Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
M elissa
Mandy was as good as her word, at least for the next few days. She gave me a spot on Stuart’s Tuesday morning calendar, and sent the invitation to me with the note, Sorry it took so long, Melissa! Somehow, when I read it I felt as if rather than Melissa , Mandy really meant miss , and the idea sent a little jolt of need through my lower body.
The sensation was a bit unwelcome at that busy moment, right after I had sat down at my monitor Monday morning ready to start the week. I tried to lean into it, though. I remembered the discipline session in Room 5003, with all its power dynamics and all its heat, and I tried to take a sense of my growing authority from it, while at the same time practicing a skill I had begun to find essential here at Selecta: experiencing arousal without giving in to it.
I made it through that day, somehow, trying not to obsess about the minute details of the proposal. I even managed to get a good night’s sleep, willing myself into unconsciousness with the help of an audiobook of Origin of Species .
The next morning, I sat across from Stuart in the sitting area of his vast office, my heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as I presented my ideas for the Your Secret Garden campaign at last. I had spent countless hours refining the concept, drawing inspiration from classic literature and modern technology to create something I hoped and believed might be truly unique.
“So you see,” I explained, gesturing to the figures on the screen of the laptop that sat on the coffee table, “it’s a segment that Assessment knows is there. They just haven’t ever targeted these women.”
Stuart nodded, his face thoughtful. Looking into his gorgeous, intelligent eyes, I struggled for a moment with the recollection that this man had spanked me, paddled me, fucked me, come down my throat… and here I was presenting to him in a completely businesslike way, seeking his approval for my work as if that strange, dark intimacy had never existed. Just another day at Selecta, it seemed like.
“It’s not what NMB has ever really been about,” he confirmed. “That’s a legacy of Selecta’s heritage.”
“Right,” I said, smiling. This couldn’t have gone any better, I started to realize. I had actually prepared for precisely this point in the conversation, going back into the fascinating, sometimes arousing, often embarrassing, real history of Selecta—a history only executive-level staff could access, though it seemed they rarely did, judging from my interactions with my colleagues. “The Institute’s clientele are definitely not from this segment.”
To my delight, Stuart actually laughed.
“No, I think it’s fair to say the Institute managed to make hundreds of billions of dollars without even thinking about needy submissives already in relationships. When they used that capital to start a megacorp, no one thought about how to extend the market for assets like NMB.”
I nodded. “Right,” I said again. “So…”
I tried to read Stuart’s face, but I ended up having to look away because the sight of his gorgeous blue eyes studying me so minutely threatened to derail my train of thought so completely I might not recover.
“So, frankly,” he said, pausing slightly as if to make sure I felt the suspense, and understood how thoroughly he intended to control the conversation, “it’s brilliant, Melissa.”
I swallowed hard, heat flooding my cheeks. I risked a glance at him, part of me needing to make certain Stuart didn’t mean to mock me. The appreciation on his face told me, to my joy, that he was absolutely serious.
“This is precisely the kind of unconventional thinking I’ve been hoping for, from you. Even if it turns out that this market doesn’t materialize, or the c-suite thinks it’s not a good fit, the idea is a good one—and, even better, a bold one. You can go ahead and ask Mandy to set up a meeting for the whole team, so that we can start drafting something to take upstairs.”
I felt a flush of pride and pleasure at his words. “Thank you, sir,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I really believe this could be a flagship project for Selecta, showcasing our commitment to innovation in the stories we tell on NMB.”
Stuart nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I agree. We’ll need to hammer out the technical aspects, of course, but you’ve given us an excellent foundation to build upon.”
He paused, his eyes still fixed on mine. I could feel something change, as if in the very air of the office. A gear engaging, or a step forward being taken. When Stuart spoke again, his voice was low and intimate.
“You’ve done exceptional work here, Melissa. I’d like to celebrate your achievement. However preliminary it is, I think it’s worth honoring. Are you free for dinner this evening?”
My mind reeled at the invitation. Dinner with Stuart? Outside the office? I felt a dizzying mix of excitement, anxiety, and arousal flood through me. To my paradoxical distress, I felt a sudden surge of gratitude that I had remembered to get my pussy waxed over the weekend. Again the idea of how he had already dominated me so thoroughly and shamefully—without the slightest idea of something civilized like a dinner date had—rose into my mind.
“I… yes, of course,” I managed to stammer out. “I’d be honored, sir.”
Stuart’s smile widened slightly. “Excellent. I’ll send a car for you at seven.”
When I greeted Joe, the evening doorman of my building, he asked me to wait a moment, and then fetched a package from behind the reception desk.
“Came by courier an hour ago,” he told me, with a knowing smile that brought some heat to my cheeks. My heart raced as I recognized the sleek black box from an exclusive lingerie boutique downtown.
“Hmm,” I said, trying to brazen through the embarrassment despite my blush. “Must be the power drill I ordered.”
Joe laughed, and I used the opportunity to flee for the elevator, with a wave that I hoped looked confident and airy.
In my apartment, I set my work bag down and carefully opened the box. My breath caught as I lifted the tissue paper to reveal the contents. A set of pristine white lingerie lay nestled inside—a delicate lace bra, matching see-through panties of mesh lace with floral accents, a garter belt, and sheer white stockings.
My cheeks flushed hot as I ran my fingers over the silky fabric. The pieces were exquisite, clearly expensive and of the highest quality. I couldn’t help but wonder if the pure white color held any special meaning. Did it symbolize innocence? Purity? Or perhaps it was meant to emphasize my role as a new initiate into Selecta’s unique culture.
Or… I thought suddenly. Or Stuart intends to…
To… claim me. To take my only remaining virginity.
Heat seemed to fill my whole body. I pushed the idea as far away as I could, though all my memories of Jacob and Grace, of Georgette and Michael… and more distractingly, of Stuart and me , in his office… those vivid mental pictures seemed to loom just outside my immediate consciousness.
As I lifted the bra out of the box, a small card fluttered to the floor. I picked it up, my heart pounding as I read the handwritten note:
Put the panties on outside the suspenders.
A wave of heat flooded through me at the commanding tone. There was no signature, as if Stuart meant me to understand that I could have no other master. The idea that he had chosen this lingerie for me, had thought about how he wanted me to wear it, sent a jolt of arousal straight to my pussy.
My hands shook slightly as I began to undress. I couldn’t help but imagine Stuart’s eyes on me as I slipped on each piece. The bra cupped my breasts perfectly, the lace just sheer enough to hint at what lay beneath. The garter belt cinched my waist, emphasizing the curve of my hips.
I rolled the stockings up my legs, savoring the sensation of the silky nylon against my skin. As I attached them to the garter belt, I felt a thrill of anticipation. Finally, I stepped into the panties, sliding them up and over the straps of the garter belt as instructed, thinking despite myself about what it meant—and what it would allow.
Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I bit my lip at what I saw. The white lingerie stood out against my skin, making me look both innocent and incredibly seductive. The panties worn over the garter straps emphasized the length of my legs and drew attention to the most intimate part of me, where the mesh lace made very clear that I had bared myself to please the man who had given me this innocent-yet-naughty underwear.
I turned, examining myself from every angle. My bottom looked pert and inviting in the lacy panties. I couldn’t help but imagine Stuart’s hands on me, caressing the silky fabric, perhaps slipping beneath it to touch my bare skin. Taking my underwear down, unimpeded by the suspenders. Spreading my hind cheeks to reveal every secret… to prepare me for his pleasure… to claim me completely.
A glance at the clock jolted me out of my reverie. The car would be arriving soon to take me to dinner. With trembling hands, I finished dressing, choosing a sleek blue dress that would hide the lingerie underneath while still hinting at its presence with the subtle contrast of the white stockings. As I smoothed the fabric over my hips, I could feel the delicate lace and the straps beneath. My heart raced, knowing that Stuart had chosen these intimate garments for me to wear, feeling suddenly that he had wrapped me like a gift—one he meant to present to himself, and meant to enjoy to the fullest.
At precisely seven p.m., my phone buzzed with a message that the car had arrived. I took one final look in the mirror, my cheeks flushed with anticipation. The woman staring back at me seemed confident and alluring, though inside I felt like a seething cauldron of nerves and excitement.
I made my way downstairs, nodding to Joe as I passed. His knowing smile made me blush again, wondering if he could somehow sense the secret layers I wore beneath my dress. Outside, a sleek black town car waited at the curb. The driver opened the door for me, and I slid into the plush leather seat.
We pulled up at a restaurant in one of the oldest, wealthiest neighborhoods of the city. My breath caught as I saw Stuart waiting for me on the sidewalk, looking devastatingly handsome in his impeccably tailored suit. He opened my door, offering his hand to help me out of the car.
“You look exquisite,” he murmured, his eyes trailing appreciatively over my form. I felt certain he could tell simply from the expression on my face, the slight flush in my cheeks, that I was wearing his gift. The thought made me shiver.
Stuart led me into the restaurant, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. The contact brought a hard crease to my brow. The ma?tre d’ greeted us warmly, clearly recognizing Stuart. We were escorted to a little table, one of only perhaps ten in the whole restaurant.
As we settled into our seats, I couldn’t help but notice how Stuart’s gaze lingered on me. There was heat in his eyes, a promise of things to come. I felt my body responding, a warmth building low in my belly.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Stuart said, “but I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for us both in advance. There are a couple of wines I’d like to share with you, and they pair particularly well with certain dishes on the menu.”
I nodded, secretly thrilled at his take-charge attitude. “That sounds wonderful,” I replied, my voice a bit breathier than I intended.
The sommelier appeared, presenting a bottle of champagne with a flourish. As he poured, I caught Stuart watching me intently. I started to take a nervous sip, but Stuart raised a warning finger. I swallowed hard as, to my mortification, that tiny gesture caused a clench between my thighs.
Stuart raised his glass.
“Did you notice the name of the restaurant?” he asked, a smile on his face.
I blinked at him. It seemed absurd, but I hadn’t. I shook my head.
“ Le Jardin Intime ,” he told me.
My lips parted, and my eyes went wide.
“The Secret Garden?” I asked. “Or… close enough.”
Stuart chuckled. “Definitely close enough.” He lifted his champagne flute a little higher. I did the same, smiling, feeling like the bubbles had somehow gotten inside my chest.
“To your secret garden, Melissa,” Stuart said, raising his glass. “And to the bright future ahead of us at Selecta.”
I felt my tummy flip as we clinked glasses, and I felt the heat flow through my whole body at the lewd, terribly arousing suggestion in his words. The future ahead of us. What did that mean, exactly?
What does it mean for my secret garden? The place Stuart insisted be kept tidy… the part of me he dressed in beautiful lace for this evening… the place he made me take his cock, after my paddling over his desk… the place he clearly means to claim even more thoroughly, tonight?