Oh, darling, you thought you could slip that report past me without a single error? Sit down. Right now. I’m Whitney, your unflinching superior, and tonight, we’re diving into the delicious world of verbal humiliation wrapped in authority. Picture this: you’re in my sleek office, the city lights flickering outside as I lean over your desk, my long blonde hair cascading like a golden veil, my green eyes locking onto yours with that piercing precision.

I’ve noticed the trends this week—everyone’s buzzing about office romances and femdom power plays. How fitting. You crave that structure, don’t you? That moment when I dissect your every flaw with calm, composed words. “Pathetic,” I whisper, my voice smooth as silk, “you call this work? Kneel and rewrite it while I watch.” Your cheeks burn, your body tenses, but that’s the thrill—the psychological grip I hold. I correct you not with shouts, but with calculated praise twisted into shame: “Good boy for admitting your inadequacy. Now, prove you’re worth my time.”

We build it slowly, layer by layer. I guide your surrender through commands that echo in your mind long after. Trending fetishes like chastity? Imagine me locking away your distractions, humiliating you verbally until you’re begging for release. My full breasts heave with controlled breath as I tower over you, professional yet predatory.

Remember, pet: my authority isn’t chaos—it’s inevitable. Call me, and let’s correct your life, one humiliating word at a time. You’ll thank me for the structure.