Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
A ndrea
“Andrea, honey, come in here for a minute,” Devin’s voice called from what I now knew was his office. Lydia had showed me how to dust Devin’s bookshelves and how to clean his monitor before I had vacuumed the Persian rug.
I leaned the mop in its bucket against the wall of the hallway and went into the office on nervous feet. Commanded by a casual gesture of Devin’s hand from where he sat at his big oak desk, I went to stand on the rug I had tried to remove every mote of dust from.
My tummy churned with fear just at the sight of the man who had punished me the previous night. I fought the urge to put my hands behind me to cover my bottom, as if I already knew I had a spanking coming, though I had done everything in my power to be a good girl today.
“Hands on your head, girl,” he added, with a frown and a note of reproach, as if I should have known to assume that posture immediately. Then he nodded, and smiled, as if he had remembered that I had only just arrived in his household. “That’s alright, honey. You’re doing so well that I almost forgot you’re still learning the rules. When I call you in here, you put your hands on your head to show you understand your subservience.”
I swallowed hard. My hands had clenched into little fists. I started to raise them, fighting what felt like every instinct in my body to comply with Devin’s instructions. The intertwining of compassion and utter authority I heard in his voice sent waves of mixed-up emotion and, worse, sensation through my body. The warmth in my cheeks as I completed the movement, and I felt how the posture did indeed make me feel subservient, was just about the easiest part to deal with.
I tried to find something to look at other than Devin’s pleasant but evaluating expression. My eyes were drawn to the massive desk. Its polished surface gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, reflecting the warm glow of the antique desk lamp that sat at its corner. Amid the carefully arranged stacks of papers and leather-bound ledgers, a flat, rectangular box caught my attention.
Its smooth, matte black surface bore the distinctive logo of Selecta New Modesty—the stylized red ‘S’ intertwined with the ‘NM’ in elegant silver script. The sight of it made my heart race with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
Devin followed my gaze, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, the rich material squeaking under his weight as he shifted. “I see you’ve noticed our little package from the New Modesty Authority,” he said, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room.
My throat suddenly felt terribly dry. “Yes, sir,” I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
Devin’s chilly blue eyes seemed to see right through me. “Greta’s been keeping me informed about your… progress,” he continued, his tone casual but laden with meaning. “She tells me you’ve been having some trouble with wayward hands.”
My face flamed hot at his words, the memory of my fumbling attempts at self-pleasure that morning rushing back. Had Greta known? Had she seen something when she came to wake me? The thought made me want to sink through the floor.
“And then there’s the matter of your extreme responsiveness to sexual stimulation,” Devin went on, his voice taking on a more serious note. “I must say, Andrea, what I’m hearing from the New Modesty Authority about you indicates that you’re going to be quite the handful.”
I felt my blush deepen, spreading down my neck and across my chest. My newly shaved pussy tingled with a mixture of shame and unwanted arousal, the fabric of my modest dress suddenly feeling rough against my sensitive skin.
Devin leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he fixed me with an intense gaze. “Fortunately,” he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice, “the NMA has provided us with something that should help channel that burgeoning sexuality of yours.”
His hand moved to the black box, fingers tracing the silver logo almost reverently. “In here,” he said, “is a little something that will help you learn to control those urges. Something to remind you of your place, and the proper way to behave.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat, a shiver of anticipation—or was it fear?—running down my spine. What could possibly be in that innocuous-looking box that would do all that?
With deliberate slowness, Devin lifted the lid of the box, revealing the contents within. My brow furrowed as I took in the sight.
Nestled in a bed of crisp tissue paper lay what appeared to be underwear, but unlike any I had ever seen before. The bra and panties were crafted from a material that seemed to shimmer a bit in the soft light of the office, a pearlescent white that somehow managed to look both innocent and deeply unsettling at the same time.
The bra cups were molded in a way that would clearly lift and separate, designed to present the wearer’s breasts in the most enticing manner possible. The straps were adjustable and looked sturdy enough to provide firm support. The panties, if one could even call them that, looked more like yoga pants, though the thinness of the fabric would make them much too revealing to wear to the gym.
Devin held the box out to me, allowing me a closer look. “These, Andrea,” he said, his voice low and serious, “are called training underwear. They’re designed by the finest minds at Selecta, specifically to help young women like yourself learn to control their baser urges.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the garments. They looked so innocent, so pristine, and yet I could sense an underlying purpose that made my skin tingle with dread.
“The bra,” Devin continued, “lifts up a girl’s breasts, presenting them in a way that will constantly remind you of your femininity and your role as an object of desire. The fabric is infused with sensors that monitor the wearer’s arousal levels. That provides valuable data to help her elder guide her training.”
He pointed to the panties. “These are special, too. The material will cling to your puss and your rear end, providing a constant, gentle pressure.”
I felt my face flame hot at his words, the implications sending a rush of conflicting emotions through me. Part of me was horrified at the thought of wearing such invasive, controlling garments. At the same time, that other feeling, down below my tummy—the one I had felt much too strongly last night—refused to let me push it away.
“These undergarments, Andrea,” Devin said, his blue eyes boring into mine, “are designed to make you reflect on your sexuality and your need for discipline. They will help you learn to behave properly, to find true happiness in your role as a submissive young woman.”
I swallowed hard.
Devin’s expression hardened a little, as if he could see into my mind and perceive the beginnings of rebellion. His voice took on a stern tone as he continued, “Andrea, you’re going to strip and put this underwear on now. Right here, in front of me.”
I felt my eyes widen in shock. Instinctively, I took a step back, shaking my head. “Please, no,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I… I… Not here? Maybe… maybe in front of the… the other girls? Or Greta?”
Devin’s blue eyes flashed with a mixture of disappointment and determination. “Andrea,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “do you want me to go fetch the strap from the mantel?”
My gaze darted to the door, as if I could peer into the living room and see the ornate fireplace mantel where, in my mind’s eye, the dreaded leather strap hung ominously. My heart began to pound so hard I could feel it in my throat. The memory of last night’s spanking was still fresh, my bottom still tender from the punishment. I couldn’t bear the thought of feeling that strap so soon.
With shaking hands, I reached for the buttons of my yellow dress. Devin leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched me begin to strip. The room felt unbearably warm, and I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as I slowly revealed more and more of my skin.
As I let the dress fall to the floor, leaving me in just my plain white bra and panties, Devin nodded approvingly. “Very good, Andrea. I’m glad I’m getting a chance to see that pretty little puss of yours after its first shaving. Greta did tell me how nicely you cleaned yourself up this morning.”
His words sent a fresh wave of heat through my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to get through this humiliating ordeal. With trembling fingers, I reached behind my back to unhook my bra. The air of the office hardened my nipples instantly as I dropped it on top of the yellow dress.
Taking a deep breath, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties. With one last moment of hesitation, I pushed them down my legs, stepping out of them and standing completely naked before Devin’s appraising gaze.
I fought the urge to cover myself, keeping my arms rigidly at my sides as my elder’s eyes roamed over my naked flesh. The intensity of his stare made me feel more naked than I’d ever felt in my life.
“Turn around slowly,” Devin commanded softly. “Let me see all of you.”
Biting my lip to hold back a whimper, I complied, rotating in a slow circle. I could feel Devin’s eyes on me like a physical touch, taking in every curve and plane of my body. When I completed the turn, facing him once more, I saw a spark of hunger in his blue eyes.
I remembered that expression from the night before, and it made me swallow again as I saw him, in my imagination, fucking his wife’s bottom as she lay prostrate over the back of the couch. I shivered at the memory and at my elder’s frank gaze.
“Come here, girl,” Devin said, his voice low and commanding. “I need to take a closer look at you.”
My legs felt like lead as I moved toward him, each step bringing me nearer to his scrutinizing gaze. When I reached his chair, Devin leaned forward, his face mere inches from my newly shaved pussy. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my sensitive skin, causing me to shiver involuntarily.
“Spread your legs a bit wider,” he instructed. I complied, feeling utterly naked as Devin’s eyes roamed over me.
His large hand reached out, fingers gently parting my labia. I gasped at the contact, my body tensing. “Relax, Andrea,” Devin murmured. “I’m just checking your handiwork.”
His thumb brushed lightly over my clit, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, my cheeks burning anew.
“Turn around now,” Devin said, his voice husky. “Bend over and spread your cheeks for me.”
Trembling, I did as he asked, reaching back to part my bottom. The feeling, already too familiar, of air moving over my most private place made me acutely aware once again of the power my elder had over my body.
I heard Devin’s steady breath, felt it move mortifyingly over the sensitive flesh he had made me display. “Very nice,” he murmured, his finger tracing the cleft of my bottom. “You did a fine job. You’re nice and smooth just the way a girl should be.”
As Devin’s finger ghosted over my puckered opening, I couldn’t suppress a whimper. To my horror, I felt a rush of wetness between my thighs, my body responding to his touch despite my embarrassment.
“My, my,” Devin said, a note of amusement in his voice. “Getting a bit excited, are we?”
I straightened up, turning to face him with my eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, sir,” I whispered, mortified.
“No need to apologize, Andrea,” Devin said, his tone softening. “It’s perfectly natural. In fact, I’m pleased to see you’re so responsive. It shows you’re learning to submit.”
His words sent another wave of confused need through me. I shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of the slickness between my thighs.
“However,” Devin continued, his voice taking on a warning edge, “remember that you are not to touch yourself without permission. Your pleasure belongs to us now, Andrea. Do you understand?”
I nodded mutely, even as I felt an overwhelming urge to press my thighs together, to seek some relief from the aching need building within me.
“Use your words, girl,” Devin admonished.
“Yes, sir,” I managed to choke out. “I understand.”