The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8 - Sex Stories

The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8

... the scrubs on over my clothes, making me appear more bulky, and fix the mask over my nose and mouth. I leave the bathroom and check the hallway the leads to the patient rooms; empty. Then I move swiftly down the hall to Henry’s room, closing the door behind me. He is still handcuffed to the bed by one arm and appears to be asleep. His file is hanging off the foot of the bed so I grab it, scan through it, then rip a few pages out and stuff them deep into my pants pocket beneath the scrubs. Henry doesn’t even stir. I walk over beside him and stare down at him for a moment. Anger and hate boils rapidly inside of me. He was drunk. He nearly killed the only person I care about. He has shown no remorse for his actions; he didn’t even ask the officers about Emily or wonder about what her condition was. He is scum; he deserves to die. The bed railing is down on my side. I simultaneously place my knee down hard on the crook of his un-cuffed arm, leaning my body weight down against it, and jerk a pillow out from beneath his head. For a split second his eyes open in a state of confusion and lock onto mine, but then I bring the pillow down over his face and press down hard pinning it to him with my forearm. His cuffed arm flails around making more noise than I had anticipated. I will have to move faster. The fist of my other hand not holding the pillow in place connects repeatedly against his ribs and abdomen. His screams are all but muffled beneath the pillow as I relentlessly pound ...

... him. He tries twisting his body away and bringing his legs up to protect himself but in his current condition he is no match against me. I finally stop beating him when I am out of breath and my fist feels like it is on fire. Removing the pillow I quickly place my hand over his mouth. He looks terrified and in pain; good. I lean over close to his ear to make sure there is no confusion in my words. “You’re a real piece of shit, Henry…” His eyes dart to the side to look at me at the mention of his name. “Oh, yes, I know all about you. Don’t worry; I’m not going to kill you, even though I could.” He whimpers and bucks his body hard to try to free his mouth in order to yell for help. I deliver a hard hit into his already battered ribs and he stops struggling again. “Good. Just listen. I have all of your information now and I will be watching you very closely from here on out. If I ever see you even near a bar again I will beat you so badly no one will even recognize you. Do you understand?” He nods his head quickly. His eyes are large, watering at the corners, and constantly darting back and forth between my face and the closed door to his room. I want to laugh at his hope that someone will walk in and save him, but I realize I am out of time and that his hope is actually very likely to happen. I need to wrap this up and get out of here. “I’m taking my hand off of your mouth now. If you say a word about this to anyone, ever, it will be the last thing you ever say.” He nods again. I ...