Submitting to Her (20 page)

I looked back towards the stairs, and saw
that Zoey was now there, wearing a tight little white t-shirt and
pink pleated miniskirt - all clean and innocent, yet with a
devilish smile on her pretty face.

The doorbell sounded again. Zoey gestured at
me, mouthing the words: "Go on, then!"

I opened the door. Well, perhaps I wouldn't
get the chance to demonstrate my obedience to her much longer.

"Pizza, sir?"

I saw the flash of shock on the pizza
delivery guy's face as the door swung open, and before he managed
to force himself into a neutral expression. Was he obligated by the
job to act blasé if a customer showed up in such a humiliating
state? If he was, he should have got a bonus.

I tried to remain calm and casual as well, as
though this wasn't a big deal for me, as though I was some kind of
domestic naturist, like this happened all the time. Under my skin,
I was horrified, of course, though after the initial thunderbolt of
opening the door and registering my appearance, I started feeling
it could have been worse. Had this been a female delivery person,
perhaps the authorities would have been alerted.

Closing the door again, pizza in hand, I
heard a giggle or two from Zoey's direction.

"You really do whatever I say, don't you
Jones?"

"Of course, Ms Schoenberg."

She attempted a serious expression, and said:
"You know, Jones, I'm feeling generous."

"You are, Ma'am?"

She picked the pizza box out of my hands, and
turned to take it over to the couch opposite her huge television.
"Yes, I think you're in line for another reward."

"I like rewards."

She smiled at me, and then looked at her
watch. "For the next two hours," she said, "I want you to forget
that I'm your boss, and treat me as your girlfriend."

I raised my eyebrows. I actually wasn't
exactly sure what I was supposed to do. We'd done Ordinary Mode a
number of times before, of course, but mainly that had been simply
equality in conversation. I wasn't quite sure how to be Zoey's
boyfriend. What did boyfriends do with girlfriends?

She patted the couch next to her, and held up
a slice of pizza for me. "You think you can do that, Aide?"

My first name suddenly sounded strange in her
voice.

"I... I... I guess so, Ma'am," I said,
feeling a bit of an idiot.

She grinned, said: "You can start be calling
me Zoey."

It was like a first date.

We talked about trivial things, like what our
favorite pizza was, what we liked to watch on TV. The fact that I
had three older sisters.

Zoey was curious about me, and that was fine,
but stripped of her position of power, suddenly she seemed so much
younger than me. I began to understand a little of why once upon a
time, I had felt aggrieved that she had been promoted above me.

Chatting with her over pizza certainly seemed
to help us take our minds off the morning's scheduled meeting with
our chief executive.

As an only child from an affluent
conservative household in Annapolis, Zoey was interested in hearing
of my being brought up by in small town Ohio, though from my point
of view it wasn't the most fascinating of stories.

"Have you told your sisters about us yet?"
she asked me, her use of the term 'us' proving strangely
exhilarating, as her confirmation that we were a couple. I guess
that was important to me after what had happened with Brandon.

"I don't talk to them as often as I should,"
I said. "They're all married with kids - they have busy, busy
lives. Even when I do talk to them, I rarely get a word in
edgeways."

"I bet they'd be interested, after all your
one night stands," she said. "If I had siblings, I'd tell them all
about you."

"You told your parents you're dating
someone?"

Behind her glasses, Zoey's eyes flashed. "I
wouldn't tell them until there was a ring on my finger," she said.
"As far as they're concerned, I don't even know how to kiss a
boy."

I'd say it probably took an hour or so before
I started to really settled down into this new arrangement, and
feel comfortable in no longer taking orders from her, not waiting
for a question before speaking my mind.

"I suppose if we were really pretending I'm
not in charge right now, you should have put some clothes on while
we ate pizza," she said as I now polished off the last bite of the
aforementioned Italian-American feast.

"I didn't even think about it," I said with a
grin.

"I like it when you're naked," she said. Then
she tilted her head and asked: "Do you really like it the way I
treat you?"

"When you're being my boss?" I asked, and she
nodded. "I love it."

"Why?"

I looked at her, and curiously, wasn't quite
sure how to explain my love of her authority. It had all started
off when I had been afraid for my job, and willing to do anything
to keep it, even humiliate myself in front of this beautiful young
woman. Then we'd both seemed to take to it like ducks to water, it
was hard to pinpoint exactly why my new role being subservient to
Zoey Schoenberg fit so well.

"I was surprised how easy it was, actually,"
I said, ending up opting for a kind of stream of consciousness
approach to cope with my temporary lack of word power - a
salesman's technique, just keep talking. "I guess it makes me sound
lazy, but when you're in control, you give me this strange peace of
mind - I know how to please you, because you're telling me how. It
makes me feel this huge… serenity, I guess."

"I can understand that," she said. "The women
you were with before… they didn't tell you how to make them feel
good?"

"Nope," I said. "I guess I never hooked up
with the right kind of girls, but they always seemed to want to get
me off as fast as possible, and that was it."

"I guess it's that social pressure to seem
like a good lay for the man," Zoey said. "But they don't help
themselves by doing it like that."

"Men always get the blame for failing to give
women orgasms - but it's not only our fault, I think," I said. "I
mean, I think if you gave most men the choice, 99 percent would
want to give their partner a good time while having sex."

"A lot of women fear the guys will feel
humiliated to be told what to do - or even quietly asked."

"And most of them would be wrong, I think.
It's an unbelievable turn on to genuinely satisfy a woman you care
about. That's the bottom line."

"But guys don't like asking directions, do
they?" Zoey chuckled.

I smiled. "And how many of them are happy to
use sat-nav these days to get somewhere new? They might not enjoy
asking, but they don't mind being given directions."

"You don't find it degrading when I… use
you?"

"No. Fulfilling, exhilarating. Not
degrading," I said. "Humility's not the same as humiliation - I
guess it's like religious leaders, when they do things like wash
people's feet - it shows their modesty and respect, it's not
degrading."

"I don't want to degrade you," she said. "I
want to make you feel as amazing as you make me feel."

"It doesn't hurt that you're the most
beautiful girl I've ever known."

"That's not a reason."

I shrugged. "I see you, and I can't help but
crave contact with you, as up close and personal as possible. And
there's nothing as close and personal as going down on you."

"You are such a dirty boy."

"What can I say? I love it when you shove
your hot, wet pussy in my face."

At that, Zoey actually blushed.

"You do actually like it, then?" she said,
her voice tinged with skepticism, lifting one of her feet onto the
couch between us now, as if to examine the subject of our
conversation. Under her little pink skirt, she was wearing a white
cotton thong, which fit well with the look of purity she appeared
to be going for on this particular evening.

"More than anything," I said, reaching
forward to skim the back of my forefinger along her inner thigh, up
to the edge of her soft cotton underwear. "Never mind the fact that
your taste and your scent drive me wild, it's also so sexy to have
your thighs either side of my head and my face buried in your sweet
pussy."

She giggled. "I love how filthy you are,
Aide."

"I love how filthy you are," I returned. "I
never asked you to sit on my face that Friday afternoon."

She nodded. "I was really upset. I wasn't
really thinking - I'd been after you so long, and you'd ignored me
the whole time. And you were so horrible to me. I was just
frustrated."

"Then I'm glad I frustrated you. A little
glad, anyway."

"I don't know, I guess I thought I'd
humiliate you or something, I'd be ridiculing your masculinity, and
maybe you'd feel you had to leave the company."

"You wanted me to leave?"

"A little. Up until when you started licking
my pussy."

I felt a little shiver course through her
body as my finger grazed over her mound and down over the pure
white cotton to the part that was covering her pussy, which was
already becoming somewhat damp.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she said.
"I guess I thought I could somehow... sexually harass you, make
your life as hard as you made mine. Only, it turned out to be a
little more fun than I expected."

"I'll say."

She sent me downstairs to dispose of the
empty pizza box, and when I returned to the bedroom, I found that
Zoey was also naked, her hair now tied up in a bun behind her head,
making her look a little like a ballet dancer.

She had a purple bottle in her hands.

"You wanna try something fun?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, a little confused.

She tipped the bottle up over her breasts,
and some kind of oil seeped out to slosh over her skin. I just
stood back to watch as she smiled, and began sweeping her hands
over her body, coating herself in the slick lubricant.

"What do you think?"

"Pretty hot," I said, "But then you know that
much."

She grinned, looking at my swelling manhood.
There wasn't much hope of hiding a reaction when you had no clothes
on. Not that I needed to hide my reaction just them. Zoey flicked
her head to signal for me to approach.

I climbed onto the bed, and she bade me lie
down on my back.

"Aren't we going to mess up your sheets?"

"Who cares about sheets?" she said, kneeling
up astride my knees to pour some of the oil over my abdomen until
it was beginning to trickle off the sides of my body. I jumped as
it first touched my skin - it was cold, but soon warmed up. It
smelled gently of coconut.

"Shouldn't we use your massage table?" I
suggested as I lay back.

"I'm not sure it's designed to take the
weight of two people," she said, and began to spread the oil around
my stomach, down over my thighs, and carefully around my pubic
area. Though initially avoiding my hard cock, she gave in to the
temptation after a few moments.

It was so sensual, so quietly exhilarating to
feel her touch, her soft hands gliding all over my oil-coated
skin.

She pressed her body down on me, her breasts
crushing against my thighs, before she slowly slid upwards over my
cock, my hard shaft surrounded by the hot velvet flesh of her
breasts.

"Mmm..." she moaned, and I echoed that moan,
as she indulged for a few moments in the sensation of her breasts
rubbing over my thighs, my lower abdomen, my crotch and my rigid
manhood.

"Feels nice," I said, almost purring
myself.

Slowly, she moved further up my body, her
oiled skin gliding over my chest, until she came to rest seated
atop my cock, which pressed against her pussy lips. She reached for
the bottle again, and now poured more oil over my upper chest.

Now she kissed me on the lips, then down my
neck, and resumed rubbing her body on mine, grinning like the
Cheshire Cat, possibly reflecting the unusual situation in which
she was appearing to serve me for once.

"You’ve done this before?" I asked as she
moved back and forth over my body, and I delighted at the sensation
of her body sliding over mine, including her sizzling pussy.

"No," she said. "I read about it. Isn't it
nice?"

"Incredible."

She held herself lying along my legs, and her
hands went to my oiled cock, slipping and sliding up and down its
length, touching her lips to the tip in a brief kiss, before
slipping it back between her breasts, for that wonderfully dirty
sensation of fucking her pert little tits.

After a few moments, she was massaging my
cock between her legs, and I could smell her arousal even over the
gentle coconut of the oil.

"I love your body," she said. "I could just
look at you - and touch you - for days and days on end."

"Might have to take some vacation time," I
joked.

She smiled, and then turned around,
slithering over my chest, to resume rubbing her body over mine,
only this time presenting me with the beautiful view of her oiled
pussy. This time as she rubbed my slick cock between her breasts, I
gave in almost immediately to my temptation and pulled her -
provoking a surprised but amused squeal - back so that I could bury
my face in her pussy, tasting her juices blended with the coconut
oil.

As I feasted on her pussy she slipped my cock
into her mouth. With the powerful sensations, I felt my control
beginning to break down, and feared I might explode in her mouth
before she wanted me to, Zoey suddenly pulled herself up on me,
releasing my cock from her mouth and hands. Her moans were growing
in pitch, and now she was pushing back on my face, getting to that
point where I was no longer leading the process of licking her
pussy, she was in charge, rubbing her pussy over my face, this time
aided by the oil.