Submitting to Her (13 page)

She said: "I was always going to be promoted
to head of department, you know. That's what they hired me
for."

Well, that explained a few things. By now, I
didn't even care she'd gotten the promotion instead of me - I felt
thankful things had turned out the way they had.

"They're putting a number of us fast-track
graduates across the company at the moment, to improve the overall
gender balance. It shakes things up and offers long-term prospects
of stability at the firm - and female readers are increasingly
important to our company."

With one hand I caressed her pert behind as
she writhed over me, grazing her wet sex over my mouth and nose,
but with the other I subtly stroked my cock, perhaps something I
wasn't allowed to do, though she wasn't stopping me.

She moaned loudly, then said: "You know, it
really hurt that you didn't support me when I was promoted." She
put one hand over my ear now, and stroked the side of my head a
little, before her grip tightened, and she was pulling my face
firmly into her pussy, her rocking on my mouth accelerating.

"It's funny how the threat of losing your job
was all it took to get your attention," she said, becoming
increasingly breathless now, but releasing my head from her grip,
as she now lifted herself up.

I was a little confused - why was she
bringing all this up now? But I was too wound up to ask her if
everything was okay between us.

Zoey turned around, looking behind and down
on me as she now presented her pussy again, though this time from
the other direction. Now I was enveloped in her smooth, firm flesh,
as she wedged my face between her buttocks, pressing herself down
again to begin rocking her wet pussy against my mouth.

There was a kind of edge to her treatment of
me just then - a new hardness, almost brutality. She was venting
long-held frustrations. I could feel her hands supporting herself
on my stomach as she forced her body down on my head, her hips
beginning a gyrating movement, rendering it difficult for me to do
much other than open my mouth and push out my tongue to allow her
to use me as she saw fit.

I could hear her panting, moaning, but then
she leaned down, her fingers encircling my cock as her chest came
into full contact with mine. Now it was my turn to groan as I felt
her take my hardness back inside her mouth. I slipped my arms
around her hips, so that I could hold her buttocks, pulling her
beautifully round cheeks apart to offer me more air and better
access to her pussy now that she lay against me.

Zoey slowed the motion of her hips to a
standstill as she now focused a little on my cock, allowing me to
take charge for a while, kissing her pussy, sucking her clit,
pushing my tongue as far as it would go inside her.

This was the ultimate for me: being able to
indulge completely in her delicious pussy while at the same time
having this pretty brunette sucking my cock deep inside her mouth,
her velvet breasts pushing against my lower stomach.

I was a hair's breadth away from losing
control when she let go of my cock, and resumed pushing back
against my face, taking charge and rubbing her pussy over my whole
face, from chin to mouth to nose to forehead and back, and I got
the feeling she was reveling in the sense of power she had, to
shove her sex so obscenely into the face of the man she'd had a
crush on only to have her attentions spurned.

And while I was now safe from coming, it was
clear what was on the way for Zoey, although she now turned again,
flipping over so that she could now look down upon my face as she
pressed her pussy down over my mouth, my nose wedging against her
clit.

Sitting on me with knees either side and just
in front of my head, her feet pressing in against my shoulders and
upper arms, she squeezed her thighs together now, locking me in a
vice-tight hold that was like some kind of filthy wrestling
position, my head almost completely enveloped in her sweltering
flesh.

It wasn't exactly easy to breathe, but I just
about coped, doing my best to allow her as much contact as possible
with my mouth and tongue, as she now gripped onto my wrists and
wiggled her hips, her pussy now so warmed up and so firmly wedged
against me that it only took small motions to give her the
sensations she desired.

She leaned back, and I could see how hard her
nipples were, jutting out from her heaving chest as she gasped for
oxygen.

Her moisture was everywhere, so that I
wondered if a person could possibly drown like this. The thought
made me smile a little as I continued doing my best to please her -
was drowning in a beautiful woman's come like this a tragedy, or a
glorious way out of this world?

Her pace on my face accelerated, and again
there was very little I could actively do as she drove herself
towards her end - I was merely a passenger in this ride.

When she came I felt her whole body tremble,
energy rippling through her as her writhing faded over and around
my face, consuming her totally as she cried out at the glorious
gratification of her needs.

There was probably some kind of payback
underpinning the fact that once satisfied, Zoey simply curled up
and drifted off to sleep.

I was in two minds again - part of me was
deeply contented at the fact that I could make this girl come to
the point at which she simply didn't have the energy to stay awake.
But the other part, which was strongly connected to my increasingly
blue balls, was feeling a little aggrieved.

I think that latter part of me was even
plotting all-out revolution.

In mitigation, I was a pulsating mass of
lust-fueled energy, and so many days of enforced restriction while
simultaneously having the dripping pussy of a delicious female
constantly smothering my face did put me in something of a
precarious position.

Now she was lying there naked before me, such
a beautiful sight and with my cock so hard between my legs. I
couldn't help but touch it. I knew she had forbidden me, knew that
she had threatened me with some kind of punishment, but I was so
far gone that just a couple of touches, and suddenly I was losing
control, feeling that twinge as the point of no return was reached,
and my hot seed was on its way, come what may.

In the split second that I felt myself losing
it, I suddenly freaked out that I was going to spray it all over
her as she slept, perhaps waking her from her contented slumber to
discover my transgression. So I panicked and reached for her neon
pink panties, the nearest things available to offer an alternative
receptacle.

It felt so dirty coming into her underwear,
but the sheer relief from unloading was tremendous.

Only when I was done, my heart rate subsiding
once again, I heard Zoey say: "Oh, we're going to have to punish
you for that, aren't we, Jones?"

The pitch to RJS went well the next day,
though I'd had difficulty sleeping that night, and even during the
day's proceedings I felt a constant sense of anxiety, which I could
not deny came from my fears about how my exquisite vice president
was planning to punish me for the previous evening's
transgression.

We came away confident that we had done
everything possible to win the account, particularly in the light
of the shortened preparation time.

A few of the folks from RJS invited us out
for drinks at the end of the day in a little bar on Chestnut
Street, which was pleasant enough, but they were all a little older
than us, and as it turned out all had families waiting for them,
which meant they weren't going to stay out too long.

Zoey had the idea of calling up a few old
college friends of hers who now lived in the area. Her calls did
not bring results other than one single guy, whose name was
Brandon.

I thought he was okay until Zoey revealed
they were together back in college, in fact for quite a while. That
raised the hackles on the back of my neck. I was able to contain
myself, however, concealing my feelings.

"Hey Zo, you remember Billy Keefe?"

"Sure - he was a linebacker, right? Asked you
to loan me out to him one time, I seem to remember."

"God, he was an idiot. But you know, I saw
him last month at a conference in San Diego - he was asking how you
were doing."

Brandon was a big meat-head of a guy, a
football player in college, he was a tall, blond Beach Boys type
and still powerfully built following the end of his athletic
career, with Zoey flirtatiously noting he was still something of a
"tight end".

"You know I would never have dated you if
you'd gone out with Sheila first."

"Only hit on her to get you fired up."

"You're a bad man, Bran."

The two of them still had a definite
chemistry that kept on poking a knife-point into my chest
throughout an otherwise pleasant meal. Though Brandon was certainly
not the sharpest knife in the drawer, he did have an easy manner
and charm that I could see warmed Zoey, although I was mildly
surprised that she seemed to tone down the intellectual nature of
her conversation around him. Their easy familiarity made me feel
threatened, but I was able to calm myself a little by imagining
that if they had once had something, they must have explored it far
enough back then - there was no need for them to rekindle it.

I didn't really mind Brandon as a person,
though I minded his easy flirtation with Zoey and the way she was
so warm to him, and in comparison cold to me that evening,
referring to me only as a work colleague to her former flame, her
approach only seeming to confirm in his mind that she was still
available to him, and I was no barrier.

What was she doing? Was she punishing me? Was
this punishment for the previous night's transgression, or for the
six months of hell I'd put her through after her promotion?
Certainly the constant pang of guilt I felt for what I'd done made
me feel I deserved something.

Towards the end of the evening, it all
stepped up a notch or two.

Brandon had just got up to head for the
restroom, leaving me alone with Zoey, when she said: "It's time for
you to go back to the hotel, Jones."

"Yes, Ms Schoenberg," I said, instantly
compliant in the hope that strict obedience would somehow encourage
her to end my punishment.

"You'll excuse yourself when Brandon comes
back," she said, "and you'll go back to your room on your own."

"Yes, Ma’am."

"You won't close the door between our rooms,
you'll open it fully - and you won't turn on a single light in your
room. You are to wait in there, and not make a sound, no matter
what, understood?"

"Yes, Ma’am."

"And as you receive your punishment, you are
not allowed to make a sound, enter my room, or otherwise make
yourself known until I tell you. Right?"

"Right, Ma’am."

I felt dread filling my chest at her
suggestion that my punishment was yet to come. It stirred up not
just butterflies in my stomach, but a nest of vipers, writhing and
spitting and biting throughout my frame.

Surely she wasn't thinking of punishing me in
the way I suddenly feared?

I was genuinely frightened. Ever since that
fateful Friday, I had bowed to Zoey's every command - but though it
had been a little frustrating to have her take control of my
orgasms, there had been arousal in that as well. This evening I
felt seriously vulnerable, seriously exposed. Was I only able to
handle giving up control to my beautiful boss if she did things
that met with my approval?

What if real control meant she did things I
did not want? Could I have it both ways?

Our arrangement so far had been mild - I knew
that. Ever since she'd curtailed my orgasms, I'd stopped venturing
online to find pictures of naked women, and it had left plenty of
time to fill with research that had included a casual investigation
of this whole dominant female thing. My research revealed people
whose whole lives revolved around a deep submission to their
dominatrix lover, including all kinds of degrading and humiliating
behavior. What Zoey had with me was soft by comparison - femdom
lite, I'd seen some people labeling it. Female-led relationships.
But as with all kinks in human sexuality, it could develop in
various different directions. What was Zoey's taste in a
dominant-submissive relationship?

Was all this about to get a whole lot
darker?

I felt panic gripping my throat. Should I
plead with her? Tell her I loved her? She would think me
ridiculous. She would lose what little respect she had for me. We'd
been together no time at all - we weren't even publicly out as a
couple. She could walk away from me, and nobody would know we'd
even had a thing.

I felt so fragile.

Brandon returned from the restroom, and I had
no choice but to comply with my orders, though every cell in my
body was crying out about the dangers of leaving Zoey alone with
her college sweetheart.

"Well, I guess today just about wiped me
out," I said, trying to sound relaxed and natural. I wasn't bad as
an actor, as it turned out.

"Hey, from what you guys say, it was all
worth it, though, huh?" Brandon said, the big slice of ham.

"I think so." I reached for my jacket, "but
I'm going to have to get some sleep so I can get the follow-up
strategy into gear soon as we get back into the office
tomorrow."

"Fair enough," was all Zoey had to say,
offering me a smile that concealed her own involvement in my
decision to depart.

"Well, hey, man," said Brandon, standing up
as I did, to shake my hand across the table as though we'd just
played a worthy game of football against each other. "It was sure
great to meet you."