Chapter 10 #2
There’s no use pretending anymore. They need this.
Puck slides off the couch and drops to their knees in front of Robyn’s armchair.
They haven’t let themself be in a position this submissive in at least five years, and the last time it happened, Puck had to block the girl from their phone to stop thinking about the shame of having been so vulnerable with her, of showing the cracks in their stone.
But they also haven’t been so thoroughly bested by someone this femme ever.
There’s topping from the bottom, and then there’s absolutely dominating from the bottom, and Robyn is essentially leading Puck around on a leash right now.
She has been since she walked in, as much as they hate to admit it.
And there’ll be no avoiding her this week.
Puck will have to think about how pathetic they felt in this moment every time they see her for the next four days, all while dealing with the stress of trying to undermine her carefully laid plans.
But for now, Puck needs this more than they need to feel in control. They need to suck on her.
“Oh, now you think I should stay?” Robyn coos.
Puck looks up, past the curve of Robyn’s breasts, directly into those piercing green eyes, and nods.
“Are you still thirsty?”
Puck nods again. They can’t believe they’re doing this, but they can’t stop now.
Robyn cups her right breast and leans forward, lowering her nipple toward Puck’s mouth.
They accept it, quelling the urge to start licking her voraciously, which would betray how horny they really are, and instead settling for gentle caresses with their tongue.
Maddeningly, Robyn doesn’t immediately throw her head back in ecstasy as Puck might want her to, but instead chuckles softly to herself, like she’s pleased with how pliable this person became at the mere sight of a tit.
Unfortunately, this only makes Puck want Robyn even more.
They close their eyes and lose themself in the act, tracing a slow circle around Robyn’s areola, then reversing direction.
Robyn lets out a soft moan at that—and it feels like a tiny gift, offered almost as encouragement rather than reward.
“Remember earlier … when you called me a bitch?” Robyn says, pulling her breast back, leaving Puck wanting more.
Even at the absolute peak of their arousal, there’s a limit to how degraded Puck is willing to feel. “Well, you were being kind of a bitch,” they manage, mounting a makeshift defense.
“Oh?” Robyn moves her left breast closer to Puck’s mouth, but stops short of offering it.
“Yeah,” Puck responds, not taking the bait, trying hard to keep their resistance from collapsing.
“Well, I think I’d like you to apologize,” Robyn says, a demand in the guise of an observation. She won’t settle for anything less than absolute control, will she? If Puck keeps ceding ground, she’ll only take more. They have to draw a line somewhere.
Puck smirks. “Not gonna happen.”
With alarming swiftness, Robyn stands up. “Mind passing me my shirt then?” she asks, looking down dismissively at a still-kneeling Puck on the floor.
God, she is fucking relentless. Puck considers for a moment whether playing “Robyn Says” is really worth their dignity.
How much of this is sexual play and how much of this is a humiliation ritual meant to punish them for what happened yesterday?
Is there any difference between the two for her?
And does Puck even care? The feeling between their legs is the same either way.
They’ve come too far to go back now. Puck looks up at Robyn, who hasn’t budged an inch.
There’s only one way to get her to sit back down.
“I’m sorry,” they mumble.
Robyn stays standing.
“For?”
Puck shouldn’t entertain this for a second longer. They can get up and walk out of the room at any moment—no, wait, this is their room, damn it. They’re so drunk with need, they’re not even sure where they are anymore. Which is probably another sign there’s no point fighting this urge.
“I’m sorry for calling you a bitch,” they dutifully respond.
“Now with my name,” Robyn orders, a smug smile painted across her face.
“I’m sorry for calling you a bitch, Robyn,” Puck responds, feeling a twitch as they utter the final two syllables.
“Good.”
And only then does Robyn sit down and allow Puck to return to their work. Puck moans into Robyn’s breast, overcome by the unexpected pleasure of having their authority so thoroughly and completely subverted.
“You really want to please me?” Robyn asks, and this time Puck can tell from the throatiness in her voice that she’s feeling it now too. Puck nods, staying focused on what they’re doing with their tongue.
“I want you to touch yourself while you do this,” Robyn demands, and Puck stops licking for a moment to grapple with the suggestion.
There are women Puck has dated for months who never once saw them have an orgasm.
They much prefer giving over receiving, and might even do it exclusively if their partners didn’t sometimes want to participate in their pleasure.
But Robyn is nothing like those women, and the way she cuts straight through Puck’s self-image is as erotic as it is terrifying.
As if they had any choice, Puck undoes the top button of their pants, reaches a hand down the front of their Hanes, and feels themself.
And then they’re lost in it all, their mouth back on Robyn’s breast, their hand working themself toward climax, Robyn reaching down past Puck’s head to also touch herself.
Puck wants to stop and ask if they can just eat Robyn out instead, but she seems very particular about how this happens, just like she’s particular about everything.
Puck feels Robyn’s back arching, shoving her breast even deeper into their mouth.
They feel themself getting closer. Almost—
And then Robyn’s phone dings. Feverish and focused, Puck tries to say “Ignore it,” but their mouth is full, and besides, Robyn’s already checking her phone. “Hang on, it’s Mia. She says the dress isn’t fitting right.”
“Can’t she wait?” Puck asks, pleading, their hand now motionless in their pants.
But Robyn is already standing up again, gently pushing Puck’s head off her. “I’m still the maid of honor at a wedding, you know,” she says. “I can be your milkmaid later.”
She quickly pulls on her zip-up before walking away, leaving Puck all but whimpering for her to stay. After they hear the door latch behind Robyn, Puck doesn’t even move somewhere more comfortable. They keep touching themself until they’re a shuddering mess on the floor.