Page 6 of His to Enjoy
“Grace,” he said, and the way he said my name—like he already knew everything about me, like he’d been expectingme specifically—made my knees feel weak. “Sharon speaks very highly of your potential.”
I stood just inside the doorway, unsure whether to sit or wait for permission. The office was larger than Sharon’s, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of the city below. Everything about the space radiated power and control.
“Thank you, Mr. Yellen,” I managed, hating how breathless I sounded.
“Scott,” he corrected, standing with fluid grace. “We’re not that formal here, despite what Sharon might have led you to believe.” He moved closer, and I caught a hint of expensive cologne—something subtle and masculine that made my head swim slightly. “Though I understand she’s already introduced you to some of our corporate standards.”
My face flamed as his eyes traveled over me, and I knew with horrible certainty that he was aware of exactly what I wore beneath my dress. Worse, that I wore the lacy panties over a bottom that Sharon had had to paddle to correct my hesitancy. “Yes, sir. I mean… she did.”
Scott smiled, and something about that smile made my breath catch. It wasn’t cruel like Sharon’s clinical assessment, but there was a knowing quality to it that suggested he understood exactly how difficult this was for me.
“Good,” he said simply. “I have something I’d like to show you. A new series we’re developing for NMB.”
My stomach dropped. Of course this would involve NMB. Everything in my life seemed to circle back to those cameras, to the streaming service that had broadcast my most intimate moments to paying subscribers.
“Follow me,” Scott said, moving toward a door I hadn’t noticed before, set into the wood paneling of his office wall.
I followed on unsteady legs, intensely aware of how the stockings whispered against each other with each step, how the heels changed my gait. The door opened into a small screening room with a large monitor and two leather chairs. The space felt intimate, almost uncomfortably so.
“Sit,” Scott instructed, gesturing to one of the chairs.
I lowered myself carefully, trying to keep my dress from riding up, though I knew the effort was pointless. Scott would see whatever he wanted to see before this interview was over.
He picked up a remote and the screen flickered to life. “This isAnnabelle’s Story,” he said, settling into the chair beside me. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Our newest premium series. I’d like your professional opinion.”
The image on screen showed a young woman, perhaps twenty-two, with long auburn hair and wide green eyes. She knelt on a plush carpet in what looked like an upscale living room, completely naked except for what I immediately recognized as her training underwear—the thick, clinging waist-to-knees panties and the matching halter. The camera angle was intimate but not crude, artistic in a way that made it somehow more shocking.
“This is Annabelle,” Scott explained as the scene continued. “She’s been with her foster family for six months now. Her foster father Kevin is preparing her for courtship.”
On screen, a man entered the frame—handsome, authoritative, perhaps forty. He wore work jeans and a flannel shirt withthe sleeves rolled up. The way Annabelle’s eyes followed his movement, the mixture of fear and anticipation in her expression, made my chest tighten with recognition.
“Open,” Kevin commanded on screen, and Annabelle’s mouth fell open obediently.
I shifted in my chair, pressing my thighs together as Kevin positioned himself in front of the kneeling girl. Behind him, a woman appeared—blonde, matronly… and holding a riding crop.
“That’s Lara, Annabelle’s foster mother,” Scott said conversationally, as if we were discussing a nature documentary rather than what was about to happen. “As you probably know from your own experience with your New Modesty fosters, she assists with the training.”
I watched, transfixed and horrified, as Kevin unfastened his pants. The camera cut back and forth between Annabelle’s wide eyes and the enormous, rigid penis that her foster father withdrew from his fly. Annabelle’s cheeks had gone red, but I thought my own could give them serious competition.
“Take it in your mouth, Annabelle,” Kevin instructed, his voice patient but firm.
I watched as the girl on screen leaned forward hesitantly, her lips parting to accept him. The camera captured every detail—the way her eyes watered as she struggled to accommodate his size, the way Lara moved behind her with the crop raised.
When Annabelle gagged slightly and pulled back, the crop came down across her bottom with a sharp crack that made me jump in my chair.
“All the way, sweetheart,” Lara said gently, even as she raised the crop again. “You need to learn to please your future husband properly.”
My breathing had become shallow, and I was desperately aware of Scott beside me, of how he must be cataloguing every reaction. The scene continued—Annabelle trying again, taking Kevin deeper this time, Lara providing correction with the crop whenever the girl’s technique faltered. The combination of tenderness and discipline, of Lara’s maternal encouragement paired with the sting of the crop, created something that made my belly lurch with unwanted recognition.
“What do you think?” Scott asked, his voice low and intimate in the small screening room.
I couldn’t look at him. My face burned so hot I thought I might combust. “I… it’s very well shot,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s not what I’m asking.” He shifted in his chair, angling toward me. “What do you think of the content? The dynamic?”
On screen, Annabelle had found a rhythm now, her head bobbing steadily while Lara stroked her hair with one hand, the crop still ready in the other. Kevin’s expression remained controlled, almost businesslike, as if this were simply another training exercise.
“It’s…” I swallowed hard, trying to find words that wouldn’t reveal how wet I’d become, how my body had responded to watching this despite my mind’s protests. “It’s effective. The… the contrast between Lara’s gentleness and the discipline. It creates a complex emotional response.”
