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 added Debbie’s internal monologue: “Disappointed. The word made my knees weak. I wanted to drop to the floor right there, beg him to punish me, to make me good again.”
The belt down there felt impossibly tight as I worked, my own arousal building as I crafted Debbie’s psychological landscape. When the scene shifted to Mark ordering her over his knee, I found footage from a different angle—one that showed Debbie’s face more clearly. The original edit had focused on her bottom being bared, but I wanted to capture her expression.
There—a tiny smile, just for a second, as her panties came down. I isolated that moment, zooming in until her face filled half the screen. On the other half, I placed a close-up of her hands gripping Mark’s ankle, her fingers flexing with what looked like eagerness rather than resistance.
My cubicle felt stifling despite its being open to anyone who happened to walk by, my breathing shallow as I worked through the spanking sequence. Each strike of Mark’s hand made me shift in my chair, the belt’s pressure against my swollen flesh a constant reminder of my own desperate state. I added layers of meaning with every cut, every transition, building a narrative that revealed Debbie’s true nature—one so similar to my own.
When I reached the footage of Mark fucking Debbie after her punishment, I nearly stopped. The raw intensity of it, combined with my own memories of Scott using me the night before, was almost too much. But I forced myself to continue, to find the moments that would speak to women like us. Women who needed this kind of treatment but couldn’t admit it, even to themselves.
I found a shot of Debbie’s face as Mark entered her from behind, bent over his desk with her bright red bottom offered to her suitor and to the camera. Her expression was complex—pain, pleasure, relief, and something else. Gratitude, maybe. I added the voiceover: “This is what I’d wanted all along. Not just the punishment, but this—being taken, used, claimed. The spanking was just foreplay, really. This was the real correction.”
I clicked play on my edited sequence, needing to see how it all came together. The opening shot of Debbie touching herself filled my monitor, her soft gasps mixing with my carefully crafted voiceover. My body responded immediately, that familiar ache building in my womb as I watched my own work transform Debbie’s submission into something deeper, more honest.
The split-screen moment when she deliberately ruined Mark’s shirt made me press my thighs together hard. The belt prevented any real relief, but the pressure was something at least. I shifted in my chair, trying to find a position that didn’t make the leather press quite so insistently against my swollen clit.
On screen, Mark was pulling Debbie over his knee, and I’d slowed the footage just enough to capture every micro-expression on her face. The anticipation, the relief, the secret joy she tried to hide. My breathing had become shallow, my hands gripping the edge of my desk as I watched.
“This is what I needed,” Debbie’s voiceover confessed, in my own slightly altered voice, as Mark’s hand came down. “What I’d been craving all week.”
Without conscious thought, I found myself standing, my eyes still locked on the screen. The footage continued—Mark’s hand turning Debbie’s bottom pink, then red, her cries mixing with the internal monologue I’d created. My hands moved to my skirt, lifting it slowly, exposing the belt and my stockinged thighs.
I knew I shouldn’t. I knew Scott would know immediately through the belt’s sensors. But watching Debbie arch her back, presenting her punished bottom for Mark’s use, I couldn’t stop myself. Maybe Scott wasn’t paying attention to his handheld right now, I told myself.
I moved to the corner of my desk, positioning myself against it, the hard edge pressing through the leather directly against my desperate clit.
A whimper escaped me as I began to move, grinding against the desk corner with increasing desperation. On screen, Mark was fucking Debbie hard, her grateful sobs filling my ears in my headphones. I matched his rhythm, humping the desk like the desperate slut I’d become, knowing I was breaking the rules, knowing I’d be punished, but unable to stop.
“Such a naughty girl.”
I froze, my blood turning to ice. Scott stood in the entrance to my cubicle, his expression dark with disapproval. How had I not heard him approach? My skirt was still hiked up, my position against the desk unmistakably lewd.
“I… Sir, I can explain—”
“No need.” He pulled out his phone, showing me the alert on his screen. “Your belt notified me the moment you started trying to stimulate yourself. I’ve been watching you for the past three minutes, Grace. Waiting to see if you’d stop on your own.”
My face burned with humiliation as I straightened, smoothing my skirt down with trembling hands. Three minutes. He’d watched me humiliate myself against my desk for three minutes.