Page 24 of His to Correct

Stuart’s expression hardened. He rose from behind his desk, his tall form seeming to take up more of the room than he had any right to do.

Except that he has every right, a tiny voice in my head said.His office. And I’m… I’m his newest junior executive. I belong to him, too.

“Melissa,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “I gave you an order. I won’t ask again.”

I took a step back, my heart racing. “I said no,” I repeated, trying to inject strength into my voice. Even as I spoke, I felt the treacherous heat building low in my belly. I refused to think about it. I refused to think, period.

Stuart moved with surprising speed for such a large man. Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and spun me around. I gasped as he pulled me against his chest, his strong arms encircling me.

“Let me go!” I cried, struggling against his grip. Stuart was far stronger than me, though. With practiced ease, he maneuvered me toward the leather couch against the wall.

My heart pounded as Stuart sat down, pulling me across his lap in one fluid motion. I could feel the heat of his thighs through myskirt, the firm pressure of his hand on my lower back holding me in place.

“Stuart, please,” I pleaded, my voice muffled against the couch cushions. “Don’t do this.”

But Stuart paid no heed to my protests. His hand came down hard on my upturned bottom. The sound, slightly muffled by my wool skirt, echoed in the quiet office. I yelped, more from surprise than pain, though my tummy flipped as I remembered all too well how the agony of my paddling had built over time.

“This is for your own good, Melissa,” Stuart said calmly as he continued to spank me, the words sounding to me like a kind of formal, ritual utterance. “You need to learn your place here. If you want the right to paddle Mandy, you have to show you can obey me.”

The spanking continued, each smack sending a shockwave through my body. I squirmed and kicked, but Stuart held me firmly in place. To my mortification, I felt tears pricking at my eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, Stuart paused. I lay limp across his lap, panting. Then I felt his hands at the hem of my skirt, slowly drawing it up.

“No,” I whimpered, but it was a token protest at best. I made no move to stop him as he bared my thighs, exposing my lacy purple panties.

Stuart resumed spanking me, his hand connecting with my barely covered flesh. The sting was sharper now, more intense. Worse, the sound became louder, each swat echoing like a gunshot in the corners of the room. I couldn’t hold back a sob.

“That’s it,” Stuart murmured. “Let it out.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties. I felt a jolt of panic. “Please,” I gasped. “Not that.”

But Stuart was already pulling my panties down, baring my bottom completely. I buried my face in the couch cushions, burning with shame, confusion, and a thousand other things I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Stuart’s hand came down hard on my bare bottom, the sting exponentially more intense without the protection of my panties. I gasped, tears streaming down my face as the spanking continued relentlessly. Each smack sent real pain through my body, my flesh burning and throbbing under Stuart’s stern lesson.

“Please,” I sobbed, my voice muffled by the couch cushions. “I’ll do it. I’ll take off my clothes. Just please stop.”

Stuart paused, his hand resting on my inflamed skin. “What was that, Melissa?” he asked, his voice maddeningly calm.

I took a shuddering breath. “I said I’ll take off my clothes,” I repeated, my cheeks burning with humiliation. “Please, just stop spanking me.”

Stuart helped me to my feet, steadying me as I swayed slightly. My bottom felt like it was on fire, and I had to resist the urge to reach back and rub the sting away. I stood before him, trembling, my panties around my knees, as he settled back on the couch to watch.

With shaking hands, I reached again for the neck button on my blouse. I fumbled with it, my fingers clumsy in my distress. Finally, I managed to undo it, and then to lift the silky fabricover my chest and drop it at my feet, pushing away every thought about how my breasts looked in the lacy bra.

Next came my skirt. Feeling my forehead crease very hard, I unzipped the garment and let it fall. I stepped out of it carefully and stood there in the matching purple bra and panties. I looked at the glass-topped coffee table so I wouldn’t have to see my boss assessing my revealed body.

It took every ounce of will to keep my hands at my sides, rather than putting them in front of my already exposed pussy. I remember then that I had thought myself too busy to go to the aesthetician for a wax this past weekend. My cheeks flared with heat.

“All of it, Melissa,” Stuart prompted, his voice low and commanding.

Blinking back fresh tears, I reached behind my back to unhook my bra. I let it fall away, baring my breasts to Stuart’s gaze. I couldn’t help it: I needed to know, suddenly, whether my boss liked what he saw. I raised my eyes to look at him. Stuart’s gaze raked over me appreciatively, and I felt a treacherous heat building low in my belly despite my shame.

Stooping, my attention returned to the coffee table as mortification scalded my face, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, just above my knees where Stuart had placed them, in order to spank me more effectively. I pushed them down and stepped out of them, now completely naked before my boss.

Again I found myself helpless to resist, needing to see what he thought. I looked up to see Stuart nod approvingly.

“Very nice, Melissa,” he said. “That purple set is quite fetching on you.”

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