“Full rebranding. Print, broadcast, and digital,” Valerie replies.
“Valerie’s informed me that it’s time we moved you up.”
“I—yes. We discussed it briefly,” I say.
“Good. We’d like to create a position for you that’s new to this office. We have several print directors in New York, and we were hoping to start you as our first junior digital director. You’ll report directly to Valerie.”
I’m excited for the offer, but I don’t leap before I take a look. “The title sounds wonderful,” I say, trying to keep my laugh even. “But may I ask what exactly the position will entail?”
“Sure.” Donna slides the folder across the table. The first sheet lays out a formal job description, along with the indication of the salary. I try not to cough.
“We’ve been expanding a lot over the last year, and we’re trying to convince more prospective new clients to consider switching to us for their digital needs,” Valerie says. Which really means for all of their digital, print, and broadcast needs. “I’ll need to travel more with the other department heads, and we need someone here to be able to hold down the fort. The gang trusts you. You’re great with delegation and you’re excellent under pressure. We think it would be a good fit.”
“Wow, thank you. That’s—thank you.”
“Why don’t you take this home tonight and read it over? If you don’t think it’s for you, we can talk to the new guy we’ve brought in for R.J. Major’s.”
Hell no! almost comes out of my mouth. That would mean I was stuck with 21 And Up. No fucking way. “I will. I’ll give you an answer in the next day or two?”
“End of the week is fine,” Donna says.
“Oh, and I was hoping to actually take my vacation after the site is up.” I admit it now. It would look pretty bad if I took a promotion and then immediately went on vacation without giving Valerie a little warning.
Donna waves me off. “That’s fine. Take your days. You’ll be rested when you get back.”
“Okay?” Valerie shoots me a hopeful grin.
“Sounds great,” I say.
“Great.” Donna slaps her palms lightly on the table as if we’ve already sealed the deal.
“I’ll see you back downstairs,” Valerie says.
I collect my folder and scurry to the elevator. Instead of heading back to my desk I tuck down the hall to my favorite bench. I’m breaking her rules, but I can’t wait. I call Pilar.
“Everything okay?” she asks when she answer.
“Are you free to celebrate tonight?”
“Sure, baby,” she replies with a slight chuckle. “Just tell me what we’re celebrating.”
*
My dinner out with Pilar and the subsequent spine-melting fuck she gives me afterward is the last of my fun for almost two weeks. I hand over my signed promotion papers after taking one last look at that salary bump. I’ll start my new position, complete with a new office, with a window, as soon as the paper-doll site is launched, after a much deserved two-week vacation. Now that I can really afford it, I think about taking Pilar away somewhere. I hope she’ll let me. For maybe a second or two, or like complete hours at night before I go to bed, I wonder what she thinks about moving in together, but I know it’s too soon. I don’t know that Mommies do this with little girls all the time, but she hasn’t even mentioned collaring me yet. Every relationship is different, but I think she would do something, make some gesture before we decided to take up permanently under the same roof.
In the mornings, I’m back to work, scrambling to train two new producers, Heidi and Ryan. We’ve signed a new project for 21 And Up. I don’t have to worry about the details because thank all that is God, Ryan and Heidi are responsible for it. In the meantime, though, I live and breathe that stupid paper-doll function. The whole thing is a walking bug, but our programmers are working so hard to get things rolling. Liam is swamped with work, too. We both work a ton of overtime and take solace in the fact that the company is paying for many a take-out dinner.
I see Pilar when I can and she does everything she can to help me relax. I don’t know what I’d do without her. I spend a lot of our time together working, unfortunately, but at bedtime she’s there for me with hot food and a bath. Or some ice cream, her long fingers, and her perfect mouth.
She calls me one day at my desk and tells me I need to take Saturday night off. I think we’re clear enough that I’ll be working late on Friday, but I make up my mind right then that Saturday night belongs to Pilar. 21 And Up and their stupid paper dolls can suck it.
“What’s happening on Saturday night?” I ask her.
“I’ll tell you Friday, baby. Get back to work.”
I growl at her playfully through the phone before I tell her I love her. She tells me she loves me, too.
*
At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised by things Pilar does or says, how she’s able to read me or a situation so well that she meets my needs before I even know there’s something to be considered.
It’s Friday night. I’m running late and I’m frazzled. My Saturday and Sunday are clear, but as I walk up Pilar’s front steps I’m already thinking about Monday and everything that needs to be done. With Frank tucked under my arm, I check my e-mail one last time before I ring the doorbell. I’m slipping my phone in my bag when she opens the door. I’m happy to see her, especially since she’s in her robe, but I’m frustrated that I can’t seem to escape work these days. My vacation days can’t come soon enough.
I smile at her. I’m about to say hello. I want to tell her I’ve missed her, but the look on her face, an expression that is patient but determined, combined with the fact that she’s blocked my entrance, tells me I should let her have the first word.
My mouth slips closed, though my eyebrows go up expectantly. I hope I haven’t forgotten something.
“We’re playing a different sort of game tonight, baby.” She reaches across the threshold and cups my cheek. I soak in her warmth, fighting to keep my eyes open. “Until I say so, there will be no talking. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mami.”
“Good. You may come in,” she says as she steps aside. I exhale as I enter her house. My mind is scrambling, trying to figure out where she’s going with this, as if I could put a stop to it, as if I want to. As if her plans are a problem to be solved. Ugh, I’m still in work mode, I think as I step toward the couch.
“Let’s put your things down in your bedroom and then we’ll have a bath.”
I turn and walk down the hall. Pilar’s at my heels. This is all routine. I come to her house. I bathe and we settle into our weekend, but this enforced silence changes everything. Even though she has her rules, Pilar does let me chat a lot. I realize I have things I want to say. I want to talk about work. I need to, just to get it out of my system, but now I can’t. By the time we make it to her bathroom, I’m already cataloging the things I want to say, making a mental list for when she finally lets me speak.
She dims the lights and undresses me. As the tub fills, she kisses me. It’s the kiss, I think, that makes things worse. I want to tell her how much I’ve missed her during the week. I want to tell her how being with her makes me feel. I whimper painfully and try to pull away, but Pilar’s instincts and reflexes are faster than my protests. She gathers me in her arms, kissing me harder, letting me know there’s nowhere for me to go. Right now, this is where I belong.
When our kiss ends, her grip suddenly shifts from a strong arm around my waist to firm fingers on my chin.
She looks me right in the eye.
“Whatever you’re feeling right now, I want you to feel it. If you’re frustrated, be frustrated. If you’re angry with me, be angry. If you’re tired or sad, feel those things. Do not push them down. You can fight me, but don’t ignore what’s going on inside.”
How do you know? I want to say, but of course I don’t.
My nostrils flare and my lips begin to tremble. It’s all of those
things, and they’re manifesting themselves as this ache in my chest. The tears come so fast, the kind that come so thick and hot you don’t even attempt to wipe them away until your vision is already blurred. I cry those types of tears that demand so much of me I can’t even close my eyes.
Pilar turns off the water and steps into the tub, pulling me with her. No bubble bath this time, just steaming hot water. She settles me between her legs, and rather than squaring my back to her chest, she lets me roll to my side so I can put my head on her shoulder. The tears keep coming, and finally she reaches up with a wet hand and wipes my face.
I let out a shuddering breath as the water runs over my lips. She has to keep touching me or I won’t make it through the night.
Her lips brush my forehead and she whispers, “Tell me.”
I tell her everything. I tell her that I’m exhausted. I tell her that working for 21 And Up is sucking away my will to live. I tell her that I know I’m being overworked, but that our office environment has become one that no longer takes an employee’s mental health into consideration. I tell her I could work one hundred hours a week and no one would think that was a little strange. I’m just a hard worker. I just love my job. I do love my job, I tell her. Or at least I used to. I love my coworkers and I don’t want to let them down. I’ve been offered this promotion and I want to show Valerie and Donna that I can handle the responsibility, but I feel like I may crack soon. I feel like I’ve set myself up in an impossible situation. I feel like it’s not okay for me to be done in, like it’s some grand failure to admit that I’m stressed out and feeling overworked when every piece of me is screaming toward that truth.
And then I tell her how much I hate being away from her. I tell her I can’t even enjoy sending my panty pictures to her because I can’t let my mind stray to her long enough for my inner little girl to process even a few moments of arousal when I have another status meeting in five minutes. I tell her I never want to eat another meal in a conference room if it means not eating a dinner that is meant to be eaten with her, on her lap. I cry and cry on her shoulder, shaking and hiccupping, letting out everything that has been on my mind these last few weeks. She holds me, stroking my back and hips under the water.
“Do you want to quit?” she asks quietly. I consider this possibility seriously before I answer.
“No,” I say. “But I want off this account, and I will be if I can just make it a few more weeks.”
We’re quiet again for some time. My tears stop, though I’m still breathing heavily. My hand drifts to Pilar’s thigh, and soon the soothing feeling of her skin helps calm my thudding heart.
Without a word she starts to move and I know bath time is over. I lead the way out of the tub. Our routine continues as usual from there. She dries me off, we lotion up. This time, though, when she leads me to her bed she takes me in her arms. I’m between her legs as she leans against the headboard, back to chest, thighs against thighs. She turns on the Food Network because she knows I like the background noise. Then she rocks me in her arms.
“Do you want to know what we’re doing tomorrow night?” she asks.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, trying to cover a yawn. “I almost forgot.”
“We’re going to a play party.”
I turn slightly to look at her. “Really?”
“Yes. A woman I know is hosting a Mommy/little slumber play party downtown, and we’ve been asked to come. What do you think about that?”
I’m nervous, that’s my initial reaction. I’ve been to play parties with Laurel, and that was when she demanded the most of me. I always did my best to please her, and even when people complimented her on my behavior, she never seemed satisfied. Throw in the difference between your run-of-the-mill sub and the mentality of a submissive little girl, then add in a group setting? Yeah, that makes me nervous. I tell Mami and I ask her what I should expect.
I feel like she answers me honestly. “I’m expecting there to be the typical show and competition, but of course everyone will be judging each other’s little girls and Mommying style on their own personal standards, but I won’t really know until we get there. I’ll have to assess the women there, assess their little girls, and then I’ll know how we should proceed. I want you to have fun, but we’ll just have to see.”
I like this approach. Environments change depending on the players, and I like that Mami is coming at this with both of our interests in mind. Some Dominants are so interested in the show that they don’t know when to rein things in, even when it’s obvious that both they and their sub have wandered into deep water.
“Do you think you’ll want me to play with other little girls?” I ask cautiously. Our first meeting with Bizzy and Holly was supposed to be just lunch and some hanging out before it devolved into a WWE match, but play parties are different. It’s expected that some erotic activity will go down. I’m no stranger to exhibitionism, but I wonder if this time Pilar will want me to perform. I ask her.
She contemplates my question for a moment. “I’d like to show you off, though I really will have to assess the crowd before I know how much. But don’t worry, baby. I won’t make you do anything that you feel uncomfortable doing.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby.”
I thread my fingers through hers and run my thumb over her palm. “Do I get to wear that dress?”
We both shake a little when Pilar laughs. “Yes, you will.”
I smile, for the first time all night. “Then I’ll go.”
“Oh, you’ve decided you’ll come along with me? Is that right?”
“Yeah. It would be wrong for me to send you off alone. It just wouldn’t be right.”
“And what would you do if I brought another little girl home to replace you?” Her tone is as teasing as the light touch she trails down my stomach. Goose bumps spring up on my skin. I squeeze my legs together.
“Don’t you think that would confuse Frank?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Pilar says. “I think Frank has a lot of love to give.”
“No, he doesn’t. Frank is a dark, withdrawn puppy. He reserves all his love for me. But if you brought another little girl home?” I know she’s joking, but my jealousy at the idea has its own flavor and texture, it’s so strong. “I’d be nice to her, I guess, but she’ll have to sleep on the couch or the porch or something. My bed isn’t big enough for two little girls.”
“I think you’re right. I think you’ll have to come with me then.”
I sigh so heavily it almost sounds like a moan. “I guess so.” She tickles me then, and I can’t help but giggle and squirm. She’s still tickling me when she says, “Are you wet for me, Suzy?” The heat of her tone contradicts the lightness of her touch, so much it catches me off guard. It trips me up right into my little space. I still don’t understand how she does it.
I curl up onto her, hiding my face against her shoulder. “I don’t know,” I say bashfully, though I totally am. I’ve been wet since she kissed me in the bathroom. Her voice and the way she’s holding me are only making matters worse. My clit is hard—I can feel it—and my lips are starting to swell.
“You don’t know? Do you think I should check?”
I hesitate again before shaking my head.
“No? Well, maybe I should spank your sweet little pussy until it’s ready to open up for me so I can check.”
My eyes squeeze shut and I hold back a moan. I’m definitely wet now.
“I think that’s exactly what I’ll do. Lie flat and don’t move.”
I situate myself more completely on my back, against her lush breasts. Her arm comes around my waist and she holds me down. The first touch of her fingers to my slit is a light, teasing pat that sends the most delicious vibrations up my clit. My leg twitches, but I manage not to move much. She pats me again and again, and with each tap my hips want to move a little more. It’s a struggle to stay still, but I try.
“Are you wet now, baby?�
�� she whispers in my ear.
I shake my head. “No.”
“How about now?” She delivers another tap, this one a little harder than the ones before. My hips jerk forward.
“No. I don’t know yet.”
“Now?” She smacks me this time. The blow is hard and perfect. A few more like it and I’ll come. Pilar knows by the way I try to lunge forward, by the way I cry out. She slides her fingers lower, not even a fraction of an inch, and she can feel my juices coating my lips. She massages my labia, careful not to open me up. At times, this drives me crazier than the most intense penetration. This is one of those times. I whimper and try to roll my hips away from her exploring hand.
“Hold still,” she says, her tone as harsh as it gets, still laced with affection and care. “Hold still or I won’t let you come.”
“Yes, Mami,” I reply, my voice tight. I relax my thighs.
She kisses my cheek and then my neck. “You want me to spank your pussy until you come. Say it.”
“I want you to spank my pussy until I come.”
“Say it again because you know it’s true. You know it’s exactly what you want.”
“Please, Mami. Spank my pussy until I come. It’s what I want.”
She licks my cheek. I turn away sharply to avoid her tongue only because I need to disobey. The hand around my waist flashes up to my chin. She holds me in place and licks me again. Then she spanks my pussy again. Her smacks are just as hard, sharp punctuations like a sensual code across the sensitive skin shielding my clit. The closer I get, the harder she hits, the more my body quakes. Soon I’m begging her, “Spank me. Oh God, spank me.” And she does, building her speed and strength.
My orgasm tackles me down from my gut, causing my body to arch forward as I scream. Pilar follows me, sitting us both completely up as she shifts her grip to my neck. Always to control, never to hurt. She shoves three fingers into my pussy in one tight thrust and I come again. The little restraint that I’ve had is completely gone. I ride her fingers, almost recklessly, letting her grip on my neck and her lips pressed against my temple hold me in place. I’ve soaked the sheets between us by the time she pulls out, but she’s not through yet.
At Her Feet Page 16
