Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Oh, God,” I whispered, because suddenly I felt compelled to please him that way again, as if in confirmation that he had indeed humiliated me with terrible thoroughness. “Yes, sir.”
“Go fetch the paddle for me, sweetheart,” he told me, his tone so casual that for a moment I didn’t understand what it meant. Paddle, my brain tried to tell me, must mean something like coffee or maybe folder. I blinked at him, and then my heart jumped with fear as I processed his words fully.
The wand’s operation inside me let me give Mr. Alden a pleading look, my cheeks reddening anew. Then I turned, my body obeying the command, and I faced his desk, across the room. I swallowed as I realized that he would watch me walk over there, my bare, already pink bottom-cheeks moving suggestively and provocatively, as if challenging him to punish me harshly for the sluttiness that had urged me to wear lacy lingerie to a job interview.
Obviously, he had intended that. Obviously, he wanted to watch the slutty new secretary go get the paddle he would use to correct her faults with her rear end on full, lewd display. Surely it would inspire him to discipline me all the more thoroughly, so as to deliver as stern a lesson as possible in modesty and propriety.
The walk to the desk felt like a hundred miles. The war raging inside me seemed to slow my footsteps to a crawl. Part of me wanted to get it over with, and run toward the paddle. Part of me wanted to put off the horrible ordeal as long as possible. Part of me—the part that won, because of the wand and because of the hot, dark place it had revealed—wanted to give Mr. Alden the best possible view of his slutty secretary walking to fetch the instrument of her painful correction.
My legs quivered. Each step seemed to take a minute. I tried looking at my hands, to keep myself from looking at the horrible wooden thing on the desk. My eyes wouldn’t obey my reason; something in me knew that Mr. Alden wanted me to keep looking at the paddle, because it would make my shame and my fear greater.
I arrived at the desk. I could look at my hand then, because it had started automatically to reach for the paddle. I watched my trembling fingers descend. When they touched the smooth, lacquered surface of the handle, something like an electric shock went through my frame. I had to bite my lip to keep from whimpering.
“Bring it here, Ingrid,” I heard my new boss say from behind me, his voice sounding just a bit impatient. “It’s time to finish your punishment.”
CHAPTER 7
Joseph
Ingrid turned around. As sexy as I had found her reluctant walk to the desk, the sight of her blushing face as she looked down at the paddle in her hands sent an even stronger jolt to my dominant instincts. My cock leapt against my thigh when she raised her eyes to mine, still clearly under the influence of the command to look at me.
She started back toward me, and I stood up, extending my open right hand to receive the corporate-issued correctional implement. The expression on Ingrid’s lovely face aroused me even more than her lingerie or her nakedness. Her wide, practically glowing blue eyes and her pink cheeks told transparently of the turmoil inside her as she began to process how helplessly her submissive sexuality responded to old-fashioned discipline.
One of the most marvelous things I had learned about the compliance wand, as I onboarded previous hires in the secretarial program, lay in how its operation affected a girl’s innocence. I had never seen a young woman respond as strongly to this element of the effect, though.
In general, a girl under the influence of the device got to experience the satisfaction of her submissive needs without feeling crippling shame that might threaten her ability to develop into a fulfilled, mature woman. Before the arrival of the compliance wand, in fact, the range of young women Selecta had to recruit from had been a great deal narrower. Only a relatively small percentage of submissives had the psychological makeup suited for the company’s available techniques for awakening them to their need for sexual discipline and service.
Without the wand, a girl like Ingrid Vogel wouldn’t have represented a viable candidate for a secretarial role at Selecta. She might well have retreated into an unsatisfying vanilla sex life after the humiliation of taking those naughty selfies for her worthless boyfriend.
With the wand, she could feel that her innocence and her modesty still belonged to her, even as she brought me the paddle that she knew I would spank her with before I fucked her right here in my office—even, more important, as she began to understand how deeply she enjoyed it and needed it.