Page 38 of His Naughty Secretary

“One,” Joseph counted, his voice devoid of emotion. He allowed the silence to stretch, letting the anticipation build before bringing the paddle down again. Another crack, another surge of agony. I bit my lip to stifle a cry, my body tensing as I braced for the next blow.

“Two.”

He made each stroke deliberate, calculated to inflict maximum pain with unerring precision. By the third stroke, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the sting intensifying with every swat. The sensation was overwhelming, a relentless assault on my body and my mind together, the sum of it leaving me reeling.

“Three.”

The paddle came down again and again, each blow a punctuation mark in this cruel lesson. My breath hitched with every impact, the pain building until it was all I could focus on. My vision blurred, tears spilling over as I fought to maintain my composure.

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

I lost track, the numbers blurring together as the torment continued. Each stroke seemed harder than the last, the force behind them growing with Joseph’s apparent determination to break me. My cries filled the room, mingling with the muted sounds of the city beyond the panoramic windows.

“Seven.”

My backside clenched and unclenched in a way that would have felt absolutely mortifying if I could have thought of anything but the fiery, searing agony of my rear end. My legs kicked out uncontrollably, and I put them hastily back in place before Joseph could reprimand me.

“Eight.”

With the ninth swat, the pain rippling through my body grew too much to bear. I straightened up abruptly, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. My hands flew to my throbbing, burning bottom, trying desperately to soothe the searing pain, to defend my poor little cheeks from my master’s punishment. The humiliation of the junior executives’ leering eyes only intensified my distress.

“Please, Joseph,” I begged, my voice trembling with desperation, “no more. I can’t take it.”

Joseph’s piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, a cold, unyielding command behind them. His voice was like steel, cutting through my pleas. “Ingrid, you know better than to stand up without permission. For that, you’ll receive an extra stroke.”

A sob escaped my lips as I realized there would be no mercy. With shaking hands, I forced myself to bend over the desk once again, determined to show my acceptance of his discipline. I gripped the far edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white as I braced myself for the punishment to continue.

“Good girl,” Joseph murmured, his voice full of dark satisfaction.

The next stroke landed with brutal precision, and I screamed uncontrollably, the sound echoing off the opulent walls of Joseph’s corner office. Pain exploded across my backside, the impact reverberating through every nerve in my body. Tears blurred my vision, but I held my position, knowing that any defiance would only make things worse.

“Ten,” Joseph counted, his voice unwavering, and struck again.

“Eleven,” he announced. My screams grew louder, my body convulsing with each excruciating blow. Heat flared absurdly in my cheeks as I thought of Cathy, listening down the hall, then remained as I remembered Kevin, Louis, and Martin watching intently, their hungry eyes devouring my suffering.

The paddle struck again.

“Twelve,” his voice said from somewhere that felt far away, made the more distant by my loud sobs at the pain’s crescendo. My mind teetered on the brink of collapse, but I clung to the edge of the desk with desperate resolve.

“Thirteen,” Joseph intoned, delivering the final, punishing stroke. The force of it and the white-hot torment that radiated from the wooden surface shattered what little composure I had left. I screamed with a raw, primal intensity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the skyscraper.

Gasping for breath, I remained bent over the desk, my body quivering with the aftermath of the torment. Despite the unbearable pain, a twisted sense of accomplishment washed over me. I had endured Joseph’s discipline. I had proven my submission and dedication to him.

“You did well, sweetheart,” Joseph said finally, his voice softening just slightly. He set the paddle down on the desk beside me, a symbol of his authority and control. “You should have a reward, I think.”

I nodded weakly, my sobs subsiding into quiet whimpers. I could feel the junior executives’ eyes still on me, their anticipation so great that it seemed to engulf me in some kind of psychic current. The knowledge that they would soon take their turn in my punishment filled me with a mix of dread and helpless excitement.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with condescension. “Took your punishment so well. Didn’t you, you naughty little whore?” His fingers traced the curve of my reddened, burning bottom, raising a shiver that traveled up my spine despite the searing pain.

“So much more to come, though,” Joseph whispered, leaning close so that only I could hear. His breath felt hot against my ear, each word sending waves of conflicting emotions through me. “Soon, you’ll be under their big cocks, won’t you? They’ll all get a ride on my little slut.”

His hand moved between my legs, caressing the tender flesh of my inner thighs before finding the slick heat of my pussy. My breath came in short pants between my parted lips. Joseph’s touch both soothed and maddened me, stoking the embers of arousal that smoldered beneath the surface of my agony.

“They’re watching, sweetheart,” Joseph murmured, his fingertips brushing deliberately over my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through my abused body. “They can’t wait to bury themselves inside you, to use every hole like I do.”

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