Option 4: Triggered

"As a matter of fact," the Director remarked, gesturing to the file he'd evidently been looking over before she entered, "there is an urgent matter that requires your attention." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, Natasha letting out a shaky breath as her whole body throbbed; behind her, the door's lock clicked into place - not enough to impede her if she was intent on getting out, but sufficient to give them some privacy. "There are... concerns that efforts to remove your subconscious programming from your time in the Red Room have been unsuccessful." Natasha bristled at the implication that she was some kind of sleeper agent, her tits swaying from side to side as she shimmied her shoulders a couple of times. "I knew you'd react like that," he drawled, gaze fixed on the acres of pale cleavage she was showing off, "which is why this is going to be kept between us."

She blinked. "Thank you, sir," she replied, continuing to shift her shoulders - more subtly, now - to keep her breasts in motion for his titillation, "but I'd like to hear the evidence for the supposed failure of my deprogramming."

He arched a brow. "You mean you don't find anything odd about this?" He snapped his fingers, and Natasha sighed heavily as another surge of heat left her pussy gushing. "No, sir," she replied, her voice low and smoky with desire. He hummed sceptically and snapped his fingers again, drawing a short, quiet moan from her lips. "You're saying," he asked calmly, "that this reaction has nothing to do with a trigger, and that it's merely a natural result of being near me; correct?"

snap

"Yessss," she hissed, the answer slightly embarrassing but undeniably true; the Director was always right, after all. "I'm sorry, Director, it's just that I become," she paused, trying to find a professional way to phrase it and only halfway succeeding, "intensely aroused in the presence of such a..." She licked her lips slowly, to make sure the subtle gloss on them shone properly under the office's ceiling light. "...big, strong man. I simply can't help myself." It caused her no shame to admit it; with so much of her time spent in the company of other women and pathetic shadows of real men that made up most of the other half of humanity, she could hardly be blamed for getting a little worked up over the mountain of pure virility sitting across the desk from her. At almost three feet taller than her, it was no wonder that the furniture in his office had had to be custom-made to hold him, or that he forewent clothing - nothing would fit him, after all, and Natasha for one was delighted at the chance to get a clear look at the body that drove her wild.

"The light above the door is red," the Director informed her.

"And so are the occupant's lips," she replied, thinking nothing more of it as she slowly slid her catsuit's zipper down past her abs to just above her pussy. "Would you prefer me with red lips, Director," she asked, giving them another languid lick as her gazed roved up and down the portion of his body not blocked by his desk. He nodded, and she pulled a tube of lipstick from her cleavage; applying it to each one in a single well-practiced pass, she capped the tube and placed it next to the folder before returning to her resting pose and batting her eyelashes at him as she blew him a kiss. Arching her back and bending forwards slightly to present her chest to him - and discreetly try to see a bit more of his body around the edge of the desk - she went back to slowly shaking her tits for him and waited for his next question.

She wasn't expecting her body to decide that now was a great time to climb up onto his desk and crawl over to him on her hands and knees like a stripper approaching the edge of the stage, but it wasn't anything to worry about. The only thing that mattered was getting close enough to get a good look at his massive, veiny co- "The light above the door is off." Her attention immediately snapped up to his face, getting a little caught up on the slabs of his pectorals on the way, as she assessed her position - on her hands and knees in front of the Director, head raised to look up at him, her catsuit unzipped a little further than regulations demanded, and with no recollection of how she got there. "Well," he rumbled, sounding almost amused, "clearly there is still some of your old programming in there, if you can't resist stripping for me."

snap

Her entire body began to tingle as she realised what was going on - she only ever lost time like this when she was so horny she just had to strip for the Director, so she must be getting so horny from the Director's presence that she just had to strip for him. It was simple logic, and the Director was always right. The more she thought about stripping for the Director, the hornier she got; and the hornier she got, the more she fantasised about stripping for the Director. "Yes Sir," she replied, shifting her shoulders and sending her tits swaying just right for them to slip free from her suit, "I'm sorry for doubting your sources. Clearly, the only solution is-" There was a slight creak as the Director shifted his chair bag and opened his thighs slightly, his cock swinging up into view as it hardened near-instantly at his whim. "-your m-massive fucking monstercock," she finished, her tone dazed and breathless as the sight of it left her head spinning and her cunt dripping.

Her jaw dropped and her tongue lolled out in invitation as he grabbed the back of her head in one huge hand and pulled her towards him, leaving her lips-to-tip with the cock that invaded her dreams - and, in them, her holes - every night. She began to tease him as her gaze stayed locked on his face, her tongue lapping rapidly at the underside of his cockhead and occasionally swirling around it as she waited for him to continue the briefing. "I've decided to reinstate the sexual portion of your Red Room programming before I return you to your position in the field," he informed her, as she planted a suckling kiss on his cumslit before returning to her teasing. She was a little concerned to hear that she'd once again be subjected to the mental conditioning she'd tried so hard to break, especially the portion that was liable to turn her into a shameless, ball-draining, ride-a-man-to-**** femme fatale at the drop of a hat, but she didn't raise any protest - she could already feel the programming settling back over her mind like an obscenely-tight dress, and obedience to her superior was baked into it.

Even beyond the fact that the Director was always right, in fact.

"Uuuhmmph~" 'Understood.'

"Good," he replied, forcing her head down the first few inches of his cock, pulling her gaze away from his face and to the heavy golden ring, studded with gems, around the base of his colossal shaft. Her jaw strained to accommodate his girth while he began to push down her gullet, stretching out her throat as thick veins scraped against its warm, wet walls; his hand worked her head up and down, simulating the sort of lazy, creeping penetration she loved despite his body remaining other wise still as she swallowed a little more of him with every stroke. "There are rumours that Hammer Industries has been hoarding the remains of alien technology left behind after the attack on New York for a... special project," the emphasis he put on those words helped hammer home the trigger phrase that would turn Natasha's throat into an erogenous zone, and her hips shook as she began to cum from deepthroating him.

Her lips puckered and her cheeks hollowed even further as she approached the base of his cock; there was something about the ring around it, or the gems set into that ring, that drove her to try and go faster than his hand would let her. She had to reach those gems, it was absolutely vital that she reach those gems, if she could just make it an inch further down and reach th- "mmmlllllrrrrrrhhhkk-pwah~" Her mind whited out, her eyes rolled back and she squirted all over the Director's desk as he wrenched her off of his cock, tongue lolling out and panting like a bitch in heat as she knelt in front of his stoic, impassive form. "I want you to investigate," he continued, studying her expression for signs of something she couldn't quite put her finger on, "and, if necessary, shut down the project. You're cleared to begin as soon as you're ready; Rogers and Banner are going to be... indisposed, but none of SHIELD's other assets are expected to be unavailable."

"Uh-huh," she replied happily, nodding along, "wha'ver y'u say, D-Director." She was quite proud of being able to pronounce his title properly, most women would have been rendered completely insensate from the intensity of a throatgasm like that. Not a particularly strenuous mission for her return to the field, given Hammer Industries' normal operating level, but only an idiot would complain about easy work. Still, this wasn't the sort of operation a single agent could conduct unsupported; she'd need to contact someone while she still had the time.

Who does she contact before her mission?

Option 1: Kira 'Hawkeye' Barton, her fellow assassin and whore. She may not bring much in the way of extra tech skills or esoterica to the table, but there's a lot that an extra body can do to help out on a mission like this, especially one familiar and comfortable with Natasha's particular style of infiltration and seduction.

Option 2: Toni 'Iron Maiden' Stark, the famously slutty engineering genius. It'll be child's play to get through Hammer Industries' cybersecurity, but with Toni's help it'll be child's play and almost instant. The likelihood that she'll insist on kitting Natasha out personally doesn't hurt, either.

Option 3: Lady Thor of Asgard, the debauched alien princess. It was her sister that led the attack on New York after all, and if a magician on the level of Loki were to leave any 'hidden surprises' for anyone attempting to screw around with her army's equipment, then she's the best-placed to counter it. The fact that she can punch holes in concrete is a welcome bonus.

Option 4: Someone (or something) else.

Author's Note: Always helps if you don't leave a finished chapter unpublished for three months. Whoops. Feel free to comment or message with suggestions for triggers for Natasha from her Red Room days; I've got a few in mind already, but there's always room for more in her head.