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Chief Executive Officer

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15 minutes until showtime. Pepper checks her watch again. She should probably get to the stage 5 minutes early, just in case, so that leaves ten minutes. Ten minutes to go, before the biggest presentation of her career as Stark Industries CEO.

She's prepped and ready. She's been practicing her speech for what feels like years, and pestering Nat for mock Q&A sessions every night for the past week. And of course, Pepper looks the part. She's got her very favorite heels on, the ones that are dark green and sharp enough to cut, along with one of her favorite charcoal-grey suits. (It's the one with the pencil skirt and just the slightest hint of a ruffle. Natasha likes the ruffle.)

All in all, she's good to go. She knows her stuff, and the investors are going to love it. The Solati Initiative is going to be big — the biggest move toward green, sustainable energy ever done in the U.S.

Still, those last ten minutes before a speech are always killer. She wonders if Tony ever felt nervous like this, or if he's always been too used to the attention, or too drunk, to let it affect him.

Pepper is leaning back against the arm of her office sofa, staring out the picture window, unable to let herself relax enough to properly sit down. In her hand is a stack of notecards. She knows every word on them by heart, isn't even looking at them really, just shuffling them idly around in her hands.

She's about to give in and just start pacing when Natasha pokes her head into the room. "Ms. Potts? Do you have a minute?"

Pepper looks up at the wall clock. 13 minutes to go. "For you? I have seven. Come in, please." A slow, wicked grin winds its way across Natasha's face, ringing alarm bells in Pepper's mind.

What sort of mischief is her girlfriend up to now?

Natasha slinks into Pepper's office, moving with her typical efficient grace. She pulls the door shut behind her, and locks it without looking. Natasha is wearing all-black, which is not unusual; today it's a mid-thigh skirt (barely long enough to be work-appropriate) that shows off her amazing legs, a low-cut blouse beneath an angular, cropped suit jacket, and knee-high boots with wicked heels. The overall effect is vaguely military; Pepper thoroughly approves.

"I have something for you." Natasha grins broader, shark-like, showing off her red lips and perfect, white teeth.

"Yes? What is it?" Pepper tries not to be short, but she's too nervous to play games right now.

Natasha shakes her head and tsks. "So impatient. If that's how it is, then..." She prowls toward Pepper, coiled menace and power in every line of her frame, and goddamn does the woman know how to make Pepper go weak in the knees.

Like many type-A personalities, Pepper has a strong submissive streak, and Natasha has learned to relentlessly exploit it.

Natasha comes to a stop about a foot in front of Pepper and stands in a loose form of parade rest, shoulders thrown back, exuding confidence. She looks Pepper up and down approvingly, and then snaps her fingers. "Knees."

"But, I–"

"Knees." Natasha doesn't say anything else. She knows she doesn't need to.

Pepper inhales deeply, exhales, and drops into the familiar position: back straight, head up, keeping eye contact with Natasha at all times, hands tightly clasped behind her back. Her body is well-conditioned, by now; as soon as she assumes the posture, her thighs clench, and she can feel her heartbeat speeding up.

"Take off your jacket and give it to me." Pepper complies, handing the incredibly expensive suit jacket over to Natasha, who folds it carefully over the back of a chair.

"Now unbutton the top four buttons of your blouse."

Why four? Pepper wants to ask, but at this point that would only earn her a spanking.

She raises her perfectly-manicured fingers and slowly undoes the top four buttons, parting the heavy silk to reveal a light shadow of cleavage. Her breasts are cradled and lifted by a lacy white bra, low-cut, so that the tops of the cups just barely brush her nipples. Then Pepper waits, lips slightly parted.

Natasha reaches behind her and pulls out a flat black box. It almost looks like a ring case, and for a split second Pepper thinks that Nat is going to propose. But that's ludicrous, of course. They've only been together for four months; it's way too soon.

Nat flips open the lid of the box and pulls out something long and silver — and then another, identical, piece of the same thing. The implements look almost like small tweezers, with black rubber covering the inward-curving tips. From the connecting point of each clamp there hangs a single, elegant crystal bead.

Pepper's eyes widen, though she says nothing. Nipple play is something that they've talked about, but she had no idea that Nat was planning on doing this today.

She looks up at the clock. Four minutes left, before she needs to leave.

Nat reaches down and runs her thumb lightly over Pepper's left nipple, circling the little mound until it rises up into a peak. Pepper's already turned on, just from kneeling, and Nat's touch makes her thighs ache. Nat tweaks Pepper's nipple between her finger and thumb, and Pepper can't hold back a gasp.

She's always had incredibly sensitive nipples.

Natasha crouches down in front of Pepper, just slightly taller, and slides one of the clamps up around Pepper's nipple, squeezing it between the curved pieces of metal. She pushes the adjustable ring up with her thumb, tightening the pressure until a jolt of painful intensity arcs through Pepper's body. Pepper curls forward slightly and bites back a groan, feeling wetness between her legs. Already she feels like she's on fire; she doesn't know how she's going to take the second clamp.

It takes all of Pepper's willpower to keep her hands behind her back. Nat reaches down and teases the other nipple until it, too, is rock-hard. And her girlfriend knows her well, knows all of her reactions; she pulls out a ball gag from her bag, and makes Pepper bite down around it before she slides the other clamp on. It's a kindness, and one that Pepper appreciates when the first bite of pressure makes her scream.

As her nipples adjust to the pinching and the pressure, follow-on waves of lust and intense sensation roll through her body. She moans loudly and unrestrainedly into the gag, and tries to focus her mind. Pepper goes back to the cycle of inhale and exhale, just like her meditation instructors have taught her, and struggles to regain control over her body.

Nat strokes her hair soothingly, adjusting a misplaced strand, and wipes away the drop of sweat that has gathered at Pepper's temple. "That's it," she whispers in her girlfriend's ear. "That's my brave and beautiful girl. You're so good, you look so lovely with these on." She drops her voice even lower. "I want to fuck you so badly right now. I want to bend you over your own desk and spank your ass until it turns bright red, and then I want to finger your pussy until you come so hard that you see stars. And then I want to do all of it again." She presses her lips against Pepper's forehead.

"But we can't do that right now, can we? Because you have a presentation to conduct."

They both glance up at the clock. One minute.

Natasha stands. "Back on your feet, Ms. Potts," she orders, sliding effortlessly back into her cover persona. She supports Pepper with strong arms as the other woman rises shakily to her feet.

Pepper stares down at her newly adorned breasts, looking confused and at a loss. It's an unusual look for Pepper, who is always in control, always put-together; it's a look that she pretty much only ever gives Natasha, and Nat feels incredibly honored by the trust that it implies.

She reaches out a hand and carefully adjusts the clamps, so that the beads hang down neatly over the front of Pepper's bra. She doesn't miss Pepper's shudder at the movement, even gentle as it is.

Then Natasha refastens Pepper's blouse, one button at a time, tucking away all of that glorious pale skin. The blouse is tightly cut, form-fitting, and it does absolutely nothing to hide the outline of the clamps. The thick fabric drapes itself as if to highlight the twin ridges of metal grasping each nipple, the bump of the crystal bead, and the larger mounds that are Pepper's swollen, sensitized nipples. Nat imagines that the cool silk of the blouse must feel divine against them, fabric sliding and rubbing over the sensitive nerve endings.

Finally, Natasha retrieves the heavy suit jacket and helps Pepper slide it on, buttoning up the high-collared front so that it hides all evidence of Natasha's present. This is their secret, just between them; it's something no one else ever needs to know.

Pepper takes a deep inhale, shudders — there's the silk, Natasha figures — and exhales again. She runs a hand through her hair, which looks perfect; picks up her StarkPad from its place atop her desk; and strides to the door of her office without saying another word. Only someone who knows Pepper as well as Natasha does would notice the way her steps are a bit more tentative than usual, her knuckles white against the edge of the door as she pulls it firmly closed.

Natasha smirks, and seats herself behind Pepper's desk. She flips on the monitor and clicks over to the Stark Industries website, where they'll be live-streaming today's presentation. And there's Pepper on the screen, striding around in her suit, owning the room. She looks powerful, collected, and competent, every inch the CEO.

Only Natasha would ever know anything different.

She smiles. Pepper will do wonderfully, of course, and the press will love the Solati Initiative as much as they love everything that Stark Industries chooses to do, these days. Pepper will nail her speech, handle the Q&A with great adeptness, and more than adequately meet all of her obligations.

Then she'll return to Natasha a needy, trembling wreck, all of her self-control exhausted, weak and desperate to be fucked. And Natasha will do exactly what she promised: she'll bend Pepper over her own elegant desk, hike that adorable skirt up around her waist, and spank her until Pepper's ass is red and stinging. And then Nat will give her girlfriend a fucking that neither of them will soon forget.

Natasha puts her feet up on the desk, and smiles.

It must be awesome, being a CEO.