Chapter 8
Grace
Five minutes? My heart leaped into my throat.
I scrambled to my feet, nearly knocking over my water glass.
I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet. Racing to the bathroom, I brushed quickly, applied a touch of the makeup I found in the vanity drawer—just mascara and lip gloss, nothing that would suggest I was trying too hard.
I grabbed my handheld and practically ran to the elevator, my heels clicking against the hallway floor.
The stockings whispered against each other with each hurried step, reminding me constantly of what I wore beneath the innocent dress.
The elevator seemed to take forever, and I watched the seconds tick by on my phone. Three minutes. Two minutes.
I burst through the lobby doors just as the sleek black shuttle pulled up to the curb.
The driver, a middle-aged man in a Selecta uniform, didn’t even glance at me as I climbed aboard, slightly out of breath.
There were already several other passengers—all women, I noticed, all young, all dressed in similarly feminine attire that somehow suggested we were in the same position.
One of them, a redhead in a yellow sundress, gave me a knowing look as I settled into a seat.
She didn’t say anything, but something in her expression suggested she understood exactly what my morning had been like.
The monitoring, the careful orchestration of every detail.
We rode in silence, each lost in our own thoughts, as the shuttle wound through the morning traffic toward Selecta headquarters.
The building loomed ahead, all glass and steel reaching toward the clouded sky.
My tummy churned with nervous energy as we pulled into the underground parking garage.
The other women filed out ahead of me, dispersing toward different elevators with practiced ease.
I followed the signs to the main bank, my fingers trembling as I pressed the button for the twentieth floor.
The elevator was crowded with morning commuters, men in expensive suits who barely glanced at me, women in sharp business attire who made my floral dress feel even more out of place. When the doors opened on twenty, I stepped out on legs that felt like water.
Scott’s office door stood at the end of the hall, that same gold nameplate gleaming in the morning light. I knocked softly, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Come in.”
His voice sent an immediate shiver through me. I pushed open the door to find him standing by the windows, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the city below. He didn’t turn immediately, letting me stand there in the doorway, waiting.
“Close the door, Grace.”
I obeyed, the soft click of the latch seeming to echo in the spacious office. Only then did he turn, his eyes conducting a slow, thorough examination that made my skin prickle with heat.
“Good morning, Grace.” His tone was businesslike, professional, as if yesterday hadn’t happened. As if I hadn’t knelt between his legs, hadn’t writhed over his lap while his fingers… I forced the memory away, trying to focus. “You look appropriate today. Floral suits you.”
“Thank you, sir.” My voice came out steadier than I felt.
He moved to his desk, gesturing for me to take the chair across from him. I sat carefully, aware of how the dress rode up slightly, how the stockings pulled against the garter clips.
“As you’ve probably gathered, I’ve decided to offer you the internship position,” he said, pulling a folder from his drawer. “Your basic duties will be standard—data entry, filing, answering phones, fetching coffee. The usual intern responsibilities.”
Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by confusion. After yesterday’s intense, humiliating experiences, I’d expected… what? Something more degrading? More personal?
“However,” he continued, and my stomach clenched, “I also have a special project in mind for you. Something that utilizes your unique background and analytical abilities.”
He turned his computer monitor toward me. The NMB logo filled the screen, that familiar blue that had haunted two years of my marriage.
“You’re going to watch NMB content,” he said matter-of-factly. “Specifically, our newer series. I want you to analyze what works, what doesn’t, and most important, how to make it hotter.”
My face burned. “You want me to…”
“Watch erotic content, yes. Your erotic content, essentially, since you understand the genre intimately.” He leaned back in his chair, studying me.
“You’ll write a detailed report on each video—what aroused you, what didn’t, specific suggestions for improvement.
Once a week, we’ll review your findings together. ”
The implication hit me like a physical blow.
I would have to watch couples in the midst of the most intimate acts…
eligible girls and young wives being disciplined, being used, being humiliated.
And then I would have to sit in this office with Scott and discuss my arousal, my reactions, my shameful suggestions for making it more arousing for the wealthy men and women who watched the streams.
“We’ll watch some of the videos together during our weekly meetings,” he added, his tone still maddeningly professional. “So I can fully understand your recommendations.”
My thighs pressed together involuntarily. The thought of sitting beside him, watching those intimate scenes while he observed my every reaction… My body was already responding, that familiar warmth building despite my horror at the assignment.
“Is that clear?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” The words came out as a whisper.
“Good.” He slid a tablet across the desk. “This has your first assignment loaded. Three videos from our ‘Foster Daughter’ series. I want your reports by Thursday.”
I took the tablet with trembling hands, waiting for him to mention last night. To acknowledge what he’d made me do, the shameful way I’d obeyed his remote commands. But he simply returned to his computer, pulling up a spreadsheet.
I waited in the charged silence, unsure if I should say something else or if the meeting was over. Scott’s attention seemed entirely focused on his computer screen now, his fingers moving across the keyboard with practiced efficiency.
“You can go see Kara now,” he said without looking up. “She’s the office manager—third cubicle from the elevator on this floor. She’ll get you settled in your workspace.”
Relief washed over me as I stood, clutching the tablet against my chest. I turned toward the door, my legs still unsteady from the intensity of our conversation.
“Grace.”
His voice stopped me mid-step. I turned back to find him watching me with that same assessing gaze that brought a quiver to my belly.
“Come here. Put the tablet on the coffee table, then bend over the desk.”
The commands were delivered so casually that for a moment I thought I’d misheard.
But his expectant expression left no room for doubt.
My feet moved of their own accord, carrying me back to his massive mahogany desk.
I bent forward slowly, my hands gripping the edge as I’d done in Sharon’s office yesterday, though this felt entirely different. More intimate. More dangerous.
I felt his presence behind me before his hands touched me. Then his fingers were at the hem of my dress, lifting it with deliberate slowness. The cool office air hit my exposed skin, and I bit my lip to suppress a whimper.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hand smoothing over the blue lace. “This color suits you perfectly. And your bottom…” His palm cupped one cheek, squeezing gently. “Just a little bruising from Sharon’s paddle yesterday. Very pretty.”
His hands continued their exploration, tracing the edge of the panties, following the line of the garter belt. Each touch was light, almost casual, but I felt them like brands on my skin. My breathing had become shallow, my body responding despite my mind’s protests.
“I need you to understand something, Grace,” he said, his fingers trailing along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh just above the stocking.
“This will happen whenever I want it to. When you bring me coffee, when we’re reviewing reports, when you least expect it.
I’ll have you bend over, and I’ll touch you however I please. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
His hand moved higher, fingers brushing against the damp lace. I couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped me.
“Nice and wet,” he observed with satisfaction. “You know how to be a very good girl, don’t you?”
He continued fondling me for what felt like hours but was, I knew, only a minute or two, his touches never quite enough to push me close to the edge, but keeping me in a constant state of desperate arousal. Finally, his hands withdrew.
“You may stand up and fix your dress.”
I straightened on shaking legs, smoothing the floral fabric back down with trembling hands. My face burned with humiliation and unsatisfied need.
“I’ll see you for our weekly meeting on Friday,” he said, returning to his desk. “That gives you three days to complete your first assignment.”
I nodded, turning once more toward the door, desperate to escape the charged atmosphere of his office before my body betrayed me further.
“Oh, Grace.” His voice stopped me just as my hand touched the doorknob. “One more thing about your assignment.”
I turned back, my stomach dropping at the slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“When you watch each video,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that casual authority that made my knees weak, “you’re to masturbate. I want you fully engaged with the material, understanding it on every level.”
My mouth fell open slightly, but he wasn’t finished.
“You’ll do this wearing only your lingerie.
You will keep your panties on while you are playing with your sweet little pussy.
And after you climax—because you will climax to each video, Grace—you’ll remove the panties and place them in a zip-top bag.
Label it with the video title and date.” He paused, letting the implications sink in.
“You’ll bring all three bags to our Friday meeting. ”
The room seemed to spin slightly. I gripped the doorknob for support, my face burning so hot I thought I might combust.
“I’ll ensure your dresser is stocked with sufficient lingerie for this purpose,” he continued conversationally.
“In fact, I want you to use the blue ones you’re wearing right now for the first video.
They’re already quite damp, I noticed. By the time you’ve finished with them, they should carry the unmistakable scent of a grateful girl who appreciates the privilege of being allowed to come. ”
The words hit me like physical blows. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe.
“Is that understood?” he asked, his tone suggesting this was the most normal request in the world.
“Yes, sir,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.
“Good. Run along now. Kara’s waiting.”
I fled his office on unsteady legs, my mind reeling from his instructions.
The hallway seemed too bright, too normal, after the intensity of what had just transpired.
Other employees passed by, chatting about meetings and deadlines, completely unaware that I’d just been told to masturbate to porn in my panties and save them for my boss’s inspection.
I found Kara exactly where Scott had said—a cheerful woman in her forties with graying hair pulled back in a neat bun. She looked up from her computer with a warm smile that made me want to cry.
“You must be Grace! Scott told me to expect you.” She stood, smoothing her sensible gray skirt. “Let me show you to your workspace.”
She led me through a maze of cubicles, past the soft murmur of phone conversations and keyboard clicks. My desk was in a corner, small but neat, with a computer, phone, and filing cabinet. A window offered a view of the building next door.
“This is perfect,” I said, trying to match her friendly tone despite the chaos in my mind.
“The phone system is straightforward,” Kara explained, demonstrating the various buttons. “Scott’s extension is 2012, obviously. He’ll probably have you screening his calls within a few days. The coffee station is just around the corner—he takes his black, no sugar.”
She continued with practical details about office supplies and lunch schedules, but I could barely focus.
The tablet Scott had given me felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in my hands.
Inside were videos I would have to watch, alone in my apartment, touching myself while couples performed their most intimate moments for strangers’ entertainment.
“Are you alright, dear?” Kara’s concerned voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “You look a bit pale.”
“I’m fine,” I managed, forcing a smile. “Just a lot to take in on the first day.”
She patted my shoulder sympathetically. “Scott can be intense, but he’s brilliant at what he does. You’ll learn so much from him.”
If only she knew what kind of education he had in mind.