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“So that’s fifty-two if we count your art class.”
“Yes.” She sighs softly.
My stomach ties itself in knots. One of Nora’s punishments is edging. We’d tried it before it was a punishment and she used a safe word when it was too intense. Now I’m worried anything I choose from the list will result the same way. I really don’t want to do this.
Unable to take the silence, she rushes out of her seat and drops to her knees in front of me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I tried to get out of it, Becker.”
“I’m not Becker right now.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. King.” Her head nestles against my leg.
I glance down, spreading my legs apart so she can scoot between them. Her hands fall on my knees, nails digging into the material of my suit. “You should have left, Nora. Fuck a write-up. That means nothing. Your health is more important than that place.”
“I–I know. I’m sorry.”
“Take off your panties,” I say.
She nods, standing up. Lifting her dress up, she tugs on the black lace thong, down her knees and they drop to the floor.
“You’re going without them to the event tonight. And in such a tiny dress, kitten. If you bend the wrong way, someone might see what’s mine.”
“Yes, Sir.” She sniffles.
I tap my knee. “Come sit on my leg.”
Nora steps out of her underwear, then climbs onto my lap. When she straddles my thigh, her dress rides up, exposing herself to the cool air.
“Grab my phone from my pocket.” When it's in my hand, I unlock it, opening up my emails.
“Nora?”
“Yes, Mr. King?”
“You’re being punished because we agreed you’re not to work over forty hours. Forty-four if you count art class on Thursday. You’ve worked fifty-two.” My hand rears back and meets with her bare ass. She moans, arching to get away from my touch.
“I know. I’m so sorry, Mr. King.”
“You have five minutes to make yourself come. You may not use your hands. You may only use my thigh.”
A whimper leaves her mouth, her bottom lip shaking. Nora sighs but composes herself and nods. “I deserve it, Mr. King.”
“I want my pants soaked with your orgasm, Nora. I want to smell like you this evening, even if I have to walk away from you for business. You’ll still be with me. However, this punishment is about you. I’m not giving you the pleasure you want from me. And you’re not going to beg me to take it from you either. Only my good kitten gets my attention.” I scroll through my phone, pretending to be uninterested in her. “You may not speak to me for the next five minutes, Nora.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
Her hips grind against my leg, and I pretend to be uninterested, though I’m anything but. Nora’s hands fall on my shoulders, her head dropping as she tries to pleasure herself. Her movements are slow, teasing, but the moment she starts to become more aroused her lips part. She breathes heavier, and her nails dig into my suit.
I force myself not to look away from my phone, despite the scent of her lemon lotion penetrating my senses, weakening my walls. Her pussy is dripping, leaving a wet spot on my pants just like I wanted, and though this is a punishment for her, it feels like I’m being punished, too. Because all I want to do is grab her by the ass and push her against the window of the plane.
I’m dying to fuck her against the wall with her ass bare to anyone on the tarmac who looks in, and fuck her until she can’t take anymore. But I can’t do any of that when she’s in trouble. So yeah, this punishment is mine, too.
I chew the inside of my cheek, my fingers mindlessly scrolling the screen. Fuck, this is the longest five minutes of my life. Nora lets out a whimper, her body tensing, and I know she’s so close. Her hips move more furiously until she lets out a squeak, and slows her pace. Her grip on me loosens, and she falls forward, cuddling into my chest.
I refrain from wrapping my arms around her and praising her. Sliding my phone into my pocket, I don’t look at her when I say, “Sit down and get buckled.”
She stands slowly, then walks back to her seat. When she’s settled, I reach for the phone behind me that acts as an intercom to the cockpit.
“Yes, Mr. King,” a female voice chirps.
