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)
My brow furrowed deeply as I struggled to maintain my composure. I gripped the edges of the chair seat, my knuckles turning white with the effort of not squirming or jumping back up. A small whimper escaped my lips before I could push it down, and I saw Sharon’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk.
“Are you comfortable, Miss Mitropoulos?” Sharon asked, her voice dripping with false concern.
I took a shaky breath, willing my voice not to betray the agony and rage I felt. “I’m just fine,” I managed to say, though the words came out strained and slightly higher pitched than normal.
I wanted nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow me whole. Never in my life had I felt so utterly mortified. The weight of my fellow recruits’ stares, the throbbing pain in my bottom, and the lingering shame of my actions in the bathroom all combined to create a perfect storm of embarrassment. I sat ramrod straight in my chair, afraid that even the slightest movement would betray my discomfort or, worse, reignite the unwelcome arousal I had experienced earlier.
As Sharon turned back to the screen, preparing to continue the presentation, I closed my eyes briefly, wishing desperately that I could wake up and find this had all been a terrible nightmare. But the persistent sting of my well-paddled bottom served as an all-too-present reminder of just how badly this day had started.
Sharon turned back to the screen, a look of smug satisfaction on her face. “Now, to return to what I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted,” she said, her eyes flicking briefly to me, “New Modesty Blue isn’t just about providing entertainment. It’s about spreading the news of how Selecta’s programs have begun to shape a new generation of young women who understand the value of discipline and traditional gender roles.”
She pressed a button on the remote, and the screen flickered to life. To my horror, I saw Grace’s face fill the frame. Her honey-blonde hair was slightly mussed, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked directly into the camera, her blue eyes wide and earnest.
“I know some people might not understand,” Grace began, her voice soft but clear. “They might think the way Jacob courts me is degrading or anti-feminist. But the truth is I’ve never felt more empowered in my life.”
I felt my stomach churn as she continued. “Before I was accepted into the New Modesty, I was lost. I didn’t know my place in the world. But now, I understand that I need discipline. I crave it. And knowing that there are powerful men out there, watching me submit to my suitor… to Jacob… well, it kind of, I don’t know, gives me a sense of… of, you know, purpose. I mean, it’s kind of something I never knew I was missing, but it just feels right.”
The camera panned out, revealing that Grace was sitting on a plush sofa, her hands folded demurely in her lap. She wore a modest blue dress, but I couldn’t help noticing the way it clung to her curves.
“When Jacob spanks me,” Grace went on, a dreamy look in her eyes, “I feel like I’m…”
She let out a little giggle, and the smile that curved her lips made me swallow hard as I tried to fight against the sense in her words.
“I know it sounds weird,” she continued, “but I feel like I’m fulfilling my… my true destiny. And when Jacob… you know… uses me… Even when he…”
Grace’s cheeks had gone pink, but the look in her eyes seemed to say she had made up her mind to brave the bashfulness.
“Even when he uses my…” Her mouth twisted to the side as the moment of courage seemed to fly away in a moment of maidenly embarrassment. “You know, my…” Grace’s voice fell to a whisper, but she managed to say it. “My bottom… when I think about how we’re on New Modesty Blue, with, I don’t know, billionaires watching us do it, appreciating my submission to my suitor… it’s, well, the most incredible feeling in the world.”
I felt my cheeks grow hot as Grace, apparently emboldened, went on to describe, in vivid detail, the sensations she experienced during her ‘training sessions’ with Jacob. The way the paddle stung at first, but then left a warm, tingling sensation. How she felt so beautifully vulnerable when he bent her over and exposed her most intimate parts to the camera.
To my utter dismay, I felt the treasonous warmth building between my thighs again. I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to focus on the pain rather than the unwelcome arousal. But it wasn’t enough. I found myself chewing on the inside of my cheek, desperate for any distraction from the helpless response of my body.