Eve Langlais - My Secretary, My Mistress

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."

He obliged, lapping his hot tongue over her sex, spreading her plump lips, and finally tasting her. She clamped her thighs around him tightly, dug her fingers into his scalp, and pulled his hair. His erection strained under the desk as he licked and sucked at her, her body going taut until she came with a whimpering cry and her sweet juices gushed into his mouth.

Grant slipped his tongue inside of her, wanting to feel the quiver of her muscles as she orgasmed. The eroticism of the moment made his cock spurt, and he gasped against her swollen flesh. Fuck me. I can’t believe I just came like that.

Isabelle pushed Grant away, rolling his chair backward until it hit the wall behind him. He looked dazed and she noticed his cock was now only semi rigid, the signs of his release all over his pants.

Smiling like the cat who’d gotten into the cream, she stood slowly and grabbed her coat and toys without speaking.

It was only when she unlocked the door and opened it that he finally spoke. “Where are you going?”

She smiled inwardly at the edge of panic that colored his question. No longer did he sound like her commanding boss. She turned to him and lifted a brow in mock surprise. “Why, home, of course.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Isabelle tapped her lips in pretended thought. “Ooh, thank you. I quite enjoyed that. Goodnight.”

And, blowing him a kiss, she walked out of his office.

He bellowed behind her, ordering her to come back and release him, but with a secret smile of satisfaction, she kept walking. Part one of her plan had been an unmitigated success. She couldn’t wait until part two.

On Monday, Grant arrived at the office early and paced its length waiting for Isabelle to arrive. That is if, she had the guts to face him after what she’d done. He’d tried calling her over the weekend, but she must have been screening her calls, because he’d ended up reaching her voicemail each time. He’d thought about confronting her at home, but he’d only seen where she lived once in the dark while drunk. In the light of day when he’d driven by, the daunting row of townhouses had all looked the same and he’d refused to drive to the office like a desperate lovesick swain to look up her address.

He had mixed feelings about what she’d done to him on Friday. He’d finally managed to release himself from her duct tape bondage after much straining and rubbing against his desk. The marks of his struggle to escape were now hidden by his dress shirt’s long sleeves. He hadn’t been able to hide all the evidence of his torture when he’d finally fled that night, however. His suit jacket hadn’t quite been able to conceal the stains of his cum, an embarrassing fact the security guard downstairs had noticed with a smirk.

I still can’t believe she tied me up and used me as if I were some kind of sex toy-one that gives great tongue. Never mind that he’d enjoyed himself as well. Isabelle had called the shots and he knew that had he not come on his own, she would have left him tied up and suffering with a massive erection.

But the worst part of it all was that he wanted to do it again.

All weekend long, he’d fantasized about her. He wanted her to take charge of him again, for the experience had been nothing short of amazing. And now having had a taste of her kinky, dominant side, his Internet porn pictures and videos now paled in comparison. He needed Isabelle.

Fuck, I’m rock hard again. Unlike at home this weekend, he couldn’t just whack off, although for a second he debated locking his office door and doing so. Or maybe leaving the door unlocked and having her walk in as he did it. Grant almost came in his pants at the thought.

Where in hell is she? Grant went to his office door and peered out for what had to be the hundredth time.

As if his thoughts had called her, in she walked, looking demure and unbelievably sexy in a simple flower print dress that emphasized her generous bosom and hourglass shape.

Grant’s mouth went dry as his overactive brain imagined what she wore-or rather, what she didn’t-underneath her prim outfit.

“Isabelle, could you come in here for a minute?” he asked quietly, standing to the side of his door lest she see the tent in his pants.

Her baby blue eyes met his, and she curved her lips in a little smile. “I’m sorry, Grant, but I’ve got a pile of work to do. Can this wait until later?”

He wanted to argue with her, to force her to come into his office, but both of their phones rang before he could and, to his frustration, he found himself busy the rest of the morning.

When the noon hour arrived, he decided to ask Isabelle out to lunch-for sustenance, not sex-unless she had other ideas.

However, she wasn’t at her desk when he emerged from his office.

Damn it. She’s avoiding me. Kind of like he’d avoided her after they’d first had sex. Grant hated payback, especially when he was on the receiving end.

But he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

* * * * *

Isabelle listened absently to the handsome fellow she’d snagged as a lunch date. She had no interest in him at all. He was just another tool in her plan. And seeing Grant walk into the bistro across the street from the office, she implemented step two.