Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Please,” I whispered, though I didn’t know what I was begging for. For him to stop? To continue? My body couldn’t seem to decide, caught between humiliation and arousal.
The ivory panties came last, and he spent the longest time with these, turning them over in his hands, running his thumb across the darkened satin. “Ruth’s punishment really affected you, didn’t it? The anal discipline, the complete submission…” He looked directly at me. “Stand up, Grace.”
I obeyed on trembling legs, smoothing my white dress with nervous hands.
“I want to try something with you,” he said, setting all three pairs of panties on the coffee table in a neat row. “To see how suitable you are for advancement within my department. This is a test of sorts.”
My stomach dropped. “A test?”
I understood at some deep level what the test would be—or maybe just how utterly degrading—before he even spoke the words. My legs felt like water as he gestured to the floor beside the coffee table.
“Kneel here,” he commanded softly.
I sank to my knees on the plush carpet, feeling the shortness of the white dress acutely. The three pairs of panties lay before me like evidence at a trial, each one telling its own shameful story. The scent of my arousal from them mixed in the air, making my head swim.
Scott moved behind me, his hand tangling in my hair with surprising gentleness. “I’ve watched you, Grace,” he murmured, firmly guiding my head down toward the coffee table. “After each video, when you thought you were alone. The way you like to see what you’ve done… how naughty you’ve been… to smell it, even.”
My face burned with fresh humiliation. Of course he’d seen. The cameras saw everything.
“I find it charming,” he continued, pressing my face closer to the blue panties. “The way you can’t resist knowing what your desperation smells like.”
My nose touched the stained fabric, and the concentrated scent of my shame filled my nostrils. A whimper escaped me as he rubbed my face against them, the still-damp evidence of my arousal clammy against my skin.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, moving my face to the black thong next. “Be honest, Grace.”
“I don’t know,” I gasped against the ruined fabric.
“Yes, you do,” Scott said, pressing my nose harder against the thong’s ruined gusset. The scent was overwhelming—obvious evidence of how desperately I’d pulled the fabric against myself during Morning Corrections. “You know exactly what you want. Even when I give you permission to touch yourself, Grace, there’s always a price for naughtiness.”
He moved my face to the ivory panties next, rubbing the stained satin against my cheeks, my lips. I could taste myself on the fabric, salty and shameful. “Three videos, three pairs of ruined panties. Three times you’ve proven what a desperate little slut you are.”
His hand released my hair, and I stayed there on my knees, breathing hard, my face burning from both the physical friction and the humiliation.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I raised my eyes to find him watching me with that intense gaze that made my insides flutter.
“Tell me what you need,” he said. “Ask for it properly.”
The words stuck in my throat. I knew what he wanted to hear, what my body was already begging for, but saying it out loud felt impossible.
“I…” My voice came out as a whisper. “Please, sir.”
“Please what?” His tone was patient but firm.
“Please spank me,” I managed, the words burning my tongue. “I need… I need you to punish me for being so desperate.”
“And?”
I closed my eyes, unable to look at him as I spoke the rest. “And fuck me. Please, sir. I need you to spank me and then fuck me.”
“Better,” he said. “Stand up.”
I rose on shaking legs, my knees aching from kneeling on the carpet. My white dress felt too short, too thin, too everything.
“Show me what you’re wearing underneath,” he instructed, settling back into his desk chair to watch.
My hands trembled as I lifted the hem of my dress, revealing the white lace panties I’d chosen that morning—delicate, innocent-looking, already damp from this encounter. The matching garter belt held up nude stockings that made my legs look longer, more elegant.
“Very pretty,” he observed. “Now take them off.”
I hooked my thumbs in the waistband, pushing the panties down over the stockings, stepping out of them carefully. The cool air against my exposed flesh made me shiver. I held the delicate white lace in my hand, unsure what to do with it.
“Give them to me,” Scott commanded.
I walked to him on unsteady legs, extending the panties. He took them, examining the damp gusset with clinical interest.
“Kneel,” he said simply, pointing to the floor in front of his chair.
I dropped to my knees immediately, the automatic obedience making my face burn even hotter. He held my white panties in front of my face, the damp fabric inches from my nose. I could smell my arousal on them, fresh and undeniable.