Submitting to Her (25 page)

I used the tip of my cock to spread her
moisture from her smoldering groove all over her outer lips, loving
the slick sensation of gliding over her soft skin like that. Then I
eased the tip of my cock inside her at last.

"Oh God, that's amazing," she breathed.

"You know you can have this as often as you
like," I said, groaning a little as I slid myself the full way
inside her slippery pussy.

"Oh, I know. But you know how crazy you get
when I deny you for a while? It's so sexy seeing you like
that."

"I think it actually makes me come harder
when you do let me," I revealed.

She glanced back, grinning at her cruel
streak. "You know, maybe we should get a little cage for your
beast, so it really is only me that has the key to your
release."

"I'm not sure about that…" I said, nervous
that despite the progress we'd made in our relationship, there were
dark ideas that could be just a little too kinky.

"I read about these sweet little steel ones -
very hygienic, but sexy as hell," she said, frightening me not for
the first time. "Apparently, every time you move, you feel the
device and you remember you're owned. Imagine how distracted you'd
be at the office!"

I gave an anxious little laugh, said: "You
didn't hear about that guy who got stopped at Chicago O'Hare when
he was found wearing one of those?"

She grinned, "I would let you out for special
occasions."

"You really do have no shortage of filthy
ideas, do you?"

"Isn't that why you love me so much?"

Well, I knew I had to take all this one step
at a time - if there were things she wanted to try, we could try
them and if they didn't work out, that would be that. But how could
I complain in this kind of relationship?

True enough, it was for her to control access
to her own pussy, but I had to concede that it only made it all the
sweeter and more significant when I was allowed inside her if it
was restricted so much of the time.

Zoey felt so amazing, so tight around my bare
cock. I held her waist with both hands and pumped into her,
pounding her flesh, her whole body seeming to shiver with each blow
as I thrust inside her.

"Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus..."

Her breasts moving, her hair swinging, she
was loving every minute of it, now kneeling up while I was still
inside her, allowing me to hold her, squeeze her breasts, kiss her
neck while still pumping my hips to move within her.

It was tough to avoid coming inside her
straight away, but moderating my pace, I just about managed to last
until she appeared to have another shuddering orgasm.

"Oh Aiden, my love," she moaned as we both
slumped forward, and I lay on top of her as my last few thrusts
took me to the edge and beyond, and there as I drove onwards that
last short way to heaven, for the first time my hot come splashed
inside her.

We settled into something like a routine, in
what I guess you might say was another golden period of our
relationship. I loved to serve her, she loved the way I made her
feel. She'd reward me with time off from domination, and punish me
with errands, chores around her apartment or simple refusal to
allow me sexual release.

Life in the office was great - we were
careful to avoid any hint of a relationship, and kept our paws to
ourselves during office hours, increasingly taking our after-hours
activity back to her place or, more occasionally, mine.

Our work meant we were often on the road -
pitching, promoting, through meetings, conferences and industry
exhibitions. It was frustrating when we were away separately, but
with Zoey heading up the department, it was uncanny how frequently
our paths seemed to go in parallel.

Attending conferences or exhibitions together
in other cities across America was particularly fun.

Zoey enjoyed spending all day flirting with
other execs right in front of me, knowing I couldn't say anything
to her not only because of my subservient role in our relationship,
but because we were keeping our relationship under wraps. And she
knew full well it drove me wild with repressed jealousy and
unbridled arousal, my eyes lighting up with those conflicting
emotions - the fire of hurt that she was inviting lusty attention
from other men, blended with the sparks of excitement at how sexual
she was, at how all this must have been getting her damp between
the legs, and thinking about what would happen as soon as the
networking was done and we were safely back in our hotel.

She was a wild, wild, beautiful woman.

Sometimes, she wouldn't last the day. She'd
drag me out of a conference during the coffee break or at lunch,
ordering me to wait five minutes then head up to our room, if the
event was held in a hotel, or some appointed darkened corner of a
bathroom on another floor if not. I'd find her there, hiking up her
skirt, sitting back against a basin or a table or our bed so I
could kneel before her and let her clamp her stocking-clad legs
around me and ride my face.

When she was flirting with other guys, I
noticed a slightly strange aspect of myself, in how I reacted to
it.

Although I felt that pang of jealousy no
matter who she was batting her eyelids at, it felt some how more
bitter when the guy she was chatting up was the kind of quiet,
modest type who admired her and hung off her every word, as though
he might be a submissive if she ever got him somewhere alone. When
it was a bullish alpha male that talked over her and generally
tried to dominate conversations, more interested in impressing her
with his achievements than in actually finding out about her -
well, I guess I just felt less threatened, somehow. I don't know
how much real logic there was in my gut feelings, but I suspected
my subconscious felt that alpha males were all very well, but they
couldn't make her feel the way I did. They were no threat to our
emotional bond.

When she flirted with other guys, my mind did
flick back to that dark, dark night when she brought Brandon
between us. While I disliked him with a passion, particularly in
how he had treated her, I just couldn't let the thought lie that it
had been hot to watch her being sexually pleasured by someone else,
yet requiring me to be there watching in order to take her over the
edge.

I did wonder if we allowed her flirting to
proceed to the next level again with one of these alpha males, if
we might capture the thrills of that night in Philadelphia without
the pitfalls associated with Brandon.

But ultimately, I still harbored that fear
that she still held a torch for her ex, still felt something for
him and his domineering ways. I wasn't confident I could do enough
to assuage that particular desire she had deep inside.

Zoey knew about my fears, and she played upon
them more than a little.

I remember a conference in Portland. It was a
fairly industry-specific event regarding compliance in the
manufactured goods field, and so we were there only as sponsors and
media partners, highlighting the brands of our relevant magazine
titles, fishing for advertising leads and boosting subscription
numbers a little along the way.

It had been a fairly successful event - five
companies were interested in what we had to offer from a
promotional point of view, which was probably three more than you
might expect from a smallish event of roughly 200 delegates. And
one of those leads appeared to be a sure-fire long-term inside
front cover sponsor. That got both Zoey and I fired up.

After the event, there was a little time for
drinks in the bar before we headed upstairs to change for a formal
dinner. Zoey was high on a successful conference and the fresh pine
scent in the Oregon air, so we stayed for a few drinks before
dashing upstairs to retrieve our glad rags.

There at the bar, there was plenty of
flirting for my beautiful boss, whose top two shirt buttons had
mysteriously come unfastened somewhere on the walk from the seminar
room to the hotel bar.

She was laying it on - the coy smiles, the
easy giggles, the lingering stares, unconscious playing with her
hair, and even the occasional touch on someone's arm. Her frequent
glances my way, checking that I was seeing what she was doing,
reassured me she was doing it only to wind me up. But as I felt the
flicker of jealousy mixing with forceful arousal to make me feel
quite quesy at watching her playing up her femininity and flaunting
it for the other men, my mental reassurance couldn't quite dislodge
the powerful biological reaction I felt seeing her flirting with
others.

By the time the bar started to thin out as
executives dashed off to change, Zoey was accepting business cards
as though she were running a prize draw.

I eventually dragged her away reminding her
that she was presenting one of the industry awards during the small
ceremony after dinner.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" she asked me as we
headed up in the elevator to our floor.

"Certainly was," there was a faint quiver of
anxiety in my voice. I do hate being late, and this was a black tie
dinner we were heading towards.

"Lot of hot guys at this conference." She
grinned at me, knowing the effect she was having on me. "You think
I should find someone to join us later?"

I laughed, acting as though I thought she
were joking - though after what she'd done with Brandon that night
back in Philly, and not forgetting the way she'd loaned me out to
our CEO as a bizarre bribe to win her approval, I knew I could
never entirely discount the idea that she was going to do something
wild and terrible.

In answer to her question, I said: "I think
these guys know too much about who we are and who employs us."

"You're telling me what to do?" she pouted,
but there was a smile buried under her pout, from the knowledge she
was getting to me.

Up on the 12th floor, we navigated the maze
of hallways and found our room once again. Naturally, the company
had booked two rooms for the event, but we weren't going to use one
of them.

Zoey's teasing seemed to overflow into her
changing for dinner - as I quickly stripped off and hopped into the
shower for a quick rinse, she was running at a leisurely pace, and
when I came out of the bathroom ready to pull on my shirt and tux,
expecting her to slip into the shower after me, I found that she
was still in her clothes from the conference.

"We'd better hurry," I said, looking at my
watch.

Zoey gave me a look of mild surprise - but
then I saw her eyebrow twitch, as though she had some mischievous
plan that was just about to be set in action.

"You're telling me what to do, Jones?" her
accusation had a playful tone, but I was suddenly unsure where she
was going with this.

Was she really going to turn up late to the
dinner, just to play our personal games?

"No, Ma'am," I said, compliant.

She looked me over, taking her time before
removing the white shirt from my grasp.

"On the bed," she said.

Well, who was I to question my boss? If we
were late, we were late. My heart started beating a quicker pulse
as I sat on the bed, then pulled myself over to lie where she
directed me, on my back.

While I'd been in the bathroom, she'd been
looking through her suitcase, and lying there on the bed, I now saw
her produce a length of quarter-inch rope as if by magic. This did
not look like something that was going to be completed within the
20 minutes we now had before the official start of the dinner.

"Arms up," she said, stepping around to the
head of the bed, and I noticed that our bed was suitably designed
for the rope to be looped around so that my wrists might be firmly
shackled in place.

Zoey was proficient in her rope work, making
me wonder if some workshop or other at a teenage summer camp had
been perverted into useful skills for kinky sex.

"Very good, Jones," she said as she moved
onto my ankles, my cock swaying a little as I lay there watching
her, uncertain as to my immediate fate. "You know, I've never
really had someone I could really practice this on?"

"You're not practiced?" I asked her, surprise
robbing me of a deferential tone.

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have to
imagine me as some kind of timid virgin, Jones."

"No, Ma'am."

"Good," she said, finishing up her final knot
before standing to admire her handiwork - and my naked, exposed
self. "I think I'll take a shower, now."

I should have known, of course, that she'd
want to fool around a little now she had me so firmly bound in
place. I lay there, comfortable enough, listening to the sound of
the water stream, the pitter-patter as Zoey's body came between the
flow and the tiled shower floor, and I figured at least I wasn't
uncomfortable. She'd tied me so the ropes didn't cut into my arms
or legs. Let her have her little moment of fun making me wait.

I was patient, I didn't complain.

Then the water stopped, and I waited with
bated breath for her to emerge from the bathroom. Naked, in
underwear, whatever - I just wanted her, wanted her to return to me
and reward my patience with her body.

Still, I waited.

Then at last, she emerged - and I was a
little shocked to see her all perfectly presented for a formal
dinner - little black cocktail dress over smart black hose or
stockings, immaculate make-up complete with elegant crimson
lipstick, long hair tied back in a severe but sexy ponytail, and
black stiletto-heeled shoes that could have killed a man had she
trampled on him.

My breath was forcibly removed from my
chest.

"So, you've probably realized you're not
going to make it to the dinner, Jones," she said, walking slowly up
to me beside the bed.