Lawyer Up (27 page)

Emmit pulled open one of the double doors and escorted her inside. He then shut the door and locked it with a key.

“But—”

He smiled at her, that delectably mischievous smile that Patricia was beginning to love. “I would very much enjoy taking you over my knee for your continued disobedience. However, I have other things planned for tonight…but don't test me
too
much.”

Patricia gasped, involuntarily feeling the ghost of the stinging swat that Emmit had already given her. She
almost
wanted another. He urged her forward with his hand on her back toward the front of the courtroom, and as she walked, Patricia took in the rest of the room. The main double doors were solid, no glass, nor were there any windows. With the doors locked from inside it was utterly private. The harsh fluorescent lights were mostly off, leaving the room in dusky shadows that made the dark wood paneling seem “old world,” reminiscent of a time when punishments were sometimes outlandish or even inhumane…a time when they were whatever the all-powerful judge decreed.

Again, she wondered what Emmit was planning to do in here. Not sex, surely? Her mind was frozen with anxiety even as her body flamed with edgy need.

Interrupting her trance, Emmit announced, “The cleaning staff has left for the night and the two guards won't bother us. Absolutely nothing will disturb your…chastisement this evening.”

“They know what's going to happen in here!” she squeaked, aghast.

“
Silence
!
” he roared. “Ms. Laroque, you are in contempt of court.”

Once again, Emmit moved so quickly that before she realized what was going to happen, he sat down in a nearby chair and pulled her down over his lap. With her still-cuffed hands behind her, Patricia lay with her head hanging down helplessly toward the floor. He placed his left hand firmly on her lower back to hold her in place. Emmit rested his other hand on her rear for a moment before he softly caressed the two mounds through her tight skirt. Patricia began to pant, her nervous excitement making her shift anxiously on his lap. She felt his jutting, rock-hard erection pushing into her belly.

Well, that's something at least
, she thought, feeling pleasure at his obvious need. It put her on more level footing with him to know for certain that he too was physically aroused.

Patricia giggled then—she couldn't help it—although it sounded more like a snort. The very idea that they were on equal footing was absurd, given her current position. His hand stilled at her twitter. Then Emmit raised his hand and her breath caught.

Is
he
really
going
to
spank
me, a grown woman, a partner of an important law
firm?

“You were duly warned, my sweet, sexy jailbird,” he teased. Then seriously, quietly, he added, “But if you really don't want this now, just tell me no… That's all you need to do.”

His hand still hung in the air—Patricia could sense it ready to strike her ass, ready to punish. Did she want this? She was still unsure and didn't know what to say.

I
should
tell
him
no. That's the only sane thing to do, isn't
it?

Her brain seemed to have stopped working as she tried hopelessly to understand what her body was telling her. Every nerve was on high alert, waiting, wanting. Then she trembled all over and felt his dick jerk in hungry response.

Patricia still hesitated.

Smack!

She had waited too long.

“Ohhh!” she cried out as her body lurched. That was much harder than the earlier swat, but it only seemed to fuel her desire.

Smack! Smack!
Smack!

Even through her skirt and panties, her ass stung sharply from his administrations. Each one leaving a distinct hot impression, a fiery intensity that focused her every thought on her pelvis.

Smack! Smack!
Smack!

“Owww! Owww!” she cried even as she tried not to.

It was all extremely unsettling to Patricia, to her sense of who she was, but her innate honesty forced her to admit that she was turned on by this wicked game. Emmit would soon know it too, once he saw how soaking wet she had become. Patricia squirmed and wiggled as the burn increased, but Emmit held her down firmly, and his dick jerked along with her every movement, seeming to grow bigger as it pushed into her belly. Patricia adored that her all-powerful judge was just as much a slave to his desire for her as she was to him.

Smack!
This one was the sharpest of all.

“Owww!” she screeched.

It almost made her yell “stop”—but deep down, Patricia didn't want to take back the control, not unless she absolutely couldn't take it anymore. Her ass felt like it was on fire. It was unpleasant, but the sensation also consumed her mind, heightening her arousal and making her crazy with need.

His voice roughened by lust, Emmit swore, “Oh my God! I could do this all night. You are so delectable, but I want more.”

Gently he pushed her to standing. When her knees almost gave out, Emmit pulled her to him. He supported her weight and then lowered his mouth. “You are so gorgeous, so sexy,” he muttered just before his lips touched hers.

Patricia swayed into him as she felt his firm lips crushing hers, his tongue plunging in to claim her mouth. Emmit was in complete control, as he had been from the moment she entered his office this evening, and Patricia happily followed his lead. One arm held her in place, keeping her upright on unstable legs, while the other caressed her body. When his hand strayed to her fiery ass, giving it a slight squeeze, she moaned loudly into his mouth. She was consumed with hot desire. Emmit had done this to her that quickly, and Patricia wanted more, had to have more. She would have crawled right into him if that were even possible.

Emmit pulled back then and slowly pushed her to arm's length. “I've got to stop now or I'll take you right here.”

She lurched toward him, wanting nothing more than that. He put his hand up to ward her off. “No. This is your celebration. You said you wanted something really, really naughty, and that's what you're going to get.”

“I think we've already surpassed
that
!”

“No. I want this to be the best, most wicked, wildest sex of your life. We aren't even close to that yet, my sweet, delectable jailbird.”

With that, Emmit left her there down in front of the judge's bench and went up the short stairs to his seat. As she stood there, still cuffed and panting with need, gazing up at him, Patricia thought he looked so excitingly powerful looming over her, the look on his face both tender and lustful at the same time. It made her feel small, feminine, and vulnerable—so vastly different from Pat-ocrat. She liked it very much.

Suddenly Emmit swung the gavel down hard onto his desk. Patricia jumped as the loud noise echoed in the silent courtroom.

“Court will come to order,” he decreed, clearly back in the game. “Ms. Laroque, you stand accused of moral turpitude. How do you plead? The prisoner may now speak.”

Patricia giggled.

Stop
that!
she silently ordered herself.
I'm forty-four fuckin' years old, for heaven's
sake!

But in that moment, she felt young, free…and totally alive, sensations she hadn't felt in many years, maybe ever.

Dropping her head, trying to look chastened, she murmured, “The defendant pleads guilty, Your Honor, and awaits your learned judgment. I most humbly accept
whatever
punishment you decree.”

“Look at me,” he ordered.

She raised her eyes to see his. Standing there handcuffed like a common criminal—at his mercy—Patricia felt everything that she had asked to feel tonight. Naughty, wicked…and desirable.

With her arms pulled behind her arching her back, Patricia's breasts were thrust forward, and she felt that her nipples were vividly displayed through her thin silk blouse. She watched as Emmit leaned forward, letting his eyes slowly roam down her body before he paused on her breasts. She felt his intense perusal as if he were actually physically touching her, and she moaned aloud and trembled. Even to her ears, it sounded loud and erotic in the quiet, echoey hall. When an answering groan escaped Emmit's lips, Patricia trilled to the knowledge that their game was affecting him as much as it was her. And still she waited while he studied her from above.

When Emmit finally revealed his “judgment,” he spoke in a decidedly stern tone, but it was laced with gravelly desire. “For multiple transgressions, it is the judgment of this court that the prisoner will fulfill her debt to society through an evening of community service…a full roster of writs and writhing. Before this night is over, Ms. Laroque will learn proper subservience by my hand…and body. You will perform this
hard
labor on your knees…or your back…or however I decree.”

Patricia moaned again louder, swaying toward Emmit. It was all so strangely, perversely arousing—his official tone so at odds with his provocative, naughty discourse. The hungry, needy look in his eyes was a stark contrast to the powerful figure he depicted, standing over her in his severe black robes.

Blam!
Emmit banged the gavel again, and she was startled out of her daze.

“Come up here,” he ordered.

Heart pounding—pelvis clenching—she moved slowly toward him and up the few stairs until she stood in front of him. Never once did he break eye contact. Emmit reached out to unbutton her blouse, his eyes focused on her chest. She panted as her body tingled all over, making her dizzy and weak.

Emmit pulled her blouse down off her shoulders and Patricia gasped at the cold brush of air on her warm skin. The blouse dangled behind her, caught on the handcuffs, but somehow that made it even more erotic. Then his hand slid under her bra, his fingers sharply tweaking her nipples, and she felt a jolt of desire that made her knees give out. She sagged back against his chest, aware that Emmit was slowly, methodically undressing her as he continued to murmur the most wickedly erotic things. He unzipped her skirt and pushed it down until it collapsed in a pile around her feet.

“Sweet Patricia, you have no idea how many times during that trial I nodded or responded appropriately, but in my mind I was stripping you naked, laying you out on your back right here on this bench, and fucking your brains out.” Somewhat ruefully he added, “If not for my long, concealing robes…”

Patricia's eyes shot down to look, and he laughed at her frustrated scowl.

“Do you want to see?” he asked.

“I…ah…yes,” Patricia stuttered, hardly able to form a cohesive thought because Emmit had reached out and caressed her bare skin directly between her breasts. Then he slowly traced his fingers down across her stomach, circling her navel, and lower still until he cupped her sex. She moaned and pushed into his hand.

“Naughty girl.” Emmit chuckled, but he made no move to open his long robes nor remove his possessive hand from her pussy. “Tonight my many fantasies become real. I'm going to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you are writhing and senseless. How does that sound?”

Patricia whimpered, so lost in a sensual haze that words were too much of an effort. She hardly noticed that he had turned her away from him to briefly undo the cuffs—just long enough to remove her blouse, before snapping them back on. Now all Patricia wore were her lacy black lingerie, sheer black stockings snapped to a garter belt, and black stiletto pumps.

Emmit turned her to face him and choked when he looked down at her dressed like that. “Oh fuck! You're so hot!”

Patricia made a motion to kick off her pumps.

“No! Leave them on,” he insisted. “You look delicious just like this—good enough to eat. But first you are going to do something for me.”

With his most authoritative tone, Emmit pointed to the floor in front of his raised judge's bench and ordered, “Will the prisoner please return to the well.”

Patricia felt incredibly exposed as she stepped out from behind the desk, still handcuffed and almost naked. She found it so much harder to walk by herself, more vulnerable than when she was there beside him, even though they were totally alone in the courtroom. She paused at the top of the short set of stairs, unsure whether she could go through with it.

Emmit slammed the gavel down again with great force. Patricia jumped at the explosive, concussive sound. Glancing at his severe expression, she hurriedly turned and made her way down to stand before him, eyes submissively downcast. The experience was so foreign and utterly overwhelming that it almost ceased to be a game. Patricia was off balance, unsure who she really was in that moment. She felt like she belonged there, naked and at his mercy. Her only desire was to feel more of this wild burning lust so unlike anything she had experienced before.

Slowly she raised her eyes to his. Emmit had resumed his seat, leaning back as if in casual repose and looking for all the world like the powerful circuit judge he was. He also looked extremely pleased, a feral grin somehow not at odds with his severe countenance. Emmit was, as always, in command here in this courtroom, but his control of her was too exciting not to register on his face.

“The prisoner will kneel.”

Patricia's ragged breaths continued to hitch faster and faster. Incongruously, she was at the same time both his willing sexual slave and a powerful new partner in a major law firm. In that moment, Patricia finally realized that she was a complex mixture of opposing needs—authoritative control in public and submissively compliant in private. It was like shedding an actual physical cloak, a no-longer-wanted disguise that had concealed her true inner sexuality. Patricia now understood her warring emotions, understood her writhing dreams, but it was so fresh, raw, untested.