Page 15 of Leverage & Obedience

I guess an ass-fucking appointment is a texting type of thing instead of office messenger.

All day, I’ve vacillated between horny and low-grade panic while I tried not to think about all the ways this could go bad. At some point, I probably should have told him I’ve never had anal sex because that requires more trust than I’ve ever given anyone. But I didn’t want to admit how stupid I was when I offered him my ass.

My legs are steadier than I expected, which I’m choosing to interpret as bravery rather than the numbness that comes from wondering if I’m crazy for eight hours. Who lets their boss fuck their ass in his office after work as their first anal experience? My nipples harden as if saying, “Hi, it’s me.”

His door is closed. I knock once.

“Come in.”

I open the door, and the first thing I see is the bag sitting on the floor beside his desk. It’s a black nylon duffel bag. Bren is in front of his desk, his hip resting on it. His expression is calm in a way that means he’s in total control. That makes one of us.

I can’t tell which version of me is louder right now—the one that wants his cock in my ass or the one mad he’s not going to unload in my pussy.

“Close the door and lock it.”

You’d think by now I’d just do that. Whenever I come in here, it always ends up with me in a very unprofessional position.

He watches me, and once I do as he says, I stand by the door and lift my chin. I’ll be damned if I let him see me shake, especially since I’m the one who offered up all my holes like a deranged slut the first day I met him.

“Come here.”

He doesn’t move as I walk to him. The flush is heading straight to my pussy by the time I stop in front of him.

He takes my hand and holds it, his thumb running across my knuckles. The gentleness throws me off more than if he had yanked on the sash of my dress and shoved me against the desk.

“Before we start.” His voice is soft. “Colors?”

“Green means go. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop.”

“And you’ll use them.”

“I’ll use them.”

“Good girl.” He releases my hand, and the absence of his touch leaves a cold spot. “Take off the dress.”

I pull the tie at my waist. The fabric falls open and pools at my feet, and I’m standing in front of him in a black lace bra and matching panties I bought specifically for him.

“Beautiful.” His eyes take inventory. “Now take off the rest.”

I unclasp my bra and slide the straps down. My nipples harden even further in the cool air. The panties go next, and I’m standing naked in front of a fully clothed man. The imbalance—him dressed, me bare—makes me shiver and press my thighs together.

“On your hands and knees.” He steps closer. “Right here on the carpet.”

I lower to the floor, palms flat, knees apart. I know this carpet, but I’ve never been on my hands and knees, and definitely not naked. My ass is in the air, and I know exactly what he’s about to do with it.

The sound of the zipper of the bag makes me glance over my shoulder before I can stop myself.

The bag is open, and I catch a flash of what’s inside—the lube he’s reaching for, but also a coil of black rope and a leather strap with a buckle that looks suspiciously like a collar. I’m not going to think about whether it’s a collar. That’s a door I’ve spent a decade keeping closed, and tonight is not the time to examine how I feel about the idea with him.

“Eyes forward.”

I snap my head back and stare at the wall across from me as my body buzzes in anticipation. This is definitely one of the top ten filthiest things I’ve done. If he was trying to make this temp position the most memorable, he’s winning, hands down.

I hear the rustle of him removing his clothes and then the snap of the lube cap. “I’m going to warm you up first.” His hand settles on my lower back, and I exhale shakily. “We go at your pace. Not mine.”

“Okay.” My voice is surprisingly small. Where is that slut who offered this hole? I need some of that reckless bravery back right now.

His hand drops between my thighs—not where I’m expecting—and he strokes my clit until my hips are rocking backwards from pleasure. I’ve been wet since 5:55 yesterday, give or take, and the mess between my legs makes it obvious.