Work Text:
Miranda sat on the sofa in the snug just off from the kitchen in her townhouse. Her bare feet were tucked up underneath her, a glass of wine on the table next to her and her latest murder mystery in hand. She was dressed in her most comfortable black woolen trousers and cream cashmere sweater that dipped low over an equally creamy bare shoulder. It was a Friday night, and Caroline and Cassidy were with their father for the weekend making the house too quiet as Miranda waited. It had been another hectic week at Runway with incompetence at an all-time high. Emily, her loyal first assistant had been given the promotion she had worked hard for and had transferred to French Runway, finally making it to Paris. Her replacement was barely acceptable, and do not get her started on her second assistant. She would be lucky to last another week, the 5th in a long line of stupid. She would see to it that Cherie in Human Resources would be joining her!
Miranda's head snapped up at the sound of her front door opening. The useless second assistant had finally arrived with the book. She counted the steps to the closet, the dry cleaning being hung up, then counted the steps to the table with the flowers but the steps kept going and got louder. Miranda seethed at her clear Instructions not being followed yet again and prepared to eviscerate the incompetent girl wandering around her home.
The woman that entered the room was not her second assistant. Miranda's eyes roamed appreciatively over the young woman before settling her gaze on the book she was holding. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“Saw the new girl on her way in so I convinced her to give me the book”, Andrea smiled. “Don't blame her,” she interrupted the reply she knew was coming “I'm very persuasive.”
“I am well aware,” Miranda grumbled, as she marked her page and put her book down on the table. “At least the idiot girl found the right house tonight.”
Andrea's eyes went wide as her jaw dropped. “No way!”
“She gave Mrs. Jones next door a terrible fright, The poor woman thought someone was trying to break in,” Miranda sighed. “Do you see the incompetence I must endure because of you?”
“I'm sorry,” Andrea replied, stepping forward, also placing the book on the table next to Miranda, “we both know why I left though.” Picking up the editor’s wine glass she took a sip; a soft look graced her face. “Aw, you're drinking my favourite.”
“Yes, well the bottle was open,” Miranda replied, trying to sound nonchalant, as she played with her rings, a sign Andrea had learned meant she wasn't being truthful.
“You missed me,” Andrea said, more of a statement than a question, as she placed the glass back down.
Miranda shifted on the sofa.
“It's ok to admit it,” Andrea teased, gently, “there's no one here to witness it.”
Miranda shot her a glare. “I despise that you no longer fear me,” She hissed, feeling vulnerable that her feelings were being discussed.
“I know,” Andrea said, in understanding as she dropped to her knees in front of Miranda, grateful for the expensive plush carpet to cushion her knees. “I missed you too.”
Miranda was trembling slightly at how close Andrea was. She hated her reaction to the young woman.
“My poor girl is suffering,” Andrea observed out loud, as she reached out to tuck the inviting S-curl behind the older woman's ear.
“Do not mock me,” Miranda snapped, feeling her cheeks flame with embarrassment.
“I know you hate it when I leave, but I do always come back to you,” she tried to reassure the editor.
Andrea had left Miranda's employ by walking out on her during Paris fashion week. The young woman had been angry at the editor for not warning Nigel of her plans for needing to sacrifice his dream job in order to keep her own as EIC of Runway. Andrea was pissed off that Miranda had complimented her on being ruthless just like her but mostly she had come to realise she cared deeply for her maniacal boss which was becoming more problematic the more time they spent together. After an hour walking the streets of Paris, she had returned to their hotel to apologise and beg Miranda for her job back. Miranda had shocked her by giving her a choice. Return as her second assistant or move on so they could explore the growing attraction they obviously had for each other.
“How was the rest of your trip?” Miranda asked, trying to focus on the fact that Andrea was home now. She had called every day as promised but it wasn't the same. The depth of how much she missed the young woman had shocked her.
“It was the usual campaign circus,” Andrea replied, getting up to sit next to Miranda on the sofa. The older woman shifted to put her feet down to make room as Andrea immediately put her arm around the editor, pulling her head down onto her shoulder.
Miranda sighed deeply, as she started to relax for the first time in two weeks.
Andrea had desperately wanted to try a relationship with the older woman so had left Runway to join the New York Mirror as a political journalist. It meant that, occasionally, she had to go away for work, which Miranda did not like, but considering Andrea had almost become a war correspondent, she counted her blessings that at least the young woman was safe when she went off on assignments. Not that she could object, she had to travel herself for the magazine.
“I'm here now,” Andrea said, soothingly as she played with Miranda's soft white hair. “Back safe and sound.” Miranda wrapped her arm around Andrea's waist and breathed her in. God, she felt needy, what was happening to her?
“I was thinking while I was away” Andrea spoke low while her hand continued to play with Miranda's hair, “about our little revelation two weeks ago.”
Andrea's assignment had been to travel to DC to cover the next Presidential nominations. Miranda had invited her to stay over for the weekend before Roy would take her to the airport on the Monday morning. Andrea had taken her bag up to Miranda's room where she had spied a new book the woman was obviously reading on the bedside table. Picking it up, Andrea marveled at how worn the book was, clearly a favourite of the editors. Expecting to see a classic she was shocked to discover the book was BDSM themed. Thinking about her lover she smiled as she had often thought Miranda would make an excellent Dom. She probably read books for inspiration on how to punish her staff. Placing the book back on the bedside table, Andrea decided she would ask about it later when they went to bed.
“Oh?” Miranda replied, holding her breath, she thought back to that ‘little revelation’ two weeks ago.
As they were getting into bed, Andrea had joked she had never seen a more read book in her life and considering the theme, was it Miranda's handbook? Miranda had looked shocked then embarrassed at having been caught reading a BDSM novel. Andrea had not appeared embarrassed at all and had continued saying when she was Miranda's assistant, she often thought the editor had just wanted to push her over her desk and spank her for her incompetence. Miranda had been surprisingly unresponsive to that comment. It was only then that an idea struck Andrea. “Unless” she said, appearing to think, "unless you would prefer, I was the one doing the spanking?” The older woman's reaction to that suggestion might have been missed by anyone but Andrea. Her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered closed.
Andrea pulled Miranda close against her chest as they settled down in a spooning position. Her hand slipped under Miranda's camisole top as she laid her hand on warm skin.
“Don't think I didn't catch your reaction to my question,” Andrea said, as her hand started to softly stroke Miranda's stomach. “I think you like the idea of giving up control, where you have no say in decisions, a chance to relinquish all that responsibility and power you hold every day.”
“I don't have time to give up control” Miranda snapped, “hundreds of people rely on me to make Runway a continued success.”
“Not exactly true,” Andrea replied, her fingers making random patterns before dipping lower towards the waistband of Miranda's Pajama bottoms. “No one is suggesting you have a session with a Dom during work hours,” she chuckled, as her hand pushed below the waistband and around to stroke a firm backside. Miranda pushed back against her hand. “Although your staff might be grateful if you did! Yes, you are a very busy woman and people rely on you, but you can find time when you want to. I have scheduled time in your calendar for Pilates remember.”
Andrea's hand slipped between milky thighs from behind, forcing Miranda to readjust her position to accommodate wandering fingers.
“Mmm, someone's wet,” Andrea said, as she played in the arousal she found. “Is the thought of submitting turning you on?”
“NO!” Miranda replied, defensively as Andrea pushed two fingers inside her.
“It's ok if it does,” Andrea said, against a delicate ear as she pushed in deep and high, “there's no judgement from me…in fact I'd rather enjoy tying you up and playing with you.”
Miranda's gasp was barely audible, but Andrea caught it, so she continued. “Have you completely at my will, tied, spread open, maybe blindfolded, maybe gagged,” Miranda's moan was loud, as Andrea's thrusts were deep and steady. “Oh, and let’s not forget…on your knees.”
Miranda bucked hard at that last comment. Everything that Andrea had listed was exactly what she had secretly wanted but couldn't admit to. Andrea withdrew her fingers to slide them further up to scissor a hard clit.
“Would you like that?” Andrea asked, her voice low and throaty. “Would you like me to take complete care of you? Take control for an hour or two. Would you like to submit to me?”
Miranda didn't reply, as she rocked against Andrea's hand, she was close to coming, just a little more…and then the pressure was gone.
“Answer me,” the Brunette demanded, removing her hand, “or I will stop, and you don't get to come.”
Miranda cried out in frustration, she couldn't possibly admit to wanting that, she was Miranda Priestly for Christ's sake! She made grown men cry she didn't submit, but oh she had some incredibly wet dreams thinking about it.
Andrea pulled away, determined to follow through on her threat. “What a shame,” she sighed, rolling onto her back, “no coming for you.”
“No!” Miranda whined, despite herself, “I need to.”
“And I need you to be honest with me,” Andrea replied, flatly “So it looks like we both aren't getting what we want.”
Miranda buried her head in her pillow and screamed.
“Temper tantrums will get you nowhere,” Andrea admonished, as she turned back on her side and wrapped an arm around Miranda's waist to settle down to sleep.
Miranda shrugged her off and got out of bed, retreating to the bathroom. Andrea propped herself up on one arm and watched her go with a sigh. This was not going well, she had underestimated how much Miranda would fight herself and her own needs. Upon hearing the shower turn on Andrea decided to give the older woman the space she obviously needed, but after 15 minutes of waiting she became concerned and made her way to the bathroom to check on the editor. What she heard made Andrea's heart clench. Miranda was standing in the shower with her forehead against the tiles crying. Stripping her sleepwear off Andrea opened the shower door and wrapped her lover up from behind.
“It's ok,” she soothed, as Miranda cried silently “I'm here.”
Andrea took a deep breath and contemplated her options. Despite being aware of the dominating side of her personality and her current desire to have Miranda submit to her she didn't have any experience in being a Dom. Yes, she had read books and had conversations but that didn't make her an expert, she just knew the feeling she would get from caring for Miranda completely and keeping her safe while her lover trusted her enough to let go of her ironclad control and submit to her willingly was something she desperately wanted and needed. But this was Miranda Priestly! Could she really dominate the Dragon Lady? The Devil in Prada? The answer she eventually decided on was yes, she could. Domineering came naturally to her, it always had done and for all the monikers Miranda had she was still human with wants and needs and Andrea saw past all that to see all of her.
Making a decision, she pushed Miranda against the tiles as she spoke into her ear. “You're safe with me, you can let go, I can give you what you want, what you crave, what we both crave. At this moment in time, it's just you and me. And you are not required to do anything except give me what I want.” Andrea slipped her hand between Miranda's legs from behind and into the wetness still there, Miranda moaned through her tears. “What I want is for you to ask me permission before you come. Can you do that beautiful?” She asked, as she pushed in, deep and high. “Can you do that for me?” Miranda pushed back against Andrea's hand as she barely nodded her head.
“Use your words,” Andrea said, as she twisted her wrist.
“Yes,” Miranda moaned, needing desperately to come.
“Good girl,” Andrea praised, as her hand set a punishing rhythm. “You see your orgasms now belong to me, you don't get to touch, and you certainly don't get to come without my permission, do you understand?”
Miranda didn't answer until Andrea's palm on her backside echoed in the shower. “Yes.” Miranda gasped, as the sting turned to pleasure shooting straight to her clit.
“Mmm, I like doing that,” Andrea moaned, before spanking the editor three more times in quick concession.
Miranda felt Andrea raking her nails over the welts on her backside before sliding that hand around to play with her clit. She felt full and surrounded, the pleasure coming in waves. “Close,” she moaned, above the water raining down on them.
“Then ask me for what you want.”
Miranda groaned in frustration, seeming to still fight with herself. Andrea pinched a hard nipple before twisting it as Miranda bucked against her hand. “I will leave you wet and wanting if you don't ask me for what you need.”
Miranda was so close she couldn't think straight. Being filled and played with and the domineering tone Andrea was using was all combining to be a heady mix. Maybe she could trust Andrea enough to let go and give her what she secretly craved. Andrea hit a sweet spot and her knees buckled; she wasn't going to last.
“I want to come,” Miranda ground out behind clenched teeth.
“I'm sorry, what was that?” Andrea replied, still driving into the older woman.
“Please,” Miranda said, louder this time. “Please may I come?”
Andrea smiled.
“Yes beautiful, come for me.”
Miranda came hard around Andrea's fingers, as she felt an arm wrap around her waist holding her up, holding her safe while she came undone at her young lover's command.
“Good Girl,” Andrea praised, as she held Miranda through the aftershocks. “So stunning when you come for me.” When Andrea thought the editor had recovered enough, she switched off the water and helped her out the shower. Sitting her on the wooden bench next to the shower, she grabbed a white fluffy towel from the rack and wrapped it around the older woman before grabbing one for herself.
“I'm proud of you,” Andrea said, as she started to dry the older woman off. Miranda, for her part, was aware she should be doing this herself, but she felt too floaty to currently care. It felt different to just a regular orgasm, almost like a sense of being high. Andrea continued to dry Miranda off and redress her in her nightwear; she then grabbed the hairdryer and proceeded to dry Miranda's hair. Miranda noted any other time she would have been annoyed at being treated like a child, but currently in her blissed-out state she only felt cared for.
Once they were both back in bed, it was Miranda who finally broke the silence. “You seem to know an awful lot about this.” She accused; eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Andrea laughed as she sat up. “I've always been called bossy,” she started, as she readjusted the pillows. “My roommate in college was a Dominatrix, we used to talk a lot about the BDSM community and what it took to be a Dominant and a Submissive, the clothes, toys and equipment, she would talk about different scenes she would take her subs through, she explained it took more than PVC thigh high boots and a whip!”
She glanced down at Miranda, who was still fixated on the ceiling.
“It's nothing to be ashamed of…wanting to give up control.” She said, gently. “It's actually quite common for people in high powered jobs.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes. “And what do you get out of it?”
“Well, as I said, I’ve always been called bossy.” Andrea laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “So, I like people doing what I tell them to do, but seriously I need a sense of control in my life, so this is a way to get that. It's a release for me. It makes me feel settled and ready to face the world, brings order to chaos as the Borg would say.”
Miranda rolled her eyes at the Star Trek reference. Before Andrea, she would never have known what that meant. Before Andrea, she would never have dared contemplate what she was now about to.
“How many submissives have you had?” Miranda asked, the edge evident in her tone.
“None.” Andrea replied honestly. “Funny story though” she continued. “Dana and I got drunk one night and she put me through a scene as her submissive,” she laughed out loud recalling the details. “It was a disaster as I kept trying to top from the bottom, in the end, we decided that being a submissive wasn't for me. But you can't be a Dom if you haven't submitted so we came to an agreement she would teach me. I experienced what it felt like to be put into subspace and to give that trust and control to someone. What it felt like to be tied and spanked. Then I was taught how to do the tying and the spanking, how to recognise the signs of subspace and about aftercare. Aftercare was me drying and dressing you, it re-establishes our relationship outside of DS. I've never used any of it until this evening, but I’d really like to continue, if you would like to?”
The silence dragged on until, finally, Miranda spoke. “If I did agree, what would happen?” Andrea smiled, trying not to get her hopes up.
“Well to start with there will be no touching yourself while I'm away. I will also give you one instruction to follow each day.”
“Such as?” Miranda pushed.
“Whatever I wish,” Andrea replied, her tone firm, “a certain item of dress, or undress if at home,” she added, with a smirk.
Miranda balked at the idea of Andrea dressing her. “And what if I don't do as you order?”
“You will be disciplined.”
Miranda's eyes went wide, as she swallowed at the thought.
“And what would that entail?” she asked, sounding slightly breathless.
Andrea noticed her reaction. “We would have to find what worked for you but strikes or denial are standard go to punishments, or I could ban you from wearing La Perla for a day and make you wear underwear from Target.”
Miranda looked like she might throw up at that last suggestion. Andrea laughed. “It's punishment Miranda, it's not supposed to be pleasant.”
“I suppose not.”
“Would you like time to think about it?” Andrea asked gently, as she ran a hand through Miranda's hair.
The truth was, Miranda didn't need any more time to think. She had been thinking for years, what she needed was to be brave and trust in Andrea. But could she be that brave? Could she finally give into desires that she had been taught were wrong. Could she trust Andrea and herself that much? She took a deep breath.
“Your suggestion is acceptable.”
Andrea's grin was blinding.
“I suppose I have to start calling you Mistress now?” Miranda grouched.
“Mmmm, I like the sound of that,” Andrea jested, as her hand tightened in Miranda's hair. She leant down to place a kiss on the editor’s forehead. “But only if you want to.”
******
Miranda leaned into Andrea's touch, coming back to the present. “And what were you thinking?” she asked, intrigued.
“Have you been good, as I instructed?” Andrea asked, injecting some steel into her tone, as she fisted Miranda's hair to pull her head back.
Andrea had spent the past two weeks toying and playing but never allowing Miranda to come.
“Yes,” Miranda gasped, as her breath caught. It was maddening the effect this young woman had on her. She had tried to resist this relentless need to submit, she really had, but it was futile.
“Good, then you must be desperate to come for me?”
“Yes,” Miranda whimpered with need. Andrea smiled at the sound of her desperation.
“Then you have 5 minutes to get upstairs. I expect to find you naked and kneeling by our bed.”
Miranda hesitated, Andrea looked at her watch. “4 minutes 30 seconds.”
“But I,” Miranda stuttered, sitting up.
“3 minutes,” Andrea announced.
Miranda looked shocked at having lost a minute and a half in mere seconds.
“2 minutes,” Andrea declared, getting annoyed.
Miranda shot off the sofa and left the room, her heart racing and feeling confused by Andrea's inability to keep time.
Andrea smirked, as she watched the older woman leave the room. Oh, this was going to be fun.