Pierced by JA Huss & Johnathan McClain

Author:JA Huss & Johnathan McClain [Huss, JA & McClain, Johnathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Science Future Press
Published: 2018-10-29T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY - PIERCE

I sit in the throne in my office and try to look casual. Problem with thrones is that one can only appear so relaxed. I could throw my leg over the side, but then it’d just look like I was trying too hard. Also, it’d look like I’m trying to show my dick off. I don’t wanna show my dick off. Feels like that sends the wrong message.

The sofa. I could lounge on the sofa. I run to the sofa and assume a position of repose. No, this is no good. Now I just look like a cheesy velvet poster of a seventies porn star. Shit.

Why is looking relaxed so damn stressful?

In about two seconds Myrtle is going to walk in here and ‘test’ me. I can feel it. Unless she isn’t. Maybe that’s the test! Oh, Myrtle, you sneaky minx. The test was to see if I’d feel tested and react as though she’s going to give me a test when that’s the test itself! Crafty vixen.

Oh. No. Guess not. Because here she comes. Oh, hell.

I see her approaching from down the hall through the glass wall. Shit. There is a test after all. Oh, Christ. I can’t show her that I feel stressed about the test. Stress test. That’s what this is. Aha! OK. Stand. Maintain composure. Look casual. Read something. Grab a magazine.

I have no magazines in here to grab. Are you kidding? This is a magazine and there are no magazines in here? Well, that’s ironic. Maybe—

“Pierce?” she says, entering the office. Which is wildly unnecessary. A) It’s my office. And B) she knows I’m in here because she can see me through the wall. Maybe I shouldn’t answer. She hasn’t given me permission yet.

Wait. What? What the fuck am I saying? It’s my office, not a dungeon. Oh, Jesus, she’s in my head. I can’t let her know that she’s—

“Oh. Hey, Myr. ’Sup?” I stand and lean on the arm of the sofa, super chill.

She blinks at me. “Did you just call me Myr?”

“Uh… I think I may have, yes.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Copy. I shall do it no myr.” I smile. “Get it? No myr? It’s a play on—”

“Yeah, no, I got it.”

I give her an o-kay sign with my hand and I wink. She takes in a breath and starts walking toward me. She’s wearing typical Myrtle-at-work wear, but as she moves in my direction, all I can see is what she had on last night. The dirty, Parisian dominatrix motif. I imagine that when she looks at me all she sees right now is a dog collar and a hard dick.

And… I kind of hate that. Not the second part. The dick thing doesn’t bother me all that much, but the first part…

“What’s up, Ms. Rothschild? How can I help?”

She gets close. Not so close as to cause anyone (aka Valerie) to notice, particularly, but close enough that I can smell her perfume.

“Well, I was worried that I wouldn’t see you today.

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