Free Pushing Her Buttons by Sabrina York

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.