Page 21 of His to Enjoy
My fingers stilled as Ruth produced something from the dresser drawer—a thick rubber plug that made my own bottom clench in remembered sensation.
“Oh, no, please,” Debbie begged, but Ruth was already coating it with lubricant as Abe delivered the final five lashes of the girl’s punishment.
“Now the plug, to help you remember to maintain proper control,” Abe said. “Go ahead, Ruth. Give her a taste of what a husband does to make sure his wife obeys him. Debbie, honey, reach back and spread those cheeks for us. You’ll thank your foster mother once she’s got your butt nice and full.”
Debbie cried out as Ruth worked the plug into her thoroughly whipped bottom.
The combined sight and sound of Debbie’s punishment and violation pushed me over the edge. My orgasm crashed through me as I watched Ruth seat the plug fully between the firm little cheeks and trembling thighs where Abe’s belt had painted such vivid stripes. I bit down hard on my tongue to muffle my scream, my hips bucking wildly as the thong cut into my sensitive flesh, the friction almost painful in its intensity.
“Thank you, ma’am!” Debbie sobbed on screen, her legs shaking as she struggled to maintain position with the plug stretching her uncomfortably.
“Good girl,” Abe said, his tone shifting to something almost tender. “Now Ruth will help you get dressed for breakfast. You’ll wear your training underwear today as a reminder.”
The scene shifted to the breakfast table, where Debbie sat gingerly on a cushion, her discomfort obvious despite her attempts to eat normally. The thick training underwear showed clearly through her thin dress, and every few minutes she would shift, a small whimper escaping as the plug made its presence known.
I lay panting on my bed, the tablet sliding onto the mattress beside me. My panties were utterly ruined, twisted and soaked beyond salvation. With trembling fingers, I peeled them off, gasping as the fabric pulled away from my oversensitive flesh. The scent of my arousal filled the air—musky, unmistakable, shameful.
I held the destroyed garment up to examine it, my face burning at the evidence of my desperation. The delicate lace was stretched and distorted where I’d pulled it, the black fabric darkened further with my wetness. Without letting myself think too hard about it, I brought it to my face and inhaled deeply, the concentrated scent making my head swim and sending an aftershock of pleasure through my still-trembling body.
After sealing the thong in its labeled bag, I grabbed my laptop with shaking hands. Scott’s comment on my first report burned in my mind. He wanted specifics. He wanted me to write the words that made my face flame with embarrassment.
Video Analysis: Morning Corrections
The morning inspection scene effectively establishes the power dynamic but could benefit from more explicit dialogue duringthe punishment sequence. When Abe observes Debbie’s arousal, he should be more specific in his degradation.
I paused, my fingers hovering over the keys. Then, with my face burning, I forced myself to continue:
He should say something like: “Look how wet your tight little cunt is getting from your punishment, Debbie. Your pussy is practically dripping for the belt. What kind of shameful slut gets this aroused from having her ass whipped?”
CHAPTER 11
Grace
The next morning I chose an ivory lingerie set that seemed a little more elegant than most of the others Selecta had put in my now embarrassingly full underwear drawer. Mostly satin rather than lace—though with some lovely trim—it felt almost protective against my skin as I dressed in the cream-colored shift dress I’d noticed in the closet yesterday for the first time. In the mirror, I looked a bit more sophisticated than usual, though definitely still on the innocent side of sophistication. The thought of Scott seeing me that way brought a blush to my cheeks, and I turned quickly away.
But Scott, I learned from Kara, was traveling today. He would be back tomorrow for our meeting, she assured me, but I could work on my coursework in the time I would usually be attending to his secretarial needs. I tried to keep the pink from my face when Kara mentioned my meeting—the one where I would have to bring the panties in their plastic bags—but I thought she had probably noticed, because she had a knowing smile on her lips when we passed in the hall later on.
I honestly tried to work on the mission statement that Sharon had assigned, but my mind refused to stop dwelling on the title of the video I knew I would have to watch tonight.Ruth’s Punishment.
The hours dragged by with agonizing slowness. I stared at my computer screen, the cursor blinking mockingly in the middle of a half-formed sentence about Selecta’s commitment to traditional values. How could I focus on corporate platitudes when those two words kept echoing in my mind?Ruth’s Punishment. Not Debbie’s punishment, not another training session, but Ruth herself being disciplined. The foster mother who had seemed so in control, who had administered corrections with such maternal authority.
My fingers drummed nervously on my desk as I tried to imagine what Ruth could have done to warrant punishment. The possibilities made my insides flutter with that familiar, unwanted anticipation. Would Abe use his belt on his wife? Would Debbie be forced to watch? The questions circled endlessly, making productive work impossible.
By lunch, I’d managed only three paragraphs of corporate nonsense. The cafeteria’s daily special—grilled salmon with quinoa—sat untouched on my tray as I picked at the edges, my appetite completely gone. The other interns chatted around me about weekend plans and office gossip, but their voices felt distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears.
“Grace?” A hand touched my shoulder, making me jump. One of the other interns, a brunette named Jessica, looked at me with concern. “You okay? You seem really distracted today.”
“Just tired,” I managed, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my face. If only she knew what occupied my thoughts—the shamefulvideos I’d already watched, the soaked panties sealed in bags in my apartment, the obscene, impossibly arousing story that waited for me tonight.
I fled back to my cubicle as soon as I could, but the afternoon proved even worse. Every time someone walked past, I minimized my work, terrified they might somehow see into my mind, might know what I was thinking about. When Kara stopped by to check on me, I could barely meet her eyes.
At three o’clock I got a notification in my email that Scott had left a comment on my latest report, the one aboutMorning Corrections. My cheeks burned as I opened the document. He had put the comment on the passage where I had suggested that Abe should have said that Debbie’stight little cunthad gotten wet. The comment consisted of two words:Excellent work.
The praise brought an instant warmth to my chest, but that pride itself—and a dismaying, perverse surge of genuine affection for my new boss—made my face burn with fresh humiliation. He’d read my degrading words about Debbie’s ‘tight little cunt,’ had approved of them, wanted more. The ivory satin of my bra suddenly felt too tight, too warm against my skin.
At four-thirty, I gave up any pretense of working. I saved my pathetic attempt at a mission statement and began shutting down my computer. My hands shook as I gathered my things, the tablet weighing heavily in my bag. The shuttle ride home felt endless, every bump and turn reminding me of what waited.
The moment my apartment door closed behind me, I went straight to the bedroom. No dinner, no pretense of delaying. I couldn’t bear the anticipation any longer. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my dress, and I let it fall to the floor in a heap.The ivory lingerie looked almost virginal in the mirror, a stark contrast to the depraved thoughts racing through my mind.
