Page 49 of His to Correct

“Harder,” my boss—my master, the man I had to admit I loved—commanded. “You’re not playing games now, Melissa. This is real punishment.”

I swallowed hard and raised the paddle again. This time, I put more force behind the swing. The crack echoed through the room, and Mandy let out a muffled cry.

“Better,” Sharon said. “But still not good enough. You didn’t really punish her this morning, did you? Or last time, either? You were just playing at being dominant.”

My face burned anew as Sharon’s words hit home. She was right—I hadn’t really disciplined Mandy before. I’d been pretending to dominate her, indulging in a fantasy rather than truly correcting her behavior.

I looked over at Bradley, seeing the knowing look in his eyes. He had seen right through me—they all had, John and Victor, too, for they had that same expression on their faces. Stuart and his colleagues understood my nature better than I did myself. I identified too strongly with Mandy to truly punish her. My dominant tendencies were just a thin veneer over my deeper submissive core.

I raised the paddle again, trying to summon the resolve to deliver a real punishment. But as I brought it down, I hesitated at the last second, my arm losing momentum. The impact was barely more than a tap.

Sharon sighed in exasperation. “That’s enough,” she said sharply. “Clearly you’re not capable of administering proper discipline. Melissa, take Mandy’s place over the table.”

My heart started racing as I realized what was about to happen. Mandy scrambled up, pulling her panties back into place as I set the paddle down with trembling hands. On shaky legs, I moved to bend over the cool surface of the conference table.

I felt utterly exposed as I laid myself out, my breasts pressed against the polished wood and my bottom raised and vulnerable. The garter belt framed my cheeks, drawing attention to my most intimate areas. I shivered as I felt Sharon’s hand on my lower back, steadying me.

“This is how real punishment is delivered,” Sharon said, her voice stern as she ripped my lacy thong down to my knees.

The first crack of the paddle against my bare bottom made me cry out in shock and pain. It was far harder than anything I’d experienced before, even from Sharon—a searing blaze of fire across both cheeks. Before I could catch my breath, the second stroke landed slightly lower.

By the third swat, tears were streaming down my face. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white as I tried to brace myself. But nothing could have prepared me for the intensity of Sharon’s paddling.

The fourth and fifth strokes came in quick succession, crisscrossing the earlier welts. I screamed in agony, my legs kicking involuntarily as waves of pain radiated through my bottom and thighs.

“Last one,” Sharon announced. “I’m going to make it count.”

The final swat was the hardest yet. It landed right at the crease where my bottom met my thighs, igniting every nerve ending. I wailed, my whole body shaking with sobs.

As the pain slowly began to ebb, I became acutely aware of my surroundings again. The room had fallen silent except for my ragged breathing and quiet whimpers. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, witnessing my complete submission and humiliation.

In that moment, bent over the table with my well-punished bottom on display, I finally understood the truth of who I was. The revelation Stuart and Bradley had begun in my mind traveled deeper. I let out a sob as I felt an unexpected, even shocking emotion: gratitude.

My breath hitched as Sharon spoke again, her voice stern but with a note of approval. “Now, Melissa. Let’s see if you’ve learned your lesson. Take the paddle and give Mandy a proper punishment this time.”

I pushed myself up from the table, my bottom blazing with pain. Tears still streamed down my face as I picked up the paddle with trembling hands. Mandy looked at me with wide, apprehensive eyes as she bent over the table.

“Get those panties down,” I commanded, my voice sounding raw to my own ears as I improvised.

Over her shoulder, Mandy gave me a look that seemed to mingle fear and a kind of appreciation, with shaking hands, she pulled her black panties down to her thighs. I swallowed hard. Something about the idea that I would have to hurt her the way Sharon had hurt me made the revelation of her adorable pussy seem more submissive—and, worse, more arousing.

“Six strokes,” Sharon instructed. “Make them count.”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. The memory of my own punishment was still searing through me, but now I understood. This was what real discipline felt like. This was what Mandy needed—what we both needed.

I raised the paddle and brought it down hard across Mandy’s upturned bottom. The crack echoed through the room, followed immediately by Mandy’s anguished cry. I didn’t hesitate before delivering the second stroke, just as hard as the first.

Mandy’s screams filled the air as I continued, each swat leaving angry red welts across her pale skin. By the fourth stroke, she was sobbing uncontrollably, her body shaking. But I didn’t let up. I couldn’t. I understood now what true correction meant.

The final two strokes were the hardest yet. Mandy wailed, her legs kicking helplessly as the paddle connected. When I finished, her bottom was a blazing scarlet, crisscrossed with vivid welts.

“What do you think, Stuart?” Sharon asked.

I heard the answer as if from a hundred miles away.

“Very good,” my boss said, his voice rich with satisfaction. “You’ve learned well, Melissa.”

I set the paddle down, my hands shaking. Sympathy, embarrassment, and excitement all mingled inside me as I felt myself clench at the sight of what I had done. Punishing Mandy properly had awakened that primal need in me—not a desire to dominate, really, but a deeper understanding of my own submission.

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