Page 43 of His Naughty Secretary

Ingrid

Joseph stepped back again and began to undress, his eyes never leaving mine, and yet each of his movements deliberate and measured. I stood there, feeling the heat rise within me, my mouth dry with anticipation. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor, soft as it was in the luxurious carpet, seemed to echo in the opulent silence of his bedroom. He pulled off his tie, the fabric slipping through his fingers with a whisper, before shrugging off his suit coat and letting it fall in a heap beside him.

His fingers on the buttons of his crisp white Oxford shirt exposed his powerful chest, a sculpted testament to his disciplined lifestyle, thatched in blond curls that showed only a hint of silver. My breath got labored as I felt my body respond, the familiar warmth growing down between my thighs.

Let’s go home. That’s what he had said in his office, after the gang bang, when he had put his suit coat over me to keep away the shivers that had threatened to claim my limbs. He had made his voice a sort of tender growl that had sent a thrill through my whole nervous system.

Home. He’d never referred to his apartment that way before, at least in a way that included me. The memory made me glow with an unexpected sense of belonging, a burgeoning love that felt almost too fragile to name—as strange as it had seemed after everything that had just taken place in his office.

He stepped closer again, urgently, as if he couldn’t keep himself from interrupting the process of undressing to lay hands on me. He reached for my face with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the hard lines of his expression. His thumb brushed over my cheek, and then his lips were on mine, demanding yet impossibly tender. I poured myself into him, lost in the sensation, every nerve ending alight with desire and need.

As his tongue explored my mouth, tasting, claiming, the feeling of… of difference grew: it felt as if in the past our encounters had been about dominance, control, and submission, as much as I had wondered whether my master might be developing feelings for me.

Something more had begun, though; an intimacy that made my heart ache and glow at once. The soreness from the paddle and the rough fucking of his minions faded into the background, replaced by the overwhelming presence of Joseph, my master.

His hands tightened on my face for a moment, as if he couldn’t bear to break the connection, before he finally pulled back. His eyes searched mine, a mix of possessiveness and something softer, something that made my tummy flip.

Joseph stepped back again. His hands went to the waistband of his trousers, urgency clear in every motion. His fingers moved over his belt buckle, unfastening it with practiced ease. The metallic clink of it sounded very familiar to me now, but I had always heard the noise from behind me, while I buried my face in the comforter at his command.

My eyes locked onto his hands, watching as they worked, my heart racing at the thought of what came next. The zipper slid down, and he pushed the fabric away from his hips. His enormous, rigid penis sprang free, demanding my full attention. It stood proud and commanding, just like its owner.

I fixed my gaze solely on his cock, knowing that a good fuck toy saw in her master’s manhood the center of her world. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks and wetness seeping from my bare pussy despite the soreness that lingered there.

The sight of his powerful erection captivated me, banishing all other thoughts. I wanted it inside me, claiming me anew, marking me as his. Even after Kevin, Louis, and Martin had used me, leaving me tender and sore, the desire for Joseph’s cock outweighed the fear of discomfort when he fucked me. My need transcended my physicality; it was a hunger for submission, for belonging.

“On your knees,” Joseph ordered. My body responded instinctively, dropping to the floor, a sob escaping my lips. I knelt before him, staring up at the imposing figure of my master, my gaze fixed on his massive, rock-hard cock.

“Take me in your mouth,” he growled, guiding his hardness to my lips. I opened willingly, feeling the familiar ache in my jaw as he thrust deep. The sheer size of him filled my mouth, my throat, asserting his dominance in a way that felt both humbling and exhilarating.

His hand rested on the back of my head, holding me in place, ensuring I took every inch. Tears pricked at my eyes from the effort, but I welcomed the sensation. This represented his way of possessing me, I knew, of reclaiming me and teaching me about his control over me.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of satisfaction and command. He held himself in for a moment, as if to make sure I understood who I belonged to, before slowly withdrawing. A trail of my saliva connected us briefly, an obscurely embarrassing, but also very real, reminder of our bond.

Then Joseph’s hands moved with a speed that left me breathless. One moment I was kneeling before him, the taste of his dominance still lingering on my tongue. The next he had scooped me up from the floor as if I weighed nothing at all. It was like flying; the world blurred around me, distant and surreal. His strength enveloped me, making me feel both fragile and fiercely protected.

He carried me the few steps to the bed, pulling back the covers with a single, fluid motion even as he held me aloft with one arm. With a tenderness that was almost jarring in its contrast to his earlier roughness, he laid me down, positioning me to face away from him.

I felt the mattress dip as he climbed in behind me, his body heat radiating against my back. The sensation of his skin against mine intoxicated my senses, a potent mix of warmth and possessiveness. His enormous erection pressed insistently against my bottom, a constant reminder of his power and his hunger.

I lay there, feeling completely engulfed by him—his strength, his care, his undeniable presence. Every muscle in my body seemed to melt into his, merging our beings in a way that transcended our bodies. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, anchoring me to him.

“I’m so proud of you, Ingrid,” he murmured into my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a confusing whirlpool of emotions. The soreness from the paddle and the gang bang lingered, a dull ache that mingled with the warmth blossoming between my thighs. My mind held a haze of conflicting desires—how deeply I needed him, how much I craved his reclamation of me, yet how tender I still felt down there.

“Your work at Selecta, your submission to me… You’ve done well, Ingrid. Better than I could have asked for.”

His praise soothed like a balm rubbed gently over the raw edges of my self-doubt. Despite my mistake at the big meeting, he had seen it as an opportunity for growth, for both of us, I understood suddenly. His belief in me, his acknowledgment of my efforts, filled me with a glowing pride that eclipsed the pain.

“Thank you, sir,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.

“Shh,” he hushed gently, his lips brushing against my ear. “Just let me hold you for a while.”

I obeyed, sinking deeper into his embrace. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. I supposed it came from my detached, dreamy state, but I truly felt our souls entwine, lose themselves in a galaxy where nothing mattered but the connection we shared, as dark and twisted as it might seem to anyone else. His hand traced soothing circles on my belly, each touch a wordless promise of his protection and care.

Even as I reveled in the comfort of his arms, though, my need grew. His rigid cock throbbed against my bottom, a relentless reminder of what was to come. Mixed thoughts and feelings swirled within me, the longing for his possession battling with my fear of lingering pain from the night’s earlier events.

“You’re so strong, Ingrid,” Joseph continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

---