Chapter Twenty-Five

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My knees and palms pressed almost painfully into the glass top of Mallory's desk, with the ring on my finger creating a thick and tingling indent. I was surprised that she had not yet noticed my ring. Either that, or she didn't care. Or she chose not to say anything. Whatever the case, I was slightly grateful, because the conversation was definitely going to be awkward for me.

A leather belt cracked in the air, sending chills down my back and creating even more tension in the room. Crisp air caressed my almost completely bare body, but soothed my already overheated cheeks. My clothes—a pair of leggings and a long blouse because all of my slacks were at my own house and I'd been staying with Kalob—were folded and laid out on my usual chair, leaving me kneeling in my bra and panties. I kept my head down, per Mallory's request, and stared at the faint image of my reflection, no makeup and wavy hair. I was nervous—the only conversation Mallory had had with me thus far were directions. I must have really pissed her off for her to act like this.

She had already given me fifteen lashes, soothing every five by dragging her nails from every direction. After the tenth, she used her nails again, but drew vicious red lines from my shoulder blades down. Her hands gripped each cheek, fiercely claiming their territory. By the fifteenth, her teeth marred the skin on my behind, digging into sensitive flesh. I was grateful that Vaughn wasn't in yet, because I had screamed louder then than after each strike. Mallory stifled me afterwards, slender fingers and soft palm pressed against my lips, until she was ready to continue.

"Miss Holland," she purred, laying the belt against my back and grabbing a chunk full of my hair. I groaned in response, staining my neck backwards, which seemed to please the older woman. "How many more do you think you deserve?"

I knew not to give a real answer to that. "Whatever you deem fit, Miss," I murmured, breathless and wanting nothing more than to be done with this.

"I wish you could see this," she drawled, almost fondly. "Your ass is so fucking red, it's almost raw."

Fingers unraveled, leaving my hair and pressing against overheated cheeks, and eliciting a strangled moan from my throat.

"I could punish you all day."

I groaned at the sheer thought of being punished continuously. Mallory wasn't necessarily bluffing; she, at least, would beat my ass until I safe-worded, then perhaps find a different spot to abuse.

Grinding my hips in the air, I silently begged for attention, but in a different spot. Despite the pain coursing through my ass, and the possibility that it now had a heartbeat, I could feel the arousal coating the apex of my thighs, dripping and soaking my panties. Certainly Mallory could see a damp spot. "Miss, please," I pleaded, my back arching.

Her hands massaged burning flesh, almost soothingly until they grabbed firm handfuls, further claiming their territory. "Oh dear," Mallory encouraged, pulling my underwear down my thighs painfully slow. Cool breath invaded the warm moisture collecting between my legs, and I couldn't help but shiver in response. I was already ready to come, but assumed Mallory wouldn't relent so quickly or easily.

Hoping it would speed up the process, I pushed my hips back and started rolling them. The first movements began alleviating the growing pressure, but soon caused further buildup. I whined, "Miss!"

She chuckled in response, low and throaty, and so fucking hot. A firm hand struck one cheek, leaving the other to shiver and wait for the matching assault, but it didn't come. Instead, long fingers grazed up and down my slit, collecting dewy moisture on their descent. I tossed my head back, bottom lip between my teeth, blocking a soft moan.

Fingers continued probing, drawing patterns in the midst of my arousal. "You are ab-so-lutely soaked, my dear," Mallory taunted, stressing every syllable with her serpent tongue.

Cursing under my breath, I tried to gain some kind of friction—just enough to edge myself closer to an orgasm, but her hand pulled away from me. She delivered another slap with a throaty laugh, finally following the last strike. I shivered and cried out, having lost pleasure and rewarded with slight pain.

Maybe this is why I like her? She was unexpected, unpredictable. Everything was up to chance and her mood. Mallory was like a tornado, unable to track and assume where it was going next, and I was a storm chaser, not truly aware of the damage she could cause. Except I was, right? I have been on the receiving end of her anger, whether it was with me or with business. I had felt the sting of her slap and the comfort of her caress. So I knew the dangers, but the caress outweighed the strike.

The leather was dragged off and smooth fabric replaced it. Mallory's cheek pressed against my lower back, and I squirmed at the heat of her breath grazing my skin. "Are you listening carefully, Esme?"

I nodded and hummed a low, "Mhmm," letting my eyes fall closed.

"When I move, you will get up, dress, and lay on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table."

That doesn't sound comfortable.

"Do not slack," she demanded, "Do I make myself clear?"

Nodding again, I felt Mallory's body move away. Her heels echoed against the floor, and I assumed she walked away, so I slipped off the desk and shook my limbs out. My knees aches and cracked upon stretching them, and I reveled in the relief it brought. I dressed quickly, knowing I wasted some time, but paced my way to the couch. I knew it was going to hurt to get back down, but I sunk to my knees anyways, laying myself down between the coffee table and the sofa.

Oh how I just wanted to lay on the couch and maybe take a nice, long nap.

Closing my eyes, I laid still, hoping to relax, but as soon as the familiar clack of heels filled the room, I shot my eyes open. Mallory stood—in her slacks and blazer—at my feet, a few bundles of jute in her arms.

She looks so pretty.

I rolled my eyes at myself.

The older woman kneeled at my feet and unraveled one bundle. I watched as she took the end of it, made a lark's head, and knotted it around my right ankle two times. She pushed my leg closer to me, forcing my leg to a ninety degree angle. One hand held my leg in place while the other reached out expectantly, "Hand please."

Extending my arm out to her, she wrapped the jute around twice, knotting the end of it into a rose bud. My shoulder stretched uncomfortably, my arm reached around the outside of my thigh. I tested the slack, noting that there was no room for my arm to move unless my ankle and leg moved with me.

Mal repeated the process with my left ankle, wrapping twice before simply holding her hand out. Reluctantly, I gave up my wrist, hoping that she wouldn't notice the ring, but doubting it. She wrapped it slowly, dragging the jute around the bone and tying it snugly.

With both of my knees bent in the air, Mallory pushed my legs open and grabbed the last bundle. I watched as she formed another lark's head and wrapped it around my thighs, pulling at it until my thighs came together again. The soft breed of rope made four rotations before being tied together and fashioned into a matching rose. I was uncomfortable, but not in pain. And at least Mallory made the jute look nice.

Stop making excuses for her.

"I'm pleased with your cooperation," she purred, and I had to strain my neck forward in order to look at her past my knees.

She stood slowly, giving me one last glance before she disappeared from my sight, with her footsteps still echoing. I heard the familiar sound of air from her desk chair, meaning that Mallory was still in the room and I was still, relatively, safe.

Letting my head rest against the floor, I sat and waited, staring absently at the ceiling until my patience wore out. "Miss," I whined, almost aggravated with her. This had to be part of my punishment.

Her melodic voice rang through like a warning. "Don't start, Esme, or you'll stay there longer."

And now I was aggravated. "Please!" I huffed, squirming against my restraints.

"Miss Holland!" Either her hands or paperwork slammed against the desk and I couldn't help but flinch in response. "You will stay as you are until I release you. I will not tolerate your disobedience or disrespect today. Do I make myself clear?"

I huffed once more and tried to roll myself over to one side. "Okay mom," I muttered, more worried about repositioning myself.

"Repeat yourself."

"Yes Miss," I blurted. I wasn't going to refer to Mallory as my mother: it wasn't going to happen.

"Oh no, sweet girl," she chuckled darkly, and I could feel the smirk in her smug tone. Her heels clacked once more, coming closer to me. "I heard what you said. And I'm pretty certain that this isn't the first time you've called me mom."

Fuck me. Fuck. Fuck.

Mallory stood over me, this time near my head rather than my feet. She looked down, menacing yet sexualized. "So," and I could hear it—the self-righteous, holier-than-thou tone of her voice—and I dreaded what was coming next. "I think, for the rest of the day, you'll refer to me as 'mom'." She sounded so entertained with herself and I wanted to scream.

"Miss, pleas-"

"No!" She smirked. "Mommy."

Thrashing against my bonds, I tried to retaliate, to do anything, but I couldn't. "No, please Miss, I'll-"

"I don't want you to do anything, Miss Holland...except call me 'mommy'."

I gave up, because I obviously wasn't going to win this fight. "Okay," I responded, already defeated.

Smug Mallory gave me a good look-over, "Okay, who?"

Slamming my head back once, I plastered my teeth together. "Okay, mommy," I ground out, trying my best to shoot daggers or laser beams or something out of my eyes. I regretted this day a little bit more now.

My least favorite person, as of right now at least, leaned down, pursing her lips before pressing a gentle kiss on my own. "Such a good girl," she praised, "Now, behave. I have two meetings, so I expect you to stay absolutely silent. Are we clear?" Her eyes were stormy, serious in their glare, and I knew not to challenge her again; not if I wanted a worse punishment.

"Yes mommy," was my monotonous reply, and with that, she smirked and walked back to her desk, leaving me to try to make myself comfortable while maintaining silence.

Vaughn's voice interrupted the quite atmosphere, announcing her first appointment.

"Let him in."

Seconds later, the door opened and shut, and heavy footsteps echoed on the floors. "It's a pleasure, Mallory," a booming voice exclaimed.

"Indeed, Greg. How are the wife and kids?" She sounded so professional. "Please, sit down."

And that went on for what felt like centuries: small talk layered with business, propositions, city council things, etc. I laid quietly though, aware that any noise would alert "Greg" of my presence and compromising position, and Mallory's reputation would be tarnished. I was glad that the sofa blocked any view of me, or else this would be incredibly awkward. My eyes slipped shut, drowning out the boring discussions they were having, and I hardly noticed when he left before Vaughn chimed in again.

"Mrs. Morgan, your 10:30 is here."

God, 10:30? I got here before 8:00, which meant I'd been tied up for at least an hour and a half. I didn't have my phone, or access to a clock, so I couldn't do more than assume my times.

"Miss," I blurted before she could respond to Vaughn.

The intercom system activated once again. "Inform Miss Figueroa that I need a few moments to prepare for our meeting. I will call you when I'm ready."

"Of course, Mrs Morgan."

Mallory didn't move from her desk, which I assumed she would. I assumed that she would come over to me, give a quick lecture, and then untie me. But she didn't.

"Miss?" I called, wiggling against my bonds once more before I corrected myself. "Mommy?"

It was quiet, and I wasn't sure how exactly Mallory heard it other than she had super-sonic hearing. "Yes, dear?"

"How much longer do I have to stay here?"

I could hear papers moving on her desk. "At least until this meeting is finished. Perhaps if you've changed your attitude by then, we can get lunch."

Even though she couldn't see me, I nodded my head anyways. This meeting couldn't be too long, which meant that I would be free from my ropes soon, and that made me slightly excited. I could feel the rope indenting through my clothes, rubbing against my skin. My knees were stiff, and my fingers felt slightly tingly, like they were asleep, which could be possible.

"Glad we're on the same page, my dear," her voice chirped before calling on the intercom. "Vaughn, please tell Miss Figueroa that I am ready for her."

"Not a problem."

So I stayed in my place, listened to the pleasantries and business, and waited as patiently as I could. Waiting meant I napped though. I easily took a thirty minute nap, finding that the longer I laid there, the more comfortable it became. I hoped that when I woke, Mallory would be finished, but I wasn't so lucky. She was still discussing the newest bill regarding reconstruction on our main street, and all the legalities of it.

I wanted to groan. I wanted to figure out a way out of my bonds, and demand that this 'Miss Figueroa' leave so I could have Mallory's attention and aftercare. That was the best part of my punishments; aftercare. I reveled in the cuddling, and when Mallory played with my hair, and the stupid little way she'd trace my skin with her nails. She would whisper endearing phrases in my ear, lavishing me in praise and affection. I loved this side of her: comforting, attentive, and affectionate.

"Oh my!" A shrill voice exclaimed, "I'm so sorry Mrs Morgan, I didn't realize that I've kept you so late."

"No worries, dear." More paper shuffling. "We can continue this next week. Same time?"

The chair legs ground against the floor. "Sounds wonderful," her overly chipper tone pounding in my ears. If she was married, I'm sure her husband would slam his head against a wall every time she spoke. "See you next week, Mal."

The door opened and shut, and Mallory sighed uncharacteristically. I heard two sharp thuds, the creek of her chair, and then silence. I didn't even notice that she had made her descent over to me until she was at my feet again. Long fingers worked meticulously to undue the rope on my thighs before setting it on the sofa. As soon as my thighs were free, I opened my knees, remembering how it felt to have free reign.

"Thank you, Mis-mommy," I whispered, arching my back off the floor.

Now on her knees, Mallory crawled between my legs, one hand placed on my chest while the other buried itself underneath the waistband on my leggings and underwear. Her index finger danced through quickly dampening folds, drawing slow, lazy circles around my clit. Humming, I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at her as best as I could. Blue eyes stared back at me lustfully, and I shivered at the sheer intensity of it.

Her thumb tightened, swirling with smaller, more focused circles. I squeaked in pleasure, trying to inch closer to her fingers. Begging, I rolled my hips. "Please."

"Hush, dear," Mallory dismissed, slowing her ministrations before pulling her hand away. She placed my underwear back on my hips, followed by my leggings, before untying the remaining two rose knots.

I squirmed once the first side was released, shaking out my wrist, rolling my ankle, and stretching out my knee. Once I was done, she tilted me to my side and made short work of the second. Following the same process of stretching, I sat up, waiting. I wasn't sure what I was waiting for, but I knew it was something.

Mallory, now eye-level, with me, pressed the pad of her first finger underneath my chin. "Are you read for lunch?" She inquired, changing the subject almost immediately.

Pulling my legs away and underneath me, I wiggled forward, placing my hands on her thighs. "Please," I drawled, my hands slipping towards the apex of her thighs. I was getting so aquatinted with that six letter word that it was practically the only thing I said anymore. "I've been good."

An almost fond smile caressed Mallory's lips. Her finger repositioned itself, curling underneath my chin while her thumb centered on my lips. I pursed my lip against her thumb, pressing a series of soft kisses against it.  "You have not been good," she cooed sweetly, now dragging her thumb around my lips. "Yes, you have taken your punishment well, but have you forgotten about your outbursts today? Good girls do not argue with their mommies, do they?"

I looked away from her, still embarrassed and upset with the whole 'mommy' thing. "No." I murmured, but added her newest title immediately after.

White teeth flashed dangerously through a smug smirk. "Good." Mallory's hands removed my own, setting them back on my lap before she stood. "Now let's go. I'm famished."

She walked back to her desk, I assumed to grab her coat and purse. I stood slowly, feeling my bones and muscles ache with relief, and practically hobbled to gather my own things before following Mallory out the door.

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