Page 17 of His to Enjoy
“I’ll see you for our weekly meeting on Friday,” he said, returning to his desk. “That gives you three days to complete your first assignment.”
I nodded, turning once more toward the door, desperate to escape the charged atmosphere of his office before my body betrayed me further.
“Oh, Grace.” His voice stopped me just as my hand touched the doorknob. “One more thing about your assignment.”
I turned back, my stomach dropping at the slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“When you watch each video,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that casual authority that made my knees weak, “you’re to masturbate. I want you fully engaged with the material, understanding it on every level.”
My mouth fell open slightly, but he wasn’t finished.
“You’ll do this wearing only your lingerie. You will keep your panties on while you are playing with your sweet little pussy. And after you climax—because you will climax to each video, Grace—you’ll remove the panties and place them in a zip-top bag. Label it with the video title and date.” He paused, letting the implications sink in. “You’ll bring all three bags to our Friday meeting.”
The room seemed to spin slightly. I gripped the doorknob for support, my face burning so hot I thought I might combust.
“I’ll ensure your dresser is stocked with sufficient lingerie for this purpose,” he continued conversationally. “In fact, I want you to use the blue ones you’re wearing right now for the first video. They’re already quite damp, I noticed. By the time you’ve finished with them, they should carry the unmistakable scent of a grateful girl who appreciates the privilege of being allowed to come.”
The words hit me like physical blows. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe.
“Is that understood?” he asked, his tone suggesting this was the most normal request in the world.
“Yes, sir,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.
“Good. Run along now. Kara’s waiting.”
I fled his office on unsteady legs, my mind reeling from his instructions. The hallway seemed too bright, too normal, after the intensity of what had just transpired. Other employees passed by, chatting about meetings and deadlines, completely unaware that I’d just been told to masturbate to porn in my panties and save them for my boss’s inspection.
I found Kara exactly where Scott had said—a cheerful woman in her forties with graying hair pulled back in a neat bun. She looked up from her computer with a warm smile that made me want to cry.
“You must be Grace! Scott told me to expect you.” She stood, smoothing her sensible gray skirt. “Let me show you to your workspace.”
She led me through a maze of cubicles, past the soft murmur of phone conversations and keyboard clicks. My desk was ina corner, small but neat, with a computer, phone, and filing cabinet. A window offered a view of the building next door.
“This is perfect,” I said, trying to match her friendly tone despite the chaos in my mind.
“The phone system is straightforward,” Kara explained, demonstrating the various buttons. “Scott’s extension is 2012, obviously. He’ll probably have you screening his calls within a few days. The coffee station is just around the corner—he takes his black, no sugar.”
She continued with practical details about office supplies and lunch schedules, but I could barely focus. The tablet Scott had given me felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in my hands. Inside were videos I would have to watch, alone in my apartment, touching myself while couples performed their most intimate moments for strangers’ entertainment.
“Are you alright, dear?” Kara’s concerned voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “You look a bit pale.”
“I’m fine,” I managed, forcing a smile. “Just a lot to take in on the first day.”
She patted my shoulder sympathetically. “Scott can be intense, but he’s brilliant at what he does. You’ll learn so much from him.”
If only she knew what kind of education he had in mind.
CHAPTER 9
Grace
When I finally got back to my apartment that evening, my whole body ached with a peculiar exhaustion. Not physical tiredness from filing or fetching coffee—those tasks had been almost laughably simple. No, this was something deeper, a bone-deep weariness from maintaining constant awareness of my body, my responses, the cameras that tracked my every movement.
I set the tablet on the coffee table and stared at it as if it might bite me. Three videos waited inside, each one a test I had to pass in the most humiliating way possible. My hands trembled as I poured myself a glass of water from the kitchen, trying to delay the inevitable.
The refrigerator’s display chirped helpfully as I opened it to retrieve something for dinner. “Daily caloric intake: 1,087 of 1,450 consumed. Suggested dinner options highlighted in green.”
I selected a pre-made salad and grilled chicken breast, barely tasting either as I ate mechanically at the small dining table. My eyes kept drifting to the tablet, to the bedroom door beyond, to the dresser where I knew fresh lingerie, for future days, waited.
