Pushing Her Buttons

by Sabrina York

  Wouldn’t want to break his bed.

  I crawled onto the mattress and hovered over him at his side. And then I lifted a knee and straddled him.

  Securing him to the headboard was simple. I merely wrapped one wrist with Velcro, threaded the strap through the metal bars and completed the job with his other wrist. He had a little wiggle room but watching him wiggle would be half the fun.

  Once he was helpless, tugging at the straps and testing his bondage, I raked my nails across his chest. God. He was so hot. Literally. The heat rolled off his bulging pecs and quivering abs. I tasted a nipple. Nipped. I settled myself on his thick cock and rocked back and forth.

  He undulated beneath me in harsh, desperate arcs. “Take off your clothes.”

  I halted my ministrations and glared at him. I still had three straps in my fist, so I gave him a small smack on his thighs. “That sounded like an order, JR. Are you giving the orders now?”

  “Jesus, Sam. Please. I need to feel you. It’s been forever.”

  It had been far too long. But I had it in my mind to make him wait a little longer.

  When I got up off him, he moaned. But when I didn’t strip as he had commanded, the moan became a groan. And then a yelp when I headed for the foot of the bed and grabbed his ankle. Of course he jerked it away.

  “Sam! What are you doing?” His voice was calm but there was a thread of panic beneath it.

  In response, I quickly wrapped the Velcro around his ankle and tugged his resisting leg to the far corner of the bed. I wrapped the strap around the wood and wove it between the metal bars and then brought the other end around and wrapped that around his ankle as well.

  He looked so incredible, tied to the bed like this—open and vulnerable and all mine—I had to do the same thing to his other leg.

  Heavens. I stared at him spread-eagled before me, fighting the bonds. His cock bobbed with his movements and, lest I worry that he was really resisting, a small pearly drop of cum glistened at the tip. I licked my lips.

  Oh. He was going to suffer and he was going to suffer good.

  “Lie still.”

  He froze immediately. His eyes tracked me the way a mouse tracks a hungry tomcat. Since he was behaving and paying such close attention, I decided to reward him. I dropped the last strap onto the bed and began slowly unbuttoning my blouse. He swallowed heavily. Licked his lips. Unconsciously arched his hips.

  The fabric of my blouse parted and I slipped a hand inside and played with a hard nipple. And oh, it was hard. My whole body throbbed. I doubled my efforts and pinched both crests in tandem. Pleasuring myself as he watched, trembling and avid.

  His muscles bunched against the straps. “Oh God. Sam.”

  I toyed with the band of my jeans. His eyes flared. Slowly I opened the snap, undid the zipper and let them drop. Stepped out of them.

  “Do you like what you see, slave?” I whispered.

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “Would you like to touch this?” I traced the lips of my pussy through cotton. He tugged at the straps, glared at them when they didn’t give way. “Would you?”

  “Yes!”

  I rubbed harder and a twang of delight ripped through me. “Ah. That feels so good. When I stroke my clit. Would you like to touch it?”

  He made a feral noise in the back of his throat, writhed. “Yes.”

  “Yes…what?”

  He blinked and stared at me. Clearly he’d never played this game before. At least not from that side of the pillory.

  I decided to give him a prompt. “Yes Mistress.” A purr. “Always answer with, ‘Yes Mistress’.”

  “Y-yes Mistress.” He dropped his bold gaze as he said it and exultation shot through me. He was embracing submission.

  I felt like an Amazon queen.

  “Good boy.” I slowly slipped off my annoying panties and crawled back onto the bed as I had before, on my knees to one side of his magnificent body. And then I straddled him. I scooted closer. His hot breath teased my cunny. “You deserve a reward. Would you like to taste me?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Nice. Begging is nice.” I hovered closer but not close enough. I let him smell my juices but not quite reach me with his tongue. Although, the dear boy, he did try.

  “Please. Please Mistress.”

  Now that deserved a reward.

  I edged closer, groaning as his tongue found me. He sucked my clit into his mouth.

  Ah. Heaven. I was so close to coming, I could almost taste it.

  So could he. And I wanted to come. I did. But not like that.

  When I pulled away, he made a little whimpering sound but I didn’t let him whine for long. I sat on his cock, cradling him with my cleft and rubbing myself against his heat.

  He thrust up, muttering, “Jesus. Please.”

  But no. Not yet. I wanted to taste him.

  I found the last strap behind me on the bed and brought it up to his cock. Rubbed it against his straining rod. His nostrils flared. My mouth was so close to the tip, I couldn’t resist a quick lap of cream. Another drop oozed out to replace the one I’d stolen. This one, I sucked out.

  Just my lips. Just the tip.

  He hissed in a breath.

  “Do you like that, slave?”

  “Yes Mistress. Yes. Ah.”

  I found the center of the strap and wrapped the leather around the head of his cock. I continued down the length of him, crisscrossing in a tight weave. His entire body was drawn tight and quivering with anticipation. His eyes, locked on me, were red-rimmed. I held the strap closed at the base of his cock and tugged. The entire beautiful creation, laced in leather, jerked.

  He threw his head back and cried out. But what he said was utterly unintelligible.

  When I took him in my mouth, leather and all, he shuddered. I tightened my grip and jerked again. And sucked. Hard.

  And then I rode him with my mouth. Licking, nibbling, sucking, drawing him closer and closer to abandon while he writhed and begged for mercy.

  When I’d had enough, when the cunt juice was dampening my thighs, when the anticipation had reached an unbearable intensity, I straddled him again and, holding his gaze, used the leather straps to position his cock at the mouth of my pussy. I lowered myself until the head of his beast was just inside my melting heat.

  He hissed through his teeth.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Yes. Oh. Yes.” He tried to arch up into me but I danced out of reach.

  “I’m fucking you. Not the other way round. Now put your ass on the bed and don’t move.”

  And he did. Good boy.

  He nearly came out of his skin when I dropped straight down, encasing him, leather and all, inside me. And God. Oh God. The roughness of the straps and the slick velvet heaven of his fat throbbing cock made me nearly come out of my skin as well.

  I sat there, impaled for a long moment. So long, in fact, he began to rock against me. Desperate little panting thrusts. I bent to suck his nipple into my mouth and undulated my hips in itty-bitty arcs.

  “Damn it, Sam. Fuck me!”

  I shifted up to suck on his neck and then whispered into his ear, “Fuck me please, Mistress.”

  He snarled and growled and thrashed beneath me, inside me. It was glorious. But I didn’t give in. Finally he accepted it and stilled.

  He looked me in the eyes and said grudgingly, almost defiantly, “Fuck me please…Mistress.”

  And I did.

  I rode him and I rode him hard. Bracing my hands on either side of his torso, I went to work, sluicing up and down, reveling in the damp heat between us. I alternated directions. Side to side, back and forth, around and around until he was a howling, ravaging beast beneath me. Within me.

  His cock swelled. He bellowed in agony, ecstasy and relief as his girth struggled against the leather straps, the simmering walls of my cunt sucking at him relentlessly.

  The added length did me in. I fell upon him and his cock nudged my womb. Shivers and shud
ders roiled deep within me. They flooded outward, upward, inward, skittering in every direction. I was vaguely aware of his spurting cum, angry and hot, his cock jerking against ever-tightening bonds, ever-tightening walls. I clasped him close as the last gasp shook me. Took him.

  And we collapsed.

  I slipped off of him, releasing him from my grasp, and then slowly, carefully, unwrapped the leather, gently kissing his cock as I revealed it.

  He lay there, his lungs working like bellows as I untied his feet and hands.

  And as soon as he was free, he grabbed me and yanked me beneath him. His mouth found mine in a savage openmouthed kiss. He drew in my tongue and sucked on it. Then laved at it. Then kissed me again but more gently.

  He rested his forehead on my shoulder, still breathing like he’d run a marathon. “That was… That was….”

  “It was.” I threaded my fingers deep into his dark curls and massaged his scalp. He quivered at my touch.

  After we’d had a little time to come back to reality, to ourselves, he lifted his head. His beautiful eyes gazed into mine, their meaning hot and fierce and inscrutable. Then he smiled, stroked me slowly, one long caress from nape to knee.

  “You are going to pay for that, Sam,” he said with a chuckle.

  I grinned. “I should hope so.”

  Chapter Six

  Monday

  Going back to work on Monday was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I’d always loved the challenge of my job and, since my promotion, reveled in the projects handed to me and my team.

  But this Monday…this Monday I just wanted to lounge in bed with a big warm beefcake and suck on his cock until he erupted in my mouth, fisting fingers in my hair. I wanted to linger in the shower with him and feed him strawberries with my teeth. I wanted to roll in those soft sheets and rub against him and hold him.

  Forever.

  But his alarm went off at seven and we did none of that.

  He leaned over me, braced on his elbow and kissed me. “I gotta go to work.” Regret laced his features.

  I threw my arm over my face. “Call in sick. I will too.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t. I have a meeting I can’t miss.”

  When I groaned and rolled onto my stomach, he playfully slapped my ass.

  “Ouch.”

  He smacked me again but softened it with a caress. The caress heated, lingered until I gave in and rolled back over, giving him access to my slit. He toyed with me until I was a juicy mess, gasping and thrusting and pleading for more.

  He stopped.

  My eyes flew open in protest and then my breath stalled.

  Because I’d seen his expression. He stared at me for a long while with that enigmatic light glowing in his eyes. The heat built between us until I thought the tension would explode.

  Then he reached over to the bedside table and fumbled for something. I didn’t really care what it was because he went right back where he belonged, kissing and sipping at my clit. Nibbling, flicking me with his tongue and—oh God—sucking. When he slipped something inside me, I quivered with delight.

  “What is that?”

  He grinned up at me. “You’ll see. Hold tight.”

  I lay back and tightened my cunt on whatever it was as he slowly drew it out.

  Sensation gouged me.

  “It’s called a string of pearls. Do you like it?” The last one popped out and he held it up for me to see. A series of balls in increasing sizes attached on a string.

  “Do it again.”

  He chuckled. “Okay. But this time large to small, I think.”

  I hissed as he wedged the largest ball into my pussy. It was quite filling. Then the next and the next. And then he ate me. And as he ate me, he eased them out, one at a time.

  By the time he was done, I was screaming. As the last, largest pearl popped out, I came. Oh. I came and came.

  When I finished thrashing and howling like a banshee—I swear to God, I had never been a yeller before—he edged up beside me and kissed my forehead.

  “Did you like that?”

  “Um…yes?”

  He laughed. “I thought so. Good. Because I have a challenge for you.”

  I stilled. Uh-oh. I didn’t like the look in his eyes. Except that I did. “What?”

  He nuzzled my neck. Didn’t answer.

  I shoved at his shoulder. “What?”

  Slowly, he eased the pearls back into my cunt. I shuddered as he worked them deeper and deeper. Once they were all in, he kissed my forehead again.

  “I want you to wear these,” he said. “All day.”

  “All day?” Jesus. I’d never make it all day with these inside me. “They’ll come out. Can you feel how wet I am?”

  He stroked my slit. “Yes. That’s the challenge. You have to hold them in. If they start to slip out, you can go to the ladies’ room and push them back in. But you can’t take them out. Not until five.”

  I gasped at a particularly wicked caress. “What happens at five?”

  He tapped a nipple. “We meet for dinner at Mystere.” He bent his head and sucked on a throbbing crest.

  “But…ah.” It took everything in me to keep track of the conversation. “But Mystere is a private club.”

  “And I,” he said, tapping again, “am a member. We have reservations at five.” He grinned and sat up. “Don’t be late.”

  * * * * *

  It was a day of pure torment.

  But I enjoyed the hell out of it.

  I spent an awful lot of time in the ladies’ room shoving those balls back into my cunt because they kept slipping out. But what heaven when they did.

  And I have to admit, it was quite a thrill getting them back in.

  I pulled my panties up tight in my crack so the pearls wouldn’t go shooting out onto the carpet as I walked from one meeting to the next. But that caused other problems. For one thing, every step I took was absolute agony on my clit.

  Needless to say, around four thirty I was so aroused a stiff breeze would have made me come.

  Around four thirty, I was starting to think I’d make it.

  Around four thirty, I was trembling with the anticipation of my release.

  Imagine how utterly annoyed I was when my secretary patched through the call from corporate. Our new owner, Jackson Carter, was finally in town. And, making up for lost time, he wanted to meet with all the department heads ASAP. My appointment was for five fifteen. They were sending a car.

  Well hell.

  What kind of choice was this? I could blow off the boss—metaphorically speaking, and God knew he’d blown us off plenty of times—and meet JR for our really hot date at a private club that was rumored to have private rooms. For private…dining. Or I could make the meeting with the guy who held my future in his hands.

  And if I did choose the meeting with Carter, because let’s be real here, that was what I was going to do—it was my career at stake after all—did I do so wearing JR’s pearls?

  In the end, I didn’t really have much of a choice because the car arrived early and the driver came right up to my office and escorted me to the lobby. It kind of felt like he was herding me.

  When I told him I needed to visit the ladies’ room before we left—and trust me, I did—he said, “Sorry. No time.”

  Mr. Carter was apparently a very busy man and every aspect of his day was timed to the very second.

  When Percy Jacobs, one of the other department heads, saw me in the lobby and I told him where I was going and his eyes went wide and he muttered something about how no one got to meet Jackson Carter, the driver took my elbow and gently but firmly led me to the car.

  We arrived at our new corporate headquarters, a beautiful confection of steel and glass, and shushed up a silent elevator to the topmost floor. Without a word, the driver delivered me to Jackson Carter’s very lovely executive assistant.

  And because we were in such an all-fire hurry to serve the illustrious Mr. Carter, she asked me to sit.
And wait.

  “Mr. Carter is just finishing up a meeting,” she said. “He’ll be with you shortly.”

  So I sat. And I sat.

  And all the while I was sitting, I was fuming. It was well after five. I’d missed my hot date with JR, who—for all his enthusiasm about this evening—wasn’t picking up his cell phone. And Jackson Carter, who—for all his punctuality and precision and power mongering—had turned out to be a hurry-up-and-wait kind of guy.

  Or perhaps it was just a power play. I’d known lots of men like that. Who kept people on tenterhooks just for kicks.

  Fuckers.

  Okay. I was in a pretty pissy mood.

  The balls in my pussy were slipping out, nudging at the mouth of my cunt. What I really needed, really wanted, was to push them back in. So they didn’t slide out in a big wet mess at Jackson Carter’s feet when we met for the first time.

  I stood.

  The executive assistant’s head snapped up.

  I smiled. Or maybe it was a grimace. “Is there a ladies’ room?”

  She smiled back at me. And shook her head. “You can’t use the ladies’ room.”

  I swallowed outrage and shock. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Mr. Carter was adamant that you be here when he’s ready.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded again and smiled that chipper executive-assistant smile I kind of wanted to slap off her face. “He’ll be right out.”

  But of course he wasn’t. I sat and waited and held on to my slipping balls as best I could. Those muscles were getting a workout. JR would be thrilled.

  If he wasn’t furious that I’d ruined our date.

  When the door to Jackson Carter’s office finally opened, I shot to my feet, anxious to get a gander at the man who had kept me waiting in agony. Anxious to get this stupid meeting over with already.

  He stepped out of his office and a vague sense of disappointment swirled though me. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting but it wasn’t a middle-aged dumpy man with a comb-over. He glanced at me and nodded, then smiled at the executive assistant, who smiled blandly back.

  And then her expression exploded with perky delight. She leaped to her feet and—rather impolitely—presented her back to the man who had just exited the office. She fixed all her cloying attention instead on the large and looming shadow that now filled the doorway.