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)
But she truly learns what it means to blush when her boss inspects her in his office afterwards.
Because as she's made to bend over and put herself on display for him, she knows his eyes aren't just roaming over her still burning bare ass and everything between her bright red bottom cheeks.
He can see that she's soaking wet and ready for him too.
Publisher's His to Correct is a stand-alone book in the Corporate Correction series. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Melissa
I arrived at the orientation for Selecta’s Rising Executives program precisely on time. The gleaming glass and steel tower of Selecta Headquarters loomed before me, its imposing façade an almost frighteningly literal symbol of the megacorp’s dominance over our brave new world. I smoothed down my crisp white blouse and navy pencil skirt, the required attire for female recruits, as I strode through the revolving doors into the vast marble lobby.
My heels sounded loud against the polished floor, echoing in the cavernous space as I made my way to the bank of elevators. A sea of suits and skirts flowed around me, all moving with purposeful efficiency. The air seemed to hum with an undercurrent of tension and ambition.
I stepped into the elevator amid a press of purposeful-looking people, my stomach fluttering with a mix of excitement and apprehension. I had a fairly good idea of what awaited me on the forty-second floor—the notorious Orientation Conference Room, occasionally dubbed the ‘Induction Chamber’ by those in the know. I knew I would see Selecta’s patriarchal culture on full display, as they began their attempt to mold us into obedient corporate drones.
I had other plans.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. A long corridor of gleaming white stretched in front of me. At its end stood an imposing set of double doors guarded by two stern-faced men in dark suits. As I approached, I could feel their eyes raking over me, assessing my potential threat level. I lifted my chin and met their gaze unflinchingly.
“Name?” the taller of the two asked, his eyes telling me he didn’t think it could possibly be on his list.
“Melissa Mitropoulos,” I replied coolly. “Here for the Rising Executives orientation.”
He checked his tablet, then nodded curtly. “You may enter.”
The doors swung open, revealing a room equal parts opulent and austere. Deep-piled red carpet contrasted with stark white walls adorned only with the bold red Selecta logo. Rows of chairs faced a raised dais at the front of the room, where a podium stood flanked by two large screens.
As I took my seat, I couldn’t help but notice the gender disparity in the room. Out of the thirty or so recruits, only a handful were women. The men sat with easy confidence, while most of the women seemed to shrink into themselves, as if trying to take up less space.
Not me. I did my best to sit tall, my spine straight as a rod, my gaze steady as I surveyed the room. I knew what they would think of me, of course—a naive idealist, even a troublemaker in the making. But they didn’t know the fire that burned within me, the determination that had brought me here.
Yes, society was in decline. Yes, the Corporate Laws had given entities like Selecta unprecedented power. But where others saw hopelessness, I saw opportunity. In times of chaos and change, new ideas could take root and flourish. And I intended to be one of the people who planted those seeds.
The room fell silent as a distinguished older man in an impeccably tailored suit strode to the podium. His silver hair and commanding presence marked him clearly as one of Selecta’s top executives.
“Welcome, rising stars of Selecta,” he began, his voice deep and resonant. “I’m Executive Vice President Charles Blackwell. You represent the cream of the crop, handpicked to lead our corporation into a bold new future.”
He went on to extol Selecta’s virtues and the opportunities that awaited us, but I found my attention wandering. I let the corporate platitudes wash over me. I had heard empty words like these a thousand times before. I had come here for something more.
As Blackwell concluded his speech, a statuesque woman with sleek dark hair and piercing eyes took the stage. Sharon Fagan, I realized with a start. The infamous head of HR, known for her unwavering commitment to Selecta’s unique corporate culture.
“Good morning,” Sharon said, her voice crisp and authoritative. “Before we begin your formal orientation, there’s something you need to understand about the division you’ve joined.”
The screens behind her flickered to life, displaying the letters ‘NMB’ in elegant script.
“New Modesty Blue,” Sharon explained, her tone matter-of-fact. “Our exclusive streaming service, catering to the most discerning clientele. What you’re about to see may shock some of you, but it’s essential you grasp the full scope of our operations.”
The screens shifted to show a tidy but unremarkable bedroom. A print on the wall that showed a picturesque farmhouse made me think immediately that the room must itself be located in such a midwestern home. A young woman with honey-blonde hair and wide blue eyes stood nervously before a stern-looking man in his thirties. The decor of the room—the twin bed with the blue quilt on it, the vase on the nightstand—made me think the room must belong to her. She had on a little white nightgown that made her look so vulnerable and innocent that I felt my cheeks go hot. The man had on a work shirt and jeans.