Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

I ngrid

I let out a deep, wrenching sob. Some remaining reasonable voice in my brain kept repeating, I don't understand… I don't understand…

Deep down, though, I knew it was a lie. I did understand. Mr. Alden's right hand on my bottom, his fingers pressing between my thighs, the burning of my poor little rear end… all of them forced me to understand against my will, because they all made me long for a man's hardness inside me as I never had before.

Jake… I felt like I couldn't even think of him as an ex-boyfriend anymore, because in my mind a boyfriend was supposed to…

What? Do this ? Degrade me… punish me… use me…?

Another sob pulled itself from my chest.

Yes. And the horrible compliance wand had made it possible for Mr. Alden to show me the truth of that part of my imagination, my needs.

Mr. Alden… Mr. Joseph Alden…

I blinked as I stared down at the carpet, humiliatingly only a millimeter from my nose, so close that I caught the not-unpleasant scent of a particular foaming cleanser my family had used in our house growing up. I hadn't even realized that I had registered his first name. It must have appeared somewhere in the email telling me Selecta had chosen me for an interview.

Joseph.

His fingers, between my legs, probed casually into the entrance of my vagina. Casually, it felt like because he made no fuss about it; Joseph Alden simply exercised the right he obviously felt he had to put his fingers into the private part of a girl like me. Casually, frankly, boldly… arrogantly, dominantly… all of those things that made me whimper toward the carpet as I felt him discover just how much wetness a slutty young secretary like me could produce, when made to yield to his authority.

The tips of them, those knowing fingers, pressed in further, deeper into the place where I had only had a penis twice, and a man's fingers only a few times more than that.

Never fingers like these, though , the hot, dark voice said. Even my own… my hesitant, embarrassed fingers, those very few times I had dared to do some naughty exploration… they didn't feel like this.

Another sob, and my body tried to rebel. I managed to push up on my elbows, against the restraint of Mr. Alden's left hand, about six inches. A thrill of surprise went through me as I understood that I had disobeyed a command, and then—to my horror—another emotion came right behind: worry and anxiety. Shouldn't the wand's effect keep me in place?

My new boss' hand on my back had no difficulty doing it anyway, though; he pressed me back down, and the surge of arousal that shot outward from my clit, making me clench around his thrusting fingers, told me that my body hadn't somehow changed its mind.

"No, sweetheart," Mr. Alden murmured. "Stay there. The compliance wand is wearing off a little, right on schedule. You're going to have to consent to your fucking without its help. This is a very important moment for you."

"Oh," I said, moving my jaw, then my lips, as if rediscovering them. "Oh… I…"

The fingers in my private part, covered in the slick proof of my helpless need for a rigid penis, withdrew and spread my natural lubrication forward, to make his touch on my clit so lewdly pleasurable that I cried out, bucking, trying again to rise only to find that Mr. Alden's grip held me securely in place.

"Shh, Ingrid. Shh. I know how hard this is going to be. I'll make it as easy as I can."

Abruptly his hands were gone. I sensed, rather than saw, that he had stood up. As I attempted to process what had happened, wondering whether I could, or should, try to stand up… try to run to the locked door or pound on the plate glass of the window, I heard a jingling that could only represent the sound of Mr. Alden unbuckling his belt.

"You probably have the physical ability to disobey me now, Ingrid," he said. "But you really shouldn't think so much of that."

I heard a sort of clicking sound. His zipper. My heart jumped, and I swallowed hard.

"After all, I have the ability and the authority to paddle you as long as I want, and then send you home unemployed. Unfucked, perhaps, also—but definitely without a job."

Then his hand returned to my body, atop my back, pressing firmly but without real force, as if to remind me to hold my degrading posture, flaming bottom up and face down. To my momentary confusion I felt fabric rustle against my flanks, and then I realized Mr. Alden had lowered himself into a sort of crouch, straddling me.

The picture of it rose, hot and red, in my mind's eye: the literal domination of the tall older man, fully clothed but for the lewdest, most arrogant part of his body, stooping like a beast of prey to ravage the prostrate girl he had stripped to her slutty lingerie and then punished until her rear end glowed like a sunrise.

I had no choice. That was the important thing. Not the way his masterful hands had turned me into a quivering, aching creature in danger of begging her boss to fuck her needy cunt until she couldn't walk comfortably for a week. The wand didn't matter—it just sort of symbolized Joseph Alden's actual power over me, didn't it?

I clenched hard as I felt something new, not a fingertip but something broader and slightly more yielding, rubbing up and down, along the whole length of my private cleft, inside the delicate, sensitive petals there, up to the tingling nub that made my hips jerk backwards.

Hardness. Joseph Alden's hardness. His manhood. His…

His cock. His huge, rigid cock. The thing he's going to put inside you because he likes to fuck. He likes to fuck slutty, submissive young women with his long, thick penis.

The idea that I hadn't seen it, or touched it… that I didn't even get to see the cock that my boss would thrust into my desperately aching cunt… roiled inside me. I had a flash of memory, about Jake—the way I had blushed the first time I had stolen a look at his rigid manhood, the way I had stroked it so hesitantly and felt so naughty doing it. I should have thanked Mr. Alden, a prudish voice tried to say in my mind, for not making me touch his thing, or see it.

But to have my face lowered to the carpet, with his big, restraining hand on my back to keep it there—it felt as if I hadn't yet earned the privilege of seeing or touching his manhood. Mr. Alden would decide when I would become more intimate and knowledgeable about the private parts of his body, and how he would make me serve him.

Just as he had decided when he would touch my bottom, paddle me, press his fingers into me. How he would command that my private parts be bared for him. How he would lodge the head of the rigid shaft inside the entrance to the hot, wet sheath he had gotten ready for his use.

"Oh, this little cunt is going to be so nice and tight," he said, his voice a little hoarse with what I knew must be the pleasure my private part gave to his manhood. My cheeks blazed with heat. "We're going to have a lot of fun together, Ingrid Vogel."

I bit my lip hard, but the sob of pleasure mixed with abject shame came out of my chest nevertheless. We… How could he say it that way? How could this be anything like fun for me?

I felt him move the tip of his cock out just a little. My hips jerked backwards uncontrollably and I whimpered as my vagina tried despite my mortification to impale me on my boss' rigid penis. He pushed it in again, just a little further this time, and the noise that came from my throat seemed the mirror image of the last one: a soft cry of gratitude for Mr. Alden's mercy.

Fun? Could that word have anything to do with this feeling? It seemed so much greater, so much more essential. And how could it be ‘fun' for me to learn how desperately I needed to yield myself to my boss' every humiliating whim? To know that I would have to be bare, down there, from now on, because he liked a girl's cunt to be smooth for him? To know that from now on I would serve as Mr. Alden's submissive fuck toy, to be used, panties down, however and whenever he wanted to have ‘fun' with my helpless body?

And yet as I felt his hands move to encircle my waist over the naughty garter belt, and I understood that he intended to keep my private part just where he liked it, for thrusting in at full length, I felt a little glimmer of an unexpected, even shocking joy. It hardly seemed possible, but a splinter of me, somewhere in the far distance, could see what Mr. Alden meant about fun: it… well, it seemed kind of like a game, almost.

I felt my eyes go wide at the thought… and then even wider because the huge, stiff shaft of my new boss' erection thrust hard into my needy vagina. I tried to rise, even to get away, because the pleasure crashed through my body so violently that it felt like pain, too—like Mr. Alden fucking me actually represented the culmination of my punishment rather than a reward for accepting it, or even a simple sequel to it, decreed by him because he had gotten aroused in paddling me, and had the right to satisfy his lust in his new secretary's cunt.

He kept me in the posture he wanted, moving his right hand to the small of my back, atop my bra strap, to forbid me from straightening more than a centimeter. He entered me at full length, until I felt his muscular lap come up against my paddled bottom cheeks. Then he held himself inside me, filling me—possessing me.

Desperately, shamefully, I tried to move on his hardness. His grip on my waist prevented me from finding more than a tiny bit of the friction I craved. I sobbed in frustration and humiliation. I tried again, and Mr. Alden held me even more tightly.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'll decide."

His hand stroked my back, taming me… soothing me. The primal nature of what he had done, crouching over me to ravish me in my slutty lingerie, like an animal in harness, sent a wave of heat surging through my body. I felt my vagina contract around his huge cock and I cried out as again the pleasure seemed so intense it became almost painful.

"Shh. You need a good, hard fucking, don't you?"

Something in the tone of his voice brought back to my mind the strange idea I had found a moment ago, before all thought had flown away with the deep thrust of his hardness into me. A game… a joyful game. One we play together.

I bit my lip. I hadn't responded to his question, had I? The wand's effect had gone away, and yet here I was, even more naked than I would have felt without the lacy red underwear, obedient under the hands and the manhood of my new boss. A game ?

"Oh, God…" I moaned. "Oh… sir…"

The word had come out on its own, without the compulsion from the wand.

"Answer me," Mr. Alden commanded. "Do you need a good, hard fucking, you little slut?"

I could hear it, somehow, in his voice. He meant it—he meant the degradation and he meant the dominance—and yet he still wanted me to have fun, too.

"Yes, sir," I sobbed.