Page 12 of His to Correct

The sudden shift in his demeanor sent a shiver down my spine. Gone was the warm, engaging executive. In his place sat a man who radiated authority and expected absolute compliance. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry despite the excellent coffee.

“Yes, Stuart,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, as if gauging the sincerity of my response. I couldn’t help it: I squirmed in my seat, and the movement brought a flare of pain from one of the bruises Sharon had left with the paddle. I winced.

“That particular difficulty,” Stuart said, obviously noticing my discomfort, “became the cause of some unpleasantness for you yesterday, didn’t it?”

CHAPTER 7

Stuart

I couldn’t deny how attractive I found Melissa Mitropoulos. The obvious chip on her shoulder only interested me more. Of all the defiant young women I’d tamed into productive members of my team over the years, I didn’t think I’d encountered a single one to match Melissa for her intelligence or for the evident force of her will to make a mark on her environment.

The conflict between the girl’s basically submissive sexuality and her deeply held values radiated from her eyes like a beacon. Even when questioned directly about the punishment Sharon had administered the previous day, Melissa’s evident embarrassment did battle with the defiance she had shown in the orientation. She took a long moment, her cheeks showing a dark blush, before she responded to my humiliating question.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I would have to say what happened yesterday was very unpleasant.”

I could see in Melissa’s gorgeous dark eyes just how hard she had to work to sit still as she faced me. She had apparently managed to avoid thinking about the bruised state of her backside until NMB had come up. I had to confess—though only to myself—that Melissa had impressed me by bringing the mortifying-for-her subject up on her own.

I could have glanced at my handheld to determine how aroused, despite her best efforts, the subject had gotten her. Selecta gave a boss everything he needed to help a young woman on his team develop as she should; if I wanted a real-time readout of Melissa’s arousal curve I only had to take a quick look at the device currently in my breast pocket. The help of the perineal sensor, though, wasn’t necessary in the slightest: Melissa’s squirming, and her blush, slight though both those signs had been, told me everything an experienced dominant needed to know.

“You were paddled with your panties down, I gather? For interrupting the orientation?”

I watched Melissa’s chest rise and fall, her medium-sized breasts looking so pert in her provocative red suit that I almost reached out to fondle them without further ado. From moment to moment her eyes passed from submission to challenge and back again as she quite obviously debated all the various unattractive options for a reply.

“Yes,” she said again, finally.

“And I also gather,” I continued, frowning a little, “as I mentioned earlier, that your outburst concerned New Modesty Blue—the subject we were just discussing. Is that right?”

Melissa had her lower lip between her teeth now, and she chewed gently on it. I wondered if she even knew she was doing that. I felt absolutely sure she had no idea how aroused she appeared. I almost fetched my handheld out just to see the precise humidity inside her panties, because I could tell just how considerable a number it would be. Thinking about the girls on NMB, and how their suitors gave them precisely the discipline and dominant fucking they needed, represented sexual kryptonite for Melissa Mitropoulos.

She nodded, her brow deeply furrowed. She swallowed visibly.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’d like to see,” I said quietly, but with a note of steel in my tone.

Melissa

“See?” I croaked out, blinking at my gorgeous new boss, willing him to have said something else, or maybe meant something else. Because I knew exactly what he had intended to say; I just didn’t want it to be true.

Stuart’s blue eyes gazed coolly into mine as he repeated himself, his voice low and deliberate. “I said I’d like to see the effects of your paddling, Miss Mitropoulos.”

My heart began to race, pounding so loudly I was sure Stuart must be able to hear it. I felt my cheeks burn with renewed embarrassment as I desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation.

“I… I’m not sure what you mean,” I stammered, attempting again to feign ignorance even though that seemed an even feebler tactic than it had a moment ago.

Stuart’s lips curved into a patient smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think you understand perfectly well, Melissa. But allow me to be more explicit—I want you to show me your bottom. Now.”

I gulped, my mouth suddenly dry. “Mr. Harrington… I mean… Stuart… surely that’s not appropriate. I mean, we’ve only just met and?—”

He cut me off with a raised hand. “Melissa, let me be clear. This kind of inspection is part of your new job at Selecta. I need to ensure that proper disciplinary measures are being carried out, for the good of the company and for your own development.”

Stuart stood and walked to the door, turning the lock with a soft click that seemed to echo in the suddenly silent room. My breath caught in my throat as he turned back to face me.

“Now then,” he said, his tone stern without needing to increase in volume in the slightest, “I want you to bend over my desk, raise your skirt, and lower your panties so I can see what kind of discipline Sharon provided yesterday.”

I felt frozen in place, unable to move or even to breathe properly. This couldn’t be happening. Above all, I kept trying to tell myself, the part of me that thrilled at his commanding tone didn’t exist; Stockholm syndrome or something like it had put that idea into my head.

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