Let Me In by Carolyn Faulkner Read Free Book Online Page B

evaporated from his face as if it had never been and she immediately thought better of it. She was already in trouble. There was no need for her to make things just that much worse for herself. "I'm the artist," she finished much more quietly, lamely, to her mind.
    "And you're telling me that natural light isn't best to paint in?" he asked pointedly.
    Miranda frowned fiercely, refusing to answer him because he was right and that didn't play well with her opinion on the subject. One judicious swat, applied with no warning whatsoever, had her abandoning her principles almost immediately, though, to concede ungratefully, "Yes, it is."
    "Then that settles that question." He set her down and went to his desk, writing something down on a note pad, then tearing the page off and handing it to her. "It's too late now, but tomorrow morning, first thing, you are to get in touch with Mr. Pace. He's the older gentleman that supervises the younger workers – tallish, white beard."
    Randa knew who he meant. He was the one she had told that they would no longer be needing his services. He had been surprised to hear that, but had told her that if that was her preference, they would be able to finish today.
    "When you call him, you are to tell him that you were mistaken and that you're sorry for having dismissed him without consulting me first, as you were supposed to do." He came to stand directly in front of her, tipping her chin up so he could lock eyes with her to emphasize his next words. "You are to say exactly that to him, verbatim."
    Those words exactly? She railed in her mind. They were entirely too submissive a confession to make to a man who was a virtual stranger. "But—"
    Mace's hand came up, forestalling her protestations. "Not one word of protest, Miranda. Be happy that I'm not making you mention that you were naughty and were punished because of your misbehavior."
    Her squeal at that very possibility had his ears aching, but the throbbing of his cock trumped that small pain by a country mile.
    "And you were naughty to do that, Miranda, and you're going to pay for your misbehavior right now."
    Her upper arm was caught in the tight grip of his hand as he guided her over to the leather couch that lined one of the walls in his study. Instead of sitting down on it and pulling her over his lap, he instead guided her to bend over the arm of the settee, which just happened to be at the perfect height to hit her waist at the right angle so that her entire upper body was supported by the couch, not hanging from it or hovering over it, but lying on top of it, and her feet were still on the floor. Having forgotten one step, Mace pulled her up for a moment, long enough to put one of the tapestry throw pillows in front of her hips before bidding her to again place herself in that vulnerable position, only this time the addition of the pillow made her toes barely touch the ground, causing a level of physical vulnerability she didn't appreciate in the least, not that he was going to take that into consideration.
    Then he ratcheted up her helplessness by reaching under the middle cushion of the couch – at the back of it and then the front – to reveal two loops of what looked like leather which he put her wrists through, but didn't secure in any way. They were there for her, as a bit of a crutch, but not to force her to stay in position in any way. Mace expected her to do that without assistance, because she was his submissive and this was the punishment he had deemed necessary. She knew that this meant that whatever he was going to do was going to make it hard for her to submit to her punishment. Despite their position so far down the couch that caused her body to be pulled taut, keeping her arms stretched out in front of her as if she was flying like Superman, she eagerly wrapped her hands up in them, knowing from past experience that she was probably going to need all the help she could get not to stand up and run away.
    He stood next to