Page 23 of His Naughty Secretary

“Good girl,” he murmured as he retreated, the words laced with approval and condescension.

My mind spun, a vortex of shame and forbidden exhilaration. The emotions in my mind and body seemed like a tempest, into which Louis seemed to step, when he moved forward to take Kevin’s place. Something about the way his shoes moved—less decisive than Kevin’s—made me think of his presence as a little sheepish, or perhaps merely meant to seem that way. His hardness seemed enormous in its own way; not as long as Kevin’s or Joseph’s, but so thick in his left hand that it made my heart jump.

“My turn,” he said. I felt as if I could hear, even without seeing Louis’ face, that a certain timidity in his character had been lost to a haze of desire. “I’d like you to ask for it, you little slut.”

Desire for me. For my body… the body Joseph owns, and can share as he chooses.

His words drew another sob from my throat. I pictured Louis’ eyes, hazel and hungry, locked onto my own restrained gaze as the internal war raged within me. He could see my troubled face, and I could only see his massive penis, menacing me and demanding my service.

The chaste upbringing that had sculpted my every moral fiber clashed violently against the raw, primal urges that Joseph had awakened, and had provided here to his junior executives as a casual favor. My body, traitorous in its yearning, responded with a heat that seared through my veins.

“Please,” I whispered, not entirely sure if I was begging for reprieve or imploring him to close the distance.

I caught a musky scent—not heavy, not the overwhelming sensation of yesterday, when Joseph had made me taste myself on his own huge manhood, but definitely present and definitely, terribly masculine. I breathed more deeply, unable to help myself, and caught more of a heady mixture of sweat and desire.

Joseph’s presence behind me, his watchful eyes in my imagination burning like twin beacons of authority, seemed to caress the nape of my neck. His silence commanded me, a stark contrast to the pulsating heartbeat that thundered in my ears.

“Kiss it,” Louis urged, his voice a low growl that resonated with expectation.

“Take Louis in your mouth, sweetheart, and show him how good a cocksucker you already are,” Joseph suddenly commanded. “He did a very good job on the Growfast proposal last week.”

My eyes went very wide, but down below, to my horror, my hips jerked with arousal. I closed my eyes for a brief moment. Suddenly I wanted to surrender to the inevitable. At last, I felt a mortifying gratitude for the help of the wand. My lips parted, and I whimpered as they brushed against the smooth skin of Louis’s massive penis.

The taste, tangy and distinct, filled my mouth, erasing any remnants of resistance. Joseph’s directive seemed to guide me, each movement choreographed by his dominating will.

My tongue danced timidly at first, gliding along the vein that throbbed beneath the surface. With every flick and swirl, my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving only the overwhelming reality of my submission. The office sounds faded into the background, replaced by the lewd wet noises that escaped from my terribly full mouth.

“Ah, yes… Just like that,” Louis muttered, a shudder running through his frame.

“That’s enough,” Joseph said abruptly. I frowned slightly as Louis hastened to withdraw his thick shaft from my mouth even as I obeyed reflexively myself, pulling my head back. Had I heard something in Joseph’s voice that might be called jealousy?

Martin stepped forward, his shoes moving in what seemed like an easy saunter. His erection jutted so far from his fly that my jaw went slack, his green eyes gleaming with anticipation. His stocky frame moved with an assertive grace that belied his brutish nature, and his red hair seemed ablaze in the dim light. With each step he took, my resistance melted away, replaced by a fluid obedience that startled me with its ease.

“Kiss it, you little whore,” he murmured, his voice rough like gravel. “I guess I don’t get a reward like Lou, but at least I get to feel those pretty lips on this fuck stick.”

My mouth had fallen open at my first sight of the length of his manhood. At these brutal words I began to pant. Obeying, thanks to the wand… thanks to Joseph’s commands… thanks to Martin’s filthy comments… thanks to my own helpless need… I closed my lips. My breath came in labored little puffs through my nose.

I leaned toward him, greeting him with an eagerness that—despite the burning blush that stayed in my face—I wasn’t feigning any longer. His scent filled my nostrils, earthy and rich, and as I got a fleeting taste of him, I surrendered to the detachment that had begun to claim me. It was a state of distant observation, a cocoon of numbness that shielded me from the shame of my actions.

And I felt Joseph watching, always watching, his blue eyes unblinking and omnipresent. His silence struck me louder than any words. With every new act of compliance, I became less of Ingrid Vogel, the independent naive professional striving to prove herself, and more of what I felt sure my new boss, my new master, envisioned: a vessel for desire, an instrument of pleasure honed by the hand of the man who wielded the paddle and the wand.

He spoke as I withdrew my head, my eyes still fixed only on Martin’s long, red cock.

“Remember what awaits you, gentlemen.” Joseph’s tone was even, calm—a direct contrast to the lewd scene he had orchestrated. “Hit in your targets, and you’ll get a share of the pleasure to be had in my executive fuck toy’s sweet little holes.”

CHAPTER 15

Ingrid

I remained kneeling on the plush red carpet, terribly conscious of my nakedness and the bruises on my backside. My cheeks burned with shame as I watched the junior executives zip up their pants. In my mind’s eye I could see the smug, fraternal grins on their handsome faces: vivid evidence of my degradation.

I felt Joseph towering over me, his piercing blue eyes seeming to stare through the back of my head into my soul. As Kevin, Martin, and Louis filed out of the office I cringed under Joseph’s gaze, certain he would punish me for refusing to obey instantly, to kneel and kiss the penises of the men of his team the moment he had commanded it.

He came around to my front. He didn’t have the paddle in his hand, and his fly remained closed. I blinked in confusion, not raising my eyes but instead lowering them to the mirror shine of his black shoes.

“You may look me in the eye, Ingrid,” he said. His tone of voice sounded different to me from any way he had spoken to me yet. I heard what I thought might be warmth, alongside the ever-present authority. Then I instantly told myself I must have imagined it.

In any case, the may he had used left me in confusion. Heat bloomed anew in my face. At that moment, though part of me longed to see his handsome face, I didn’t want to look up, out of embarrassment at my kneeling and my nakedness.

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