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)
But Scott, I learned from Kara, was traveling today. He would be back tomorrow for our meeting, she assured me, but I could work on my coursework in the time I would usually be attending to his secretarial needs. I tried to keep the pink from my face when Kara mentioned my meeting—the one where I would have to bring the panties in their plastic bags—but I thought she had probably noticed, because she had a knowing smile on her lips when we passed in the hall later on.
I honestly tried to work on the mission statement that Sharon had assigned, but my mind refused to stop dwelling on the title of the video I knew I would have to watch tonight. Ruth’s Punishment.
The hours dragged by with agonizing slowness. I stared at my computer screen, the cursor blinking mockingly in the middle of a half-formed sentence about Selecta’s commitment to traditional values. How could I focus on corporate platitudes when those two words kept echoing in my mind? Ruth’s Punishment. Not Debbie’s punishment, not another training session, but Ruth herself being disciplined. The foster mother who had seemed so in control, who had administered corrections with such maternal authority.
My fingers drummed nervously on my desk as I tried to imagine what Ruth could have done to warrant punishment. The possibilities made my insides flutter with that familiar, unwanted anticipation. Would Abe use his belt on his wife? Would Debbie be forced to watch? The questions circled endlessly, making productive work impossible.
By lunch, I’d managed only three paragraphs of corporate nonsense. The cafeteria’s daily special—grilled salmon with quinoa—sat untouched on my tray as I picked at the edges, my appetite completely gone. The other interns chatted around me about weekend plans and office gossip, but their voices felt distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears.
“Grace?” A hand touched my shoulder, making me jump. One of the other interns, a brunette named Jessica, looked at me with concern. “You okay? You seem really distracted today.”
“Just tired,” I managed, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my face. If only she knew what occupied my thoughts—the shameful videos I’d already watched, the soaked panties sealed in bags in my apartment, the obscene, impossibly arousing story that waited for me tonight.
I fled back to my cubicle as soon as I could, but the afternoon proved even worse. Every time someone walked past, I minimized my work, terrified they might somehow see into my mind, might know what I was thinking about. When Kara stopped by to check on me, I could barely meet her eyes.
At three o’clock I got a notification in my email that Scott had left a comment on my latest report, the one about Morning Corrections. My cheeks burned as I opened the document. He had put the comment on the passage where I had suggested that Abe should have said that Debbie’s tight little cunt had gotten wet. The comment consisted of two words: Excellent work.
The praise brought an instant warmth to my chest, but that pride itself—and a dismaying, perverse surge of genuine affection for my new boss—made my face burn with fresh humiliation. He’d read my degrading words about Debbie’s ‘tight little cunt,’ had approved of them, wanted more. The ivory satin of my bra suddenly felt too tight, too warm against my skin.
At four-thirty, I gave up any pretense of working. I saved my pathetic attempt at a mission statement and began shutting down my computer. My hands shook as I gathered my things, the tablet weighing heavily in my bag. The shuttle ride home felt endless, every bump and turn reminding me of what waited.
The moment my apartment door closed behind me, I went straight to the bedroom. No dinner, no pretense of delaying. I couldn’t bear the anticipation any longer. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my dress, and I let it fall to the floor in a heap. The ivory lingerie looked almost virginal in the mirror, a stark contrast to the depraved thoughts racing through my mind.
I grabbed the tablet and settled onto the bed, my heart already pounding. Ruth’s Punishment. My finger trembled as I pressed play.
The scene opened in what looked like the same study where Debbie had first been inspected. But this time, Ruth stood in the center of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, head bowed. She wore a simple housedress that I recognized from the previous videos. Abe sat behind his desk, his expression stern.
“Do you know why you’re here, Ruth?” His voice carried a weight that made my tummy flip.
“Yes, sir,” Ruth whispered, and hearing her use that deferential tone sent a shock through me. This was the woman who had so brazenly guided Debbie’s training, who had administered punishments with maternal authority.