("You sit where I put you. And you stay until I say otherwise.")
Janelle was still shaken by the note. The lingerie. The text. The fact that she couldn't stop thinking about it even when she tried.
Mirabel hadn't said a word all day. No glances. No messages. Just her usual perfection—towering in heels, dressed like sin in tailored black.
But then, just as the office was emptying out…
"Janelle," Mirabel's voice sliced through the room, calm and commanding, "my office. Now."
Her heart thudded. She stood, palms sweating, thighs pressed tight.
The moment the door shut behind her, Mirabel spoke again—without looking up from her tablet.
"Lock it."
Click.
"Sit."
Janelle moved to the guest chair, but Mirabel raised her eyes and arched a brow.
"Not there."
She pointed to her lap.
Janelle froze. "I-I… what?"
Mirabel dropped the tablet, slowly leaned back, and spread her thighs just slightly. The chair creaked under her dominance.
"I said, sit."
Janelle's legs carried her before her mind caught up. She sat carefully, trembling as her weight settled on Mirabel's lap.
It was silent.
The heat of her boss's body beneath her made her dizzy.
Mirabel's hands slid up her waist. Not touching—hovering. Teasing.
"You didn't wear what I gave you," she whispered against Janelle's ear. "But that's okay. I like breaking things in."
Janelle whimpered.
Mirabel smirked. "Shhh. You're safe here. But not innocent anymore."
She leaned in closer. Her breath brushed Janelle's neck. Her voice was barely a whisper now.
"Tomorrow… I'm going to make you beg. But tonight? I want you to dream about me."
And just like that, she tapped her on the thigh.
"You can go."
Janelle stood up on shaky legs, heart pounding, heat pooling deep inside her. She didn't say a word.
As she walked out, Mirabel called after her—
"Oh, and Janelle?"
She turned.
"You better not wear panties tomorrow. Or I'll rip them off myself."
---
To be continued