Page 29 of His Naughty Secretary

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, my body responding despite the humiliation.

No, little slut, said the watcher. Because of the humiliation. You need this. You need it. You need it in the ass.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

I tried to sit still, to obey, but every jolt of the car, every slight shift, reminded me of the plug buried deep inside me. It was impossible to forget, impossible to think of anything else.

CHAPTER 18

Joseph

When the elevator doors opened, the luxurious silence of my apartment, which occupied the whole thirty-first floor of the building, seemed to reach into the mirrored space and surround us. I put my hand on Ingrid’s bottom, cupping and exploring a little, feeling for the sweet distension of her cheeks that represented the only palpable sign of the little plug’s presence in her delectable anus.

She looked up at me, her eyes troubled with understandable apprehension as well as the unmistakable, helpless arousal that made my cock leap along my thigh. With a pressure on her backside that I meant as a wordless command, I propelled her forward out of the elevator and into the foyer.

Our footsteps echoed against the marble floor of the commodious space, each sound a seeming reminder of the opulence that I couldn’t help taking a good deal of pride in. Ingrid’s wide eyes darted around, taking in the decor I had spent so much time, effort, and cold hard cash on—perfectly spaced recessed lighting, velvet drapes, the art that cost a good deal more than her yearly salary, as generously as Selecta paid its secretaries. My gaze lingered on her expression, savoring every flicker of shock and awe. Her reaction intoxicated me, letting me feel how stark a contrast to her previously modest life I’d presented to her.

I saw her swallow, a delicate movement that seemed to capture so much about these first explorations of her submissive nature. She clearly felt out of her element here, and it showed in the way she hesitated, her petite frame trembling a little with obvious uncertainty.

I couldn’t resist the magnetic pull, the call to dominance, any longer. I stepped forward and seized her waist, pulling her flush against me. Her breath hitched at the sudden contact. Her body stiffened, just for the briefest of moments, before melting into mine. I felt the heat between us surge, an electric rush that seemed to go to my head, my chest, and my cock all at once. My hands tightened their grip, asserting my control as I lowered my head to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

Our mouths collided with fervor. I made my dominance evident, guiding the rhythm and intensity of the kiss with my lips and tongue until she whimpered up into my mouth. Her thrillingly soft lips yielded to the quiet, wordless instructions I gave: the pressure of my own lips, the delicate but insistent penetration of my tongue. The pleasure she gave me with her mouth’s sweet, tentative response, her own shy exploration that quickly turned into something more desperate and hungry, made me feel the joy of mastery all the stronger.

I made my tongue more forceful, delving into her mouth and claiming every inch with possessive hunger. She tasted faintly of chocolate, an innocent, girlish hint that only served to heighten my arousal as I thought of how shamefully I meant to use her tonight.

Ingrid whimpered softly, a sound that vibrated through me, evoking my primal need to conquer and claim even more urgently. I deepened the kiss still further, my tongue tangling with hers in a dance of power and submission. Her hands gripped my shoulders, nails digging in just enough to send a shiver of pleasure through me. I could feel her resistance wane, replaced by a growing surrender that seemed born from more than the simple lust of a newly awakened submissive.

Breaking the kiss, I pulled back just enough to look into her flushed face, her eyes glazed with a mix of confusion and desire. The sight of her like this—disheveled, vulnerable, and utterly at my mercy—made for a potent aphrodisiac. My fingers traced the line of her jaw, tilting her head up so she had no choice but to meet my gaze.

I stepped back further, my eyes locked onto Ingrid’s flushed face. She looked up at me, her wide gaze reflecting both trepidation and an undeniable, unquenchable spark of sexual need. My fingers trailed down her neck, pausing to feel the rapid pulse beneath her delicate skin before continuing their journey to the zipper of her dress.

“Stay still,” I commanded, my voice a growl of authority that brooked no disobedience.

She shivered but obeyed, the tension in the room palpable as I slowly pulled the zipper down, the soft rasping sound echoing in the silence. The fabric parted, exposing her smooth, pale skin inch by tantalizing inch until the dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. Ingrid stood before me, vulnerable and exposed, clad only in a lacy red bra that barely concealed the swell of her adorable little breasts. The contrast between the sensual fabric and her exposed skin sent another surge of my own need straight to the rock-hard shaft between my legs.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, my gaze raking over her form with possessive hunger.

“Joseph… sir…” she whispered, her voice trembling. It was a plea, though for what exactly, she might not even know.

“You’re going to go into my bedroom,” I told her, my dominant lust no longer permitting a smile, or a voice other than one of aggressive, almost bestial command. “You’ll see the door when you turn around. You’re going to get on the bed and face the headboard, on your knees right at the foot. Then you’re going to bend over and put your face in the covers, and offer your bottom to me.”

Ingrid

I looked up at Joseph, my limbs still trembling at the force of his kiss and the humiliating but terribly arousing sensation of his stripping me nearly naked, there in the elegant foyer of his stunningly luxurious apartment. My heart pounded in my chest as I hesitated, my mind roiling at his brutal tone, the wolfish expression on his face, my body’s reaction, and my reason’s rebellion against it all.

The memory of the paddle’s sting on my bare skin and the still lingering ache in my backside flashed through my mind, a vivid reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Somewhere, my mind was trying to remind me that I could quit, that Selecta would find me a new job, that I could forget any of this had ever happened. I remembered the paddle and the compliance wand instead.

You don’t have any choice, do you, you little whore? that other voice said. Your master knows what you really need, and if you refuse to give him what he wants, he’ll punish you.

As if he could read my mind, Joseph lowered his chin and growled, “I have a paddle here, too, sweetheart. Do you need me to get it?”

I swallowed so hard it hurt. My face burned. With my lower lip between my teeth, I forced myself to turn until I could see the door of the bedroom, off to the side of the enormous living room. The huge bed with the burgundy comforter beckoned to me—no, commanded me with its potent symbolism, its embodiment of Joseph’s dominance.

Each step felt heavier than the last as I crossed the marble and my pumps found the carpet of the living room. Even there, still ten meters away, the bed loomed before me, an enormous expanse that seemed to dwarf my petite frame. My brow furrowed as I moved, my one naughty piece of lingerie somehow accentuating my lack of panties, my nudity, the intrusive, degrading, arousing metal plug in my anus.

I reached its foot. I climbed onto it. I knelt, the soft comforter receiving my knees as I positioned myself on the firm mattress. My hands trembled, and I hesitated once more, knowing what was expected of me yet feeling the weight of my vulnerability pressing down.

Joseph’s voice echoed in my mind, the memory of his commanding tone leaving no room for defiance.

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