Chapter 1 #3
I get my usual, a corned beef sandwich, and I eat it at the table with John Egan and Stewart Black.
John runs the security systems, the cameras in particular, and I like him on my side so he doesn’t let anybody know that the ones in my lab don’t work.
Stewart is head of provisioning. He can get me anything I want or need, and he does.
I also play a useful role in this little ecosystem that exists in plain sight here in the middle of the building in the middle of the day.
People like Veronica think that power is knowing rich people and seeking out contacts in government and the military, but having been born into such a world I am well aware that true power is found in these smaller, quieter places.
If people like John and Stewart won’t help you, it doesn’t matter how many big names you know.
I finish up lunch, and head back to the lab. If Lydia hasn’t taken a break, I am going to send her out to eat.
As I walk into the lab, I find it empty. Okay. Good. Maybe she’s gone out to get something. I go back to my station and I am about to start work when movement in my peripheral vision makes me aware that the doors to the area I specifically and firmly designated as out of bounds are opening.
She peeks through the crack in the doors, trying to sneak past me without being noticed. My temper spikes. I put my instruments down, turn and reach through the doors. I grab her by the back of the neck, pull her back into the main lab, and spank her skirt-covered ass rather hard.
Her yowl is pleasingly pained.
“I told you to stay out of there,” I say.
“When I give you an order, I expect you to obey it. This is not a college library. This is a private research facility with more money invested in it than you can possibly imagine, with spies attempting to break in every five minutes, and with the military salivating at the prospect of this technology, I need you to follow rules and respect boundaries. If you disobey me again, I’ll paddle you. ”
Her look of shock is priceless. I don’t think anybody has ever disciplined her. I can imagine she has been a good girl most of her life. Studious. Careful. Anything she did wrong was probably overlooked because of how well she behaves in every other way.
She thinks that because she is curious, she should get to indulge that curiosity. She doesn’t see why she should have to follow rules.
“You can’t do that to me!” Her lower lip quivers, and her eyes well with tears.
“I can. And I will.”
“I’ll tell on you.”
“To who? Veronica? Do you want to tell her you were told to stay out of certain areas for your safety, you didn’t follow those rules, and you ended up with a spanked bottom?
Be my guest. I can assure you that story will be more embarrassing for you than inconvenient for me.
You’ll likely get yourself fired for breaking protocol. ”
My cock twitches at her crestfallen expression, as she starts to realize she is at my mercy. If she wants to do her job, she has to keep me on her side. If she disobeys me, and I spank her like the spoiled little brat she is increasingly seeming to be, then she has to simply tolerate that.
She takes a step back, looking flustered.
“You still haven’t apologized,” I prompt her.
“Oh. Uh. Sorry, I guess.”
“That’s not an apology,” I reply.
“I’m sorry?”
Slightly better, but still way too much attitude. I really do not think that Lydia is used to being held responsible at all. The concept of sorry seems like something she shouldn’t have to engage with.
I myself am becoming distracted from discipline because I can smell something on her that I am sure she’d be ashamed by if she knew how sensitive my senses are.
She’s wet.
More than wet, she’s ovulating. She’s ripe to be bred, and what she wants, more than anything, is to be fucked.
Maybe she was curious as to what I had in the back. Or maybe she got caught on purpose because she wants me to do something about it. Is this her way of asking for something she doesn’t know how to ask for any other way?
I take a step forward. “Say you’re sorry properly, or I will give you what you really deserve for having broken the rules.”
Her eyes widen, and I see her take a shallower breath. “I don’t know what you want from me,” she says.
Of course she does. She knows how to apologize. She doesn’t want to. And not doing it is exciting her deeply.
“I think you do,” I say, moving another step forward. She backs up against the wall.
“Nuh-uh.” She bites her lower lip. That gesture alone screams fuck me.
She is going to tempt me and disobey me until I am forced to hike that skirt, pull down her panties, and show her what it feels like to be taken properly in hand.
My cock is throbbing right now. If not for the lab coat, she would see my erection tenting my pants. I wonder if it would horrify her to know just how effective her little ruse has been.
I can tell she’s single. She doesn’t smell like another man, and if there were a man in her life and she was this fertile, I know I would smell his seed on her.
He would have marked her in the way all men do, one way or another.
He would have rubbed his musk on her, left a pheromonal signature to let others know she was taken.
I take another deep breath, drawing in all the information I need.
She smells like soap and need.
If we weren’t civilized, I’d already be breeding her. I’d have her bent over the lab table taking my cock until she had a pussy full of cum. I might even keep her here, breed her all night long, taking a break to eat and rest and hydrate before filling her up all over again. That’s what she needs.
Fuck.
I have to keep these impulses under control. They’re far too animal and rough for the human world, and I am doing my best to stay in it whether I truly belong or not.
* * *
Lydia
He can’t talk to me this way.
He can’t smack me like I’m some wayward brat.
Yes, I broke the rules, but you get written up for that. Maybe you have to make an official apology and write something in an email. You don’t get cornered by the hottest man in history who is demanding an apology while sounding like he’s talking about something else completely.
When he spanked me, something shifted inside my body. I felt a rush of… I don’t even want to admit it to myself. It should be outrage and adrenaline, but it’s neither of those things.
I still want to assert myself. My butt is stinging like crazy, and the shock of being hit is enough to make me want to cry. I can’t believe he did that. Who treats other people this way?
“I’m not going to apologize to you. If anything, you should be apologizing for putting your hands on me.”
There’s a moment where his eyes flash. Right about the time I say ‘putting your hands on me,’ I see desire in his gaze, and all of a sudden it really doesn’t feel like I am in a workplace. The distance between us is so small. He’s so close.
He leans in a fraction, and I think for sure he’s about to kiss me. Then something shifts, and he pulls back.
“Go and sit down,” he says, his teeth gritted in an animalistic way. “Get back to work. Don’t move from the desk I assigned you unless you need to go to the bathroom.”
I should just do it, but I can’t allow it.
“You can’t tell me to do that. I don’t answer to you.”
Whatever control he managed to regain over himself shatters in an instant. He had turned away to start to work himself, but at my words, he whips around and grips me by the arm. He turns me briskly before I can complain, and spanks my ass again.
“Ow!”
A second hard shot lands across my ass, further igniting my annoyance and embarrassment, and something else that I am trying very, very hard to push away.
“You have a nice rear for punishing,” he says. “I would enjoy teaching you several lessons about basic obedience. It might do you good. Might keep you alive a little longer than you’d otherwise manage.”
“Alive? Are you threatening me?”
“This is a lab where a single mistake could lead to nonexistence. Do I need to explain why that is a bad idea? Why you need to listen to me?”
His hand is still on my ass, a warm and heavy weight on my burning cheek.
He gives it a slight squeeze, and I feel my clit tingle.
This went from unprofessional to very unprofessional.
The spank was one thing, but this is starting to feel more like seduction.
He rubs his hand up and down my rear slowly, then pats my ass and withdraws his hand.
I’m aroused. I hate it so much that he has managed to elicit that reaction from me.
I am here to work. I am standing in the heart of a mystery that will change the world as we know it, and now I am looking up at the hot, sexy, horrible man who is permanently grumpy as far as I can tell and I am wishing that he would slide his hand around my hip and rub my pussy.
What a silly desire.
I move away and I sit down. I pretend to go back to work, looking at his notes, which are mostly chicken scratch and seem to contradict one another.
I pretend to work. I don’t want him to know how much that relatively brief touch affected me.
He’s an asshole, I tell myself, and he had no right to spank me.
I’m not some brat to be punished just because I don’t do exactly what he says.
And besides, I was just looking. It’s not like I was going about licking random surfaces.
He’s hiding something. He’s hiding a lot.
I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me.