Warning: explicit sexual scenes intended for mature audiences.

It's really happening right now. Hearing Mylène, my boss, tell me that she's going to pleasure me, ordering me to undress, shit, it's actually becoming a reality.

All those thoughts, fantasies that Mylène would be interested in me, that kiss in front of those reporters, everything, it's all real.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, my fingers fumble at my buttons, struggling to undo them as my heart pounds in my ears. Mylène tilts her head and her hands cover mine, helping me as she opens my blouse.

And I'm just standing there, my back pressed against the cool wall, my front exposed, wearing nothing but a black bra underneath. Her eyes trace my bare skin, hunger blazing inside of them as they reach my face. Tingles run up and down my spine at the sight, small volcanoes exploding at my core.

Mylène Seydoux is freaking hungry for me.

She curses under her breath, words in French that I have no freaking idea what they mean but they just sound so hot. Leaning forward, her hand uncovers my shoulder as she places a light kiss on there, a feathery sensation which threatens to make my legs give out. I move my arms to assist her in taking the blouse off, letting it drop to the ground in a silent heap.

Reaching behind my back, she finds the clasp of my bra and pauses. “May I?” she whispers, the touch of raspiness in her voice heavy with that French accent almost bringing me to the brink.

"W-why are you asking me?"

She arches an eyebrow. "Because I like to make sure you're in all the way, amour."

"But you're... We're in too deep..."

Her brows furrow in silent anger as she curses.  "Merde, if I ever find any of those assholes who didn't stop when you told them no, they'll wish they were never born." My breath hitches when she hisses those words. I don't know why I find it so hot, seeing her all riled up, for me.

Her fingers tuck my hair behind my ear. "You can ask me to stop anytime. Is that understood?"

“Y-yes, ma'am,” I breathe out.

"Now, may I, amour?" she asks again.

I swallow. "Yes."

She hums in approval, expertly unhooking my bra and sliding it off me. I feel more exposed than I've ever been, so I lift my arms to cover my chest before her hands grab my wrists and pull them down.

“You don't need to cover yourself up with me, amour,” she says. “You're so fucking beautiful, every inch of you deserves to be admired.”

My face burns as my mind takes in her words. No one has ever said them to me before. Nobody ever took their time with me, admiring me the way she does. Is this… how it is like with women? Is this… normal?

Mylène leans in closer, her lips a hot breath away from mine. Her eyes drift down to them, one hand gently cupping my jaw, her thumb tracing my cheek as her other caresses my right breast.

Then she parts my lips with hers, her tongue sliding in and battling with mine, passionately, sexual, so much… heat behind them. When they say "kisses like a Frenchman", I guess the same goes for Frenchwomen. The way she kisses me, god damn, it's incomparable to anything else. A moan escapes me, causing my mind to scramble in panic until I feel her smile against me.

Her kisses trace my jaw, to below my ear, down to my neck, trailing to my breasts. Her warm lips wrap around my nipple, her tongue tracing my areola before sucking it into her mouth, almost making my knees buckle. My hand tries to grip the wall behind me as my hips arch forward. Eyes closed, my head tilts upward.

“Look at me, Alaina,” Mylène’s muffled sultry voice reaches me, making me look down at her. Fuck, she looks so sexy and beautiful, with her mouth wrapped around one of my nipples. “I want you to watch me when I fuck you, so I can see how beautiful you look when you come for me. Understood?”

I weakly nod. “Yes, ma'am.”

She smiles, resuming her trip down my stomach, bringing out of me a few shuddering breaths when she unzips my fly. Her gaze fixates on me as her fingers loop around the hem of my jeans, tugging them down to reveal my black lace panties. She hums, ready to do the same to them when she pauses, tilting her head at me.

My mind finally registers what she's silently asking from me. Again.

And I somehow find the consent so freaking hot.

I nod twice.

Mylène pulls them down, her hot breath fanning over my skin. Her lips trail agonizingly slow kisses along my thigh toward my aching sex. And I watch her as her mouth closes over my clit, feeling her tongue slide in through my folds. Her eyes never leave my face, dancing with dark desire and enjoyment.

I can't believe it. My boss, my cruel boss, the Devil's Mistress, is penetrating me with her tongue. I've never experienced anything even close to this. None of the men I've been with did this with me. The pleasure I'm feeling, the heat rushing to my core and reaching heights I've never thought possible, oh my fucking god.

I can't even think straight. Words I've never said before are spinning around in my mind, on the tip of my tongue.

My hips push forward, my palms pressing against the wall as another strangled moan escapes me. Her hands slide around my ass, fingers gripping into my skin as she holds me in place, her mouth picking up pace.

My legs tremble, overcoming with pleasure as it builds up more and more. “Oh my god,” I whimper. “M-Mylène, I–” another moan cuts off my own words. This is just so fucking good, so fucking int–

I gasp when I feel her fingers slip in. Her other hand remains holding tightly onto my ass as she fucks me, hitting my spot, plunging them inside me deeper and deeper.

“Fuck,” I breathe out, hot tears pricking my eyes and staining my cheeks as the pleasure intensifies, my moans coming out at a pace matching the tempo of her fucking me.

I finally lose it, my back arching as waves and waves of pleasure crash through my body, drowning my senses in a blissful blur. My legs quiver and collapse, but instead of hitting the ground, warm arms wrap around me and hold me up.

"I got you, amour," Mylène whispers in my ear.

“W-what just happened?” I manage to ask.

She smiles, her hand reaching up to brush away a sweat and tear soaked strand from my cheek.

“That, amour, was an orgasm.” Her eyes dart across my face, no doubt taking in my tears. "And from the looks of it, it's your first."

She's right.

Mylène then lifts me, much to my surprise. Wrapping my legs around her waist, I hold on to her shoulders as she kisses my cheeks before her lips meet mine. A salty taste coats her tongue, no doubt from my stupid tears. God, she's delicious. So bittersweet. She then carries me to the bed, our lips not breaking off as she lays me down on the soft covers. Climbing on top of me, she straddles my hips.

Leaning forward, she brings her fingers to my face, glistening with the wetness of my sex.

“Taste yourself,” she commands. I blink at her, thinking that I must be hallucinating. She wants me to... huh?

“W-what?”

She smirks. “Don't worry, amour. It's no worse than a man's sperm. Much better, actually.”

Pressing her fingers against my lips, I lick them tentatively with my tongue. A wet, salty, musky taste coats the tip, and it does something to me. Because without further help, I lean forward and wrap my mouth around them.

I didn't know I would taste this fucking good. And I cannot imagine what she tastes like. Would I get that chance? Would I be able to make her orgasm on my face like she did to me?

Mylène sucks in a deep breath as I suck and taste myself, her eyes watching me with lust and ecstasy, crashing into me and triggering a heat in my core with the ferocity of crashing waves.

And the sight triggers a certain boldness out of me, because my hand finds her sex between her thighs, hot and ready for me. Her eyebrows arch upward as she looks down, then back to me.

“What do you think you're doing?”

I smile against her fingers before slowly pulling them out of my mouth, my teeth grazing along them. Her breath shudders. “I want a sample of you, ma'am. Please.”

“Is that right?” Her teeth tug at her lip, so fucking sexy. “You're a naughty little girl, aren't you?”

“Only for you.”

Her eyes darken with desire. “On one condition.”

“Yes?” I am willing to do anything to get her to moan the same way that I did.

“You'll have to say please to me. In French.”

“So my reward for learning a French phrase is to pleasure you?”

“Mhmm.”

“Très bien, Mylène,” I say with amusement lacing my voice.

Her breath hitches. “Merde, you sound so sexy when you say that.” She leans down, bringing her mouth close to my ear. “Say, ‘S’il te plaît’ and I'm all yours.”

I lick my lips as she leans back. “S’il te plaît, Mylène.” My hands reach up to unbutton her own shirt. She doesn't resist, instead watches me with an intensity that threatens to tear me apart then and there, a need reaching my core again as if I didn't just have an orgasm a minute ago.

She unclasps her red bra for me, taking off her shirt as well and draping them both over the chair nearby. I gulp as I take in her breasts, so fucking perfect and large and beautiful. Her pink nipples are standing at attention, just begging for me to suck them.

I lean upward and kiss her warm collarbone. Her body trembles at my touch. My mouth travels down to her breasts, wrapping around her nipple, sucking it, licking it, lightly grazing it with my teeth before moving to the other one. All the while, my hand massages her throbbing sex.

"Am I doing good, ma'am?" I ask with a smile, my eyes meeting hers as her parted mouth and the trembling breaths floating out give me the answer I need.

"Oui, amour. You're doing amazing."

Tiny volcanoes erupt all over my body at her words, prompting me to devour her breast even more. Hearing her beautiful moans, feeling her hand digging into my hair, it all increases the boiling satisfaction rising in me.

I am determined to make her fall apart in my hands. To make my boss, the impenetrable ruthless boss, transform into a quivering putty.

My hands find her zipper and undo it, tugging her pants down to her thighs, as well as her panties, matching her red bra, before sliding in to feel her sex hot and warm and wet. She gasps, invoking pleasure out of me at the sound as I caress her mound, the hitched moans breathing out of her the only sounds she can make.

My lips catch hers, tasting her once again, our tongues meeting each other as my fingers throb against her other set of lips. So warm. And soft. And dripping wet. For me. Me.

The lowly assistant.

The nobody.

And the remembrance of those labels Mylène has called me evokes a silent rage out of me. A determination to show her that a nobody can bring her to a high no one else can.

She gasps breathlessly into my mouth like a floating cloud as I slide two fingers inside her. Her moan vibrates against me as her slick wetness wrap around them like a warm hug. Her hand grips my hair even tighter, slight pain tearing through my scalp and yet, it actually adds on to my pleasure.

“Do you like this, ma'am?” I breathe into her mouth, watching her face contort into pleasure, the sight so beautiful and perfect.

“Oui. Merde, y-you're doing so well, amour,” she moans out, her hips moving against my hand as I plunge into her. I've pleasured myself before, so it can't be much different from doing the same to someone else, especially after I've learned from her in just a few minutes.

My fingers curl, my thumb rubbing her clit as I move my lips to her neck, softly sinking my teeth into her skin. She cries out, her moans like symphonic music to my ear as her hips move against my hand, faster, deeper, until her walls start to clench around my fingers, her grip on my hair tightening to the point it feels as if she's about to rip them off. Her body shudders violently againt mine, her nails digging into my shoulder blades, the pain not bothering me at all. But actually, does the opposite.

Mylène breathes heavily, each puff of air from her mouth blowing a hot cloud against my neck, our bodies pressed together, skin to skin.

She then leans back and, taking my hand, brings it to her mouth and wraps her mouth around them. I suck in a deep breath as her tongue slides over my fingers, the feel of her teeth grazing my skin and her eyes staring into my soul brings a surge of heat to my sex.

With a smirk at my reaction, she pulls them out of her mouth and guides my hand back to her hot and dripping wet sex.

"Would you like to taste me, amour?" she asks, her voice dripping with lava, flowing around my body and burning me alive.

And I fucking love it.

"Yes, ma'am," I whisper.

She licks her lips and smiles. "Not tonight. You've still been a very bad girl. And bad girls don't get rewards." Disappointment floods me as I whimper. She smirks before giving me a peck on the cheek and settles back on the covers.

“You can stay in bed with me tonight, Alaina.” she says without looking at me. “You did a good job.”

Mylène turns off the lamp, leaving us in the dark. And even though my body is still hot, and my heart is pounding in my ears, her words replay over and over in my mind.

Not tonight.

Not tonight.

So there will be another time?

And with a smile, I drift off to sleep, before my anxiety can disrupt the temporary bliss.