My Secretary, My Mistress

Hard enough to make her red manicured nails claw the glossy surface of his desk until she screamed his name.

He wanted to gag her with his cock as he pulled on her hair to punish her for tying him up. Speaking of which, how had she managed to subdue him with him being none the wiser?

“How-”

“How did I manage to tie you up? It's simple, really. Who bought your dinner and served it to you?”

You sneaky little bitch. He wanted to be angry with her, but who could be pissed at a leather goddess who stood just inches away? Especially one whose arousal he could smell.

“Fine,' he said. 'You’ve made your point. Untie me, and we’ll go to dinner. Talk things over.” Then fuck like bunnies again, since you apparently didn't get enough of me the first time. He’d like another taste of her, too. And as for his job, it was beginning to look like pleasuring the boss’s daughter might be the only way to keep it.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? What do you expect to accomplish with me tied to this chair?” Grant creased his forehead into a frown. He’d need his hands free to pleasure her and make her forgive him. 'Isabelle-'

“I plan to do lots of things to you,” she said with promise before moving to stand in front of him again. “But now-no more talking.”

Isabelle placed one booted heel on his desk. Angled as she was, Grant couldn’t miss the fact that not only was she panty-less, she was also clean shaven and moist. Her pink folds glistened and beckoned for his mouth. Grant almost came in his pants. Fuck, she's hot!

In front of his disbelieving eyes, Isabelle spread her nether lips, inserted two fingers, and withdrew a mini dildo. Its plastic length was coated in her slick juices. He held his breath as she stroked it across her clit, a move that made her lower lips quiver.

“Come closer,” he beckoned hoarsely. “Let me lick you.”

“You want a taste?” she teased, the length of the small dildo appearing and disappearing into her tight sheath.

“Yes,” he begged, thirstier than he’d ever been for a woman’s nectar.

She pulled the dildo out of her sex, flashed him a wicked smile, and shoved the sex toy into his mouth.

Grant’s first impulse was to gag, but Isabelle straddled his legs and watched him expectantly, two fingers still holding the bottom edge of her toy.

He could not only taste her in his mouth, he could also smell her intoxicating, musky aroma. It turned him on. With his eyes locked on hers, he sucked on the dildo as she slid it in and out of his mouth. He licked and savored her sweet juices off the warm plastic, more aroused by this kinky act than he’d thought possible. Her eyes lit up in pleasure.

Grant began to think the evening might turn out all right after all, until Isabelle let go of the dildo and moved away but didn't take it out of his mouth. She rifled through the pockets of her coat and pulled out something he didn’t recognize-and then an object that made him sweat.

Grant spat out the toy. “What are you going to do with that?”

He hated the tiny thread of fear that emerged when he spoke, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when she turned with the switchblade cradled in her hand and stared at him.

Then, with a wicked light in her eyes, Isabelle asked, “Are you ready?”

The look of fear on Grant's face pleased Isabelle, as did the bulge in his pants. Poor Grant, warring between so many needs-the two predominant ones being his need to take control and the need to fuck her.

Knowing he would be noisy, she grabbed the leather strap and bit she’d brought along and walked toward him. When he opened his mouth to protest, it was a simple matter to put the wooden bit between his teeth and secure the strap around his head. With his voice muffled, he was capable of only grunts.

She picked up the switchblade again and methodically popped the buttons off his shirt. For what she had planned, she needed him naked, and she had no intention of untying him to get him into that state. Besides, slicing off his clothes was so much fun.

When she’d taken care of all the buttons except for the one under the band of tape that bound him to the chair, she opened his shirt and bared his muscular chest. His heavy, erratic breathing made his pectorals rise and fall. Holding the knife between her teeth, she placed the palms of her hands over his nipples. They went taut at her touch. Pleased, she rolled the nubs between her fingers and pinched them. A pity he doesn’t have nipple rings. She quite enjoyed making a man gasp as she twisted the rings and brought him to his knees.

Enough daydreaming. She had more work to do. She slid her hands across Grant’s muscled abdomen until she reached the waistband of his trousers, slipped the top button out of its loop, and then drew down his zipper.

His erection poked out of the top of his briefs, its swollen head jerking as she looked at it. Taking the knife from her mouth, she went after his underpants, which had him grunting and thrashing beneath her.

“Now, now, Grant,” she said, pausing to look him in the eye. She couldn’t help the mischievous smile that curved her lips. “I'm just going to slice this impediment out of the way, but if you keep bucking like a bronco-well, I won’t be responsible for any damage.”

Grant immediately quieted, although his erection, if possible, grew even larger. Looks like my instincts were right. Grant might like plain vanilla sex, but the kinky stuff makes him rock hard.

Isabelle applied her knife to the cottony fabric of his briefs. Alternately slicing and ripping, she pulled the tatters apart, exposing his rigid cock, which strained toward her like a homing beacon.

Inspired, she hopped off his knees and bent over in front of him.

His gasp was audible even through his gag.

She grinned. God, I love being in control.

Sweat broke out across Grant's brow, and he trembled. When his shaft had sprung forth from the remains of his briefs like a jack in the box-surprise!-he'd known fear. Yet even in the midst of it, he couldn’t help being aroused. She tortured him and, like a sadist, he lapped it up and yearned for more.

He’d hoped that once she'd bared his flesh, the teasing would stop and the fun would truly begin. He’d seen the way she eyed his penis like it was the sweetest treat in the bakery. But instead, she’d bent over and continued the torment. He’d reached the point where he couldn’t decide which would feel better-more slow erotic torture that threatened to make him come, or finally plunging his cock deep inside her. Either way, his body screamed for release.

The gag in his mouth prevented speech but couldn’t stop the moan he uttered. With her legs spread and her rounded bottom in the air, he had a perfect view of her sex. And not just that wet heaven, but what her fingers were now doing to it.

She spread her slick folds beneath his avid gaze before sliding first one, then two, and later three fingers inside herself. Not only that, but she’d backed up close enough to him that his cock head brushed her fingers as they pumped in and out, each gentle stroke over his sensitized skin making him tremble.

Grant groaned behind the gag and, to his secret surprise, found the feel of it in his mouth titillating. As if this sound were a signal, Isabelle slid her fingers out of her body's wet recess and ran the damp digits up and down the length of his cock. Then she grasped him firmly at the base and used him like an erotic toy, rubbing his swollen tip against her clit.

They both panted as she rubbed his mushroom head against her swollen nub faster and faster. If his hands were free, he would grab her around the waist and slam his cock into her pussy. Ram his hard length into her, and then bounce her up and down on his lap until she clenched around him.

But Isabelle was the queen of tease, a fact he discovered when she abruptly let him go, hopped onto his desk, and spread her legs wide, exposing herself to him. Putting her heeled feet on either side of his thighs, she rolled his chair forward until he sat between her legs, inches away from her molten core. The smell of her arousal made his mouth water.

“Do you want to make me happy?” she asked, sliding a finger into her dampness as he watched, his eyes riveted on her moist flesh.

Grant could only nod. He’d reached the point he would do almost anything.

Leaning forward, she took off the gag that muffled him and held him by the hair. Then she drew him closer, tilting his chair backward so that his lower body slid under the desk and his face rested between her thighs.

“Lick me, Grant,” she whispered. “Make me come in your mouth.'