Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Get used to this position, sweetheart,” Mr. Alden told me. “You’re going to spend a lot of time in it.”
CHAPTER 8
Ingrid
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.