Page 47 of Born To Be Bad

Ivy sees it. “Strict, but necessary. Our boss is very … rigid,” she says.

“I see.”

“I think he may actually enjoy punishing us.”

I shift in my seat. “How does he punish you?”

“Oh, you know,” Ivy replies. “A riding crop, if it’s convenient. Or his hand.”

I take a deep inhalation through my nose. All senses activated; my body is alive with anticipation. “He sounds like an awful man.”

Ivy starts unknotting her neck scarf. She doesn’t break eye contact.

“To the contrary,” she purrs.

CHAPTER 26

Revolving

IVY

I’m loving this game. I’ve never role-played before—always thought of it as more silly than sexy—but I’m finding this fun and a turn-on. I can’t help but wonder how much of it is because I feel more comfortable as staff to rich people than pretending to be an actual rich person, but I don’t have to think about that now. A bigger reason I’m feeling good is probably because playing a game like this allows you to check out from reality for a short while. In this moment I’m not worrying about sweet-cheeked orphan babies, or Russian men with AK-47s, or what other violence my future may hold. This diversion is just about right now, and it’s a relief that I’m going to lean right into.

I pull the slippery neck scarf off and drop it to the floor. The blazer is next. The smart white blouse has press studs in front. I consider popping them one by one, but decide to go for a dramatic reveal instead. I make sure that I have Alistair’s full attention and rip my shirt open. Alistair’s eyes widen as the studs make a satisfying popping sound. I grin at his reaction, peeling it off and dropping it next to the scarf.

“Holy shit,” he says.

I’m wearing a brand-new super hot black net-and-strap teddy that makes my boobs look their best and my tummy flatter than I deserve. I bought it with my envelope of cash—or my hussy money, as I have started calling it. The fact that Alistair pays me in bundles of crisp pound notes for certain sexual favors still makes me so horny. I hope I never grow out of it—or worse, start pearl-clutching and turning my nose up at it. I hope I always find it so fucking sexy. In fact, I am now wondering if this is my first proper kink discovery.

I work on the button of my skirt next. It comes undone easily, and the small concealed zipper is easy to pull down. I let it fall past my hips and onto the floor, then toss it to Alistair. He catches it easily and brings it to his nose, inhaling the fabric as he devours me with his eyes. I’m wearing the suspenders that came with the teddy, and I can see he likes them as much as I do. I put my hands on my hips, square my shoulders, and lift my chin, showing off the lingerie, then do a little pirouette.

“That doesn’t look like the standard issue garment to me, I’m afraid,” Alistair says. “You’ll have to come closer for a proper inspection.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmur, acting coy, eyelashes fluttering. I move toward him, and he puts his glass on the table.

“Closer,” he instructs.

I obey.

I’m so close now that I can practically feel the heat radiating off him. My pulse quickens.

He places two gentle palms on my waist, which is cinched by the teddy, and peers studiously at my new ensemble.

“My first instinct was correct. This is certainly not part of the approved crew uniform.”

“I apologize, Mr. Ravenscroft.”

He moves his hands up the side of my ribcage until his thumbs are resting under my boobs and his strong fingers point toward my back. I have always loved the feeling of his hands on me.

Alistair leans forward and presses his face into my stomach, inhaling me. I feel a rushing warmth and a throbbing in my pussy. A small gasp escapes my throat. He presses further into me, then releases, and moves all around the black mesh, kissing, licking, nipping; over my hipbones, belly button, and chest. My breathing deepens. He grabs my pelvis again and rotates me to face away from him so that he can see the back of the outfit. I feel more vulnerable than before. He traces the lines and curves of my back and my ass, and when he touches my pussy from this angle, pleasure zips right through me. He bites my butt cheek as he starts massaging my clit. I start melting.

“Now,” he growls. “What do you think a suitable punishment for this terrible infraction might be?”

“Er,” I mumble. His hand on my pussy feels so good that it’s difficult to form a coherent thought.

“Perhaps I’ll begin with this.” He stands and pushes me over the table, spreading my legs wide with rough hands. I rest my chest and arms on the cool smooth surface, the sensation of which is the opposite of what is happening inside my body. Without warning, I feel a sharp slap, and I cry out as I feel the sting and vibration of it.

“You’ve been a bad air hostess,” he says.

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