Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
I took a sip of coffee to buy myself a moment to collect my thoughts. The rich, complex flavor bloomed on my tongue. As I lowered the cup, I caught Stuart studying me intently, his blue eyes slightly narrowed, as if assessing me.
“I also noticed in your application,” Stuart said, his voice casual but his gaze still penetrating, “that you’re quite the fan of Edward Gibbon. The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, if I’m not mistaken?”
I felt a flush of pleasure at his recognition of this detail. “Yes, that’s right,” I replied, unable to keep a note of enthusiasm from my voice. “I know it’s old-fashioned and outdated from a historiographical point of view…”
My cheeks flared into heat as I heard myself, but I could see in Stuart’s eyes that he appreciated my passion. That only made my embarrassment grow, but I kept going if only to cover my confusion.
“But… you know. The way his reasoning works… the basic analysis of how societal structures evolve and collapse. Just the, you know, majesty of his prose.”
Stuart leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Indeed. I wonder what Gibbon would make of Selecta, don’t you? How might he view our role in shaping modern society?”
The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to respond, but found myself hesitating. My mind raced, trying to reconcile Gibbon’s historical analysis with the reality of Selecta’s practices that I had witnessed just yesterday.
“I… I’m not entirely sure,” I began, feeling my cheeks grow warm. “To be honest, I only learned yesterday that New Modesty Blue is the most important property in Selecta’s entertainment portfolio. I’m still processing that information and… well, I’m not quite sure how to feel about it, whether from Gibbon’s perspective or my own.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Stuart’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.
“Miss Mitropoulos,” he said, his voice sharp and cold, “let me give you some advice that will serve you well here at Selecta. Whether you’re sure how to feel about New Modesty Blue or not, I suggest you pretend that you feel just fine about it. In fact, I insist upon it. Is that clear?”
The sudden shift in his demeanor sent a shiver down my spine. Gone was the warm, engaging executive. In his place sat a man who radiated authority and expected absolute compliance. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry despite the excellent coffee.
“Yes, Stuart,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”
He held my gaze for a long moment, as if gauging the sincerity of my response. I couldn’t help it: I squirmed in my seat, and the movement brought a flare of pain from one of the bruises Sharon had left with the paddle. I winced.
“That particular difficulty,” Stuart said, obviously noticing my discomfort, “became the cause of some unpleasantness for you yesterday, didn’t it?”
CHAPTER 7
Stuart
I couldn’t deny how attractive I found Melissa Mitropoulos. The obvious chip on her shoulder only interested me more. Of all the defiant young women I’d tamed into productive members of my team over the years, I didn’t think I’d encountered a single one to match Melissa for her intelligence or for the evident force of her will to make a mark on her environment.
The conflict between the girl’s basically submissive sexuality and her deeply held values radiated from her eyes like a beacon. Even when questioned directly about the punishment Sharon had administered the previous day, Melissa’s evident embarrassment did battle with the defiance she had shown in the orientation. She took a long moment, her cheeks showing a dark blush, before she responded to my humiliating question.
“Yes,” she said simply. “I would have to say what happened yesterday was very unpleasant.”
I could see in Melissa’s gorgeous dark eyes just how hard she had to work to sit still as she faced me. She had apparently managed to avoid thinking about the bruised state of her backside until NMB had come up. I had to confess—though only to myself—that Melissa had impressed me by bringing the mortifying-for-her subject up on her own.
I could have glanced at my handheld to determine how aroused, despite her best efforts, the subject had gotten her. Selecta gave a boss everything he needed to help a young woman on his team develop as she should; if I wanted a real-time readout of Melissa’s arousal curve I only had to take a quick look at the device currently in my breast pocket. The help of the perineal sensor, though, wasn’t necessary in the slightest: Melissa’s squirming, and her blush, slight though both those signs had been, told me everything an experienced dominant needed to know.
“You were paddled with your panties down, I gather? For interrupting the orientation?”