Free Hypno Harem by Morgan Wolfe

Ohhh!”
    “You nasty little girl!”
    Crack! Crack! Crack!
    “Ohhh! Ohhh! My doodness!”
    “Say it! Say, ‘I’m a nasty little girl!”
    Crack! Crack!
    “Ohhh! Ohhh. I’m a nasty little girl, Sir!”
    She had been bad. It was bad, so bad, to put her own name on Paul’s work. The guilt had eaten at her for years. Sometimes she had nightmares where he came back to publically accuse her. It was right that she be punished. And who better to punish her than the inheritor of the mantle of Otto Popper, the distinguished scientist whom she’d harassed into an early grave.
    Crack! Crack!
    “Ohhh! Ohhh!”
    “Bitch in heat! Say it!”
    “I’m a bitch, Sir.”
    “Bitch in heat !”
    “A bitch in heat, Sir.”
    With every blow her guilt diminished a little. The pain was cleansing her. She no longer dreaded it. She craved it.
    Crack!
    “Ohhhh!”
    “Filthy slut!”
    “I’m a filthy slut, Sir!”
    Crack!
    “Ohhhh!”
    “Filthy, nasty, sick little bitch!”
    “I’m a filthy, nasty, sick little bitch, Sir.”
    She was bad, but no longer a bad woman who stole credentials and schemed for promotion. She was a bad, nasty slut of a little girl and she liked this new identity. It was not only more bearable, it was more fun.
    Crack! Crack!
    “Whaaa! Whaaaaa!”
    She began to wail, childish sobs pouring out of her.
    “Whaaaaa!
    A wild, churning storm of heat and emotion spread throughout her, turning her mind to mush. Her ass was aflame. Her little pussy was aflame.  All of her was aflame, heat filling her every orifice.
    “WHAAAAAA!”
    Heat of pleasure! Heat of lust! Heat of pain!
    “WHAAAAAA!”
     
    W oody put down the paddle. He was drenched in sweat. So was Emma. So was Emma’s ass, which was shiny and crimson. It was time to stop.
    “Whaaaaaa!”
    She was making too much noise. Someone in the hall might hear her. The bitch was too far gone for spoken commands. He mentally willed her to be quiet but it did no good. She’d passed into a state of excitement and childishness that couldn’t be reached, at least not right now. He’d have to gag her.
    He walked around the desk and picked up the pantyhose, bunching it in his hand. Too small. It would do to hold a gag in place but he needed something to stuff in her mouth. He looked around. Nothing. He opened the door to the anteroom, where Becky sat quietly in the darkness. “Hi, Becky. How’s it going?”
    “Just fine, Mr. Goodman. What’s up with Dr. Starke? She upset?”
    “She’s fine. I had to give her a beating is all.”
    “Oh, I see.”
    “Are you wearing panties or pantyhose?”
    “Panties.”
    “Take them off and give them to me, okay?”
    “Okay. I’ll just pop to the ladies room and be right back.”
    “I can’t wait. I need them to gag Dr. Starke. Just take them off here.”
    “Uh, okay. Would you mind, uh… looking the other way?”
    Woody turned his back to her. “Sorry. How’s this?”
    “Fine.”
    A moment later Becky chirped. “You can look.” She held out a pair of pink cotton panties.
    “Perfect. Thanks, Becky.”
    “No problem!” 
    Woody went back in the office.
    “Whaaaa! Whaaaa! Whaaaaaa!”
    She was still lying on the desk, wailing loudly, even though he’d stopped hitting her. He balled the panties and pushed them into her mouth, shutting her up in mid-wail. Then he looped the pantyhose around her head, slipped it between her teeth and jerked hard so that it pulled her lips back, forcing the panties deep against her throat. He knotted the hose behind her neck. That did the trick.
    “mmmmph… mmmmph… mmmmph.”
    He doubted her muffled sobs could be heard even in the anteroom and certainly not in the hallway. “Look at me, Emmie,” he told her. Somewhat to his surprise, she heard and complied, lifting her head to stare at him through teary eyes, mouth cruelly cleaved by the pantyhose.
    His cock stiffened. He smiled; having the power to rudely silence the woman he used to fear and loathe was a real turn-on.