by JA Huss
Contents
PIERCED
About the Book
Chapter One - Myrtle
Chapter Two - Pierce
Chapter Three - Myrtle
Chapter Four - Pierce
Chapter Five - Myrtle
Chapter Six - Pierce
Chapter Seven - Myrtle
Chapter Eight - Pierce
Chapter Nine - Myrtle
Chapter Ten - Anastasia
Chapter Eleven - Myrtle
Chapter Twelve - Pierce
Chapter Thirteen - Myrtle
Chapter Fourteen - Pierce
Chapter Fifteen - Myrtle
Chapter Sixteen - Pierce
Chapter Seventeen - Myrtle
Chapter Eighteen - Pierce
Chapter Nineteen - Myrtle
Chapter Twenty - Pierce
Chapter Twenty-One - Myrtle
Chapter Twenty-Two - Pierce
Chapter Twenty-Three - Myrtle
Chapter Twenty-Four - Pierce
Chapter Twenty-Five - Myrtle
Chapter Twenty-Six - Pierce
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Myrtle
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Pierce
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Myrtle
Chapter Thirty - Pierce
Chapter Thirty-One - Myrtle
Chapter Thirty-Two - Pierce
Chapter Thirty-Three - Myrtle
Epilogue - Monsieur Chevalier
End of Book Shit
About the Authors
Edited by RJ Locksley
Cover Design: JA Huss
Copyright © 2018
by J. A. Huss and Johnathan McClain
All rights reserved.
ISBN-978-1-944475-61-1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
MYRTLE
I’m a just an erotic woman who likes control.
And edgy sex.
And hard men.
At the same time.
So starting an outreach class at the TDH community center to teach other women how to put the dom in dominatrix was inevitable. Even if I was only doing to to use my boss, Pierce, as my submissive example and pay him back for humiliating me in front of the whole world last summer.
PIERCE
I regret what I did to Myrtle last summer. She’s the best assistant I’ve ever had and I’ll play along—for now—because I want to make things right. But come on. Me? A submissive? Ha. Myrtle Rothschild might have the upper hand at the moment… but I’m bringing my A-game. I’m gonna take back control.
She can wear her hot, thigh-high latex boots. She can crack that whip all she wants. Hell, I’ll even let her leave marks.
But I’m about to school Ms. Rothschild in the art of who’s the boss.
And she’s about to get Pierce-d.
CHAPTER ONE - MYRTLE
October in Colorado is spectacular. You don’t get all the colors like you do back east. We just don’t have trees like that here. You know, the kind that turn red and orange. We mostly have pine trees and they just stay green. But the air is crisp, and when you look west and notice that the mountains are now capped with snow, you can’t help it. You sigh. You say, Finally. You say, Missed you, snow. And I’m gonna come visit this weekend for sure. See all those golden aspens and get giddy over the snowflakes falling as I holiday-shop in Vail Village.
But of course, that almost never happens. Getting up to the mountains on the weekends once summer is over is a freaking nightmare. Because the tourists pour in for skiing and they all have the same romantic idea.
I’m not really a romantic woman. I gave up on the idea of romance a long time ago. But I can appreciate the natural beauty of something and I have a nice view of the snowcaps from my office, so I find myself looking at them often these days.
Oh, did I mention I have an office now?
I do.
It’s right next to my boss.
Pierce Chevalier. Owner of Le Man magazine, self-proclaimed king, and currently on my shit list.
Which is the whole reason I have the office.
After he wrongly accused me of being the Sexpert, publicly humiliated me in front of the entire world, and then came crawling back—begging my forgiveness and offering me a fat raise if I didn’t quit—well, I decided to stay and make the most of things.
The office came a couple weeks later. After he hired Eden and Zoey to be his marketing consultants. I’m their liaison at the company, which was the justification for giving me the executive office that used to belong to Josh Washburn.
He took it well. Josh, I mean. Pierce… that’s another story. He’s still getting used to Valerie, his new executive assistant, who sits at my old desk manning the phones, and the appointments, and all the other shit I used to do, but don’t anymore.
He even offered to share her with me.
So. Yeah. I came out ahead. I’m actually VP of social media. Pierce said he had to change my title because the raise he gave me put my salary a good twenty thousand dollars above Josh Washburn, who is the VP of advertising, and the accountants started asking questions about secret scandals.
I reminded him the scandal wasn’t secret. It was very, very public.
So he said I could get a new desk, and did I need a new chair to go with it?
I sigh, spin my new two-thousand-dollar chair back to my computer, and begin scanning emails. I only have two new ones. One, a corporate reminder about the office Halloween party. And two, a mass email from the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Community Center saying they’re looking for people to teach new classes and all ideas are welcome.
I hate this job now. Which really sucks because I used to love it. I used to love dominating Pierce’s schedule and making people feel uncomfortable with my understated sexual innuendo. I mean, I eat my banana every morning like I used to, but Josh is all the way over by the printer room now. He can’t even see me.
And I wear the thigh-high stockings and pretend to pull them up. Just like always. But now I’m stuck in this office, not blocking Pierce’s door. So no one sees that either.
I can’t even raise eyebrows by seductively sucking on my Starbucks straw.
Plus I have like… no work. VP of social media? Even if I did want to share an assistant with Pierce—and I don’t. I’m not a girl who shares—there’s nothing for her to do. Like… there’s not even a social media department because Eden is gone. I mean, she comes in every Monday for a meeting. She’s my only appointment today, so I’m gonna see her in like twenty minutes. But still, there are no donuts. There’s no smiles. No daily greetings.
It’s all… different.
I guess I could make Eden’s old boss miserable. That would be fun. But Gretchen works down on forty-nine, so intimidating her is a production.
So I usually close my door and read erotic novels all day. Which, hey, I’m not really complaining about that part, but I’m all caught up on my TBR list. And Scarlett Savannah, my favorite dirty author, won’t have another book out for six more weeks.
Six weeks is a long time to sit in an office and pretend you’re busy.
I think I need another work-day hobby. Knitting is nice and quiet. Or I could buy one of those black velvet paint-by-number kits from Michael’s and be artistic. Oh, I know. Scrapbooking! I wonder if the TDH Community Center has a scrapbooking class? I could get lost in twelve-by-twelve square paper and cute, die-cut thingamajigs. Or maybe I could—
“Knock, knock
?”
I look up from my computer and see Pierce, standing in the doorway of my office.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“You’re the boss,” I huff.
He smiles. Tightly. Like he’s unsure how to proceed.
It’s just all so different.
“Uh… so how’s things?’
“Things?” I ask, raising one perfect eyebrow. “Do you have a specific example of said things?”
“Well, no,” he says, coming inside to take a seat in front of my desk. “Nothing specific. Just… wondering if you have time for a special project.”
We both look at my desk. Which doesn’t have a single file on it. Not even one sheet of paper. My Post-It pad is still crisp and every pencil in my little pencil can is sharp. I think it’s pretty obvious that I do nothing in here all day.
But I’m still angry at him. So if he thinks I’m gonna be the first to admit I don’t actually have a job to do and I’m just wasting corporate money, he’s mistaken.
“I’m pretty busy,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says, sighing. “I know. And I don’t want to take advantage or anything, but I could use your help.”
I have my reading glasses on, so I do that head-tilt thing where you look down your nose at someone. “With what?”
He looks around. Plucks a pencil out of the pencil jar. Taps it to his head as he thinks.
He doesn’t have a project for me. He just wanted to come in here and feel me out.
We both know this.
But then he gets an idea. I swear I can see the little light bulb go off in his head. “The Halloween party.”
“What about it?”
“We… need… well…”
“Pierce?”
“What?”
“You don’t have a project for me. And I don’t even have a job here.”
“Of course you do! You’re the VP—”
“Of social media, I know. The little plaque outside my office says so. But we both know there’s no social media department. Not to mention, I’m not even on social media and have no idea how it even works.”
“You don’t have socials? How did I not know that?”
“Well, you did think I was the Sexpert. So I’m just going to assume you don’t actually know anything about me.”
“How can you still be pissed at me? It’s been months! I gave you a promotion, and an office, and—”
“Again,” I say, putting up a hand to cut him off, “I do realize all that. And once again, it’s all meaningless. You don’t even know what a social media department does.”
“It’s not meaningless.” He tugs on his suit coat. “And I’m well-versed in socials. I was Snapchatting just last night.”
“With who?”
“Uh…” He looks over his shoulder, like he needs a second to think, then says, “Valerie. She’s my chat friend now.”
“You know I can tell when you lie, right? Your left eye does this little wink thing every time.”
He huffs, then leans forward in his chair. “How long will you continue to do this?”
“Do what?”
“Punish me.”
I laugh. Stop. Then laugh again. It’s a little bit of a guffaw with a healthy dose of maniacal thrown in for good measure. “This is not me trying to punish you, Pierce. This is me biding my time.”
He lifts up one eyebrow. “Biding your time until… what?”
“Until I have the perfect diabolical plan to pay you back.”
He sits back in his chair, breathes deep. “So that’s what you need? Payback?”
“I was publicly humiliated. A woman doesn’t just get over it, Pierce.”
He winces when I snarl his name. “You hate me.”
“People look at me funny now, you do realize that?”
“Look at you funny how?”
“Like I’m hiding some secret sexual fetish side.”
“Aren’t you?”
“What do you want?”
“I mean, you do come off as… kind of a…”
“A what?”
“You know. Like you’re into the whole Red Room spanking thing, right?”
“Anastasia Steele? You’re comparing me to Anastasia Steele? Please.”
“Well, you wear those tight pencil skirts… and those sexy secretary glasses. Plus, I know you read that smut in here. You don’t even use an eReader. Everyone can see the covers. I used to have little Christian Grey fantasies when you used to look at me. Before… ya know, you decided to hate me.”
I laugh. And it’s not even maniacal. It’s real.
“Why is that funny?”
“My dearest Pierce,” I say, still chuckling, “you are no Christian Grey. If anyone is Mr. Grey in this relationship, it’s me.”
Now he laughs.
“Is that funny?”
“Uh, well. No. Well, kinda. I mean, it’s sorta accurate, actually. Which makes it funny.” He clears his throat. “So I laughed.”
“Why are you here again?”
“Yes,” he says, standing up and buttoning his coat. “The Halloween party. You’re in charge.”
“No.” I laugh again, then get deadly serious. “I do not. Do. Halloween.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, a little twinkle in his eye. “Because I could’ve sworn you’d be into it.”
“Into… what? Handing out carbohydrates to sticky-faced children?” How could this man ever think I’d be into Halloween?
“No,” he says, lowering his voice. “You know. Costumes and… roleplaying.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.
Which makes me squint at him.
“So yeah. Beth used to do it, but she quit last month. So you’re in charge. Better make it good, Myrtle. I’ve got a special edition of the magazine coming out the first week of December called Inside Le Man and I’m counting on it to launch us into the holiday advertising season. We need to sell two million dollars in ads before January first or none of us will have jobs in the new year.”
I’m just about to open my mouth to protest, tell him where he can shove his Halloween party, when a shadow appears in my doorway.
“Knock, knock!” Eden says. “I had to make the rounds and pass out donuts, so I’m early.” She looks at me, realizes she’s interrupting an argument, and shrugs. “Sorry. Should I come back?”
“I was just leaving,” Pierce says. “Myrtle will fill you in on the Halloween project. Should be right up your alley, Eden. Sugar and sexy. The two things you do best.”
He walks out with a huff. Eden and I both watch him disappear, then she closes the door and says, “What was that all about?”
“He thinks I’m in charge of the Halloween party.”
“Fun!”
“I hate Halloween.”
“Oh. Well, I love it.”
“Of course you do.”
“So I’ll help.”
“Wonderful.”
“Jesus, Myrtle. What’s wrong with you these days? You used to be so… sexy and mysterious. And now you’re always hiding here in your office like a wallflower.”
“I’m not a wallflower!”
Eden recoils because I just sorta yelled that last part.
“Sorry,” I say, pointing to the chair Pierce just vacated. “Sit. Let’s catch up. I miss you, Eden. So much. I wish you were still here.”
She scrunches up her face. “Are you sure you miss me—”
“Of course.”
“—and not your old job as Pierce’s dom?”
I laugh for the third time in ten minutes. And this time it makes me happy. “I told him I was the top!”
“You so are. Did he deny it?”
“Tried. But we know who ran his life. Valerie couldn’t boss him if her life depended on it. And she doesn’t. She’s a meek little mouse when it comes to Pierce. And you know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
“He likes it. He actually beams every time she says, ‘Yes, Mr. Chevalier! Right away, M
r. Chevalier! I’m on it, Mr. Chevalier!’ That’s probably why he moved me to this stupid job.”
“You’re a VP, Myrtle. I don’t think that’s what he was thinking when he gave you a fifty-thousand-dollar raise.”
“I’m so bored, Eden.” I’m whining now. I know it. But I can’t stop. “The world does not need another black-velvet Elvis and if I have to knit Christmas sweaters and scrapbook this stupid Halloween party, I might as well just die of humiliation right now!”
“OK,” Eden says. “We’re getting out of here. Right now. You need a field trip.”
“To where? And to do what? I’m not throwing this stupid Halloween party, Eden.”
“I’ll do everything. Just… get your purse. We’re going shopping.”
CHAPTER TWO - PIERCE
“Please, come on in. Make yourself at home,” Andrew says as I walk into his office and sit on the sofa facing his desk. I assume he’s being sarcastic, as I have already let myself in. And I make myself at home wherever I am, so, yes, sarcasm.
Historically, I’m not much of a gnawing-on-my-nails kind of a person, but lately, in the wake of all this Myrtle nonsense, I find myself doing it unconsciously. It’s become so unconscious that if Andrew didn’t say…
“Hey. Please stop spitting your nails on my sofa.”
… I don’t know if I’d notice that I was doing it right now.
“Merde!” I might yell as I stand and tug at my waistcoat.
He sighs. He does that a lot. Or at least he does it a lot when I’m around. I have to assume he does it a lot in general. That worries me.
“Do you need to see a doctor?” I ask him.
“...Why would I need to see a doctor?”
“I’m worried about your lung capacity.”
“What? Why—?”
“You don’t wanna be climbing a mountain or some shit and have your lungs give out, do you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Myrtle!” I exclaim.
“Wha—? Why—? Who—? What? What does Myrtle have to do with my lungs?”