Rating: 18. At Least.
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Summary: Andy's feelings for Miranda become reality in an unexpected way.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Lauren Weisberger, Broadway Books and 20 th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
Author's Note: This was a challenge from The Raven. It had to be between 5,000 and 15,000 words and at some point in the story, had to include the phrase, "You were the love of my life for a day." I apologize to DWP fans I am (obviously) not a DWP aficionado. But it was fun to write (thanks, Rave). In this story, the Paris event has not happened.
"Emily."
"Andrea," Andy corrected, carefully. In response, she received an indifferent, 'whatever' look from her boss.
Miranda Priestly handed the younger, doe-eyed woman a slip of paper. "You are to go to this address and wait for my order to be filled. Then bring it immediately to my residence. You are not to leave until I get home and inspect the contents."
"But I –"
"That's all."
- have somewhere to be in an hour, Andy finished to herself. It was pointless to say it out loud. Miranda would not care; she would just tell Andy to bore someone else with the details. Andrea Sachs clutched the paper tightly in her fist and returned to her desk. As she sat and began to search for her dentist's number to cancel her appointment, she looked up and saw Emily smirk at her. "What?"
"Now where does she have her favorite little errand girl running off to?" Emily sneered.
Andy sighed. "I don't know yet. Hey -!" Emily snatched the paper out of Andy's hand and read the address while Andy spoke with her dentist's office. She hung up the phone. "So where am I off to?"
"You must be picking up groceries for a dinner. There's a Vietnamese restaurant she likes in that area. I think this is the address. Hmmm…I wonder who the dinner is for?" Emily tossed the paper back at Andy and returned to her own desk. Frantically she searched through the event book she kept for Miranda. "…she doesn't have anything listed…I hate it when she does this to me…" Emily's whisper became harsher with each word.
"What makes you think she's doing this to you?"
"It's always about what she does to me, always trying to test me, always –"
"Maybe it's a spur of the moment thing."
"Oh, please, Miranda never does 'spur of the moment' things." Emily rolled her eyes at Andy. "You will never get her."
"I get her," Andy said, defensively.
"Yeah, right. You get her coffee, you get her dry cleaning, you get her groceries…"
As Andy was about to respond, the intercom on her desk buzzed. She pressed the button on her phone. "Yes, Miranda?"
The cool, disembodied voice of her boss said, "Why are you still here?"
Andy paid the cab driver, exited his taxi and looked around her. She was on the 7th Avenue side of Sheridan Square. She read the directions off the paper again, shrugged and walked briskly down Christopher Street until she found the address. Andy stopped and studied the dark façade of the building. It was typical of most establishments in the west village; a business on the ground floor with outrageously expensive (but highly coveted) apartments and lofts on the floors above.
She looked at the paper in her hand then back at the numbers over the door. Yep. This was the place. But it sure didn't look like any Vietnamese restaurant she had ever seen. There were no signs or advertisement of any kind on the windows; just gold flecked green dragons painted on both sides of the black door. Hmmm, maybe it's an exclusive catering service.
Andy dutifully and naively entered the premises of The Dragon's Whip.
When Andy's eyes adjusted, the only lights she saw were simulated torches affixed to the walls. Then the décor came into focus. The dark interior was reminiscent of a medieval castle dungeon. Her jaw literally dropped when it hit her exactly the type of establishment she was in. This was not a restaurant of any kind…unless the menu consisted of gummy sex organs and edible undies. There were sexual devices and erotic furniture everywhere.
"Close your mouth, sweetie, that's an invitation around here." The comment came from a man wearing a leather body thong and a spiked collar. "What can I help you with?" He gestured around the store. "A pillory? A bondage bed? A Berkely Horse? Fisting sling?"
"No, no…" Andy put her hand up in protest. Fisting sling? Oh, good God!
"Stocks? Sex swing? Queening stool? Smotherbox?"
"Sm…smotherbox?" Andy was horrified at the assumption. She shook her head frantically. "I…I…I…think I'm in the wrong place…" Andy couldn't imagine Miranda giving her the wrong address. Miranda didn't make mistakes. Maybe she's getting props for a photo shoot… "You, um, wouldn't happen to have an order for Miranda –"
"Priestly? I certainly do," the man said, pleasantly. He took a step back and gave Andy an uncomfortable once-over. "Oh my…are you the new top? She has certainly gone against type this time."
"The new …? No, no, I'm her second assistant; Emily is her top one. I'm just picking up her order." Andy looked around again. She didn't think she could be any more shocked.
"Of course you are," he said and winked at her. "I'll be right back." The man sashayed into a room behind the counter.
Andy closed her eyes. You're right, Emily. I don't get her. The new top? Then it hit her. Wait. Did he mean Top as in -? No, he couldn't have. Not with Miranda. Like Miranda Priestly would allow anyone to top her. That's just…just…well, rather intriguing. She found herself smiling in spite of herself.
"Here you go, sweetie." He brought out a plain, paper sack with handles. "Tell her everything is there, plus a little surprise from Bart, Spike and me." He was grinning.
"A surprise. I'm sure she'll be thrilled." Andy tried not to sound sarcastic. One thing she did know was that her boss did not like surprises even though she was clearly full of them.
She sat in Miranda's front hall waiting for her to arrive home. Between leaving the shop and arriving at Miranda's, Andy convinced herself that all the items in her possession must be props for a photo shoot. Yeah, that has to be it. She started to nervously giggle. Of course! Imagine, Miranda Priestly being into kink. Andy stared silently at the bag, which stood untouched on the table. But why would she have me bring them to her house instead of to work? Her palms were suddenly sweaty at the thought of Miranda removing the contents of that bag in front of her to make sure it was all there. Would she make Andy step into another room while she inspected the order? That wouldn't make sense since she sent Andy to an obvious BDSM emporium to bring back specifically ordered items from the shop. Why? The proprietor asked about her being Miranda's 'new top'. That wasn't in her job description. But neither was most of the stuff she did for Miranda.
That smile appeared on her face again. Yeah, she was attracted to her, as strange as that seemed. Not because they were both women, that didn't bother her, it was that Miranda really wasn't the kind of person one would normally think about snuggling up with. Yet about a month ago, Andy had the sudden realization that she wanted to be with – in the most biblical sense - her boss. There was something about Miranda's ultimate power that made Andy weak in the knees. Miranda was a beautiful woman in an ice queen sort of way and Andy found the way she reigned over the New York fashion and periodicals kingdom, never out of control, very seductive.
She had begun to fantasize about what those long, tapered, manicured fingers would do to her, about those strong legs wrapped around her and about that menacing tongue exploring vicinities of her body where no man had gone before. Nate had been good in bed but the sex had never gone past being comfortable. Her musings of Miranda had been much more detailed and fulfilling, even in the daydreams.
The more Andy thought about it though, the more she realized the dominance/submissive aspect of sex fit Miranda's personality. She really shouldn't be so shocked or disappointed that boinking Miranda would probably not be like it was in her mind.
Would she ever get involved with BDSM? Well, it was Miranda after all and she had imagined the two of them in bed together doing many other…things. Could she stand being humiliated by her in the bedroom as well as the office? I guess it would depend on the rewards. The lascivious grin disappeared as soon as she heard the key inserted into the lock.
Miranda Priestly closed the door behind her and removed her sunglasses. She stopped when she saw Andy but only for a second. Andy stood up and Miranda thrust her jacket and sunglasses at her.
"Any problems?" Miranda didn't look at Andy, instead walking to where the bag was.
"None." Andy hung up Miranda's jacket in the closet next to the staircase.
Reaching in, Miranda pulled out items one by one, placing them next to the bag. She lined up a fleece-lined blindfold, restraint cuffs, a polypropolene flat braided cat o' nine tails, vibrating nipple clamps, a strap-on harness and dildo, a thirty-inch thong whip, a veined double dong, astroglide and – "Oh. I didn't order this." She held up a vibrating butt plug.
Alrighty then, not a photo shoot. "That must be the surprise from Bart, Spike and, uh, the other guy." As much as she liked to think she was cool with Miranda's predilections, she was stunned by what her boss had laid out on the table.
"Interesting," Miranda said, nodding. She pulled out a piece of paper from her purse and began to look over her purchases. "What is it, Andrea? Clearly you want to say something." Her tone was its usual intimidating and dismissive.
"No. Well…I'm just a little…okay, a lot shocked." Andy then thought she shouldn't have said anything but Miranda did ask.
"Oh, please, Andrea, you cannot be that wide-eyed." She turned to look into Andy's wide eyes. "Hmm, bad choice of words." She went back to inspecting the objects. "It's very simple. Every day I have to be in control of every aspect of my life because I am surrounded by imbeciles." She stopped and waited for a response from her assistant who obviously reconsidered any protest of that statement. "So," Miranda checked the displayed items against her list, "when I am in the privacy of my own bedroom, I prefer things…differently."
"You mean you -? You're not the one who gives the orders?" That was even more of an awakening.
Miranda met her eyes. "I thought I was clear. What of what I just said did you not understand?"
Andy continued to blush from scalp to shins. "I actually can't believe you told me any of it. Aren't you afraid I'll say something to someone about this?"
"No. There was a confidentiality clause and disclosure agreement in your employment contract. You do want to work in this town, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Very well."
"Is that why Stephen left?"
"Not that it is any of your business but no." Miranda circled around Andy and stepped dangerously close to her so that when she spoke, Andy felt her breath on the back of her neck. Andy's body hair stood at attention as a deliciously traitorous shiver prickled down her spine. "No. You see, after my divorce from the girls' father, in my abject depression, I tried some new things to make myself feel better. One made me feel very good."
"And Stephen liked dominating you?" Andy could not stop the libidinous quiver in her body or the tremble in her voice.
"Stephen didn't like anything about me, Andrea. But he was a wonderful father figure to the girls and a respected cover for me." Miranda walked back around to face Andy. "Besides, I don't like to be dominated by men, I like to be dominated by women."
Andy crossed her arms to cover telltale nipples that might possibly poke through the fabric of her blouse. She cleared her throat. "Miranda, that other guy, the one who wasn't Bart or Spike –"
"Willy."
"Willy. Of course. I should have guessed that. He thought I was, um, your, uh, new top and, um, I was just wondering –"
"What? You?" Miranda let go with a sincere, hearty laugh that startled Andy, then offended her.
"Wait a minute! Why is that so funny?" Andy asked, indignant.
"That anyone would think that you could dominate me!" The thought made her laugh even harder.
Even though she had insulted her, Andy had barely ever seen Miranda even crack a smile, much less laugh. Good God, Miranda Priestly was beautiful. She was disturbed by such conflicting feelings about her boss. She cleared her throat again, which did nothing to get Miranda's attention. "Am I finished here?"
Wiping her tears away with one hand, she waved Andy off. "Yes."
Andrea Sachs left her boss' house angry, confused and in lust. She headed to her apartment to do some online research.
Furious, Andrea flung her shoulder bag onto her bed and stomped to her desktop, muttering the entire way. She powered up her computer, kicked off her heels, stripped down to her panties and bra, pulled on a t-shirt and began an initially harmless online exploration into a world she didn't understand.
Two hours later, she was sucking on an ice cube, her legs tightly crossed, moisture gathering at all pores and certain orifices, her eyes as big as full moons. She was as excited as she was appalled.
And determined to dominate the hell out of Miranda Priestley. If that were possible.
Saturday morning found Andy back at The Dragon's Whip. The establishment was much busier than when she had been there yesterday. Before her eyes could adjust, she was recognized by Willy, who flamboyantly greeted her.
"Well, hi there," Willy said, welcoming Andy back, one fist resting on his hip. "Let me guess…our friend would like to outfit you."
"No," Andrea responded, quickly. "I mean, um, actually, I would like to outfit myself."
Willy nodded and took hold of Andrea's wrist. "Come with me, sweetie. And I don't mean in the sexual sense." He pulled her into a section that had fetish clothing and accessories.
She tried to act nonchalant about her surroundings but her inner angel and demon were in a virtual bloody battle with each other. On one hand, she wanted to pick out something that made a bold, forceful statement and, on the other hand, she wanted to bolt from the place without pretense.
What am I doing here? What the hell is wrong with me?
"You'd look fabulous in any of this," Willy told her, gesturing the upper and lower racks on the wall.
Andrea was overwhelmed. All of this was fine in thought but in reality? "You know, I don't know…I've never been much into leather…"
"Then what about vinyl or latex?"
Andrea spun to face the familiar voice behind her. "Nigel!" Then she remembered she should probably be embarrassed about being where she was. Except… "Hey! What are you doing here?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Oh, please, just get over yourself," he playfully admonished, waving her off, animatedly. "The bigger question is what are you doing here?"
"I'm…I'm…just browsing. Yes, that's it. Just browsing," Andrea announced to him, somewhat triumphantly.
"Why, Andrea, I do believe your nose is growing," Nigel said. He lowered his voice and looked around, protectively. "Be careful because one of these other customers might slam you to the ground, jump on your face and scream, 'Lie, bitch, lie!'"
"Okay, that's just wrong," Andrea told him and then scanned the place to see if anyone was headed in her direction with a determined look.
Nigel nodded to Willy. "I'll take it from here."
"Fine, Nigel," Willy sniffed. "But I want the commission."
"My dear Andy. Please, please tell me you have not gotten caught in Miranda's web."
"Seriously, Nigel, I really don't know what that means," Andrea said, honestly. "But, um…I really want to know what that means."
"Do you? Because we're talking a black hole of decadence here."
She couldn't tell if Nigel were being sarcastic or not. Andrea covered her eyes with her hands then peeked out at Nigel between fingers. "So you know about her sexual peccadilloes?"
"That word is so amusing. Makes me think she has a perverted prairie pet or something. Yes. I know about Miranda's preferences in the bedroom."
"Am I the only one who doesn't know?"
"Actually, you are one of the privileged few."
"Emily?"
"Please. Emily can't keep a secret. When Emily dies, she'll be rolling over in her grave at all the clues she missed. In fact, I'm sure on her headstone, it will say 'Pinwheel Emily'."
"Then why did Miranda let me in?"
"I guess she felt she could trust you. Miranda never does anything on a whim, Andrea. Maybe she has plans for you."
"I brought that up with her and she laughed at me."
"You actually brought it up with her?" Now Nigel began to laugh uproariously. When he saw the irritated expression on Andy's face, he quelled his amusement. "I'm not laughing because I think it's beyond the realm of possibilities, I'm laughing because you can be so naïve and plucky at the same time."
"I am not naïve!"
"You are when it comes to your boss."
Andy's shoulders slumped. "I'm dreaming, aren't I? I'm very attracted to her, Nigel, but I don't have anything to offer her, especially in light of –" she gestured to the merchandise around her, "-this."
"Oh, Andy, Andy, Andy…that's where you are so wrong," Nigel said, solicitously. "You're young, vibrant, determined and very creative. The mere fact that you are still putting up with Miranda's abuse means you will do anything to get to your ultimate goal. You're telling me a little obstacle like this is going to stop you from showing Miranda you're the woman for the job?"
"Little obstacle?"
"Of course. After all, it's just acting, isn't it? Didn't you tell me you took some drama classes at Northwestern?"
"Yes but this isn't exactly Shakespeare."
"Depends on how you play it." He was smirking. Andy obviously wasn't buying it. "Okay, what if you had to do an investigative piece for your future newspaper? You would have to research your subject enough to be convincing, wouldn't you?"
"Well…yes…" Andy considered Nigel's words. "Do you really think I could sexually dominate Miranda?"
"I think you would never forgive yourself if you didn't give it a try." Nigel grinned at Andy, conspiratorially. "Now…what do you want to do about it?"
Andrea stood up straight and thrust her jaw forward with a new sense of purpose. "Show me what I need to know."
Andrea emerged from her bedroom in black latex leggings, matching latex long-sleeved midriff top, 6-inch stiletto heels and a gold-stitched eye and nose mask. She held a coiled whip.
"Oh my." Nigel fingered the five o'clock shadow on his chin. "Very nice."
"It's a little tight."
"That's what you get for eating the way you do. Besides, it's supposed to be tight." He stood up and circled her. "It works. Yes. It works very well." Nigel had explained to her that the whip and outfit weren't really necessary but Miranda liked them. He looked down at her high heels. "Aren't those the Louboutin Jolies I pulled for you to wear with that Lacroix dress for that fundraiser last month?" Andrea nodded. "Can you walk in them yet?"
"They are actually quite comfortable, despite their stilt-like height, which is why I chose them to go with my new, um, ensemble." She looked at her reflection in the mirror.
"Yes but can you walk in them?" Nigel did not wait for an answer and motioned her along.
Four steps into her cross-room stroll, Andrea fell off her shoes.
Nigel buried his face in his hand and shook his head. "Oy."
"It was the mask!" Andy pulled the offending item off her face. "I couldn't see where I was going." She took Nigel's outstretched hand and stood up. "Do I have to wear the mask?"
"Yes. Trust me. It helps with the illusion. But for now, let's get you steady in those shoes. You still clomp in them like Elly Mae Clampett."
"Who?"
Nigel silenced her with a gaze. "Never mind. We'll practice. You are going to need to move in them as though they are extensions of your feet. Walking will be the least of your worries."
"Great," Andy sighed.
Two hours later, Andrea's feet were swollen and throbbing but Nigel was finally pleased with her progress in taking command of her stilettos.
"Now, pick up the whip and show me what you can do with that little puppy," he said, indicating the lash on the table. They had moved all furniture to one side of the living room in preparation for practice.
"I don't really know anything about this." She lifted the item and let it uncurl.
"Oh, boy. Well, you need to know because Miranda loves the concept of the whip. So lesson one would be –"
Crrraacck! "Ow! Owwww, holy fuck!" Andy hopped around, holding her knee and then fell off her shoes. "Shhhiiiitttt!" She rolled around the floor, putting pressure on the stinging gash on her kneecap.
" – know the dangers before you attempt to use it."
Andy took her hands away and looked at the slashed material where raw skin was exposed. She began frenetically blowing on the stinging flesh.
Nigel picked up the whip. "Always be aware that the tip of this little toy can exceed the speed of sound and can cause severe damage to whatever it touches."
"No shit," Andrea agreed. "And Miranda likes to feel this against her skin? Just how nuts is she?"
"What Miranda likes to feel against her skin is greatly minimized than what you just felt. That's why we are going to practice. You can control the sound and the feel. Remember, this is all about control."
"This…" she stood up again and took the whip from Nigel, "…might take a while…"
"Indeed," Nigel said, sighing.
Monday, Andrea showed up at work with bruises and minor cuts she really didn't want to explain to anyone. Thankfully, Miranda was in Los Angeles and wouldn't be back until Wednesday. But she knew Emily wouldn't quit until she got a rise from her. Andy would try turning the tables this time.
"What happened to you?" Emily asked her, smirking. "Run into a door?"
Andrea smirked back. "Yes, if you must know the truth. A door named Nate."
The visual stopped Emily momentarily and she then said, "I thought you and Nate broke up."
"We did. I'm just trying to be more open minded."
"By letting him beat on you? God, Andrea, you really are a sad specimen."
"Rough sex doesn't make me sad, Em, it makes me satisfied."
Emily put her hand up to halt any more conversation. "That's…that's disgusting. And don't let Miranda hear any of this. She's too proper. You will be so fired." Then Emily produced something that sort of resembled a smile, as though she had just discovered a huge secret. "On the other hand…go ahead, tell her…"
I'd rather show her, Andrea thought, collusion infusing her brain.
Nigel had been a fine teacher – to the extent of what he personally knew. The rest was up to Andy and her imagination as to whether or not she could impress and conquer Miranda. Her boss was due home in fifteen minutes. It was now or never.
Nigel had explained to her the dynamics of the bondage/discipline, dominance/submissive role-playing. She was relieved to hear that it wasn't really as hardcore or sadomasochist as some of the porn movies Nate had rented. It could be as kinky or sensually subtle as the participants wanted to make it. BDSM was different things to different people, he assured her.
"This isn't something you should be intimidated by," Nigel had told her as he dressed her wounds from mishandling the whip. "It's always consensual, voluntary behavior. Both parties want to participate. You should consider it a sexual exploration. Who knows what you will discover about yourself."
"But…really, Nigel, it's Miranda. It's still so hard to believe she's the, uh, bottom in the bedroom."
"Why? Miranda is still in control."
"But…I thought…"
"The label 'submissive' is deceiving. You'll see. She submits to your orders, true. But in doing so, she's really getting what she wants. She sets the boundaries and she has the power to say stop when she's had enough. And, as a good little dom, her needs and desires are your concern above anything else. These are her fantasies you're exploring, not yours. Well…in theory, anyway. So even though Miranda's not in charge, per se, she's really in charge."
"That makes no sense."
"It will."
She hoped it did because she really wanted this to happen between her and Miranda. Nigel's support and instruction had empowered her. And online research had given her a few ideas.
While waiting for her boss to come home, Andy had found and familiarized herself with Miranda's mock-up dungeon. It was dark and insidious and most medieval in its setup. The room was equipped with devices and equipment that still made Andrea blush, her imagination running wild with the idea of what happened there. She felt she might need a little more experience before being up to conquering Miranda and that room.
Miranda's daughters, Caroline and Cassidy, were off visiting their maternal grandmother in Long Island so the house was empty of children for a few days.
Andrea studied the wall mount wrist and ankle shackles and other BDSM equipment that adorned the "private room." She spotted the bag she had brought to Miranda from the Dragon's Whip and walked over to it. She removed a few of the contents and held them.
Was she really ready? Only time would tell. And very little time at that.
Miranda knew Andrea was in the house because she had called her assistant before she left L.A. and told her to be there with papers that had arrived in her absence and needed to be signed then returned uptown before morning. Yet, there was no sign of Andy, other than her jacket on the seat in the hall. Usually the girl would wait for her there.
"Andrea?"
"Up here," came the response from upstairs.
"Why on earth would you be up there when I need you down here?" Miranda sounded confused.
"Putting away your dry cleaning." It was a lie but it would get her up to the bedroom. Predictably, Andy heard Miranda climbing the stairs.
"Dry cleaning? I didn't have any dry cleaning…" Miranda walked around the corner, into her palatial bedroom and stopped dead at the sight of Andy in her new attire.
After regaining her composure, Miranda smirked. "Is it Halloween already? The girls will be so disappointed we missed it." Her tone was mocking. As usual. She turned to toss her jacket on the bed. "Who are you supposed to be? Catwoman?"
Without hesitation, Andy expertly cracked the whip, the tail snapping inches over Miranda's head. "Trick or treat, Miranda," Andy said in her most authoritative voice.
Startled, Miranda turned and faced her assistant. "Be careful with that thing, you could –"
SNAP! "On your knees!"
"Honestly, Andrea…"
This time the end of the whip barely kissed against the right cheek of Miranda's behind, stinging like a hundred pound hornet. It instantaneously turned her on. Andy snapped the whip just barely over her head again. "On your knees!"
Miranda dropped to the plush carpet immediately, her heart fluttering wildly. "Ooo, hello kitty," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. She focused on the shoes that were in front of her face. "Are those Christian Louboutins?"
"Quiet! No one gave you permission to speak!" Andy put her foot on Miranda's back and pushed down so that Miranda was prone. She kept adding pressure until Miranda stopped resisting. "Much better. Now –"
"Andr-"
SNAP! Andy was impressed at how well she managed the whip now. She could barely contain a smile. She focused on the woman under her foot.
"I mean, mistress?" Miranda said, breathlessly.
"Yes?"
"What do you plan to do to me?"
Ooooo, I'm liking this already. What do I plan to do to her? Hmmmm… Andy knelt on Miranda's back. "Insolence! You never ask, you wait and see. For that, you shall be punished!" She swore she heard Miranda nearly climax right then and there.
"Mistress?" Miranda strained to get out.
"Yes?"
"What's the safe word?"
That stopped Andy as her weight was suddenly equally distributed, both knees now on Miranda's back. "Safe word?"
"You didn't think of a safe word? Really, Andrea, if you're going to-" Miranda was totally out of character, sounding much like her boss again.
Andrea swatted Miranda's behind with the hilt of her whip, which made Miranda yelp. "The safe word is Prada."
"Prada? What kind of s-"
SLAP!
"Prada's good."
"I know it's good," Andy said, annoyed. "Now stop topping from the bottom, Miranda, Jeez!" She immediately got back in her dominant façade. "Before your punishment, you shall strip for me."
"Mistress?"
"What?"
"May I humbly suggest you get off my back first?" There was still that hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Andy laid her body flat out on top of Miranda's and took her earlobe between her teeth. She bit down just hard enough to cause a pinch of pain. "Maybe I wanted you to strip with me on your back," she whispered. She grabbed a handful of Miranda's beautiful silky white hair and yanked her head back at the same time she jammed her thigh between Miranda's legs. Hearing the pleasurable gasp that came from her boss excited Andy. "Maybe you should stop making suggestions. Because if you don't, your punishment will be that I do nothing to you. Do you understand?"
Miranda nodded her head as much as was allowed.
"Is that what you want?"
"No, mistress," Miranda answered, chastened.
Andy slid off her slowly and rolled away to lean against the bed. She curled the whip, held it in one hand and tapped the hilt against her other palm as if to some imaginary beat. "Now…take off your clothes. Start with your stockings." Andy watched Miranda stand up. They locked stares, Miranda's eyes glazed over in such lust, Andy nearly lost her breath.
The stockings came off fluidly and Miranda stood quietly waiting for her next instruction.
"Take off your blouse." Andy watched as Miranda whipped the blouse off. Someone's eager. Andy slammed her hand against the footboard, the noise making both of them jump. Recovering, Andy said, "Too fast, Miranda. Put it back on and do it again. Slowly."
Miranda did as she was told and waited, submissively.
"Your slip and your skirt at the same time." She was trying to keep her voice commanding but watching her dream woman's clothes come off at her request was almost too much to bear. As Miranda stood there, in her bra and panties, Andy gave her a very sensual and hungry once-over. Miranda had an amazing body, as fit as any of her models, with only the slightest hint of gravity starting to take its toll.
"Lie down," Andy said, hoarsely.
"Aren't you –"
"Down! Now!" Andy flicked her wrist and uncurled the whip.
"Yes, Mistress," Miranda said and stretched out on her back on the plush carpet.
It was working. She was dominating Miranda Priestly. This had to be classified as the Eighth Wonder of the World. Lost in her own self-admiration and shock, she didn't hear Miranda clear her throat.
"Prada."
"What?" Andy snapped back into reality and stared at Miranda.
"Prada." Miranda repeated.
"Prada? I'm not doing anything to you."
"Exactly! Really, Andrea, you call this a seduction?" Miranda started to sit up.
In a flash, Andy was on top of Miranda, the whip handle across her throat. She straddled Miranda, pinned her down and growled in her ear, "You know, I may be new at this but I know what I want. And I know you want it, too. Now either you behave and do as I tell you or I go away and you get nothing." Her voice had a tone to it that surprised her. Maybe she really did have an inner dominatrix waiting to get out. She moved the helve of the whip down to Miranda's satin covered breasts, rubbing it against erect nipples that pushed up against the soft fabric.
Andy moved the hilt behind her to between Miranda's legs, stroking her easily at first, then becoming progressively rougher. She never took her eyes off Miranda's face. The harder she stroked, the more bliss Miranda displayed.
"Is this what you want?" Andy asked, seductively.
"Oh, yes, mistress," Miranda breathed.
"Is this all you want from me?"
"No, mistress."
Andy rose, still straddling Miranda, both knees on either side of her shoulders. "You're greedy, Miranda. You'll take what I give you and ask for no more."
"Yes, mistress."
It was so weird hearing Miranda call her 'mistress.' It wasn't that she didn't like it, it was just…weird. And so was doing this on Miranda's bedroom floor. She knew if she were to reasonably enhance the mood, she would have to direct them to The Room.
She stood up and stepped back. "Get up. Now."
Miranda obeyed. Andy reached over to Miranda's bureau where she had previously placed the fleece-lined blindfold, removed it, walked up behind Miranda and covered her eyes. She secured the blindfold, then guided Miranda into The Room.
Andy led Miranda to a stark single bed-like structure and turned her around to face her. She walked around Miranda, running the tip of the whip lightly around exposed skin. She saw Miranda's breathing change rhythm. Andy stepped closely behind her, lips barely brushing the fine hairs on the back of Miranda's neck. She unhooked Miranda's bra and let it drop to the floor. Andy then positioned Miranda on the bed, tying her wrists to the opposite bedposts.
She stood back and assessed her submissive. Miranda's breasts were smaller than Andy thought they would be but that certainly did not make them any less attractive or delectable. She wanted to kiss and caress them, lovingly and reverently feel them in her hands but she knew Miranda didn't want tenderness. Tenderness she could get anywhere from anyone. Andy wanted to stand out from that, to be memorable as Miranda's Dom.
She reached for the vibrating nipple clamps and studied the silver bullet-type devices before she gently applied one, then the other to Miranda's nipples. She watched Miranda's expression for any size of discomfort but she only saw a moment of what appeared to be Miranda adjusting to the sensation. Then she saw a pleasurable smile curl the corners of Miranda's mouth. The rapture apparently increased when Andy activated the device.
"Mistress?" Miranda breathed out.
"Yes?"
"May I come?"
"Already?" Andy let slip. Damn! She was going to have to try those nipple clamps! She then regained her dominant role. As much as she wanted to see Miranda climax, she knew that would be her undoing. Was Miranda testing her? "No, you may not."
"Please, Mistress?" Miranda sounded on the edge of orgasm.
Miranda Priestly begging? Andy's eyes shot upward, wondering if the heavens might start to crumble. Nope. Nothing. She returned her focus to Miranda, who was starting to twist her body in preparation for release. Andy stepped closer and removed the clamps to Miranda's surprised gasp. "What part of 'No' don't you understand?"
"No part, Mistress," Miranda said, in a tone that mixed being disappointed with impressed.
"You will have to be punished, Miranda."
"Yes, Mistress."
What to do. "Pick a number from one to ten."
"Three."
"I am going to do three different things to you. You are allowed to come but you are not allowed to make any noise. If you make any noise, I will stop all activity." She watched Miranda temporarily stop breathing. "Is that understood, Miranda?"
"Yes, Mistress."
Andy was surprised that the quiver was absent from her voice as her anticipation of sexual contact with Miranda was so strong, she was astounded the room wasn't radiating from it. She slithered up the length of Miranda's body, her lips hovering over Miranda's. She kissed Miranda with a burning fervor because she wanted to know how that felt. It felt wonderful. As her lips aggressively ground down on Miranda's, she heard Miranda's breathing change.
Miranda did not respond and then Andy realized she had not given Miranda permission to. She lifted her face an inch above Miranda's. "Kiss me."
"Yes, Mistress," Miranda panted.
When Andy covered Miranda's lips again, Miranda reciprocated with an urgency that seemed almost ravenous. Both women got lost in the heated exchange, the fire rising from somewhere unfamiliar in both of them. Andy's desire for Miranda at that moment was matched only by Miranda's hunger for Andy. Miranda strained against the silk ties that bound her wrists to the bed, unable to stop her body from reacting to the passion.
Minutes later, Andy reluctantly broke the kiss, outlining Miranda's mouth with her tongue. "That is not to be counted as one. That is just a prelude." Miranda remained still as Andy moved lower.
She flicked Miranda's obviously highly sensitive nipples with her index finger. She cupped her breasts, bent down and took a nipple into her mouth, suckled and gradually increased pressure as she held the erect tips between her teeth. Andy moved back and forth between right and left breast, licking, sucking, nibbling, until Miranda was nearly bucking off the table, panting as quietly as possible. Suddenly the silence was broken by an almost guttural howl that scared Andy half to death. Because she was enjoying what she was doing so much, she had forgotten about the rules and had immersed herself in the activity. When Miranda came so powerfully, the shock made Andy jump and look around to see if possibly pterodactyls were flying overhead. No human could possibly make a sound like that.
Then she rose up and looked at Miranda, whose body was recovering, and saw a look of remorse start to develop on Miranda's face. Catching her breath, Andy said, "You disobeyed me, Miranda."
"Yes, Mistress."
"I shall have to impose another punishment."
"Yes, Mistress."
"What should I do, Miranda?" Andy asked, her tone representative of speaking to an errant child.
"Repeat number one to test me, Mistress?" Miranda asked, hopefully.
"Mmmm no. I think I shall remove number three. If you behave, you can earn it back."
"Yes, Mistress." A hint of a smirk graced Miranda's lips.
Maybe another Dom would have punished her for that but for Andy, it told her all she needed to know about how she was doing
She pushed herself down so that her face was above Miranda's pubic bone. Miranda's panties were soaked and the scent of arousal percolated through the air. Andy removed Miranda's underwear and appreciatively examined the sight before her. Miranda was neatly trimmed, dark and light hair covering a treasure Andy had dreamed of discovering for several intense months. She was a big talker. Never having performed oral sex on a woman, she could only hope she could bring Miranda to orgasm. Parting her, Andy gently ran the tip of her tongue over an interestingly cocooned bundle of nerves. The motion caused Miranda's lower body to jolt.
Another sweep of the tongue took in more juices and Andy paused to savor them. Wow. I'm going to love this…
She returned to the task with an enthusiasm she never knew she possessed. Her tongue explored every hill and valley it encountered, rhythmically thrusting her tongue as far as it could go into mystery crevices. Wherever she touched inside Miranda, it caused a bodily reaction. Andy anchored her hands on Miranda's hips and began to concentrate on the area that seemed to be the source of the most response. Fifteen minutes and four nearly impossible silent orgasms later (one being Andy's), Andy had to stop to regain her equilibrium. She never thought anything could feel this good.
She crawled back up Miranda's supine form. "My face is wet," she whispered to Miranda. "Clean it."
Miranda's obedient tongue appeared and Andy lowered her face to it, moving her head so that Miranda could reach every drop. When Miranda was finished, Andy captured Miranda's tongue and fellated it until all remnants of Miranda's essence were gone.
"You've been a good girl, Miranda. For that, you shall get a reward."
Miranda seemed genuinely pleased. "Thank you, Mistress." She was even more pleased when Andy replaced the nipple clamps.
She let Miranda enjoy the solo sensation for a moment and decided she wanted to know what it felt like to have her fingers inside Miranda. She straddled Miranda again, teasing her by drawing her fingers through damp curls before going lower and sliding one finger, then two, then three into a well-lubricated Miranda. Miranda's walls clamped around Andy's fingers and Andy watched in fascination as Miranda rode those fingers to an ecstasy she could not keep silent.
Once again, Miranda burst forth with a cross between a growl and a shriek, which once again prompted Andy to look upward, half-expecting to see something otherworldly swooping down on her. Miranda was a sexy woman but the sound of her climaxing could be a bit of a mood breaker.
"Miranda." Andy removed her fingers abruptly, albeit unwillingly.
"Yes, Mistress."
"You've been a bad girl."
"Yes, Mistress."
"And you know what happens to bad girls?"
"Yes, Mistress." Even though she wasn't smiling, her voice was laced with glee.
Andy was torn between two punishments; snapping the whip just barely over Miranda's body, lashing her with it once or twice to keep her guessing or writing on her with a magic marker. She chose the latter.
She started at Miranda's abs and, with a sharpie, wrote 'Andrea's Treasure.' Drawing downward, she sketched a makeshift map, complete with pirate-like crosses to mark places she was going to drip hot wax on later. She finished up with a big X and an arrow. She looked at her handiwork and thought the lines were surprisingly straight considering how much Miranda had writhed about from the tickling sensation of the pen.
If she hadn't known the ink could be removed with olive oil, which she would probably do later, she would have been a dead woman. Yep. If it were really permanent, Miranda would have indeed killed her for this, then string her up in Times Square where they dropped the New Year's ball every year, for all to see. No doubt about it. But for now, Miranda was just enjoying all this 'punishment' way too much.
"You have earned another reward."
"Yes, Mistress."
Andy was going to strap on the vibrating dildo when suddenly she remembered about one of Miranda's favorite toys Nigel said she kept in the dorm-sized freezer. She heard Miranda whimper a bit when Andy once again removed the nipple clamps.
"Ah – no noise!" Andy said.
Fascinated, she watched Miranda tightly wind her fingers around the restraints and her body stiffened as Andy slowly ran her finger from Miranda's breastbone to the feathery hair covering the black arrow that pointed to 'Andy's treasure.' Her mind was flooded with how Miranda reacted to the touch of her tongue there. God, how can anyone taste so exquisite?
Andy walked to the icebox and found what she was looking for inside. It was just as Nigel had described; a perfectly shaped, seven-inch long, inch-and-a-half thick penis made of solid ice. In fact there were six of them all lined up. Interesting. I really am naïve. She looked back at Miranda, naked, restrained, blindfolded and squirming impatiently. Andy carefully removed one of the penis popsicles, held it by the balls and carried the item of perceived pleasure back to her bound boss.
Before she inserted the nicely endowed ice sculpture, Andy assessed the situation. Nigel was right. Miranda really was in control by relinquishing control. Funny how that works. This BDSM stuff is really intriguing.
Andy positioned herself between Miranda's legs, forcing Miranda's thighs farther apart with her knees. With one hand, Andy slid her fingers into Miranda's opening to prepare her for the acceptance of the arctic genitalia. When she deemed Miranda ready, she replaced her fingers with the polar penis. She slid it once over Miranda's clit before she started entry. She had slowly pushed it in about an inch when Miranda sharply took in a breath.
"Prada! Prada, Prada Prada!!" Miranda gasped.
"What? I was told this was your favorite…"
"Please, Andrea, tell me you wet that first…"
"Well…no, I…I thought your own juices would…"
"Does the wetness from a tongue matter when it's placed against an ice cold flagpole?"
"Oh. Oh, shit. Here, let me –"
"No! Don't move it!"
"Shouldn't I get some warm water or something?" Andy began to sound panicky. And things were going so well.
"Getting warm water requires you to move, does it not, Andrea?" Miranda sounded surprisingly calm, under the circumstances.
"What do I do?"
"I would suggest getting me…warm…enough, above and below the item to hopefully start it disintegrating."
"Oh, of course. Of course, that makes perfect sense," Andy said, and started to manipulate her fingers around the icicle in a much more clinical than sexual manner.
"Honestly, Andrea, you're not on a precious archeological dig, a little more speed would be appreciated."
Andy began to furiously rub Miranda's clit. "I think it's starting to melt."
"She's got frostbite where?" Nigel gasped. "Under the 'X' marks the spot treasure map on her what? Andrea! What the hell happened over there?" He listened to a destraught female on the other end of the line. "Okay, okay, so it's actually frostnip. I'm sure that makes a huge difference to Miranda. Where are you?" He nodded. "So her doctor came to the house? Thank God for small miracles. Are you still in costume? You took the mask off. No, I'm sure she thinks it's just an average day in the Priestly household. Of course, I'm joking." Nigel rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'll meet you there." He hung up the phone. "Oy."
"I'm so sorry, Miranda," Andy said, holding Miranda's hand.
"Oh, Andrea, honestly! I'll be fine. Stop weeping, you're getting on my nerves. Before my…vagina… became a frozen tundra…it was all very nice."
"Really?" Andy wiped tears away with the back of her hand.
Miranda squinted at her, annoyance playing on her features. "Did I not say it in a believable manner?"
She had gone back to being Miranda Priestley again and that made Andy feel slightly better. "Can I get you some more hot tea?"
"No."
"Should I rewarm the compress?"
"No."
"But your doctor said –"
"No!"
"Okay. Um…maybe I should go…" Andrea was still feeling horribly guilty and somewhat useless. She let go of Miranda's hand, pushed her chair back and started to stand up. She would wait for Nigel in the hall.
"Wait." Miranda grabbed Andy's wrist.
There was something in Miranda's unusually supplicating tone that caused Andy to look into her eyes. "Yes, Miranda?"
"Look, I, uh, well…"
Was Miranda blushing? This had to be good. Andy sat back down. "Yes?"
"I was very, uh, impressed with you today. Especially for a novice. You were resourceful, creative, quite avant-garde in your approach and execution of –"
"Jesus, Miranda, it sounds like a job evaluation. So tell me? Am I hired?"
Miranda barely glanced down at her lower body, covered with a heated blanket. "Actually, I may have to rethink some of my favorite activities but if it makes you feel any better?" Miranda pulled Andy closer so that her lips were right next to Andy's ear. "You were the love of my life for a day." She gently pushed away from Andy. "And if you ever repeat that to anyone, you're fired."
"Wow. Miranda, I –"
"That's all." This time the dismissal was accompanied by a glint in Miranda's eye and a knowing smirk. Andy knew that wasn't all. But for today, it would suffice.
The End