Page 20 of His Naughty Secretary

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.”

CHAPTER 13

Ingrid

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.

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