Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

I ngrid

Joseph's words hung in the air, each syllable its own little hot stab of shame, making a mockery of any thought of dignity I might have had.

I enjoy fucking her cunt, anus, and mouth , he had said, the casual objectification leaving me breathless. My cheeks burned with shame, my eyes stinging as I looked down at the polished wood of his desk.

I felt the junior executives' eyes boring into me. I could see the eagerness, the hunger glinting in their gazes. Kevin, Louis, and Martin… my colleagues, my fellow team members… the men with whom Joseph had decided to share me like a new golf club… like a favorite beer.

Shame washed over me, mingling with the ghost of the anger my reason told me I should feel—simmering wrath that should threaten to boil over into rage.

How dare he speak of me like that? the rational voice demanded. Like a golf club! Like a beer!

But the hotter, redder, darker place swallowed the tepid heat of anger. Crimson need twisted in a coil within me farther down and more basic, in a helpless, undeniable response to the power Joseph wielded so effortlessly.

Silence fell. For an instant I wondered what had happened, and a thrill of mingled hope and perverse disappointment rose in my chest at the thought that perhaps Joseph would call it all off. Then I understood, because I felt the pressure of the air that I hadn't sensed for the past three weeks, but that I remembered much too well.

The first stroke of the paddle landed with a resounding crack, the sharp pain exploding across my ass. I gasped, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk. The leather inset felt cold against my flushed cheek, a stark contrast to the heat blossoming where the paddle had struck. The pain took a moment to bloom, then started radiating outward in waves that left me breathless.

"One," Joseph counted, his voice devoid of emotion. He allowed the silence to stretch, letting the anticipation build before bringing the paddle down again. Another crack, another surge of agony. I bit my lip to stifle a cry, my body tensing as I braced for the next blow.

"Two."

He made each stroke deliberate, calculated to inflict maximum pain with unerring precision. By the third stroke, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the sting intensifying with every swat. The sensation was overwhelming, a relentless assault on my body and my mind together, the sum of it leaving me reeling.

"Three."

The paddle came down again and again, each blow a punctuation mark in this cruel lesson. My breath hitched with every impact, the pain building until it was all I could focus on. My vision blurred, tears spilling over as I fought to maintain my composure.

"Four."

"Five."

"Six."

I lost track, the numbers blurring together as the torment continued. Each stroke seemed harder than the last, the force behind them growing with Joseph's apparent determination to break me. My cries filled the room, mingling with the muted sounds of the city beyond the panoramic windows.

"Seven."

My backside clenched and unclenched in a way that would have felt absolutely mortifying if I could have thought of anything but the fiery, searing agony of my rear end. My legs kicked out uncontrollably, and I put them hastily back in place before Joseph could reprimand me.

"Eight."

With the ninth swat, the pain rippling through my body grew too much to bear. I straightened up abruptly, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. My hands flew to my throbbing, burning bottom, trying desperately to soothe the searing pain, to defend my poor little cheeks from my master's punishment. The humiliation of the junior executives' leering eyes only intensified my distress.

"Please, Joseph," I begged, my voice trembling with desperation, "no more. I can't take it."

Joseph's piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, a cold, unyielding command behind them. His voice was like steel, cutting through my pleas. "Ingrid, you know better than to stand up without permission. For that, you'll receive an extra stroke."

A sob escaped my lips as I realized there would be no mercy. With shaking hands, I forced myself to bend over the desk once again, determined to show my acceptance of his discipline. I gripped the far edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white as I braced myself for the punishment to continue.

"Good girl," Joseph murmured, his voice full of dark satisfaction.

The next stroke landed with brutal precision, and I screamed uncontrollably, the sound echoing off the opulent walls of Joseph's corner office. Pain exploded across my backside, the impact reverberating through every nerve in my body. Tears blurred my vision, but I held my position, knowing that any defiance would only make things worse.

"Ten," Joseph counted, his voice unwavering, and struck again.

"Eleven," he announced. My screams grew louder, my body convulsing with each excruciating blow. Heat flared absurdly in my cheeks as I thought of Cathy, listening down the hall, then remained as I remembered Kevin, Louis, and Martin watching intently, their hungry eyes devouring my suffering.

The paddle struck again.

"Twelve," his voice said from somewhere that felt far away, made the more distant by my loud sobs at the pain's crescendo. My mind teetered on the brink of collapse, but I clung to the edge of the desk with desperate resolve.

"Thirteen," Joseph intoned, delivering the final, punishing stroke. The force of it and the white-hot torment that radiated from the wooden surface shattered what little composure I had left. I screamed with a raw, primal intensity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the skyscraper.

Gasping for breath, I remained bent over the desk, my body quivering with the aftermath of the torment. Despite the unbearable pain, a twisted sense of accomplishment washed over me. I had endured Joseph's discipline. I had proven my submission and dedication to him.

"You did well, sweetheart," Joseph said finally, his voice softening just slightly. He set the paddle down on the desk beside me, a symbol of his authority and control. "You should have a reward, I think."

I nodded weakly, my sobs subsiding into quiet whimpers. I could feel the junior executives' eyes still on me, their anticipation so great that it seemed to engulf me in some kind of psychic current. The knowledge that they would soon take their turn in my punishment filled me with a mix of dread and helpless excitement.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with condescension. "Took your punishment so well. Didn't you, you naughty little whore?" His fingers traced the curve of my reddened, burning bottom, raising a shiver that traveled up my spine despite the searing pain.

"So much more to come, though," Joseph whispered, leaning close so that only I could hear. His breath felt hot against my ear, each word sending waves of conflicting emotions through me. "Soon, you'll be under their big cocks, won't you? They'll all get a ride on my little slut."

His hand moved between my legs, caressing the tender flesh of my inner thighs before finding the slick heat of my pussy. My breath came in short pants between my parted lips. Joseph's touch both soothed and maddened me, stoking the embers of arousal that smoldered beneath the surface of my agony.

"They're watching, sweetheart," Joseph murmured, his fingertips brushing deliberately over my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through my abused body. "They can't wait to bury themselves inside you, to use every hole like I do."

The mortification of being watched, of knowing their eyes were on me as Joseph's fingers worked me, only heightened my arousal. Each degrading word, each filthy promise he whispered, fueled the need building within me. I could feel their gazes, hungry and possessive, taking in every detail of my exposed and vulnerable state.

"Do you see how this excites my little whore?" Joseph said in a different voice. New shame, hot as the sun, flowed through me as I realized with arousal-slowed thoughts that he had stopped talking to me and started talking to his team, his men—the owners of the cocks that would soon take me.

Joseph's fingers plunged deeper into my wetness. "You see how quickly she's going to come?"

A strangled moan escaped my lips as my hips instinctively pushed back against his hand. The pain in my backside blended with the intense pleasure coursing through me, creating an overwhelming mixture of sensations that drove me to the brink. I lost myself in the terrible need, the desperate urgency that my master knew so well how to force on me.

"Would you like to come, sweetheart?" Joseph asked openly, the question as much for Kevin, Louis, and Martin as for me.

"Yes," I cried, barely able to form the words. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl," Joseph purred, his fingers relentless in their assault. "Come for me, Ingrid. Show them how much you need this."

With a cry that echoed through the opulent office, I started to come. My body convulsed, each wave of orgasm tearing through me with unrestrained ferocity. Joseph's hand never wavered, prolonging my ecstasy until I was nothing more than a quivering, panting mess draped over his desk.

"Again," he commanded, his voice a low growl. His fingers continued their merciless rhythm, driving me toward another peak. The pain and humiliation only served to amplify my arousal, pushing me higher and higher.

"Please," I begged, though I wasn't sure if I was pleading for mercy or for more. The line between agony and pleasure had blurred beyond recognition, leaving me adrift in a sea of sensation.

"One more," Joseph decreed, his thumb circling my clit with deliberate precision. "Show them how much you need it."

My second climax crashed over me, even more intense than the first. I screamed, the sound raw and primal, as my body surrendered completely to the relentless pleasure. Joseph's fingers milked every last drop from me, leaving me trembling and spent.

"Such a good girl," he praised, his hand finally stilling. "Such a naughty little slut."

As Joseph's fingers finally left me, my body shuddered with the lingering echoes of pleasure and pain. The cool air of the office brushed against my drenched folds, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from my punished backside. I barely had time to catch my breath before he patted my burning bottom gently, his touch both soothing and possessive.

I sensed Joseph standing up. I turned my head over my shoulder to see him moving away from the desk with an apparent casualness that made my stomach twist in knots. He walked over to his armchair and lowered himself into it with the grace of a king taking his throne. His piercing blue eyes never left mine, a reminder of the power he held over me.

"Kevin, Louis, Martin," he called out, his voice commanding and assured. "Take Ingrid to the coffee table. You may enjoy her as long and as hard as you choose."

My breath caught in my throat, a mix of fear and helpless, reawakened arousal surging through me. The three young men moved forward, their eyes gleaming with hunger. Kevin, tall and lean, reached me first. His hands were firm but gentle as he lifted me from the desk, my legs trembling beneath me.

"Let's go, Ingrid," he said, his tone surprisingly soft. But there was no mistaking the lust in his eyes.

Louis and Martin flanked us, guiding me toward the luxurious, padded and leather-topped table that sat innocuously among the couch and chairs that occupied one corner of Joseph's opulent office. Each step felt like an eternity, my mind racing with the possibilities of what was to come. The weight of their gazes pressed down on me, amplifying the submissive need that pulsed through my veins.

As they laid me down on the leather-covered table, I couldn't help but glance at Joseph, desperate to know the expression on his handsome face. His blue eyes watched with an intensity that made my skin tingle, his expression an unreadable blend of emotions: pride, yes—I felt a thrill of my own pride to answer it, that, paradoxically, he valued me so highly. His own lust, too—I knew my master well enough to know his cock had gotten hard as iron while punishing me and then forcing so much pleasure on my helpless body. Some other, darker emotion seemed to lie in his eyes, though.

Jealousy?

"Please," I whispered, though again I didn't know what I meant by the submissive word, or even who I was begging to—Joseph, the junior executives, or even myself. The line between fear and desire had blurred beyond recognition.

"Try to enjoy this, Ingrid," Kevin instructed, his hand trailing down my thigh, then pressing between my thighs to take possession of my pussy and my bottom at once. "We definitely will."