Page 39 of Bronson

My pussy is starting to ache.

I’m already wet from being spanked.

My bottom is throbbing.

I can’t focus and I’m glad there’s no customer coming in the door.

I realize I left my phone on his desk.

Should I go back and get it? Get it later? Would he see the text from Peter?

I bet Peter doesn’t plug women’s bottoms for using their phones. My pussy pulses at the memory of Bronson’s words as he slid the thing inside of me. I roll my eyes and sigh.

I get through the next hour. I decide it’s safe to go and ask for my phone. I knock, and he tells me to come in.

There’s nothing on the desk. He’s just sitting there, staring out of the window.

I stand there, hovering. Not sure if I should leave or not.

Finally, he looks at me. “I’ll take out the plug now.”

“Thank you.” Relief washes over me. It’s made me uncomfortable and horny and I want it out. I bend over the desk.

He comes behind me. He reaches underneath my dress, pulling down my panties. He’s much more gentle than before. He slides the plug from me. He puts my clothing back into place. When I turn around, I don’t see what he’s done with the thing, but my phone is in his hand.

He gives it to me.

“You’re dismissed for the day,” he says. Disbelief washes over me. “What?”

“You’re dismissed for the day.” He leaves me, returning to his chair.

He can’t be serious. “Why? For one text?” I balk.

“For insubordination. You’ve just freely admitted you’ve broken the rules constantly. Behind my back.”

It’s all coming together. His coldness. His anger. He has feelings for me. And he can’t handle the idea of me going out with another man. But, for whatever reason, he’s unwilling to be with me himself.

I ask, “This is because of the date. Isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer me. Just stares out of the window. Then, I realize I was crazy to ever think there was something between us…

I’m not good enough for him.

I should make a scene. Cry foul. But the tears are starting to burn behind my eyes.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to cry in front of him.

Tugging at the chain around my neck, I break the clasp. The butterfly clinks against the desk as I throw the necklace down.

I turn on my heel and leave.

Coatless.

I text Peter to let him know our plans have changed and ask him if he’d mind picking me up at the home, instead of at work. Then, I turn off my phone. I’m not ready for the steady stream of texts that will surely be arriving from Alice when she gets off work, questioning me about what happened. Why I’d left in such a rush in the middle of a shift.

I take an angry nap. When I awake, I feel much better. I take my time touching up my makeup. I clean my room. Flip through a magazine. Anything to take my mind off of him.

Peter arrives exactly at six. He presents me with a small bouquet of flowers. Ingrid takes them and places them in a vase of water in my room for me. We visit with his grandfather for a few minutes, then hail a cab to a cute Italian restaurant that he knows of.