Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

I ngrid

My breath caught in my throat, heart pounding like a drum in my chest. The command to strip didn't come as a surprise, but it still sent an electric jolt through me, a potent mix of shame and desire.

For a moment I stared at him, some part of me still refusing to believe that I had really returned to Joseph Alden's office. His eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, and I felt heat surge into my face because I felt I could read his mind: he had just asked, wordlessly, if he needed to get the paddle out.

I found that my fingers had started to fumble with the buttons of my blouse, each one feeling like an insurmountable obstacle. Every little delay caused by the recalcitrant fabric seemed to bring the menace of the paddle closer, as my trembling hands betrayed my nerves.

I worked my way down the front, chewing my lower lip the whole time. I looked at the carpet under his imposing desk. The thought of meeting Joseph's eye seemed almost as frightening as the memory of his paddle.

The fabric slipped off my shoulders to pool around my feet. The cool air of Joseph's opulent office, on places it shouldn't be, made me shiver. I felt his eyes on me as strongly as if I could see him looking, maybe even more strongly—piercing, analytical, hungry.

I had almost fooled myself into thinking I might have begun to get used to being naked in my powerful, gorgeous boss' office. I swallowed hard as I realized that would never happen.

"Good girl," he murmured, his tone soft and very slightly mocking. To my dismay, his ever-so-slightly sarcastic praise sparked a warmth inside me that mingled with the chill of exposure. My mind seemed a million miles away, observing the insane scene: when I stooped, automatically, to slip off my heels, it seemed like I was watching another woman.

With my bottom lip still caught between my teeth and the blush hot in my cheeks, I took a deep breath through my nose. Without having any desire to do so, I raised my eyes to Joseph's face. The moment I met his gaze, I understood why I had looked: I felt my face form a pleading pout, a plea to be spared this mortifying ordeal.

The corner of his mouth crooked up very slightly.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," he told me.

Or… else. I heard it: the paddle, the wand. At that moment I didn't know which would pose the more difficult challenge. My attempt to keep some shred of my identity as a smart, capable, independent young woman seemed like a foolish dream.

I swallowed again, and I reached for the zipper of my skirt. The metallic sound seemed to echo in the quiet room, soft though it was. The garment slid down my hips, falling into a heap at my ankles. I stepped out, standing before him in nothing but a sensible beige bra, my smooth pussy exposed and vulnerable.

"You're learning," Joseph observed, a hint of satisfaction coloring his words. "But from now on, always wear a nice bra. You can ask Cathy how to get reimbursed for buying appropriate lingerie. Take it off."

His gaze scorched my skin as I complied, lingering on the places where modesty had abandoned me. The weight of his dominance pressed down on me, almost tangible and somehow suffocating, so that I feared suddenly that I might lose myself completely in this ‘game' that apparently he meant to be ‘fun' for me too.

I felt my forehead crease hard, though, as an unwelcome new surge of desire rose between my thighs, in the terribly exposed place I knew he must be gazing at. In my mind, the hot, dark place of shameful pleasure yielded to Joseph's control without hesitation.

"Yes, sir," I whispered as I dropped the bra to the floor, my voice barely audible, thick with submission and the raw edge of arousal. I could feel my cheeks burning, a flush spreading across my body in stark contrast to the coolness of the room. Every second stretching into an eternity fraught with tension and anticipation.

"Come around to my side of the desk," Joseph commanded.

I hesitated only a moment before my feet moved on their own accord, taking me closer to him. My tummy flipped as I realized I wanted Joseph to have a close look at me—as close as he chose. The plush carpet felt soft under my bare feet, a stark contrast to the hard evaluating gaze with which Joseph traced every inch of my exposed skin.

"Good girl," he murmured again, the repetition seeming almost like an incantation. I raised my eyes again, helplessly, needing to see. Joseph's eyes had darkened with what seemed a mixture of desire and satisfaction. "Turn around and put your hands on your knees."

Heat flared anew in my cheeks, and between my thighs, in a way I should have already known to anticipate, but still couldn't ever seem to see coming. I let out a little whimper as I obeyed. I could again almost feel Joseph's eyes; I knew beyond the slightest doubt that they had settled on the fading marks from the paddle.

I knew them too intimately myself, the purple bruises on my bottom and upper thighs that I hadn't been able to keep myself from stealing glances at in the mirror that morning.

"My marks look beautiful on you," Joseph's voice said softly from behind me. "I hope they serve as a reminder of your new life, and your place in this office."

His words sent a shiver down my spine. They seemed both a compliment and a stark reminder of my submission. My breath hitched, caught between the thrill of his approval and the embarrassment of this immodest exposure.

When I spoke, I hardly knew why, unless the fear of his paddle had tuned my behavior to match Joseph's dominant expectations as thoroughly as I could. "Thank you, sir," I whispered, my voice trembling to match my hands, shaking atop my knees as I pushed out my backside for his lewd inspection.

"Stay just like that," he ordered, as out of the corner of my eye I saw his hand reach for a green button on his desk tablet. His fingers looked deft and decisive as he pushed it. A beep sounded from somewhere. I had no idea what Joseph intended, but my heart started to race.

"Martin, Kevin, Louis—come to my office, please," he ordered into what seemed thin air. His tone sounded polite, but also absolutely commanding. Joseph Alden left no room for hesitation or dissent, it seemed, whether with his sexual servants or his junior executives.

Each name he called seemed to heighten the pounding in my chest, to ratchet the anticipation up another notch.

"I want my team to inspect you as well, Ingrid," he said matter-of-factly, as if it represented a standard business procedure. "It's important for you to get to know them, and vice versa."

From where I stood behind Joseph's desk, I had to turn my head to see the door. I did, out of sheer instinct, wondering if I could hear the muffled footsteps approaching from the hallway.

"Eyes front," Joseph commanded, delivering a sudden sharp, if glancing thanks to the angle, spank to my right bottom cheek. "You should know that by now."

I straightened at the sting as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Instantly, fearfully, I bent over again, putting my hands back on my knees. I gazed ahead, out the window into the blue sky outside, every bit of my body seeming to burn with shame and unwelcome desire.

The seconds stretched out, each one laden with the promise of further humiliation and deeper submission. Every muscle fiber of my body felt taut.

The door opened, and I heard them walk in. I felt my face working with emotion, nose wrinkling with shame, brow furrowing with fear.

"Good morning, gentlemen," I heard Joseph's voice say. "I want you to meet Ingrid Vogel, the team's new executive secretary. As you can see, Ingrid is very pretty, but also quite naughty when she has a mind to be. The marks from my paddle you can see on her adorable little ass came about because she refused to take off her clothes yesterday at her onboarding interview."

I didn't want to picture them. Martin, Kevin, and Louis, he had said—and I had recognized the names from the org chart I had studied early in my onboarding tutorial. Joseph's team of junior executives, who crafted corporate communications that went out under the megacorp's logo, often with results that changed the world.

There had been photos in the org chart, so I knew what they looked like: Martin, red-haired and full-faced. Kevin, with dark hair and eyes, his face sharp and angular. Louis, his locks light brown and his eyes an arresting hazel, his face oval-shaped and very intelligent-looking.

I pictured them despite myself. I bit my lip as in my mind's eye they stood at ease, their expressions a blend of curiosity and barely concealed eagerness. They awaited Joseph's instructions, knowing of course how their presence served as a tangible reminder of the hierarchy in Joseph's twisted corporate world.

"Observe closely," Joseph instructed them, his tone brooking no argument. "Ingrid's inspection is crucial for her learning how things work here, and you're of course an important part of that. Ingrid, go stand in the middle of the room so the guys can get a good look at you, just like I did."

Shaking, I obeyed, trying desperately to make my movements deliberate and measured, as if I could preserve some kind of grace despite this terrible degradation. With my eyes on their well-polished shoes and their neatly creased suit trousers, I reached the center of the room, my body now on full display for their scrutiny.

"Put your hands on your head, Ingrid," Joseph commanded, his voice stern. "That's another thing you'll have to learn to do without being told."

Air puffed in and out of my nostrils so fast I thought I might hyperventilate. I could feel a little dizziness swaying me atop my trembling knees as I obeyed, feeling again how the posture offered my body to the observer for assessment and, should he choose, for use.

I could feel how their eyes turned to me, raking over my body with a mix of desire and, I thought surely, some attempt at professional detachment. I felt their gazes like physical touches, each one adding to the mounting tension and arousal swirling within me.

"Take it all in," Joseph continued, his voice a masterful blend of authority and possession. "Every mark, every curve. She belongs to me, going forward, but as you gentlemen know, I like to share my toys."

The chuckle that ran through the three men whose expensive shoes and pants were all I could see of them drew a tiny sob from my chest. To my distress, one of them decided abruptly to venture a comment.

"Aww," the one on the left said, "are you a little nervous about being shared, Ingrid?"

"She should be," said the one on the right. "Maybe she's heard about the size of your cock, Kev."

Behind me, Joseph laughed. The sound, together with the coarse words the junior executives had used, sent a flame of shame and unwelcome need shooting through me, so strong that I had to close my eyes.

"Is she looking you in the eye?" Joseph asked.

"Nope," replied the one on the left. "She's learned that, at least."

"Good girl," Joseph said. "But go ahead and take a look at the team, now."

I swallowed hard. I didn't know how I managed to do it, but I obeyed, thinking that their actual faces couldn't be worse than my imagination.

They were, though.

Kevin stood on the left. His gaze was intense, his eyes dark with barely concealed hunger. Martin stood in the middle, his expression one of clinical curiosity, as though he were analyzing every curve and mark on my body with professional detachment. Louis, however, couldn't hide the raw desire that flickered across his features, his breathing shallow and rapid.

"Beautiful," Louis breathed, his eyes darkening with desire. The intensity of his stare made my pulse quicken, a forbidden thrill coursing through me.

"Indeed," Martin agreed, his voice cool and evaluating. "She's exquisite."

Kevin remained silent, but his gaze spoke volumes. His eyes roved over my body, taking in every inch of my exposed skin. I could sense much too easily his eagerness to partake in the lewd ‘game' that Joseph had set into motion.

"Ingrid, sweetheart," Joseph's condescending voice cut through the charged silence, "go ahead and kneel. Kevin, Martin, Louis, go ahead and take out your cocks. Ingrid is going to kiss them."