Page 4 of His Naughty Secretary

The thought made me try to twist away. I took my hands off my head and used them for leverage, shifting around to my right. I felt like I almost evaded his grasp. Mr. Alden gave a little grunt, though, and grabbed me around the waist, his left hand on my right hip and his right hand squeezing my pussy so hard I let out a scream of mingled discomfort and terrible, helpless arousal.

He began to move me toward the desk again. I struggled, but it only seemed to make the problem worse.

The problem: the way I’m supposed to be a high-powered businesswoman. Not an executive, no… not yet—but on my way, someday, working my way up from a high school education in the cruel corporate world. A high-powered businesswoman in training. Interviewing for the job that should finally get her started on her way. ‘Opportunities for rapid advancement.’

With an executive’s hand between her legs. Being marched toward his desk, where there’s a paddle to punish her for not taking off her clothes when told to do so.

“I’m going to paddle you until you strip for me, Ingrid Vogel,” Mr. Alden growled. “Then I’m going to paddle you for disobedience. Then we’re going to fuck.”

He had me to the edge of the desk. His left hand came off my hip, but before I could react, I felt it on my back, pushing me, bending me over, toward the terrifying wooden paddle. Blond wood, like the door Mr. Alden had locked to make sure I stayed here for my ‘interview.’ Three holes that I knew—much to my embarrassment, in fact—the blade had to help it travel faster through the air and inflict more pain on a miscreant’s backside.

“Elbows on the desk, sweetheart,” he commanded. “If it helps, I’m only going to have you strip to your lingerie. I like to fuck girls in lacy underwear, and with this thong on I don’t even have to pull your panties down if I don’t want to, when I paddle you. You can save yourself the first part of your punishment by taking off your skirt and your blouse right now.”

His left hand pressed with more force, while his right worked me degradingly but skillfully between my thighs. My breath had begun to come in ragged pants, and I felt so lightheaded I wondered if I would faint.

I bent my head and I put my elbows on the desk. In my confused, fevered mind, I obeyed because I knew how shameful it was to get wet inside my panties, with a man’s hand there. To hear him say he meant to fuck me in my lingerie, and feel an ache in my vagina at the words.

“Good girl,” he said, and I watched him pick up the paddle.

CHAPTER 3

Ingrid

I knew, deep down, what happened to naughty young women. Or I knew what used to happen to them. Knowing that—knowing that what Mr. Alden intended to do to me represented merely the fate a girl would, or should, have expected for her disobedience in the olden days—made my defiance flare up. I hated myself in that moment for thinking, insanely but also very deep down inside, that a willful young woman really should expect to be made to bend over with her skirt up over a man’s desk.

I took advantage of the momentary absence of Mr. Alden’s hands from my body. I stood up and darted to the right, toward the enormous window with its amazing view of the busy city and the vast lake beyond. I glanced over my shoulder to gauge Mr. Alden’s reaction, and saw him straightening up, the paddle still in his left hand and his right reaching inside his suit jacket. To my horror, he had a little smile on his face.

As I took a path toward the door that curved out so as to stay out of the awful, handsome man’s reach, I understood that the door of course remained locked. When I got there, I didn’t even try the handle; I turned around and put my back to the door, smoothing down my skirt, which had already half descended back into place as I made my futile attempt at escape.

I looked at Mr. Alden. He had put the paddle back down on his desk, and he had something small and shiny in his right hand. It looked a little like an alien weapon from a science fiction movie—the kind of device that seems tiny and innocent, but can kill a huge monster with space rays or something. He still stood right where he had the last time I had looked at him, but when our eyes met, he began to move slowly toward me.

“Help!” I yelled. “Help! Please!”

I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. What this… this asshole intended to do to me… it was illegal. I assumed that he must have a plan for shutting me up—I felt my heart skip a beat as my mind started to explore the scenarios that might involve—but he hadn’t done it yet, for some reason.

Selecta was a megacorp—a publicly traded company, though I had to admit I didn’t know exactly what that meant. Something about the stock market, but the kind of thing that only mattered to rich people, like everything about the stock market. I felt absolutely sure, though, that an executive at a publicly traded company would get in trouble for violating, like, all my civil rights. In a sexual way, no less.

He’d said some things about Selecta being… different, sure. I couldn’t remember precisely the words he’d used, but they had something to do with being old-fashioned. Well, old-fashioned had to mean, like, law-abiding, didn’t it?

“Everyone in the office,” Mr. Alden said as he walked slowly forward toward me, making me press my back—and my butt—even more firmly against the door, “knows that you’re going to get fucked in here, Ingrid. And now that they’ve heard you yelling for help, they’ve all got a very strong suspicion you’re going to get paddled first. Many of them—the other secretaries, that is—know from experience what a paddling from their boss feels like.”

He spoke in a very reasonable, even soothing voice. I blinked rapidly at him. He kept coming closer. I put up my hands in front of me, palms out, as if I could push him away.

“They know,” he continued, still moving forward and now holding the little shiny thing in his hand up a little, extending it slightly toward me, “that it hurts a great deal, but not as much as they feared before they experienced their first real discipline.”

My mouth hung open. My breath came raggedly in and out between my lips. Mr. Alden stopped about two feet away—just close enough to feel too close. Also, however, close enough that my body’s wayward, helpless, distressing response to his proximity began to take hold of my limbs, my nervous system, my muscles. I felt my knees tremble under me, and I tried to back up even further for the support of the solid wood.

“The… the police…” I tried, hearing the weakness in my voice. “This is… you’ll go to… to jail…”

His lips twitched, his smile widening a little, with a flicker of what must, I saw with a sinking heart, be amusement.

“Have you heard of the corporate laws, Ingrid?” he asked.

I blinked again. “Yes?”

Well, I had. Kind of?

“What do you know about them, sweetheart?” Mr. Alden asked, smiling more broadly, but with a stomach-churning air of arrogance and superiority, as if there was surely a great deal I didn’t know about the corporate laws.

---