I was standing by the photocopy machine in the file room when my bra got the better of me.

You might think that an intelligent woman, such as myself, would be able to outsmart her underwear. But the twist in my bra was not easily fixed and was simply too much for me to bear. Nobody was around. I thought I’d be able to slip a hand inside my blouse, fix the twist and be ready to rumble… or at least, ready to finish photocopying.

Unfortunately, the twist was not as easy to finagle as I’d anticipated. I peeked out the doorway. There was nobody in the hallway. I probably ought to have slipped off to the bathroom to remedy the situation, but I was mid-project, and I didn’t want to pause the copy machine.

Quickly, I unbuttoned my blouse.

Then I peered out again. No one was coming. I undid the bra strap, untangled the fabric, redid the fastener, and… that’s when I heard the distinct sound of a man clearing his throat. Fuck. I continued to stare straight ahead.

“Need a hand?” came next.

I was buttoning up as fast as I could, feeling foolish and embarrassed and hoping like hell it wasn’t my boss standing there when I turned around.

“No, I’m good,” I said. Maybe whichever coworker of mine had caught me undressing in the file room would simply move along. We’d never talk about my foolishness, and I’d never discover who he was. I looked over my shoulder, and there stood Ian with a huge grin on his face. Ian, the wizard from accounting. He’s always had a thing for figures — at least, that’s the joke around the office.

“You see,” I sighed, realizing I was going to have to offer an explanation, after all. “My bra was, well, wrong. I tried to fix it quickly, and when I couldn’t I had to strip down to make things work.”

He nodded, shooting me a sympathetic stare.

“Yesterday, I had the same problem with my jockstrap. I had to wiggle the thing down and flip it inside out before I could get comfortable.”

I giggled. I shouldn’t have. But I had an image of what Ian would look like half naked by the copy machine. Then I realized that he’d caught me precisely like that.

“So where is this misbehaving bra?” Ian asked curiously.

“Back in place,” I assured him.

“What if we teach it a lesson?” he suggested.

“What do you mean?” I asked, intrigued.

“What if we get together after work and have a serious training session with your bra?”

And so we did. Eight o’clock that night, I was in Ian’s bedroom, with him dressed and me naked, but for my panties. He had my bra in his hands, and he was definitely showing that frilly piece of lingerie who was in charge. Effortlessly, he used my bra to capture my wrists over my head. Then he whispered in the most seductive manner, “Let’s see if we can teach your bra how to stay in place.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“Then you get the reward.”

I realized that the bra and I were on the same side in this competition. That was good news to me. My bra and I could behave. I was sure of it. Ian stared down at me. I stayed totally still. Then he leaned forward and slowly kissed a line from my collarbone to my pubic bone. I bucked, and the bra tugged against my wrists. He gave me a sharp look. I widened my eyes back at him, telling him wordlessly that I would behave. After a few silent beats, he continued. This time, he used his fingers to stroke me. I sighed, but I managed to hold myself still. He dipped one digit under the waistband of my panties and probed my pussy. My nerve endings were pinging. Mentally, I squirmed in delight. Outwardly, I was like a lingerie mannequin. I held my place and my peace.

Though he might have said this was a lesson for my bra, it was actually a lesson for me. I realized that right away.

There’s a way Ian squints sometimes at work, when he’s consumed by a major project. That was the look on his face as he considered me. He tugged my panties to the side and let his fingertips tap out a delirious rhythm on my clit. A shiver ran all the way through me — at least, internally. But I remained outwardly immobile.

“Good girl,” he said, and then quickly added, “and good bra. Now, let’s try something a little more difficult.” I watched as he undressed and then came closer to the bed. His cock was fully erect. My bra and I had definitely gotten lucky this evening!

“Now, about those panties,” he mused as he began to pull them down my legs.

“What about them?”

“Have they ever given you a tough time?”

I thought about it. Sometimes they revealed themselves in the form of pantylines. I told Ian this and he said, “Well, we can’t have that.” In a flash, he was using the panties to bind my ankles together. There was just enough fabric for this trick. I found myself completely at ease and amazed at the way he worked. I was trussed up by lingerie and loving every second of it. Ian climbed on to the mattress with me and lifted my bound legs in the air to expose my sex as he said, “You stay very still, so we can teach your misbehaving undergarments how to behave in the future.”

I obeyed as he let me feel the first inch of his cock slip between my nether lips. He thrust into me a little deeper. I held as still as I could. He drove in farther, and I started to tremble. He began to fuck me at a faster pace. I could tell that I was going to climax at any second. There was something slightly surreal and seriously sexy about being bound by my own clothing. When I was at the cusp of climaxing, Ian used a hand to stimulate my clit while he continued to fill me with his cock. That action ripped through me. I tore one foot free of the bindings as my pleasure overflowed. Ian joined me with his own orgasm. He didn’t hold back either, filling me up before fully unfastening my bonds. We held each other in his bed, kissing softly and dreaming up new adventures.

Ian said, “If you wear stockings next time we could have even more fun.”

“I do have this one pair that never stays up,” I confessed. “Even with garters.”

“Bring those miscreants with you,” he insisted. I promised I would.

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