Work Text:
Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache coming on and she wasn't even close to being done and going home.
She'd sent What's-Her-Name home, though, since she would still be at the office when the Book arrived and her second assistant had done nothing but sulk around and get on her nerves. She was thinking of firing her soon.
It was too late for anyone to call the office anyway.
It was all the art department's fault for screwing up a four-page spread less than a week before publishing. Now Miranda was stuck in her office, late at night, fixing the result of their stupidity. She took small comfort in the fact that so were they--away from her office. If she had to suffer, so did everybody else.
Incompetence. She was surrounded by complete and utter incompetence.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Miranda?"
She opened her mouth to reply with something dismissive and vicious at the same time because she didn't want to be disturbed, when she realized three things:
1. She'd already shooed her second assistant.
2. That wasn't her second assistant's annoying voice.
3. She knew the voice all the same.
And sure enough, when she looked up, Andrea was standing in the doorway to her dark office, looking like a dream as the light from outside engulfed her, made her glow. She was wearing a very short and tight, black dress that, even despite her weariness, made Miranda's mouth water.
Wait... had they made plans? Was that why Andrea was dressed up, looking... like that? Had Miranda forgotten something?
Except she hadn't because she vividly remembered calling Andrea to let her know she couldn't see her tonight since her minions had decided to test her patience yet again. Andrea had been supportive and sympathetic and told her not to overwork herself.
So why was she now in Miranda's office, smiling that smile that would drive her out of her mind when she'd worked for her? It was sexy and innocent at the same time, wide and full lips daring Miranda to take what she wanted.
Which was, she reminded herself sternly, to finish working so she could go home to her kids. She didn't have time for interruptions.
"Andrea, what are you doing here?" She tried to take on a business-as-usual tone, but when Andrea closed the door and began to saunter toward her, the muscles in her thighs flexing with the movement, her breath caught in her throat.
"Who's Andrea?" she asked softly and even her tone was innocent. What was she doing? "I'm the new Emily."
Her stilettos halted beside Miranda's chair and she perched on the edge of the desk. The dress rode up just a little higher on her thighs, but then it hadn't covered much to begin with. Miranda could almost, almost see between--
No. No, she couldn't entertain... whatever this was. She had work to do--important, urgent work--and Andrea knew that such a disturbance was unacceptable, especially at the office.
It was with not a little effort, however, when she removed her glasses and said, "I don't have time for this, Andre--"
"I know, you have to fix everything I did wrong." And now her tone sounded morose, regretful. For what, Miranda had no idea. What on earth was she talking about? "I was so bad today."
Wha-- she was-- oh. Oh. Oh, no.
"Andrea--"
"I got your coffee order wrong and didn't get your lunch on time." If Miranda had known that her earlier venting session on the phone would backfire like this, she never would have called Andrea in the first place. And Andrea's sorrowful tone was definitely not doing anything to her. Absolutely not.
"And then I didn't take a message from Meisel's assistant and I forgot to pick up the scarves you wanted," Andrea continued. "But I have one right here, if you want it."
Sounding even more innocent now, with wide eyes and pouting lips, she reached up for her neck and Miranda realized she'd been so distracted by the dress that she hadn't noticed the black, chiffon scarf that Andrea was now untying.
Entranced, she took the proffered item from Andrea's hand, staring at the now exposed collarbones.
"And what am I supposed to do with this?" she asked, grateful for how composed she sounded.
Then, for heaven's sake, Andrea's lower lip slid beneath her teeth and, if possible, her eyes grew wider. And she extended her arms forward, joined together at the wrists.
Miranda's eyes widened this time. Had the girl lost her mind? "Andrea, you can't be serious. This is not the time and I--"
"But I've disappointed you." Her voice was so small and apprehensive that Miranda almost bought it. "I've been a bad assistant and I..." She actually took a deep breath, as if coming up with the next idea on the spot. "I should be punished."
Alright. Fine. Miranda would bite, if it would get Andrea to drop this silly game. "And how do you suggest I do that, Andrea?"
Andrea stared at her. She stared right back, arching an eyebrow. And then Andrea looked to her side, where a long ruler lay in the corner of Miranda's desk. She had used it for measurments earlier; Andrea definitely wasn't expecting her to measure anything now.
Taking the item in her hands with so much timidity that it was almost laughable, Andrea offered it to her and licked her lips.
And Miranda forced herself to focus because this had gone on long enough and she really, really needed to get back to work. "This is ridiculous."
"I think it's strong enough." Andrea frowned and, to prove her point, bent the ruler and let it snap back into place with several vibrations. Miranda flinched, then inhaled sharply through her nose.
She could picture the metal object landing against sweet, wholesome Andrea's ass, turning the pale and pristine skin gradually redder and redder. Could imagine the weight of it in her hand as she bent Andrea over her desk and administered the reprimanding spanks. She could almost hear Andrea's gasps and cries with every contact the ruler made with her skin.
Her breathing quickened and her palms grew damp. And her eyes landed on the ruined magazine pages on her desk. She sighed.
She wanted this, she really did, and she loved Andrea for trying to give her what she needed, for offering her an outlet for the anger and frustration of the day.
But it was late and this was her job and she had to produce perfection, as always.
"Darling, I appreciate the initiative and this..." She ran her fingers over the skin above Andrea's knee and, oh, it was warm and smooth and soft. "This is really wonderful, but I simply can't right now."
Some other time, though... oh, Miranda was going to have a lot of fun with this game Andrea had come up with.
Currently, however, Andrea was pouting and Miranda couldn't tell if it was part of her act of if she was actually disappointed. Until she put down the ruler, got up, and said, "You're right, I'm the worst assistant ever. What do I know about this stuff?"
And Miranda really wanted to ignore her, but instead found herself grabbing her waist and flipping her onto her stomach on top of the desk and all of the papers that lay atop it. Before Andrea's body had even hit the hard surface, her arm was pulled behind her back in a move that made Miranda feel pretty damn impressed with herself. The other arm joined it in mere seconds and then the scarf Miranda had been holding was around the wrists, tied in a knot that wasn't too tight but didn't leave much room for maneuvering.
Miranda stepped back, breathing heavily, and took a look at her handiwork. Andrea was sprawled across her desk, hands bound behind her back, head tilted to the side, and luscious hair covering her face. She tried to blow on it, but with restricted movement, there was only so much she could do.
She looked incredibly... appetizing.
And she knew what it did to Miranda when she referred to fashion as "stuff." Really, she had only herself to blame. If she wanted to play a game, Miranda played to win.
"So," she drawled, using her best Snow Queen voice and watching Andrea shudder even with that one word, "you want to be punished."
Andrea didn't answer and Miranda provided the first slap to her still clothed ass, relishing the resulting tingle in her palm. This was something they had yet to try and it was as exhilirating for her as she guessed it was for Andrea, who yelped and then squeaked, "Yes, Miranda."
"You did a terrible job assisting me today," she continued calmly, took hold of the hem of Andrea's dress, and dragged it up and--dear god--Andrea wasn't wearing any underwear. Her pussy was bare and exposed for Miranda's intent gaze and, without being told, she spread her legs. Almost of its own volition, Miranda's foot jerked and kicked hers, nudging her legs further apart. Marvelous.
"I asked for my coffee to be hot." She was a little unsure when she picked up the ruler and more unsure when she slapped it a couple of times against the palm of her hand and Andrea flinched. But then her back arched and her ass pushed up, inviting Miranda to do as she wished. She felt dizzy with power and arousal and brought it down on the cheek she'd already slapped, not too hard, but enough to make Andrea moan.
Her chest expanding with her breath, she continued more confidently, "Not only did you get my order wrong, but it was lukewarm." Another smack, this time to the unattended cheek and a little harder. Andrea squirmed against the desk.
"And where was my steak? What happened to my lunch?" Another smack. "Did you want me to starve to death?" A harder smack, and by now both of Andrea's ass cheeks were beginning to take on a shade of pink.
"This is for forgetting my scarves." A smack to her right cheek. Andrea gasped, but spread her legs wider. Miranda's pussy ached.
"And this is for keeping me guessing what Meisel wanted." A smack to the left cheek. Andrea moaned.
"And this..."--Miranda laid the ruler back on the desk--"is for disappointing me so thoroughly today," she said before rubbing her fingers up and down Andrea's slit and then shoving three inside at once. Andrea was so wet, they slid easily.
Crying out in surprise, Andrea pushed back against her and Miranda used her free hand to slap her bruised ass. She whimpered. "You are not allowed to enjoy this, do you understand?"
She was proud of how low and deadly her voice sounded in spite of how turned on she felt. Topping it off with another slap, she repeated, "Do. You. Understand?"
"Yes, Miranda," Andrea groaned, sounding like she was forcing the words out.
She smacked her again. "You will not moan." Because the last thing they needed was for someone to hear them. The door was closed, which everyone knew meant "stay away," but it was not soundproof.
She delivered another smack. "You will not come until I say you can." And another one. "This is your punishment. Do I make myself clear?"
Having learned her lesson, Andrea didn't waste a second before whispering, "Yes, Miranda."
Pleased, Miranda set to fuck her brains out.
She could tell Andrea was having a hard time staying still and quiet and took pleasure in the authority she'd been granted. Work and infuriating employees long forgotten, she watched the red and raw skin of Andrea's ass as well as her fingers pumping in and out of her and felt much, much better. This was exactly what she'd needed.
Not that she wished to hurt Andrea, but then Andrea didn't seem to be suffering, not if the copious moisture between her legs was anything to go by. She always had been brilliant and resoursful, able to determine exactly what Miranda needed before she herself knew.
It had made her a great assistant and it made her an even better partner.
By the time Miranda finally decided to take mercy on her and pay attention to the swollen and pulsating clit, Andrea was panting and writhing frantically and she conceded that she'd tortured her long enough.
The disobedient assistant had endured her punishment and learned her lesson.
With incessant strokes to her clit, Miranda leaned close to Andrea's ear and whispered, "You may come now," and Andrea didn't need to be told twice.
Miranda watched with hungry eyes as her body seized and shuddered on the desk, hands unable to move from their restrained placement behind her back, and she could tell that, with a Herculean effort, Andrea was keeping from making too much noise. She awarded her with a deeper push of her fingers and one final slap.
When Andrea was done, she collapsed on the desk and her legs were visibly shaking with the effort to hold her up. Her body rose and fell with her hard breathing and her hair clung to her sweaty face. She looked mesmerizing.
Untying the scarf from around her wrists, Miranda rubbed them soothingly before allowing them to drop to Andrea's sides. Then she leaned over her, moving the hair back from her face and kissing her shoulder blade.
"Are you alright?" she asked gently.
In response, she got an exhausted smile. "I'm awesome." Her voice was hoarse. "Help me up?"
Miranda did, pulling her from the desk and onto unsteady feet. Andrea bent down and removed her shoes, then balanced herself against the desk. "I think I should be asking you that, though." Miranda gave her what she knew was a quizzical look. "Are you alright?"
With an eye roll and a small smile, she leaned in for a kiss, their first of the night. It was sweet and tender and she couldn't believe how much she'd needed that, above all else. "I'm awesome," she repeated when they parted.
Andrea chuckled and looked behind her at the desk. Miranda's papers were wrinkled. Some were sticky. She saw Andrea bite her lip. "Sorry for that."
Miranda's response was to push the papers away, wrap an arm around her waist, and tug her close. Then they were kissing again, long and deep, and she sighed and let Andrea's tongue take charge.
She only realized she'd been pushed backward when she landed in her chair. Startled, she looked up as Andrea straddled her lap and said, "It's your turn now."
"I do have to get back to work and--"
"Shhh," Andrea cut her off, but she hadn't even convinced herself very much. She was wet and needy and didn't really have it in her to object when Andrea slid to her knees before her.
Before she knew it, her skirt was hiked up, her panties pushed to the side, and Andrea's tongue was on her, licking and lapping. She arched, she keened, she grabbed Andrea's hair.
"Yes, yes, yes," she whispered when Andrea sucked her clit into her mouth, and when her tongue delved into her, she groaned.
Her legs spread wider and Andrea rewarded her with a thumb on her clit while her tongue continued to slide in and out of her. Then Miranda began to move against her, meeting her strokes and chasing that wonderful release that was slowly building up.
She couldn't believe how close she'd gotten just from spanking Andrea. Perhaps there was a lot still to introduce into their sex life. Perhaps next time Andrea could--
Her thoughts were cut short when Andrea replaced her tongue with two of her fingers, pressing hard against her G-spot, and her clit was back in her mouth. Miranda gasped and arched. Just a little more, just a little...
Able to tell she was close, Andrea's movements became more fast-paced and focused until she couldn't take it anymore. She threw her head back, squeezed her eyes shut, and came and came until she reached the thin line between pleasure and pain. They were testing that line tonight after all.
In the back of her mind, she thought she heard herself scream and hoped there wasn't anybody around. But she also couldn't bring herself to care much at the moment.
Slumping in her chair, she looked down through hooded eyes to see Andrea wipe her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. "All better now?" she asked with a smug grin that would have infuriated Miranda if she hadn't felt so sated.
Instead, she merely answered, "Yes," noting how weak and breathless her voice sounded.
"Good," Andrea said and got to her feet, picking up her shoes in the process. "Then you can get back to work now."
Oh, no, Miranda was having none of that. Gripping Andrea's hand just as she made to turn around, she pulled the giggling girl back to her until she landed in her lap and kissed her. Miranda could taste herself on her lips and tongue.
"How did you get past security anyway?" she questioned when the kiss ended.
"The guard recognized me," Andrea replied and ran her fingers through the lock of hair at her forehead, which had undoubtedly unraveled from its careful styling. Then she gave her a knowing look. "Turns out it pays off to be nice to service providers."
Miranda chuckled and held her tighter. "Can't relate."