Page 18 of His to Correct

“Alright,” I said, standing up. “I’ll give it a try. Where’s her cubicle?”

Joe pointed me in the right direction, and I made my way through the maze of desks and partitions. As I approached Mandy’s workspace, I could hear the faint sound of laughter and realized she was on a personal call.

I hesitated for a moment, then squared my shoulders and stepped into view. Mandy, a woman in her early twenties with sleek brown hair, looked up at me with mild annoyance. She muttered a quick “Gotta go” into her phone before hanging up.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone bordering on rude.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay professional. “Hi, Mandy, I’m Melissa. We emailed earlier about the database access I need?”

Mandy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Right. I told you I’d get to it next week.”

“I understand you’re busy,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and assertive, “but Joe mentioned that it should only take a few minutes to set up. It’s really important for a project I’m working on. Is there any way you could make those calls now?”

Mandy leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Look, I don’t know what Joe told you, but I have my own priorities tomanage. You can’t just show up and demand I drop everything for you.”

I felt a flash of irritation at her dismissive attitude. “I’m not demanding anything. I’m just asking if you could spare a few minutes to help me out. It would make a big difference.”

“Well, the answer is still no,” Mandy said, her eyes narrowing, as if to challenge me.

Mandy’s dismissive attitude ignited a spark of frustration in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure, but I could feel my patience wearing thin. The potential importance of my project, the momentum I’d built up, and the sheer unreasonableness of Mandy’s response all combined to push me toward a breaking point.

“Mandy,” I said, my voice taking on a sharper edge than I’d intended, “I understand you have your own work to manage. But part of your job is supporting the team, and right now, I need your support. This will take you less than five minutes, and it’s crucial for a time-sensitive project. I’m not asking you to drop everything—I’m asking you to make two quick phone calls.”

As the words left my mouth, I was struck by how authoritative I sounded. It wasn’t a tone I often used, preferring to collaborate rather than command. But something about this situation—perhaps the high stakes of my secret project, or the lingering effects of everything I’d experienced at Selecta so far—brought out a different side of me.

To my surprise, I saw a change come over Mandy’s face. The dismissive look in her eyes faded, replaced by something else—a glimmer of… respect? Her posture shifted slightly, becoming less defensive and more attentive.

“I… I see,” Mandy said, her voice losing its earlier edge. “I suppose I could make those calls now.”

As I watched her pick up the phone, a memory surfaced unbidden—Joe’s casual mention that Heather had paddled Mandy for laziness a few months ago. The image flashed through my mind: Mandy bent over a desk, her skirt raised, as Heather brought the paddle down with a sharp crack.

I felt my cheeks grow warm. I tried to push it away, as usual, but as Mandy spoke to someone in IT, efficiently arranging my database access, I couldn’t help but wonder: was this sudden cooperation the lingering effect of that punishment? Had my sharp tone reminded her of the consequences of her laziness?

Even more disturbingly, I found myself imagining what might happen if I were the one to discipline Mandy. The thought sent a jolt through me—part shock, part that same excitement I had learned to tell myself meant nothing.

To prove to myself that it meant nothing, I followed the train of thought. I pictured myself holding the paddle, saw Mandy’s nervous glance over her shoulder as she bent over…

“Alright.” Mandy’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You should have access to the database now. Is there anything else you need?”

I blinked, trying to banish the unsettling thoughts from my mind. “No, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you, Mandy. I really appreciate your help.”

CHAPTER 10

Stuart

It didn’t surprise me that Mandy’s disrespect became the flashpoint for Melissa’s inner struggle. My secretary’s perpetual laziness, her always walking just this side of insubordination in order to get her own need for discipline met, was bound to trigger my new junior exec’s intriguing mix of submissive and dominant arousal triggers.

What I didn’t expect was how Melissa’s independent work on New Modesty Blue would set everything off. So when Mandy complained about Melissa one morning two weeks after Melissa’s arrival, I didn’t think much about it at first.

“That new girl,” Mandy told me at our morning meeting as she went over my calendar for the day, “is getting too big for her britches, way too soon. I don’t want to tell you your job or anything, sir, but I do want to warn you.”

I frowned at her across the coffee table.

“Of course you don’t want to tell me my job,” I said, injecting a slightly stern note to make certain Mandy understood that from time to time she definitely did do that. Since her last paddling, Mandy’s performance had improved, but I could see that the effects had begun to wear off.

“Of course,” she repeated, smiling in a catty way that tried to enlist me—her boss—in her little conspiracy. “I know you like to know what’s going on with your team, though, sir.”

Mandy’s laziness, alas, stemmed from her sizable intellect. She could have risen to the ranks of the junior executives, at the very least, had she had the ambition. She had grown content, though, with her subservient job—not only because of her submissive sexuality, a requirement for the position at Selecta, but also because it didn’t take nearly as much effort, for someone of her abilities, to turn in the same level of work as the other secretaries.

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