Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
M elissa
She held out the paddle to me. I took it, the weight of it feeling both familiar and strange in my hand.
“Mandy, bend over the table,” Sharon instructed.
Mandy complied immediately, draping herself over the polished wood surface. Her lacy black panties stretched taut over her rounded bottom, and I felt a confusing mix of desire and apprehension.
“Go on, Melissa,” Sharon urged. “Show us how you discipline a subordinate.”
I stepped forward, my heart pounding. I risked a glance at Stuart, to see his eyebrows lifted, as if in interest to see how I would respond. Swallowing hard, my cheeks hot, I raised the paddle, trying weakly to channel the confidence I thought I’d felt earlier that morning.
“Take her panties down, Melissa,” Sharon said, scorn filling her voice. “What do you think you’re doing? Giving a few love taps? Mandy needs to feel all the humiliation she’s earned.”
Shaking like a leaf, my face becoming even hotter—as hot as an oven as Sharon’s words sank in—I shifted the paddle to my left hand. I took hold of the waistband of Mandy’s panties with quivering fingers and tugged them down to mid-thigh. I bit my lip as I caught the scent of Mandy’s arousal, which I knew I’d made so much stronger that morning. I could feel the dampness of the panties gusset, too, and it made my tummy flip.
Mandy whimpered as she felt me bare her, as if she could sense the eyes of everyone in the room on the adorable pink furrow peeking out from between her thighs.
“Better,” Sharon pronounced. “Notice that there’s no sign of the quote-unquote correction you quote-unquote administered this morning. Now go ahead and paddle that naughty bottom.”
I took the paddle back into my right hand. I raised it up, shifting around to stand next to Mandy’s prostrate form. I put my left hand on Mandy’s waist. I wanted to look at Stuart and his colleagues, to see whether they thought I was doing it right—and at the same time I understood that that very desire demonstrated a weakness I needed to address.
As I brought the paddle down, the impression of inadequacy, of the need for improvement, got much stronger. The smack of plastic against flesh seemed louder, jolting, distressingly more real than it had in the privacy of the punishment room. Even the first time I had disciplined Mandy, I understood, I hadn’t really punished her—not the way Sharon and Stuart had punished me.
Mandy let out a small gasp, but otherwise remained still. I looked to Sharon, uncertain. It was Stuart’s voice I heard, though, to my mortification, coming from behind me.
“Harder,” my boss—my master, the man I had to admit I loved—commanded. “You’re not playing games now, Melissa. This is real punishment.”
I swallowed hard and raised the paddle again. This time, I put more force behind the swing. The crack echoed through the room, and Mandy let out a muffled cry.
“Better,” Sharon said. “But still not good enough. You didn’t really punish her this morning, did you? Or last time, either? You were just playing at being dominant.”
My face burned anew as Sharon’s words hit home. She was right—I hadn’t really disciplined Mandy before. I’d been pretending to dominate her, indulging in a fantasy rather than truly correcting her behavior.
I looked over at Bradley, seeing the knowing look in his eyes. He had seen right through me—they all had, John and Victor, too, for they had that same expression on their faces. Stuart and his colleagues understood my nature better than I did myself. I identified too strongly with Mandy to truly punish her. My dominant tendencies were just a thin veneer over my deeper submissive core.
I raised the paddle again, trying to summon the resolve to deliver a real punishment. But as I brought it down, I hesitated at the last second, my arm losing momentum. The impact was barely more than a tap.
Sharon sighed in exasperation. “That’s enough,” she said sharply. “Clearly you’re not capable of administering proper discipline. Melissa, take Mandy’s place over the table.”
My heart started racing as I realized what was about to happen. Mandy scrambled up, pulling her panties back into place as I set the paddle down with trembling hands. On shaky legs, I moved to bend over the cool surface of the conference table.
I felt utterly exposed as I laid myself out, my breasts pressed against the polished wood and my bottom raised and vulnerable. The garter belt framed my cheeks, drawing attention to my most intimate areas. I shivered as I felt Sharon’s hand on my lower back, steadying me.
“This is how real punishment is delivered,” Sharon said, her voice stern as she ripped my lacy thong down to my knees.
The first crack of the paddle against my bare bottom made me cry out in shock and pain. It was far harder than anything I’d experienced before, even from Sharon—a searing blaze of fire across both cheeks. Before I could catch my breath, the second stroke landed slightly lower.
By the third swat, tears were streaming down my face. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white as I tried to brace myself. But nothing could have prepared me for the intensity of Sharon’s paddling.
The fourth and fifth strokes came in quick succession, crisscrossing the earlier welts. I screamed in agony, my legs kicking involuntarily as waves of pain radiated through my bottom and thighs.
“Last one,” Sharon announced. “I’m going to make it count.”
The final swat was the hardest yet. It landed right at the crease where my bottom met my thighs, igniting every nerve ending. I wailed, my whole body shaking with sobs.
As the pain slowly began to ebb, I became acutely aware of my surroundings again. The room had fallen silent except for my ragged breathing and quiet whimpers. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, witnessing my complete submission and humiliation.
In that moment, bent over the table with my well-punished bottom on display, I finally understood the truth of who I was. The revelation Stuart and Bradley had begun in my mind traveled deeper. I let out a sob as I felt an unexpected, even shocking emotion: gratitude.
My breath hitched as Sharon spoke again, her voice stern but with a note of approval. “Now, Melissa. Let’s see if you’ve learned your lesson. Take the paddle and give Mandy a proper punishment this time.”
I pushed myself up from the table, my bottom blazing with pain. Tears still streamed down my face as I picked up the paddle with trembling hands. Mandy looked at me with wide, apprehensive eyes as she bent over the table.
“Get those panties down,” I commanded, my voice sounding raw to my own ears as I improvised.
Over her shoulder, Mandy gave me a look that seemed to mingle fear and a kind of appreciation, with shaking hands, she pulled her black panties down to her thighs. I swallowed hard. Something about the idea that I would have to hurt her the way Sharon had hurt me made the revelation of her adorable pussy seem more submissive—and, worse, more arousing.
“Six strokes,” Sharon instructed. “Make them count.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. The memory of my own punishment was still searing through me, but now I understood. This was what real discipline felt like. This was what Mandy needed—what we both needed.
I raised the paddle and brought it down hard across Mandy’s upturned bottom. The crack echoed through the room, followed immediately by Mandy’s anguished cry. I didn’t hesitate before delivering the second stroke, just as hard as the first.
Mandy’s screams filled the air as I continued, each swat leaving angry red welts across her pale skin. By the fourth stroke, she was sobbing uncontrollably, her body shaking. But I didn’t let up. I couldn’t. I understood now what true correction meant.
The final two strokes were the hardest yet. Mandy wailed, her legs kicking helplessly as the paddle connected. When I finished, her bottom was a blazing scarlet, crisscrossed with vivid welts.
“What do you think, Stuart?” Sharon asked.
I heard the answer as if from a hundred miles away.
“Very good,” my boss said, his voice rich with satisfaction. “You’ve learned well, Melissa.”
I set the paddle down, my hands shaking. Sympathy, embarrassment, and excitement all mingled inside me as I felt myself clench at the sight of what I had done. Punishing Mandy properly had awakened that primal need in me—not a desire to dominate, really, but a deeper understanding of my own submission.
My eyes widened, then, as Sharon abruptly began to strip down to her own lingerie—a black lace bra and garter set that emphasized her toned body. She moved to the cabinet and my heart missed a beat as I watched her retrieve a strap-on harness. I swallowed hard, glancing at Mandy to see that her eyes had gone wide too, as Sharon fit the straps around her hips with practiced ease.
“Now,” Sharon said, her eyes gleaming, “it’s time for you to learn what happens to naughty girls who overstep their bounds. Get up, Mandy; you’re going to watch Melissa get the butt-fucking I’ve wanted to give her since her outburst at orientation.”
She stepped toward me, and took hold of my upper arm. All resistance seemed to melt out of my limbs as I felt myself turned around to see that Mandy had risen, though as if in her confusion she had left her panties down so that I got a distracting glimpse of her sweet, bare pussy.
Sharon bent me over the table again, positioning herself behind me. I tried to look over my shoulder at Stuart or any of the other men, in a wild hope they might find it all too much, but Sharon put her hand on my head and turned my face forward, wordlessly forbidding any appeal.
“Spread your cheeks, you little slut,” she ordered. With a whimper I reached back. I took hold of my paddled cheeks. I bit my lip, my face flaring as I obeyed, thinking of Stuart’s, Bradley’s, John’s, and Victor’s eyes taking it all in.
Then I gasped as I felt the blunt head of the dildo, lightly lubed, pressing against my anus. Despite my fear, my body responded, a rush of wetness coating my inner thighs.
Sharon pushed inside slowly but relentlessly. I cried out at the burning stretch. My hands clutched so hard at my punished bottom that I followed the cry with another, at the pain in my ass cheeks as much as at the intrusion of the plastic cock. Sharon began to thrust it in and out, each movement sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure through my body.
As Sharon fucked my ass, I became aware of Stuart moving closer. He had walked around the side of the table so that I could look up into his eyes and see his gorgeous face, beaming down a smile of satisfaction that sent a shudder of need through my body. I sobbed as he reached out his hand and ran his fingers through my hair, gently and soothingly, as if in consolation for my ordeal.
I gasped as Sharon’s thrusts slowed, her hand gripping my hip tightly. “Stuart,” she purred, “would you like a turn with this naughty girl’s ass?”
My eyes widened as I looked up at Stuart, my heart pounding. His fingers were still tangled in my hair, and I saw a predatory gleam in his eye that made me shiver.
“I’d love to,” Stuart replied, his voice low and husky. “But I think we can make this even more… educational.” His gaze shifted to Mandy, who was still standing nearby, her panties around her thighs and her punished bottom on display. “Melissa should learn what it’s like on both ends. I want her to fuck Mandy while I take her ass.”
I felt my face burn even hotter, if that was possible. The idea of being caught between Stuart and Mandy, of being used and using at the same time, sent a confusing rush of arousal through me. I had fantasized about it, yes, but…
“Mandy,” Stuart commanded, “take the strap-on off Sharon and put it on Melissa. She’s going to fuck your ass while I fuck hers.”
Sharon slowly withdrew from me, leaving me feeling achingly empty. I whimpered at the loss, my body trembling as I remained bent over the table. I heard Mandy’s soft footsteps as she approached, and then her trembling hands were on me, fastening the harness around my hips.
The weight of the dildo felt alien and thrilling as it jutted out from my body. Mandy’s fingers brushed against my skin as she adjusted the straps, and I couldn’t help but gasp at the contact. When she finished, she stepped back, awaiting further instructions.
Stuart moved behind me, his hands running down my sides. I shivered at his touch, acutely aware of how exposed and vulnerable I was. “Bend Mandy over in front of my colleagues,” he murmured in my ear. “Show me you’ve learned how to take charge when needed.”
With shaky legs, I straightened up and turned to Mandy. Her eyes were wide, a mix of apprehension and excitement in her gaze. I swallowed hard, trying to channel some of the confidence I’d felt earlier.
“Kneel in front of Bradley,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Now.”
Mandy complied immediately, turning toward the group of executives and falling to her knees. She bent over, onto her hands and knees, and presented her still-red bottom to me. I moved behind her, my hands trembling as I grasped her hips. I could smell her arousal, and it made my head spin.
Just as I was about to push inside Mandy, I felt Stuart’s hands on my hips. His breath was hot on my neck as he leaned in close. “Remember,” he whispered, “you’re in charge of Mandy, but I’m in charge of you. You fuck her bottom how I tell you to.”