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)
Melissa’s questioning of Mandy about her arousal was particularly masterful. I could see the conflict play across Mandy’s face as she struggled to answer, her embarrassment warring with her obvious excitement. When Melissa gave Mandy’s bottom that light smack, demanding an answer, I couldn’t help but chuckle. She was channeling my own methods beautifully.
“Yes!” Mandy’s cry of confession echoed through my office. “Yes, miss. I’m… I’m… I’m, you know… excited. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
I leaned forward, drinking in every detail of the scene before me. Melissa’s flushed cheeks, the way her eyes darkened with desire even as she maintained her stern demeanor. Mandy’s quivering form, her hips shifting almost imperceptibly, seeking more contact. The clear evidence of both women’s arousal, visible even to the casual observer.
As I watched, I felt a sense of deep harmony settle over me. Melissa had proven to be everything I had hoped for when I first saw her application—brilliant, driven, with a quickly developing understanding of both submissive and dominant needs that made for an ideal Selecta executive. Her mind was razor-sharp, able to grasp complex concepts and innovate in ways that could revolutionize our business. Yet she also craved the firm hand of authority, responding beautifully to discipline and control.
And now, seeing her take charge with Mandy, I knew I had found something truly special. Melissa’s natural dominance was emerging, tempered by her own experiences as a submissive. She understood intuitively how to balance firmness with care, how to push boundaries while still maintaining control.
I felt my chest tighten as I realized the depth of my feelings for this remarkable young woman. It wasn’t just admiration or lust—though there was certainly plenty of both. No, what I felt for Melissa was something deeper, something I hadn’t experienced in years.
Love. The word echoed in my mind, surprising me with its intensity. I was in love with Melissa Mitropoulos.
Melissa
As I picked up the paddle, I realized with a rush of warmth—both in my face and down below my belly—that my left hand had drifted to my lap. Without even thinking about it I had begun to press and to rub there, and I noticed an instant later that my breathing had sped up and begun to become labored as the air passed in and out of my nostrils. Suddenly the soreness Stuart had left in my ass and my pussy blossomed into what felt like a raging fire.
It all came from instinct, I knew. Basic biology. Part of me absolutely wanted Mandy, though I had never had sex with a woman before. I had other instincts, too, though—maybe a little less biological, but still fundamental. I had never let them out before, really, and so I still had to get used to them.
My dominance, I told myself, feeling my eyes widen slightly.
As soon as I thought it, the essence of it seemed to kick in, and I understood how a bit of the conflict that had raged in my heart and mind and body for so long had just come clear for me. I took my left hand away from my lap; in this dominant role, disciplining Mandy, I needed to concentrate on teaching her an appropriate lesson. Afterwards… well, perhaps I could make sure Mandy learned to show her gratitude properly.
I raised the paddle, feeling its weight in my hand like a reminder of the authority I had, while submitting myself to the same regime. I had felt the force of the paddle myself, and earned the right to wield it. My heart raced as I looked down at Mandy’s bare bottom, so beautifully presented before me. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and put my left hand atop her bare waist to keep her in place. Mandy’s little whimper at the sensation made me swallow hard.
“Remember to count and thank me for each stroke,” I said, my voice firm despite the tremors of excitement running through my limbs.
“Yes, miss,” Mandy breathed.
I brought the paddle down hard across both of Mandy’s cheeks. The crack echoed through the room, followed almost instantly by Mandy’s anguished cry.
“One! Thank you, miss!” she gasped out.
I didn’t wait long before delivering the second stroke, just below the first. Mandy’s body jerked forward, but she kept her position bent over the desk.
“Two! Thank you, miss!”
With each successive swat, I felt more confident, more in control. The paddle connected solidly each time, leaving bright red marks across Mandy’s rapidly coloring backside. Her cries grew louder, more desperate, but she never tried to stand up or cover herself.
By the sixth stroke, tears were streaming down Mandy’s face. Her voice was choked with sobs as she counted out, “Six! Th-thank you, miss!”
I paused for a moment, running my hand over the hot, swollen flesh of Mandy’s bottom. She let out a little sob at my touch, her hips shifting slightly.