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)
I swallowed, hoping she couldn’t see how the mention of a rigorous interview had made my pulse quicken. There was something about the word ‘rigorous’ that sent an unwelcome flutter through my stomach—a response I recognized all too well from my two years with Jacob. “What… what would the interview involve?”
Mrs. Chen’s smile was knowing, almost maternal. “I’m quite confident you would pass, Grace. The interview process is designed to ensure that all female candidates fully understand Selecta’s traditional corporate culture and, most important, the prominent role that corporal punishment plays in maintaining proper workplace discipline and hierarchy.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My breath caught, and I felt that familiar heat spreading through my body—the same shameful response I’d had to Jacob’s dominance, now triggered by the mere mention of corporate corporal punishment. I pressed my thighs together under the desk, praying Mrs. Chen wouldn’t notice the way my breathing had changed.
“The business world can be quite demanding,” she continued, her tone still professional, but with an undertone I couldn’t quite identify. “Selecta believes that women in corporate positions must demonstrate their ability to accept correction gracefully and learn from structured feedback.”
“If I don’t pass the interview,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, “could I still take the financial settlement instead?”
Mrs. Chen’s expression brightened, as if I’d asked exactly the right question. “That seems like a very smart approach to me, Grace. You have nothing to lose by trying. In fact, Selecta will even cover your housing while you do your first internship.”
The relief that washed over me was immediate and overwhelming. I had an escape route. Whatever this interview process entailed, I wouldn’t be trapped if I couldn’t handle it.
Three days later, I found myself standing outside an office door on the fifteenth floor of the Selecta building, my palms damp with nervous perspiration. The nameplate read ‘Sharon Fagan, Director of Education.’
“Come in,” came a crisp voice after I knocked.
Sharon Fagan was exactly what I had expected from a Selecta executive—impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray suit, her dark hair pulled back in a severe chignon. She gestured for me to sit in the chair across from her massive mahogany desk.
“Grace, I want to begin by expressing my sympathy for your situation,” she said, her tone professional, but not unkind. “However, I need you to understand that I cannot and will not go easy on you during this interview process. The standards for our business program are non-negotiable.”
I straightened my shoulders, trying to project more confidence than I felt. “I wouldn’t expect any special treatment, Ms. Fagan. I want to earn my place here.”
She studied me for a long moment, then leaned back in her chair. “Excellent. In that case, please remove your clothes.”
The words hit me like a slap. My mouth fell open slightly, and I felt that familiar heat creeping up my neck. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Remove your dress, Grace. I want to see you in your underwear.”
After two years of being filmed in my most intimate moments for NMB, I was amazed that I could still feel this embarrassed, this exposed, by a simple command. But I did. My hands trembled as I gripped the arms of my chair.
“Could I… maybe keep my clothes on?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
Sharon’s expression remained unchanged. “I know you’re no stranger to traditional discipline, Grace. Your NMB records make that quite clear. What’s becoming apparent, however, is that being made subordinate to another woman presents a particular problem for you.”
My cheeks burned. She was right, and we both knew it. With Jacob, submission had felt natural, even arousing. But this—being commanded by this stern woman—felt different. More challenging. More threatening to whatever sense of self I had left.
“You have two choices,” Sharon continued, her voice level. “Remove your dress now so we can proceed with the interview, or call this whole thing off and go back to the folks at Selecta Solutions to explore your other options. I should also say that from this point on, though, disobedience is going to be punished in accordance with our corporate practices. The next time you fail to comply with an instruction, you’ll learn how little the company paddle feels like your ex-husband’s hand, firm as it might have been.”
My hands shook as I reached for the hem of my simple navy dress. The fabric felt impossibly heavy as I pulled it over my head, the air conditioning in the office making my skin prickle with goosebumps. I folded the dress carefully and placed it on the chair beside me, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity even as I stood before this stern woman in nothing but my plain white cotton bra and beige panties.
Sharon’s eyes swept over me with detached assessment, and I saw her mouth tighten with disapproval. “That underwear is completely unacceptable for a Selecta business candidate. It’s dowdy and unfeminine.”