Chapter 14
Grace
Unable to stop myself and unable to think about why, because the sheer humiliation of having my panties over my face seemed to turn the whole world hot and red, I positioned myself exactly as he commanded.
My elbows sinking into the soft leather of the chair seat, forcing my back to arch further, my bare bottom to stick out more.
I felt the white dress ride up immediately, exposing everything below my waist. The wet gusset of my underwear pressed against my nose making every breath a reminder of my shameful arousal.
My backside felt impossibly vulnerable, raised and presented for whatever he intended.
He won’t… he won’t do that… will he? Not what Abe did to Ruth. Will he? I felt my forehead crease so hard it hurt. A tiny whimper escaped my chest.
I heard him moving behind me, the soft whisper of fabric that told me he was removing his belt.
My whole body tensed in anticipation, remembering Sharon’s paddle, remembering Abe’s belt on Ruth’s bottom.
But when the first strike landed, it wasn’t leather—it was his hand, hard and unforgiving against my right cheek.
The sharp crack echoed through the office, followed immediately by the burning sting.
I cried out, the sound muffled by the panties over my face, my fingers clutching at the leather cushion.
He didn’t pause, didn’t give me time to process.
His hand came down again on my left cheek, then back to the right, establishing a punishing rhythm that had me sobbing within minutes.
Each strike seemed harder than the last, his palm covering so much more area than Sharon’s horrid paddle had.
After thirty seconds, I was bouncing my knees, clenching my punished cheeks, trying desperately to escape the relentless punishment even as my pussy grew wetter with each impact.
The contradiction made my head spin—the genuine pain mixing with undeniable arousal until I couldn’t separate them anymore.
“Hold still,” Scott growled, putting his left hand across my waist to grip my hip and hold me in place.
“Please!” I yelped, after what seemed like an eternity, but must have been less than a minute. “Please, sir!”
“Please what?” His right hand never stopped its assault on my burning bottom, his left hand tightening as my attempts to escape grew more frantic. “Please stop? Or please fuck you?”
“I don’t know!” I wailed, and it was the truth. My body wanted both, neither, everything.
He continued spanking me, harder now, the sound of a man’s firm hand on a naughty girl’s bottom filling the office.
My world narrowed to the fire in my rear end and the desperate ache between my legs.
Tears soaked into the panties covering my face, mixing with the scent of my arousal in a combination that seemed to capture my complete degradation.
When he finally stopped, I hung limp over the chair, gasping and sobbing. My bottom felt swollen, burning with a heat that radiated through my entire lower body. I could feel how wet I was, how my thighs were slick with evidence of my shameful response to the punishment.
Then I heard it—the unmistakable sound of his zipper.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. “Please… not my bottom?”
Even as I said it, part of me—a dark, desperate part—wanted exactly that. Wanted him to claim me the way Abe had claimed Ruth, to complete my punishment with that ultimate degradation. The thought made my pussy clench with a need so intense it frightened me.
“You haven’t earned my cock in your bottom yet,” Scott said, his voice full of the arrogance that sent a mortifying thrill to my clit.
Relief and disappointment warred in my chest. Yet?
The word echoed in my mind, a promise or a threat, I couldn’t tell which.
Then I felt him behind me, the blunt head of his cock pressing against the soaking entrance to my vagina.
Without warning, he thrust inside, filling me completely in one brutal stroke.
I screamed into the panties covering my face, my body convulsing around him. He was so much bigger than Jacob, stretching me in a way that bordered on painful even as every nerve ending sang with pleasure. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me in place as he began to move.
“Such a wet little cunt,” he growled, punctuating his words with particularly deep thrusts. “All that spanking just made you needier, didn’t it?”
I couldn’t form words, could only whimper and moan as he fucked me with the same methodical intensity he’d used to spank me.
Each thrust drove me forward against the chair, my elbows sliding on the leather, my breasts swaying beneath the thin dress.
The position, bent over like Ruth had been, made everything more intense, more degrading, more perfect.
“Your response to Ruth’s pussy-whipping was particularly telling,” Scott said conversationally, as if he weren’t pounding into me hard enough to make the chair rock. “The way you wrote about it, the way your metrics spiked during that scene…”
Oh, God. He couldn’t mean—
“I think you need that kind of correction soon, Grace. Your pussy needs to learn the same lessons your bottom is learning.”
The words hit me like lightning. The image flashed through my mind—me in Ruth’s position, legs held apart, that thin leather strap coming down on my most sensitive flesh. The thought of that exquisite agony, of Scott watching me climax from the pain itself…
I came instantly, violently, my whole body seizing as the orgasm ripped through me.
I screamed into the soaked panties, my pussy clamping down on his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
It seemed to go on forever, each pulse more intense than the last, until I thought I might actually pass out from the sensation.
“Good girl,” Scott murmured, never slowing his rhythm even as I convulsed around him. “But we’re not done yet.”
He fucked me through the aftershocks, his cock hitting something deep inside that sent fresh sparks through my oversensitive body.
I sobbed into the panties, overwhelmed by sensation, by emotion, by the complete surrender of this moment.
When his rhythm finally faltered, when he drove deep and held himself there as he came with a low growl, I felt a second, smaller orgasm rip through my body too.
For a long moment we stayed frozen in that position—my boss still buried inside me, my body draped over the chair, the panties clinging to my face with a mixture of tears and my pussy’s shameful desperation for just the kind of fucking I had now gotten.
I felt his massive tool softening within me, and I could feel our combined fluids beginning to leak down my thighs.
The silence in the office felt heavy, charged with the truth of my helpless submission.
When he finally withdrew, I whimpered at the loss, at the sudden emptiness.
My legs trembled so badly I thought I might collapse.
I heard him moving behind me, the rustle of clothing as he tucked himself away, zipped his pants.
Professional again, while I remained bent over his chair with my bottom on fire and my pussy dripping with his seed.
“Stay there,” he commanded softly.
I heard his footsteps cross to his desk, a drawer opening and closing.
When he returned, I felt something soft against my inner thigh—a handkerchief, I realized, as he began to clean me with surprising gentleness.
The tender gesture after such brutal use made my eyes well with fresh tears beneath the panties.
“You may stand now,” he said when he’d finished.
I pushed myself up on shaking arms, my whole body protesting the movement. Everything ached—my jaw from crying, my bottom from the spanking, my pussy from being fucked so thoroughly. I reached up with trembling fingers to remove the panties from my face, but his hand caught my wrist.
“No,” he said. “I’ll do that.”
His hands were gentle again as he lifted the soaked white lace from my head, peeling it away from my tearstained face.
The cool air of his office hit my flushed skin, and I blinked in the sudden brightness, my vision blurry from crying.
Scott held the ruined panties up, examining them with that same clinical interest he’d shown before.
“These are mine now,” he said simply, folding them and placing them in his jacket pocket. “You’ll go without for the rest of the day.”
The thought of walking around Selecta headquarters with nothing beneath my dress, my thighs still sticky with evidence of what we’d just done, made my face burn anew. But I just nodded, unable to form words.
“Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to the chair I’d just been bent over.
I lowered myself gingerly onto the leather seat, wincing as my punished bottom made contact.
The surface was still warm from where my elbows had pressed into it, and I could feel the slight dampness where my tears had fallen.
Sitting like this, in the exact spot where he’d just used me so thoroughly, felt like another layer of humiliation.
Scott returned to his desk, pulling up something on his computer with the same casual efficiency he might use for any business matter. As if he hadn’t just spanked and fucked his intern into sobbing submission.
“You’ve passed the test,” he said, his tone shifting back to that maddeningly professional register. “Your responses, both physical and analytical, show you’re ready for more advanced assignments.”
I shifted on the chair, trying to find a position that didn’t make my bottom throb. “Thank you, sir.”
“Your next project involves our newest series—Leah’s Firm Suitor.” He turned his monitor toward me, showing a title card with elegant script over an image of a young woman in a modest dress standing beside a burly police officer about five years older than Leah seemed to be.
“We’ve just started filming their story, and both Leah and Brian—he’s the policeman, obviously—are showing enough promise that we want them to make a splash.”
He clicked through to a folder containing the video files.
“I need you to watch the first three episodes and provide recommendations for the trailers we’re going to put on the NMB preview channel.
What moments would best capture viewer interest?
What scenes would make subscribers eager to watch the full episodes? ”
I nodded, already imagining the kind of content that might be in those videos. “When do you need the report?”
“Tuesday.” He paused, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “But there’s a condition for this assignment.”
Of course there was. “What condition?”
“You’re not allowed to touch yourself while watching.” His words were delivered calmly, but I felt the blood drain from my face. Not touch myself? After what he’d made me do while watching Debbie’s story? The very thought of that restriction made my already sensitive body clench with anticipation.
“I…” My voice came out as a whisper. “I don’t know if I can obey that, sir.”
The admission burned my tongue, but lying to him felt impossible.
My body had already proven its treacherous nature, responding to every humiliation with shameful arousal.
How could I possibly watch an entire series without giving in to the desperate need that would surely build?
The need that Scott himself had trained me to gratify?
“Thank you for your honesty,” Scott said, and I was surprised to hear genuine approval in his voice. “I have something that will help.”
He rose from his desk and crossed to a cabinet built into the wall near the windows.
When he opened it, I caught a glimpse of various implements—paddles, straps, things I couldn’t identify but that made my stomach lurch with nervous anticipation.
He pulled out something made of black leather and metal, turning back to me with it in his hands.
“Stand up and lift your dress,” he commanded.
I obeyed on trembling legs, gathering the white fabric up to my waist. The cool air against my bare pussy—still swollen and sensitive from his use—made me shiver.
Scott approached with what I now recognized with horror as some kind of chastity belt, its leather straps and metal shield gleaming in the afternoon light streaming through his office windows.
“Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Put this on.”