The Mistress ✓

22

Onika

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I'm a mess by the time Robyn drags the thong back up my legs and maneuvers it into place, making sure to press against the base of the plug again, sending aftershocks through me. Literally, figuratively, and any other possible way you can conceive.

She lifts me off her lap as though I weigh nothing and stands me on my feet, keeping a grip on one hip as the hem of the dress falls back into place. As soon as I'm upright, I remember the whole reason for this exercise.

"Shit! I'm going ot be late." I bolt toward the door, but Fenty's voice stops me.

"You have plenty of time. Your meeting doesn't start for another hour." 

I swing around all the heat humming through my body freezes. "You lied to me."

Her  only answer is a dismissive shrug. "You---"

She interrupts me before I can curse her. "From now on, every time you call me an asshole, a bastard, or any other slur, or tell me you hate me, I'm going to put you over my knee or bend you over the nearest flat surface. No one speaks to me like that without repercussions, and you just got your last free pass."

I swallow the insult that's on my tongue, wondering how in the hell I'm going ot manage not to swear at her or tell her I hate her. She makes me so angry, I can't control my own responses.

No one has ever had that kind of power over me, and I hate that she does.

I square my shoulders and stand as tall as my frame allows. "You can't control everything. 

She rises from the chair. "And you've never been more wrong. Get your coat. You wouldn't want to be late for your meeting."

I snatch it off the floor where I dropped it, and shove my arms into it.

"That thing is ugly as hell."

"It's the only one I have, so I guess you have to deal with it." I refuse to look at her.

As I walk toward the door, I feel her stalking close behind me. Her suit coat brushes against my arm when she reaches around to open the door, and her heat envelops my body.

When the door swings open, my mouth drops open in shock. 

It was unlocked this whole time. I could have run.

Maybe in my dreams. I wouldn't have made it two steps before Robyn reached me. And who knows what that punishment would have been. 

My ass clenches, too aware of the foreign object inside it.

Scar waits in the hall with the hood. Is it too much to hope he's deaf as well as apparently mute?

"Make sure she gets to the distillery before nine. Pick her up at six. She's not working late this evening because I have plans."

I turn to argue because she's speaking to Scar like I'm not present, but Robyn's features might as well be carved from granite. That's when I realize that this is the Fenty her employees know. The Fenty everyone knows. The implacable, cold woman whose orders are never question or denied. The woman who rules with an iron fist and no velvet glove.