Chapter 3: Reward for Effort

Warning - Explicit Content Ahead!

Morgan Proctor stood in the dimly lit hallway outside the inventor's office, her fingers lightly tapping the side of her tablet as she reviewed the previous day's inspection notes. She could still remember the look on the inventor's face—flushed with shame and desperation—as she enforced the discipline the woman so clearly needed. But today, things would be different.

Morgan had always believed that discipline wasn't just about punishment. It was about balance, a careful equilibrium of reward and consequence. Those who followed the rules, or at least tried to, deserved recognition. And Morgan wasn't above offering rewards, when appropriate.

She glanced at the clock. The inventor should be inside, no doubt nervously anticipating her arrival. Morgan's lips curled into a faint smile. The lesson had been effective; she could feel it in the silence, the palpable tension in the air. The inventor had learned, or at least had begun to.

Without another moment's hesitation, she tapped her gloved fingers against the door control, and the familiar hiss announced her entrance. The office was noticeably different from the last time she had seen it—cleaner, more organized. The papers had been stacked neatly, the tools aligned in an orderly row on the workbench. Even the faint scent of oil and grime had been reduced, replaced by the sterile cleanliness Morgan demanded.

The inventor stood behind the workbench, her hands nervously fidgeting at her sides as she waited for Morgan's assessment. Her face was flushed, but not with the same shame and fear as before. There was something else now—an eagerness, a desire to prove herself, to show Morgan that she had listened.

Morgan stepped into the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, her eyes sweeping over the space with the same meticulous gaze she used in every inspection. There were still small imperfections—there always were—but there was a marked improvement. And that, Morgan thought, was worth recognizing.

"You've made some progress," Morgan said, her voice measured and cool, but with a hint of approval. She walked toward the workbench, trailing her fingers lightly over the surface. "I can see that you've made an effort to clean up your act."

The inventor swallowed hard, nodding quickly, her eyes darting nervously between Morgan and the workbench. "I-I tried to follow your instructions," she stammered, her voice wavering with both fear and hope.

Morgan nodded slightly, her eyes still focused on the small improvements. "Yes, I can see that." She stepped closer to the inventor, her presence looming as she let the moment stretch out, allowing the inventor's tension to build.

Morgan stopped just inches away, her gloved hand reaching out to cup the inventor's chin, lifting it gently so that their eyes met. "And because you've tried," she whispered, her voice soft but commanding, "I believe you've earned a reward."

The inventor blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she processed Morgan's words. A reward? It was the last thing she had expected. She had been bracing herself for another round of discipline, another harsh reminder of her failures. But Morgan… Morgan was offering her something else. Something she had never anticipated.

Morgan's fingers trailed down the inventor's neck, light and deliberate, barely brushing the skin. "You want to be a good girl, don't you?" Morgan murmured, her voice low and sultry. "You want to follow the rules."

The inventor nodded quickly, her body trembling under Morgan's touch. "Yes… I do."

Morgan's smirk deepened as her hand slid down the inventor's arm, her fingers curling around her wrist with a firm, possessive grip. "Then I think you deserve a little… encouragement."

She stepped even closer, her body pressing against the inventor's, her breath warm against the woman's ear. The inventor shuddered, her knees nearly buckling at the sudden proximity. She was caught between fear and desire, her mind reeling from Morgan's unexpected shift in tone.

Morgan's gloved hand moved lower, brushing over the inventor's waist and hips before slipping beneath her lab coat, her fingers finding the soft, warm skin beneath. The inventor let out a soft, shaky breath, her body leaning into Morgan's touch as if seeking more of the contact she had so carefully been denied.

"You've been trying," Morgan whispered, her voice a dangerous purr as her hand slid lower, teasing the waistband of the inventor's trousers. "And I do reward effort."

Her fingers dipped just beneath the waistband, sliding against the fabric in a slow, deliberate motion. The inventor gasped, her body arching slightly under Morgan's touch, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as Morgan's hand explored lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above her thighs.

"See?" Morgan whispered, her lips brushing against the inventor's ear. "This is what happens when you follow the rules. You get rewarded."

The inventor's breath hitched in her throat, her entire body trembling as Morgan's hand finally slipped lower, pressing against the damp warmth between her legs. The inventor let out a soft, involuntary whimper, her knees trembling as she struggled to keep herself upright.

Morgan's fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, teasing and exploring, her touch firm but measured, just enough to keep the inventor on edge. The woman's body responded instinctively, her breath quickening, her hips shifting subtly against Morgan's hand as if silently begging for more.

"You like this, don't you?" Morgan whispered, her voice dripping with cold amusement. "You like being rewarded."

The inventor nodded frantically, her voice barely a whisper as she gasped out, "Yes… I do…"

Morgan's smirk deepened. "Of course, you do. You're a dirty girl," she whispered, her fingers pressing harder, eliciting a sharp gasp from the inventor. "But dirty girls who try to be good deserve to be rewarded, don't they?"

The inventor's body trembled as she nodded, her breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. "Yes… please…"

Morgan's fingers moved faster now, her touch more insistent as she pressed the inventor against the workbench, her other hand gripping the woman's shoulder to hold her in place. The inventor's body bucked slightly under the intensity, her breath quickening with each movement of Morgan's hand, her voice rising in soft, breathless gasps.

Morgan leaned in close, her lips brushing against the inventor's ear as she whispered, "You'll keep following the rules, won't you? You'll keep trying to be good for me."

The inventor could barely speak now, her body trembling uncontrollably as she gasped out, "Yes… yes, I will…"

Morgan smiled, her fingers pressing deeper, her hand working the inventor closer and closer to the edge. "Good girl," she whispered, her voice dark and commanding. 

The inventor's breath was ragged, coming in quick, shallow bursts as Morgan's fingers worked her relentlessly, each movement calculated to keep her balanced on the edge of control. Morgan relished every moment of it, feeling the power she held over this trembling, eager woman, the way her body responded so instinctively, so completely.

Morgan pressed harder, her fingers moving with a steady, commanding rhythm, pushing the inventor further into submission. "You like this, don't you?" Morgan whispered, her voice soft but cutting. "You like knowing that I'm the one in control."

The inventor could barely manage a response, her voice a breathless gasp. "Y-Yes…"

"Good," Morgan purred, her lips brushing lightly against the inventor's ear, her breath warm and teasing. "Because this is what happens when you try to follow the rules. You get rewarded."

Her gloved hand gripped the inventor's waist firmly, holding her in place against the workbench as her other hand continued its slow, deliberate exploration. The inventor's body trembled violently now, her breath coming in desperate gasps as she struggled to stay upright, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the edges of the workbench as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

Morgan leaned in closer, her lips ghosting over the inventor's neck as she whispered, "But remember, this is only for girls who try to be good. You still have a long way to go."

The inventor whimpered softly, her body arching involuntarily under Morgan's touch, her hips pressing against the workbench as she teetered on the brink of release.

Morgan smiled, her fingers moving faster now, more insistent, teasing the inventor with the promise of what was to come. "You want it, don't you?" she whispered, her voice dripping with cold amusement. "You want to be rewarded properly."

The inventor's voice was barely audible, a breathless plea, "Yes… please…"

Morgan's grip on the inventor's waist tightened, her fingers digging into the fabric of her trousers as she pushed her closer and closer to the edge. "Beg for it," Morgan commanded, her voice low and commanding. "Show me how much you want it."

The inventor let out a soft, desperate whimper, her entire body trembling as she gasped, "Please… please, I want it… I'll follow the rules… I'll be good…"

Morgan's smirk deepened, her fingers pressing harder against the wet heat between the inventor's legs, her hand moving with precise, deliberate intensity. "That's what I wanted to hear," she whispered, her voice soft but unyielding.

The inventor's body bucked violently, her breath catching in her throat as she neared the edge, her voice rising in a desperate, breathless gasp. Morgan watched her closely, studying the way her body responded, the way her hips jerked involuntarily under the pressure of her touch.

Morgan leaned in close, her lips brushing against the inventor's ear as she whispered, "Come for me, you dirty, dirty girl."

The words seemed to be the final push the inventor needed. With a sharp gasp, her body tensed, her breath hitching in her throat as she reached her climax, her entire body trembling uncontrollably in Morgan's grip. Her hands gripped the edges of the workbench tightly, her knuckles white as her body shook with the intensity of her release.

Morgan watched with satisfaction as the inventor fell apart under her touch, her body collapsing against the workbench, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of the inventor's heavy breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as her body slowly began to relax.

Morgan withdrew her hand, her fingers still slick with the evidence of the inventor's pleasure, and took a step back, adjusting her gloves with meticulous precision. Her expression remained cold and composed, but there was a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes as she surveyed the trembling figure slumped over the workbench.

"You did well," Morgan said, her voice sharp but with a hint of approval. "But don't get too comfortable. This was just a reward for trying."

The inventor's body twitched slightly, her breath still coming in shallow gasps as she tried to steady herself, her hands shaking as they gripped the edge of the workbench for support.

"You'll continue to improve," Morgan continued, her tone firm. "And if you do, there will be more rewards. But don't forget—disobedience will still be met with consequences."

The inventor nodded weakly, her body still trembling, her voice too broken to form any response beyond a soft, breathless whimper.

Morgan allowed the silence to linger for a moment, letting her words sink in before she turned to leave. "Clean yourself up," she said over her shoulder, her tone cold and dismissive as she made her way toward the door. "And make sure everything is spotless when I return."

With that, Morgan strode out of the room, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft hiss. She didn't need to look back. She knew the inventor would follow her instructions. She had been broken, molded into the obedient worker that Morgan required.

And if she faltered again, well… Morgan had ways of dealing with that, too.

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Her hands trembled as she set the glass down on a nearby table, her eyes darting back to Morgan. What if she was punished here, in front of everyone? What if Morgan decided to call her out for some tiny infraction—her uniform, her posture, something as small as the way she was standing?

Her breath hitched as she caught another glimpse of Morgan's gaze cutting across the room again. For the briefest moment, their eyes met once more, and a thrill shot through the inventor's body. It was subtle—so subtle that no one else would have noticed—but the look in Morgan's eyes was unmistakable.

It was a promise. A warning.