Page 2 of His to Correct

Jacob’s next words sent a chill down my spine. “Now, bend over the bed. On your elbows. You’re going to learn your lesson thoroughly today.”

I watched in horror as Jacob produced a bottle of lubricant from Grace’s night table drawer. This couldn’t be happening. Not there in Grace’s room… not here in the orientation conference room… not then, or now, or ever.

Not here and not now, my brain tried to persuade me.This is a video clip. Maybe… maybe it’s not real.

But what I saw went beyond any acting, or imaginable fakery. At Jacob’s next command, Grace had to reach back and spread her pink bottom cheeks while her suitor prepared her anus.

As Jacob’s fingers probed Grace’s most private opening, I felt a wave of revulsion wash over me. Yet beneath it, to my horror, I felt a flicker of something else—a traitorous heat low in my belly. I crossed my legs tightly, disgusted with myself.

“You’ll notice,” Sharon’s cool voice cut through the room, “that NMB provides an unparalleled level of authenticity, because ofcourse it comes from real New Modesty households. Our clients demand nothing less.”

On screen, Grace whimpered as Jacob positioned himself behind her. The camera zoomed in, leaving nothing to the imagination as he slowly, inexorably penetrated her bottom. Grace’s face contorted in a mix of pain and unwilling pleasure.

“Remember this lesson,” Jacob growled, his hips beginning to move. “This is what happens when you talk back.”

I tore my gaze away, only to find Sharon’s flinty eyes fixed on me. A faint smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she could see right through me, could sense the conflict raging within my body.

“NMB and its related properties,” Sharon continued, her voice laden with satisfaction, “account for a full fifty percent of Selecta Entertainment’s revenue. The appetite for this content among our best-heeled customer base is… insatiable.”

My eyes widened in shock. Half their revenue? From this? I looked around the room, expecting to see outrage, disgust, anything—but my fellow recruits seemed enthralled. Some of the men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while a few of the women looked flushed and breathless.

Sharon’s next words sent ice through my veins. “Moreover, our highly lucrative sister organization, the Institute, which provides high-end concubines to discerning billionaires, relies heavily on NMB for marketing. The NMB streams serve as both advertisement and training tools.”

On screen, Jacob’s thrusts grew more forceful. Grace’s cries of pain had transformed into moans of reluctant ecstasy. I feltmy own breath coming faster, my skin flushed and tingling. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

“You’re learning, aren’t you?” Jacob panted. “You’re learning to be a good girl for me.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Grace gasped. “I’ll be good, I promise!”

I squirmed in my seat, increasingly horrified at my body’s response. This was wrong, so wrong—and yet I could feel wetness gathering between my thighs, my nipples hardening beneath my blouse. I bit my lip hard, trying to use the pain to center myself.

Sharon’s voice droned on, outlining profit margins and market projections. But all I could focus on was the obscene tableau before me, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, Grace’s breathy moans, Jacob’s grunts of effort.

As Jacob neared his climax, I felt my own arousal spiraling out of control. My hands clenched the arms of my chair, knuckles white with the effort.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The sensations coursing through my body felt like a betrayal of everything I stood for. My cheeks burned with mortification and anger as I fought desperately against my body’s betrayal. How dare they do this? How dare they reduce human beings to objects of twisted entertainment?

With a herculean effort, I wrenched my focus away from the screens and onto Sharon’s smug face. Her cool composure only fueled the fire of my outrage. I could feel my heart pounding, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I struggled to contain the fury building inside me.

“This is an outrage!” I shouted, leaping to my feet. My voice echoed in the suddenly silent room. “How can you possibly justify this… this exploitation?”

Sharon’s eyebrows rose slightly, the only indication of surprise on her otherwise impassive face. “Miss Mitropoulos, I believe? Please, sit down. We can discuss your concerns after the presentation.”

But I had gone beyond reason now. The dam had broken, and all my pent-up anger and disgust came flooding out. “No! I will not sit down and watch this travesty continue. This is nothing short of sexual slavery, dressed up in corporate doublespeak!”

I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on me, a mix of shock, disapproval, and—from a few—a glimmer of apprehension. But I didn’t care. I had started to tremble, my fists clenched at my sides as I glared defiantly at Sharon.

“You can’t possibly think this is acceptable,” I continued, my voice rising. “We’re supposed to be leaders, not… not pimps and pornographers!”

Sharon’s eyes hardened, her lips thinning into a severe line. “Miss Mitropoulos, this is your final warning. Sit down, or face the consequences.”

“Consequences?” I laughed bitterly. “What are you going to do, spank me like one of your New Modesty girls?”

A hush fell over the room. I could see the shock on the faces of my fellow recruits, some averting their eyes, others watching with morbid fascination. Sharon’s expression, however, remained unnervingly calm.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, her voice silky smooth, “that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” She turned to address two young men in the front row. “Mr. Johnson, Mr. Ramirez, please escort Miss Mitropoulos to the front of the room.”

For a moment, I stood frozen in disbelief. They couldn’t be serious. But as the two men rose from their seats and approached me, the reality of the situation hit me like a bucket of ice water. This was really happening.

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