Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
S tuart
I couldn’t deny how attractive I found Melissa Mitropoulos. The obvious chip on her shoulder only interested me more. Of all the defiant young women I’d tamed into productive members of my team over the years, I didn’t think I’d encountered a single one to match Melissa for her intelligence or for the evident force of her will to make a mark on her environment.
The conflict between the girl’s basically submissive sexuality and her deeply held values radiated from her eyes like a beacon. Even when questioned directly about the punishment Sharon had administered the previous day, Melissa’s evident embarrassment did battle with the defiance she had shown in the orientation. She took a long moment, her cheeks showing a dark blush, before she responded to my humiliating question.
“Yes,” she said simply. “I would have to say what happened yesterday was very unpleasant.”
I could see in Melissa’s gorgeous dark eyes just how hard she had to work to sit still as she faced me. She had apparently managed to avoid thinking about the bruised state of her backside until NMB had come up. I had to confess—though only to myself—that Melissa had impressed me by bringing the mortifying-for-her subject up on her own.
I could have glanced at my handheld to determine how aroused, despite her best efforts, the subject had gotten her. Selecta gave a boss everything he needed to help a young woman on his team develop as she should; if I wanted a real-time readout of Melissa’s arousal curve I only had to take a quick look at the device currently in my breast pocket. The help of the perineal sensor, though, wasn’t necessary in the slightest: Melissa’s squirming, and her blush, slight though both those signs had been, told me everything an experienced dominant needed to know.
“You were paddled with your panties down, I gather? For interrupting the orientation?”
I watched Melissa’s chest rise and fall, her medium-sized breasts looking so pert in her provocative red suit that I almost reached out to fondle them without further ado. From moment to moment her eyes passed from submission to challenge and back again as she quite obviously debated all the various unattractive options for a reply.
“Yes,” she said again, finally.
“And I also gather,” I continued, frowning a little, “as I mentioned earlier, that your outburst concerned New Modesty Blue—the subject we were just discussing. Is that right?”
Melissa had her lower lip between her teeth now, and she chewed gently on it. I wondered if she even knew she was doing that. I felt absolutely sure she had no idea how aroused she appeared. I almost fetched my handheld out just to see the precise humidity inside her panties, because I could tell just how considerable a number it would be. Thinking about the girls on NMB, and how their suitors gave them precisely the discipline and dominant fucking they needed, represented sexual kryptonite for Melissa Mitropoulos.
She nodded, her brow deeply furrowed. She swallowed visibly.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’d like to see,” I said quietly, but with a note of steel in my tone.
Melissa
“See?” I croaked out, blinking at my gorgeous new boss, willing him to have said something else, or maybe meant something else. Because I knew exactly what he had intended to say; I just didn’t want it to be true.
Stuart’s blue eyes gazed coolly into mine as he repeated himself, his voice low and deliberate. “I said I’d like to see the effects of your paddling, Miss Mitropoulos.”
My heart began to race, pounding so loudly I was sure Stuart must be able to hear it. I felt my cheeks burn with renewed embarrassment as I desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation.
“I… I’m not sure what you mean,” I stammered, attempting again to feign ignorance even though that seemed an even feebler tactic than it had a moment ago.
Stuart’s lips curved into a patient smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think you understand perfectly well, Melissa. But allow me to be more explicit—I want you to show me your bottom. Now.”
I gulped, my mouth suddenly dry. “Mr. Harrington… I mean… Stuart… surely that’s not appropriate. I mean, we’ve only just met and?—”
He cut me off with a raised hand. “Melissa, let me be clear. This kind of inspection is part of your new job at Selecta. I need to ensure that proper disciplinary measures are being carried out, for the good of the company and for your own development.”
Stuart stood and walked to the door, turning the lock with a soft click that seemed to echo in the suddenly silent room. My breath caught in my throat as he turned back to face me.
“Now then,” he said, his tone stern without needing to increase in volume in the slightest, “I want you to bend over my desk, raise your skirt, and lower your panties so I can see what kind of discipline Sharon provided yesterday.”
I felt frozen in place, unable to move or even to breathe properly. This couldn’t be happening. Above all, I kept trying to tell myself, the part of me that thrilled at his commanding tone didn’t exist; Stockholm syndrome or something like it had put that idea into my head.
I thought suddenly, to my horror, of the faceless man from my shameful fantasy the night before. I realized with a jolt that he now had a face—Stuart’s face. And then I told myself I had imagined that… or that I had imagined that I had imagined that…
My breath came in little pants between parted lips as my mind tried to cope with everything roiling around inside it.
“I… I can’t,” I whispered, even as I felt my body beginning to respond to his authority. “I just… I can’t.”
Stuart’s expression hardened. “You can, and you will. You’re going to do as you’re told, Miss Mitropoulos. Even if you quit right now, I’m still going to inspect your backside, whether you bend over for me like a good girl, or you require the help of our well-trained security personnel.”
The threat hung in the air between us. Even beyond the impossible ‘choice’ he had just given me, of whether I would obey on my own, or Stuart would call security to make me comply with his mortifying demand, I knew I had no choice at a more fundamental level. I wanted to keep my job, my apartment, my dreams of changing things from the inside. With trembling legs, I stood and walked toward the immense desk.
I hesitated when I reached it, my hands shaking in front of me. I sensed that Stuart had moved to stand a few feet behind me, his presence looming large even though I couldn’t see him.
“Bend over,” he instructed firmly. “Skirt up, panties down.”
I closed my eyes tightly, willing it all to be a bad dream. But when I opened them again, nothing had changed. With a shuddering breath, I leaned forward over the smooth mahogany surface.
I closed my eyes tightly and started to raise my skirt with trembling hands, my heart racing. A shiver went through me at the cool air moving where my body told me it shouldn’t.
“Hmm,” Stuart mused, his tone thoughtful. “Plain beige underwear? That’s quite different from what Sharon reported you wore yesterday.”
I felt my cheeks burn with renewed embarrassment at the reminder of my red lace thong. How could Sharon have told him about that? The violation of privacy stung almost as much as the paddling had.
“From now on,” Stuart continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone, “you are to wear attractive lingerie at all times. It’s important that you present yourself properly, even in ways that aren’t immediately visible. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“Yes, what?” Stuart prompted.
I swallowed hard. “Yes… sir.”
“Good girl,” Stuart said, and despite myself, I felt a flutter in my chest at his praise. “Now, let’s see the results of your punishment. Take them down.”
I exhaled shakily, then I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slowly lowered them. The fabric whispered against my skin as it descended, pooling around my ankles. I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, as if I could shut out my mind’s eye’s view of Stuart’s face by refusing to look at his magnificent office.
I heard him move closer, and then I felt his hands on my bottom. His touch was clinical at first, gently probing the tender flesh. I couldn’t help but gasp as his fingers traced the outline of a particularly sore bruise.
“Sharon did a thorough job,” Stuart commented. “These marks should serve as a good reminder for the next few days.”
As he continued his examination, I found myself growing increasingly confused. I knew I wanted to rebel against this treatment, to stand up and storm out of the office. It was just that I had no choice: he had made that clear, and I had acknowledged it to myself.
But another part of me, of my mind or my body or maybe both… another part recognized that in a twisted way Stuart was doing this for my own good, as well as for the dominant pleasure I felt certain he must take in it. This humiliating ordeal was about my new job—about New Modesty Blue. My boss meant to teach me. He intended to show me what was expected of me in this new world I had entered.
“You’re tensing up,” Stuart observed. “Try to relax. This is for your benefit, Melissa. I need to ensure that proper discipline is being maintained, and you need to have the lesson Sharon gave you reinforced. Just like Grace in the video you watched.”
My tummy flipped at the mention of that shameful video, and the memory of watching Grace’s punishment and fucking by her suitor. I took a deep breath, trying to force my muscles to unclench. As I did, I felt a strange and—to the defiant part of me—unwelcome sense of relief wash over me. By submitting to this inspection, by acknowledging my powerlessness in this situation, I had indeed learned something important about my place at Selecta, as terrible as the lesson might seem.
Use it , the rebellious voice said. Change it .
Stuart’s hands moved lower, gently parting my cheeks. I whimpered softly, both mortified and helplessly aroused by the intimate touch.
“Shh,” Stuart soothed. “This is an important part of the inspection. You’re very wet right now, aren’t you, Melissa?”
I let out a gasping cry as I felt a fingertip verify the shameful truth. To my dismay I could tell just how easily my new boss had discovered my body’s treason.
“No,” I whispered, as much to myself as to Stuart. “No… I mean… I’m not…”
Part of me felt certain Stuart would become angry at the obvious lie. I even wondered for an instant if he would spank me for telling it. Horror seized my mind as I realized that at some level I wanted that, if only as a way of getting out of having to admit to the ache between my thighs caused by his obscene inspection.
“What you mean,” Stuart said, though, his voice calm and slightly bemused, “is that you wish you weren’t as aroused as you are. There’s no point in an intelligent, educated young woman like you denying what I can see, and feel, and…”
He took a deep breath through his nose. My whole upper body felt like I had gotten an instant sunburn there.
“Ah, yes. Smell, too. And your cunt has a very sweet aroma, Melissa. But as I was saying, there’s no point in denying how wet your pretty cunt is, just at the moment. While we’re on the subject… have a Brazilian wax this weekend, please. We subsidize those fully—just submit the receipt to Heather. The next time I inspect you, I want you smooth and tidy.”
I opened my eyes to see that in front of me, on the desk, my hands had curled into white-knuckled fists. Stuart’s hands left me. I waited for a sound I suddenly felt absolutely sure would follow: his zipper being lowered. I was certain I was about to be fucked by my new boss.
The way Jacob fucked Grace. The way they do it, on New Modesty Blue.
“You may pull up your panties and go,” Stuart said, though. “I want you to spend your first month just learning the business. Ask questions, explore our offerings. I’m available to fill in any blanks. Mandy handles my calendar.”