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)
Denying me pleasure always seemed to increase Joseph’s own pleasure—and that paradox, in turn, made me feel—yet more paradoxically, it seemed to me—aroused… proud of myself even. I cried out as his hardness invaded me, my pussy clenching, and the crazy pride in my chest got even warmer as I felt my master’s cock spurt with his seed into the tiny hole he had claimed for a prized possession.
When Joseph finally held me in his arms, exhaustion and soreness settling into my bones, I felt an odd sense of peace despite the continuing ache between my thighs. Despite the constant embarrassment, the physical toll, the emotional conflict, I had—insane though it still seemed to my rational mind—never felt so alive, so desired, so loved.
“Sleep well, Ingrid,” he whispered, his voice softening as he stroked my hair.
“Goodnight, sir,” I murmured, my eyes drifting closed. In his embrace, I found a strange comfort, a fulfillment I hadn’t known I was missing. And as sleep claimed me, I knew that despite everything, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
CHAPTER 20
Ingrid
I arrived at work feeling an electric restlessness coursing through my veins that the sleek, modern lobby only seemed to intensify with its promise of corporate power politics. The previous night’s denial had left me on edge, a molten core of frustration simmering beneath my calm exterior.
The memory of Joseph forbidding me to touch myself as he used me lingered distractingly. The sound of his commanding voice as he held me down, thrusting mercilessly into my tightest place, echoed in my mind. The remembered sound alone made me clench down there as I approached Cathy’s station, the intense sensation between my thighs bringing a deep blush to my face.
Joseph and I usually arrived together, taking the special elevator up from the executive garage where the limo dropped us off. Today he had woken before me and come to the office early to get ready for the meeting with John Grappler, the CEO of our division, so I didn’t even have his presence to steady me as I contemplated the day ahead.
“Morning, Ingrid.” Cathy greeted me with a professional smile, her fingers tapping briskly on her keyboard.
“Morning,” I replied, hearing surliness in my tone and not caring. I had the right to treat these people however I wanted, didn’t I? I was the one who had to take the punishing thrusts of Joseph Alden’s massive cock morning, noon, and night.
Cathy’s reproachful look at my failure to give her my usual bright greeting stirred a similarly scolding voice inside me. Really the office manager had always shown me kindness and sympathy.
Who gives a fuck? asked the rebellious part of me. Seriously… who gave a fuck about her so-called ‘kindness’ when it meant making sure my pussy and ass crack got waxed once a week for Joseph’s pleasure?
As I walked toward my cubicle, I felt the familiar weight of my old-fashioned paper notepad in my bag. With the super-important, but inevitably also super-boring ‘You and Selecta’ meeting this morning, I knew I would need to do some serious doodling to make it through. The escape of my pen on the ruled paper always seemed to channel my nervous energy and restless thoughts. Today, it held a special promise, maybe because I had such an obvious need for some semblance of control in the chaos of my desires.
I settled into my chair, the leather cool against the exposed skin of my shoulders and arms. The big meeting loomed ahead, but I couldn’t focus. Instead, I found myself opening my email, scrolling through the same messages over and over. My thoughts drifted back to Joseph’s piercing blue eyes, the firm grip of his hands, the way he commanded every inch of my being.
Hey, Ingrid, you got those numbers for me?
Sarah from accounting messaged me, the little pop-up in the lower-right corner of my screen breaking my reverie. Right: Grappler had asked for hard data on how much Joseph planned to spend on the rollout of ‘You and Selecta,’ and accounting needed to verify our numbers.
Yeah, just finishing up, I answered, glad that Sarah couldn’t hear the resentful tone of the words in my head. I felt like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap.
I typed furiously, the rhythm of the keys a poor substitute for the release I craved.
Communications estimates pubic response to the campaign will stay within this range. Thanks for your help, Ingrid.
I read it back, and I caught the typo, though in my current mood it barely brought a smile: public, not pubic. On another day, I might even have blushed. Not today.
On the verge of fixing it, I had the sudden urge to click Send instead. The whole team was cc’d on this mail, so we would be on the same page for the meeting. Joseph was a stickler for good editing. Cathy had even told me that my predecessor in the role of executive secretary had been paddled for typos several times.