Arranged: Bound By Contract (girlxintersex)

Chapter 5

Chapter 5
Stella POV

Take it off.


The maid suit was on the bed, out of its packaging. And Matteo was nowhere to be seen. She was undoubtedly at the office, perched on her high horse, waiting for that coffee.

As I got closer to the dress, I saw how short and flamboyant it was. I imagined a maid dress for a real maid, not one that could barely fit a three-month-old infant.

I snatched it from the bed and raced to her office, an angered expression on my face. When I walked in, she was on the phone and quickly placed me on standby. I stood in a pissed-off position, waiting, but she appeared to extend the discussion.

She swept her glance over my tightly covered body, which felt like a towel-wrapped burrito. She was nicely dressed. And I find it weird that she would wrap her fingers in rings, comb her hair into a high short ponytail, and only have two strands out at her widow's peak hairline.

I looked around the office. It appears to be a bedroom rather than an office setup, with the exception of a desk and a filing cabinet containing a black printer. To the right, I could see a paper shredder situated in a spacious space. Her desk was simple, and it revealed how long her legs were when she stretched them below.

"Hurry up." I huffed harshly.

All she did was give me a warning look. I was increasingly concerned as to why she thought I would ever consider wearing anything like this.

She turned her chair and continued the talk. I threw the maid outfit, landing it squarely on the chair's headrest as I snarled. She turned, but her face was fully concealed by the clothing.

I covered my lips in an attempt to control my laughter. However, a cheeky giggle managed to emerge. She did not move the attire just yet. It shocked me to see her so calm.

"I will talk to you later, Mr. Ryder. It was a pleasure doing business with you. Bye."

It astounded me that she could flawlessly set the phone on its intercom so blinded by the attire. But when I got closer, I noticed her darker silver glazed eyes peeking through a gap in the garment.

My mouth opened wide, revealing my locked teeth. I wanted to apologize, but all I could muster was a sheepish expression and a leisurely approach to her desk.

"Take it off."

I cautiously leaned forward, gripping the towel with one hand as I felt the overlap drop away from my body. Her gaze was drawn to my hand, which was holding the towel rather than making my life simpler by bending forward. She slid her chair backward.

I glared. I want to put my fingers up her ass.

"Take it off," she ordered.

Take it off. I made fun of her mentally. Take it off. I both love and hate her fucking voice.

I tightened my grasp while observing her gaze and every motion she made. I do not trust her. I could hear her chair gently creeping towards the wall. I huffed and gave up. However, her snarl prompted me to place one thigh on her desk and extend forward.

"Lean in closer." I complained.

"Now, why should I do that?"

I could feel her gaze go to my thighs. I saw my thighs were exposed. However, I may be reckless.

"Ah!" I yelped when I felt the desk shake slightly under my weight. "Give it," I croaked. "Or, fuck off!"

A succession of tsks from her mouth.

"You put it there, now take it off."

"Lean closer, you fucking Billy goat."

I leaned my hand again, and she gripped it. When she dragged me virtually my full body over her desk, a few papers flutter to the floor.

"Can I see what you have under that towel?" She slid the costume off her face and set it on her desk. I take a closer look at her face. It has taken my breath away.

"No, you fucking donkey face!" Regardless, she has a great face. The alignment complemented her sharp jawline and straight nose.

Her fingers, which were unusually lengthy today, grabbed the towel even closer. My dignity was behind this towel, despite her having a telescopic view yesterday—yesterday and today are two separate days.

"I am not wearing this." I said. I had decided not to dress like a sex worker on a slow Wednesday night, but rather to push my body into an inferior clothing.

I hope I could push it into her face again. This time, I'll make sure not even a peephole for breathing is visible. I could feel a drag on my body, gently drawing me over. I wasn't sure what her motivations were.

"You are wearing exactly this."

Her eyes were serious, but also intrigued about what she already knew.

"Go put it on, mongrel!"

"You—"

"Ah—" She rudely cut me off with the sound of her voice. Her long, slender carrot-shaped fingers wagged in my face like a tail. "You barked."

"But I—"

"Bark,"

I puffed like a pent-up dragon in a cave. My gaze swept across her face, resting on her lips like a bird. I want to punch them and feel them on my flesh, but primarily punch them.

As she saw my lips part, a budding smirk appeared. "Woof," my cheeks inflated, and a dissatisfied expression settled there. I sighed, bringing a few of rolled eyelids in.

"Woof!" I barked loudly.

Her smile blossomed in a tall horse tree. "Good. Now go put on the suit and make me some coffee."

Her fingers unexpectedly released, and I fell down the edge, face first into her lap. My lips landed directly on the imprint of her huge cock.

I yelled in victory as my mouth was simply dangling over the beast—I could Simply rip it off with my teeth. Perhaps she won't be an additional dick.

I trembled as I felt her fingers grip me by the neck. I wasn't sure if she was aiding or assisting herself in assaulting my body. I decided to test my idea and seized her cock with my mouth.


I couldn't get a bite since the thick material of her pants shielded her egoistic cock.

"You! Bitch!" She snarled as she wrenched her fist into my skull. It threw me to the floor, and I was reduced to a scowling, snarling dog glaring up at her.

"You fucker." She searched for her cock as if it were not there. For a brief moment, I believed I had the length in my mouth—saved by the jeans. I saw her fingers stroke it. She had a scared expression on her face. I began laughing.

However, my giggle got caught in my throat as she gripped my neck and dragged me to my knees before returning to where my lips had recently been.

Her silver gaze closed in on my soul, like a confined dot.

"I am sorry." I was getting too terrified to extract the apologies from my heart—it was a tip of the tongue one. It was ineffective, though, since her eyes went black as a cave and she gave me a yank similar to that of a caveman.

"I'm so so so so sorry." I've never uttered "so" so many times in my life.

"The next time you try to bite my cock off. I'm going to fuck you with the piece you chewed off?"

It sounded twisted and hot. Or was it the way her voice smoothed down, like whiskey on rock?

"Ok,"

"Get into the fucking suit and make the coffee."

I wanted to mock her, but this was not the moment, since her eyes showed no signs of returning to the lovely color of silver and optimism for my father's business.

I couldn't feel good about myself till I let out a snarky comment. "You didn't have to tell me twice." My fingers couldn't help themselves and, like a boogeyman, Tinkerbell moved closer to her huge cock. I gave a smirk of mine own.

"How does it feel that I nearly went mutt on your cock?" My elbow couldn't help but land on her muscular thigh, and I gazed up at the angry-looking woman. I felt slightly gratified for tilting her universe away from rotating around the sun.

If I get to play with her just like this. Then it was going to be a good 9 years 363 days. Heck, I suppose the time was moving too quickly.

"You are still going to suck it."

I scoffed. "The only reason I'll suck it up and perhaps execute it sloppily is because my father's company matters."

"I enjoy seeing you prostituting for your father. When I announced the marriage to him, he didn't even blink twice before extending his hand in assent." Her index finger went out and grasped a strand of my hair. She fiddled with it while smiling with her curved lips.

"All the awful things I can do to you...because your daddy allows it. He is a sick bastard."

"Daddy loves me."

"Daddy loves you," she teased, like the Joker would do to Quinn. "Your father definitely does adore you. When daddy forces you to labor like a whore in the coming years. I wish I had signed you longer."

"Dogshit." It was the only term I could think of, yet it didn't even strike her in the gut. But what she said hit my cute little skull quite hard. However, I had to remind myself. I didn't have an option. Daddy's business helped me get through life. It provided me with that luxurious lifestyle.

Champagne to bathe my body in, money to waste. Daddy requested my assistance, and I was fairly willing.

"Fortunately for you, I have a relatively tough heart."

Her lips curled more, and as I kneel here, my heart straining at the expression on her face—both frightened and serene—perhaps I shouldn't tell her how powerful I was.

"I am going to enjoy breaking you, Stella Allard, my wife."