Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
M elissa
Just as Heather had told me to do, I arrived at Mandy’s cubicle five minutes before three p.m., the time for which I had scheduled the punishment room on Fifty. To my surprise, rather than talking on the phone or doing her nails, Mandy had her attention focused on her screen, going over a spreadsheet. She was so intent on her work that she didn’t notice me approach behind her, and I watched for a few moments, rather taken aback by just how efficiently she seemed to be dealing with the formulas she pulled up.
I took a deep breath. Thoughts and feelings ran through my mind, and my body, chasing each other: a little hesitation, but also a good deal of anticipation, of a kind I had never experienced. I was about to deliver the same kind of justice Sharon had delivered to me at that ill-fated but extremely revealing orientation, my very first day.
I searched my mind, experiencing an unexpected cognitive dissonance: part of me felt certain I should feel terribly conflicted about punishing another woman in what that logical voice knew as an utterly outdated way. As much conflict as I felt in the presence of Stuart, though—and not just in his presence, I realized with a flash of heat to my face, but everything else… naked over his desk… paddled… fondled… fucked… subdued under his pounding cock… on my knees, licking my cunt’s need off the huge, hard length of that arrogantly jutting manhood…
I swallowed hard, seizing back control of my train of thought, pushing away the arousal that to my amazed dismay had begun to build again between my thighs despite the soreness lingering there.
As much conflict as I feel when Stuart dominates me… I don’t feel it about paddling Mandy, do I? Is it really outdated to teach a kind of lesson that some people… some naughty girls, especially… seem to need?
The voice of reason in my head insisted I should feel an ambivalence I didn’t actually feel. No, I knew I needed to paddle Mandy’s bare backside, to assert my authority over her, the same way Stuart had asserted his over me.
“Mandy,” I said, only realizing after her name had passed my lips that I hadn’t said it as a question, the way I naturally would have done just the day before. To lift my voice on the second syllable would have suggested that I didn’t think I necessarily had a right to her time.
I did have that right, though—which represented the precise reason I had come to summon her for a lesson I intended Mandy not forget anytime soon. I was going to make sure this disrespectful young woman wouldn’t sit comfortably for a day or two, to ensure that she understood her position, and mine.
As she turned her head, I felt my face become a stony mask of disapproval. I didn’t even think about it. Only after the fact, when Mandy’s eyes went wide as if at the sight of my stern expression, did I grasp how instinctually I had adopted the role required—and how right it felt to do so.
“Miss Mitropoulos,” she said, chewing on her upper lip for a moment, her cheeks pink, before she continued. “May I… before we go, may I just finish this up?”
I almost said yes, because it seemed so natural to allow a colleague a little more time. Then, with a tiny shock of revelation, I saw something in Mandy’s eyes that I would never have guessed might be there, or—more surprisingly—that I would notice. The tiniest hint of mischief. Boundary pushing.
Testing me. This little minx is absolutely testing me.
“No, Mandy,” I told her flatly. “You can finish after your punishment.”
Mandy’s eyes widened again, and her nostrils flared slightly as she drew in what looked like a labored breath. Again, my mind’s instinctive understanding of the situation took me by surprise.
She’s already aroused , the increasingly assured voice of what I guessed I had to call my dominant intuition told me. Mandy needs this as much as you do.
“Yes, miss,” Mandy said, visibly swallowing.
I had only barely picked up on it the first time Mandy had called me miss , but this second time it sent a jolt of arousal through my system. I had to fight the impulse to swallow hard myself at the clench between my thighs.
That’s right, you disrespectful chit , I thought, amazing myself with the old-fashioned, quasi-Dickensian way I’d put it to myself. Now you’re showing me the proper respect, when I’ve put you down for a bare-bottom correction.
“Stand up,” I told her, “and follow me.”
Blinking at me as if part of her couldn’t quite believe I had such authority in me, Mandy rose and smoothed down her knee-length blue skirt.
“Yes, miss,” she said, her face suddenly woeful and downcast. “I’m ready.”
I led Mandy to the elevator, maintaining a stern silence as we rode down to the fiftieth floor. I could sense Mandy’s nervous energy, the way the other woman fidgeted and avoided eye contact. Part of me felt a twinge of sympathy, remembering my own recent experiences over Stuart’s knee. But a larger part felt a growing sense of righteous authority.
Mandy is disrespectful and lazy, unless dealt with firmly. She needs to learn her place, and I’m the one who has to teach her, because she disrespected me.
As we exited the elevator, my eyes swept the hallway, noting the discreet doors labeled simply with numbers. I found room 5003 and ushered Mandy inside.
The punishment room was austere but not stark. In its basic outlines it resembled nothing as much as the sort of generic office a visiting executive might use. A polished wooden desk dominated one side, with a stylish, modern desk chair behind it. Next to the chair stood a cabinet that I recognized immediately from Heather’s quick briefing as the location of the various disciplinary implements sanctioned for correcting Selecta staff. Against the far wall stood a piece of furniture that could easily be mistaken for an ottoman, if one didn’t happen to know that a variety of restraints lay concealed behind subtly arranged faux-leather flaps in its sides.
My breath caught a bit in my throat as I took it all in. This was really happening. I was about to discipline a subordinate, to assert my authority in the most primal way. My pussy clenched again at the thought of the sheer nearness of what seemed a turning point in… well, in everything. I forced myself to focus.
“Stand in front of the desk, Mandy,” I ordered, pleased at how steady my voice sounded. “Put your hands on your head.”
Mandy complied, her eyes downcast. I moved behind the desk and sat in the chair, fully aware of how the height and bulk of the polished surface emphasized the power dynamic between us. I took a deep breath through my nose, looking up steadily into Mandy’s pretty, blushing face.
I folded my arms across my chest, feeling how the pose channeled Stuart’s commanding presence. My eyes traveled downward to assess Mandy’s sizable chest. I realized, to my pleased surprise, that I felt no compunction at all about looking at her that way: the idea that I should feel embarrassed to enjoy disciplining another woman for her misbehavior suddenly seemed ridiculous.
“Do you know why you’re here, Mandy?” I asked, my tone cool and professional.
Mandy nodded, her cheeks flushing. “Yes, miss. I was… disrespectful. And lazy with my work.”
“That’s right,” I confirmed. “Your behavior has been unacceptable. You’ve wasted company time and resources, and you’ve shown a complete lack of respect for your superiors. This stops now. Do you understand?”
“Yes, miss,” Mandy whispered.
I stood and moved to the cabinet. I opened the door to reveal the paddles, straps, and canes hanging inside. Slowly and deliberately, certain Mandy watched every gesture, I reached inside and fetched out the official white Selecta paddle with the blood-red logo on the blade—the same kind Sharon and Stuart had used on my own bare bottom.
With its cool, hard handle in my right hand and its blade resting in my left, I moved around the desk to stand beside Mandy. “I’m going to paddle you now. You will count each stroke and thank me for correcting you. Is that clear?”
Mandy nodded, her breathing quickening.
“Verbal answers, Mandy,” I admonished.
“Yes, miss. I understand,” Mandy replied quickly.
“Good. Now, bend over the desk and lift your skirt.”
I watched as Mandy complied, her movements hesitant but without real resistance. As the other woman’s skirt rose, revealing a lacy red thong, I felt a surge of arousal. Not really unwelcome, but beside the point right at the moment, I told myself.
Then, with a flash of insight, I thought better of that rejection. I remembered the touch of Stuart’s hand on my bottom, of how terribly effective an assertion of his authority, within the unique culture of Selecta, it had seemed to me.
“Put your hands on the desk,” I told Mandy coolly, despite the heat I could feel building in my blood. “I want you on your elbows.”
“Yes, miss,” Mandy said quietly. Then, unmistakably, I saw her hips jerk backwards, and just as clearly I heard a tiny noise come from deep in her throat. With a flush of heat in my own cheeks, I recognized the symptoms—because I had shown the very same ones.
I put the paddle down on the desk in front of her, remembering how Stuart had done the same, to remind me of the lesson he intended to teach. I moved behind Mandy and I reached out and grasped the hem of her skirt and began to roll it up. My fingertips brushed Mandy’s sweet little bottom and she shuddered at the contact.
I finished rolling and tucking the skirt to ensure it wouldn’t fall and get in the way of the paddle. My voice said, seemingly of its own accord, “I’m going to take these provocative panties down now, Mandy. You’ve earned a bare-bottom correction, haven’t you?”
“Yes, miss,” Mandy breathed. “Please… I’m very sorry. Please, not too many?”
With another little aha moment, I saw with absolute clarity just how deeply Mandy needed a firm hand. She had become almost a different person here with me, having seen that I could manage her according to Selecta’s special customs. Mandy had this job because she had an enormous amount of talent and because that talent could best be brought out this way : skirt up and panties down when necessary to keep her on track. The paddle coming down on her naughty bottom to remind her she belonged to an organization that expected her best effort.
“I’m going to paddle you until I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson, Mandy,” I told her, hearing the growing force in my voice as things clicked into place in a new way. “Is that understood?”
Mandy practically sobbed her reply. “Yes, miss.”
I reached for the waistband of the lacy red thong, my heart pounding. As I slowly lowered the skimpy garment, revealing Mandy’s shapely bottom, I felt a growing sense of the rightness of it all, at least here and now, for me and for Mandy. I was really doing this, and I intended to enjoy it.
The panties slid down Mandy’s thighs, and I let them fall to her ankles. My eyes were drawn to her now-exposed backside—round, firm, and slightly quivering. Without conscious thought, I placed my hands on Mandy’s bottom cheeks, feeling their warmth and softness.
“Oh,” Mandy gasped softly as I began to knead and fondle her bare flesh. “Oh… miss…”
The part of me that had risen to disrupt my orientation could hardly believe what I was doing, but I no longer had much inclination to repress the instinct driving me to explore further. Gently but firmly, I pulled Mandy’s cheeks apart, exposing her most private places. My face flushed hot as I gazed at her puckered pink anus and the glistening folds of her pussy.
“My, my,” I heard myself say, my voice only a little thicker than usual. “You keep yourself very smooth and tidy down here, don’t you, Mandy?”
“Y-yes, miss,” Mandy stammered. “I… I wax regularly.”
“That’s good,” I murmured approvingly. “But goodness, you’ve gotten quite wet, haven’t you, thinking about the lesson you’re about to get?”
Mandy whimpered softly, her hips shifting. I could see how slick and swollen her pussy lips had become. The sight and scent of her arousal made my own core throb with answering need.
“I asked you a question, Mandy,” I said more firmly, giving her bottom a light smack.
“Yes!” Mandy cried out. “Yes, miss. I’m… I’m… I’m, you know… excited. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
“I see,” I replied, my mind buzzing at this confession even as my body hummed with arousal. “Well then, let’s not keep you waiting any longer.”