Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

I ngrid

The subway station swallowed me whole, the racket of train noise on damp concrete and stale air closing in around me. Every step reminded me of my lack of panties, a constant, surprisingly still raw reminder of Mr. Alden's paddle. The soreness at the base of my spine pulsed with every move, each throb a twisted blend of pain and arousal.

Just focus on right now , I tried to persuade myself, pushing through the turnstiles. My desperate reason's voice lost itself amidst garbled announcements, and then the rhythmic roar of the metal wheels of an approaching train.

I descended the stairs, each step bringing a little wince. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows that seemed to strip away my composure. The crowd jostled and pressed, only making me think about how exposed I felt beneath my skirt, how vulnerable.

Trying desperately to push those thoughts away, I stepped onto my train. I scanned automatically for an empty seat, my pulse quickening as I realized I probably shouldn't sit down at all today if I could help it. To my dismay, a man stood up to offer me his seat. Confused and flustered, blushing, I took it so that I wouldn't have to come up with some explanation of why I wouldn't want to sit.

My backside came down hard on the rigid plastic and I had to bite my lip from uttering a little cry of discomfort. The train started to rumble forward, and I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, from mortification as much as from the ache in my bottom-cheeks.

Sit still! I told myself, but it was impossible.

I fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing my legs, feeling the hem of my skirt ride up just a little too high. The sensation sent a shiver of both shame and excitement through me. I seemed caught between worlds—my conservative upbringing clashing violently with the unwelcome but somehow absolutely necessary thoughts and emotions Joseph Alden had awakened in me.

What if someone sees?

I shifted again, trying to find a position that wouldn't aggravate the soreness or fuel the fire burning below my tummy. The question seemed to hang in the air around me… whether I would actually enter the lobby of the shining Selecta building, ride the elevator, step out of it into the luxurious corporate offices. With every passing second, the train hurtled me toward that destination, but I somehow kept telling myself I had a choice. I could still simply get on another train and go home and pretend none of it had happened.

"Good morning, Miss Vogel," a security guard at the front desk greeted me as I entered. I stopped and blinked at him, taken aback that he knew my name. He smiled and pointed to a far corner of the lobby. "System tells me who you are, and where you're going. Have a good first day."

I blinked again, my thoughts roiling. Just a piece of tech , I told myself. Selecta is a tech company, after all. I couldn't shake the feeling that Mr. Alden had somehow told them to make me feel especially controlled, especially watched.

I managed a polite nod, my voice caught in my throat. The lobby was a hive of activity, but I barely registered it. My focus remained on the elevator, the ride up, and then—Joseph Alden. My new boss.

I kept telling myself that I could get off the crowded elevator at a different floor. That I would get off the elevator—at fifteen, at twenty-two. I wouldn't ride up to thirty-four, the Selecta executive level.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal the executive suite on thirty-four. Opulent and grand, it seemed a world away from my modest apartment. The plush carpet muffled my footsteps as I walked toward Cathy's desk. Each step felt like a journey, a test somehow both of my resolve and of my sanity.

"Good morning, Ingrid," Cathy said brightly, looking up from one of her three screens.

Run. My rational mind whispered it desperately. You can still get back in the elevator. It doesn't matter that Cathy, the woman who booked your Brazilian wax and knows that your pussy was made smooth and bare for Joseph, just greeted you as a colleague.

She had risen, smiling. My heart flipped.

"Um," I said, heat flooding my cheeks. I forced a smile onto my face that I hoped would match Cathy's. "Good morning!"

"You can follow me down the hall," she told me. "I'll show you your desk. It's right outside Mr. Alden's office but I'm guessing you probably need a refresher on how to get there."

"Yes, thank you," I replied, my voice to my dismay barely above a whisper. Her presence reassured me despite what she knew; at least she apparently could pretend this office was a normal place of business, and the fiction seemed to rub itself off on me a bit.

Cathy led the way, her steps sure and unhurried. Her tailored suit accentuated her poised demeanor, every movement precise and deliberate. We weaved through a labyrinth of desks and cubicles, my senses filled by the constant hum of conversation, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, and the occasional ring of phones.

"First day nerves?" Cathy's question broke the silence, her tone apparently understanding despite the complete incongruity of the question given that she knew so much—she probably even knew that Joseph had forbidden me to wear panties. Maybe, I thought with another flash of heat, she was even curious to know whether I had obeyed.

"Something like that," I mumbled, my cheeks flushing even more urgently. Thankfully she didn't ask anything further, simply offering a terribly ambiguous nod as we approached a sleek, modern cubicle—my desk, my chair, my keyboard, my fancy three-screen setup, all of it just outside Joseph's office.

"Here we are," Cathy said, gesturing to the pristine workspace. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Once you hit a key on the keyboard, your tutorial will start up."

"Thank you, Cathy," I managed, taking a seat. The chair felt foreign beneath me, and the unfamiliar surroundings only added to the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

At least the seat has a nice, thick cushion , I thought—and then I instantly wondered whether that was because its occupant would frequently be expected to get her work done with a sore backside.

"Good luck," she added, her eyes holding mine for a moment longer than necessary, until a new wave of color surged in my cheeks. She had pretended so thoroughly, and then she had hit me with that look, that unspoken understanding of what it meant to work at Selecta—under Joseph Alden.

"Thanks," I whispered, because I couldn't think of what else to say. I watched her retreat back toward her station at the front desk. I found that my heart had started to pound in my chest as I swiveled my chair to face the keyboard. The reality of my situation—the fact that I had actually gotten off the elevator, that I had actually followed Cathy to this cubicle—sank in deeper with each passing second.

Joseph's closed door— Mr. Alden's door— loomed nearby, a much-too-present reminder of yesterday's terrible lesson. I glanced toward it, wondering if he had arrived at the office yet. I shifted in the chair, and despite its cushion I felt a little flare of soreness there. I bit my lip and reached for the keyboard.

Be ready , I told myself, trying to make the words a promise to resist, to defy—at the very least to negotiate. For whatever he had in store, the man I had to call sir or pay the consequences, and however it made me feel—for all of it, I needed to be ready.

The tutorial that fired up on my screen when I touched the space bar made me feel like I had won the lottery in getting this job. My benefits package alone would put me on the road to financial security—free subway pass, all medical expenses, a retirement plan that made my eyes practically pop out.

My duties really just involved communication and scheduling. Apparently Selecta corporate preferred the old-fashioned human touch, and thought the best way to get that lay in hiring young women like me as the outward face of their executives. I would support Joseph, primarily, but the junior members of his team would also ask me to write up their correspondence and make calls for them.

I couldn't find a single mention of anything that sounded like ‘discipline' or ‘sex' until, face tingling, I actually searched for them in the human resources knowledge base.

As an employee of the Selecta Corporation, certain standards of conduct apply to your behavior. These standards are enforced through Selecta's proprietary system of discipline, in accordance with the corporate laws.

Should your superior find that you have violated those standards, you will be subject to corporal punishment of his or her choosing, in conformity with Selecta's parameters, which specify certain implements and certain ways of applying them. Hand spanking, spanking with a standard wooden paddle, and the use of a punishment cane, all on the bare buttocks, are permitted at the superior's discretion, depending on the severity of the offense.

I swallowed hard, feeling my mouth twist hard to the side as I tried to control the raging conflict that had just broken out in my mind and body. Fingers trembling, I searched for ‘sexual.'

Your superior may at his or her discretion discipline you in a sexual manner, should he or she find such discipline appropriate. Selecta's proprietary standards of conduct, in accordance with the corporate laws, explicitly permit sexual relationships between a superior and his or her employee, for purposes especially of training and/or mentorship.

I sat there mute, my hands unmoving on the keyboard, for some number of seconds or minutes—I couldn't tell. I might have sat there for an hour, if the door to Joseph's office hadn't opened, and I hadn't heard him say from it, before I could turn to face him, "Ingrid, come in here, please."

My heart leapt into my throat. I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself for what lay ahead. Rising from my chair, I smoothed my skirt, my fingers brushing against the tender flesh of my bottom, a reminder of my awful lesson.

He had vanished from the doorway back into his office. I hadn't seen more than the back of his dark suit. His obvious expectation of obedience made my knees wobble as I moved forward across the carpet, my blue heels silenced by the thick pile.

Stepping inside, I felt the atmosphere shift, the masculine luxury of Joseph's corner office enveloping me. The panoramic windows cast natural light across the room, seeming to emphasize the sophisticated corporate ambiance.

Joseph sat behind his mahogany desk, his sharp, handsome features set in an expression of calculated intensity. His blond hair caught the light, making me think again, crazily, of an angel.

A dark angel with a golden halo. I swallowed hard at the thought, my tummy flipping as I wondered desperately why he had summoned me.

"Close the door," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. I complied, the door clicking shut with a finality that made my pulse quicken.

"Come here and stand in front of the desk," he directed, his piercing blue gaze locking onto mine. I complied, though something in his tone told me he had no intention of asking me to take dictation.

"Good girl," he murmured, a flicker of something softer in his eyes before it vanished, replaced by the masculine hardness that seemed his usual demeanor. To my dismay, my body responded to the praise, a flare of heat rising down there.

He gazed at me for a moment, and I saw the ghost of a smile curve his lips. My heart beat faster with each passing second, the storm inside me raging all the higher as I grasped that he enjoyed making me wait to hear his first shameful demand.

"Go ahead and take off your clothes," Joseph finally commanded, his voice slicing through the air with an authority that left no room for hesitation. "I want to inspect your pussy."