teach you very simply and here, in private, just how out of your depth you are."

I tried to say something, but his hand against my back was compressing my chest against the desk too forcefully to draw full breath. Instead, all that emerged was a whimper.

The whimper became a muffled gasp as I felt his hands on me again. His fingers ran up underneath my skirt, over my buttocks, pushing the skirt up above my waist and exposing my underwear. In another moment, even that scant cover was taken away as well, as I felt the damp cloth pulled from me and down to my knees. Desperately struggling against the pressure of his arm, I tried to cover myself with my hands. He simply caught each of my wrists in turn and placed them in the closed fist with which he bent my spine against the desk.