Submitting to Her (7 page)

She must have read the confusion in my face,
since she now explained: "When we spoke last week, we agreed on a
strategy, didn't we?"

"Yes, Ma’am."

"It had two directives - firstly, you do
exactly as I tell you, and manage your team as if you were head of
the department yourself. Well, you've been performing that
directive well enough so far, haven't you?"

"Yes, Ma’am."

"But we also agreed on a second directive,
didn't we? You compensate me for the stress you've put me under for
the past six months. You haven't been doing that so far this week,
have you?"

"No, Ma’am," I said, feeling gutted that I
had apparently had the chance to be with her the previous days this
week, and had missed it.

"Why have you neglected your duties so much?"
she demanded.

"I thought I was supposed to wait until you
called for me to... compensate for your stress, Ms Schoenberg."

She looked down at me and gave a slight nod.
There was a glint in her eyes as she said: "We'll overlook your
failure this time. I can understand if there was a glitch in
communications. But it means you've got catching up to do."

"Yes, Ma’am," I said eagerly.

"In the future, you will ensure I'm fully
compensated every evening. You can wait until the rest of the team
has gone home, if you like. But I don't expect to go
unsatisfied."

"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."

I felt as though fireworks were exploding
inside my chest.

"Kneel on the floor."

I did as she commanded. Was she not going to
make me strip this time? She made me kiss her boots, all the way
from the tip of the toes to the top of the leather, which almost
reached her knees.

There was no particular pleasure for me,
other than to have her attention, and to be breathing in her scent,
which grew stronger the further up I kissed.

As I reached the top of the second boot, she
placed a finger on her knee, which I took as a direction to kiss
her where she indicated, on the slightly rough nylon of her
stockings.

"You seem like a natural at this, Jones," she
said, slowly trailing her finger up the inside of her thigh to show
me where to kiss.

"Thank you, Ma'am," I said, pressing my lips
to the dry fabric, feeling the heat from her leg as I went, her
fragrance becoming stronger as I proceeded up to the top of her
stockings, and delighted in the transition to the velvet softness
of her bare thigh. There was a trace of her own special scent now,
beyond her perfume. It was so wicked, so dark and thrilling.

"You don't actually seem to mind a little
female authority, do you?" she asked. "Even beyond your pathetic
need to hold onto your job."

"No, Ma'am."

She parted her legs further as I moved up her
thigh, her skirt riding up to reveal her little black and red lace
and satin panties. With the stockings and suspenders, the deep red
and black of her lingerie only added to the sense of power she had
over me. To my inexpert gaze, her underwear appeared expensive,
making me suspect she'd worn these specially, just for me. These
weren't the kind for just another day in the office. It made me
feel a little warm inside to think that she'd thought of me that
morning while dressing, true or not.

Her finger guided me up along the garter
holding up her stockings, my lips caressing her bare skin, loving
the heat and smoothness of her flesh, and then down along the edge
of her panties, where the aroma of her arousal saturated my every
breath.

She said: "I never would have taken you as
one who'd submit so easily to a woman."

"Only to you, Ms Schoenberg," I said, but
there were a few cogs whirring inside my head. If I didn't find her
attractive, would my attitude have been different? If she'd been
plain, would I have stooped to serve her in order to save my job?
Somehow, this wasn't all just because she was pretty - before that
Friday, my goddess had toned down her femininity in the name of
business, cut out the make-up and hidden behind dowdy clothes.
She'd been a wallflower, but then she'd taken the bull by the horns
and forced me to see the beauty and power within her. It was her
attitude that had pulled me to my senses, more so than her
beauty.

She'd forced opened my eyes to the thrilling
possibilities of submitting to a beautiful woman.

"Here, kiss me here."

I felt like a very, very lucky guy as Zoey
pointed to the top of her panties, and guided me to kiss slowly
down the triangular patch of lace and satin, over the irresistible
slopes of her mound, grazing my lips and nose over the luxurious
texture of the moist fabric as I slowly gave in to the temptation
to slip out my tongue and taste her.

She was unable to stifle a gasp as she felt
my tongue pressing into the thin material, pushing slightly into
her underlying pussy, my mouth opening to provide my own heat to
her sex. I moaned as I first tasted her glorious savory flavor
through her panties.

"You like that? You like how wet you make
me?" her voice was smooth, soft and sweet as honey, her words so
thrilling to me. "You enjoy the taste of a woman, Jones?"

She pulled herself back, her hands clamping
firmly to the edge of her desk either side of her so she could lift
herself gracefully up to sit on the desk itself, and open her
thighs even wider for me.

I slipped her panties to the side and began
kissing down her mound again, this time my lips brushing through
the soft little patch of brown hair, then gliding down over
smoldering hot velvet to the glistening pink petals of her open
flower.

"Oh my God, that feels so good…"

Zoey moaned, her normal soprano dipping into
the alto range as my lips tangled with hers, and I tasted her tangy
juices from the source, slipping my tongue out to glide inside her
succulent pussy.

"Oh, Jones…"

How is it that a woman in the throes of
passion can simply breathe heavily, and it sounds like the most
beautiful music? Languishing long licks over her tender lips, I
indulged in the sensual melody of her sexual response, playing her
like some exquisite instrument, teasing out phrases that
electrified the air with increasingly forceful caresses from my
tongue.

She stroked my hair and the back of my neck
as I lapped at her slick folds, which seemed more affectionate than
she'd been before. Was I melting the ice between us?

I took my time, sucking on her pussy lips,
teasing her clit, adoring her flavor and her scent, that deep
earthy musk blended with the very feminine perfume she wore. If
this was how she wanted me to compensate for all those weeks and
months of hell I put her through, it hardly seemed fair. But I was
in 100 percent.

"Oh Jesus, Jones, where did you learn to -
"

Another glorious moan cut off her question as
I focused my hot mouth on her clit, enveloping her little sensitive
button in the raw heat and wetness, massaging with my lips as I
slipped a finger inside her pussy.

Looking up, I could see her nipples visible
through both her bra and shirt, pressing up so stiff as she arched
her back.

"Oh just like that… just like that… don't…
ever… stop…"

She was whispering in between deep panting
breaths, but while her voice seemed to be giving out, the vigor
with which she pulled my face into her pussy only seemed to be
getting stronger.

Soon, I felt confident I was sensing the
imminent arrival of her orgasm, which appeared to make every move
and sound she made seem all the more urgent, desperate, and
certainly loud. Her moisture was everywhere over my face as she
started to rock her hips, her hand pulling me against her so that
she was truly fucking my face.

"Please… please… please…"

Then, at last, she was crying out and
shuddering all around me, and I could tell it was a powerful tidal
wave of energy that swept through her.

"Oh God... oh God... oh God..." she gasped,
her hand letting me go in order to help support her body and avoid
collapse.

Almost in time with her climax, I felt a
little ripple of contentment quiver through my own body, feeling
like a concert musician coming to the end of a great crescendo in
front of a highly appreciative audience.

As she succumbed, I gave her pause to
luxuriate in the sensations blossoming inside her, gently kissing
her outer labia, delighting in every moment I was allowed such
intimate contact with such a beautiful woman.

"Oh Jones..." she purred as she began to
recover her breath. "Gold star. I think this arrangement of ours is
going to be very acceptable going forward."

"Yes, Ma’am."

I tried to keep calm, but confirmation that
this was going to become a regular occurrence sparked an electric
charge that powered through me. How on Earth had I deserved such
treatment from our new head of department? It brought to mind that
line from Alexander Pope - to err is human, but to forgive is
divine. Zoey's forgiveness was beyond the divine.

"So," she said. "After that, I suppose we'd
better give you a reward."

"Yes, Ma’am."

She slipped down again onto the floor,
replacing her panties and smoothing down her skirt.

"Come here," she said.

And then she kissed me.

I know what you're thinking: I must have come
away from Zoey's office that night feeling a little hard done by.
All that effort to satisfy her, both work-wise and oral sex-wise,
and the reward I had been waiting almost a week to receive was
nothing more than a kiss.

But what a kiss it was.

I walked away from the building that night
through a darkened parking lot feeling as though there was some
kind of angelic choir following me around singing the Hallelujah
Chorus.

I'd kissed plenty of girls before, of course,
but this felt like my first time all over again.

Unexpected, nervous, exhilarating and so
unbelievably sweet. She'd leaned in to my face and caught me
completely by surprise, her hands slipping gently around my head to
hold me firmly in place as her soft lips touched against mine,
parted to allow her tongue to penetrate me.

It was so tender, so affectionate, spiced by
the traces of her sex that lingered in my mouth, starting out slow,
sucking gently on each others' lips, before the passion seemed to
grip us both, and our tongues were wrestling for control of our
conjoined mouths.

I was left breathless, gazing at her in awe
as we eventually parted, and she flashed her eyes at me with what I
suspected was surprise at the sheer chemistry between us.

"Did you enjoy your reward?" she asked at
last.

"It was… unbelievable..." I said, unable to
quite find the words to express what had just happened to me.

She nodded, and I could see that she was
trying to conceal her emotions, hide her reaction to our kiss,
maintain her frosty outward appearance. It only made me want to
make it more and more difficult for her to do so.

"Well," she said. "You'll find I can be very
rewarding if you continue to perform, Jones."

She straightened her clothing, re-fastening
the buttons on her shirt, and wandered back around to the other
side of her desk.

"Tomorrow I want you to prioritize work on
the RJS account," she said, startlingly businesslike all of a
sudden.

"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."

"And I want you to brief me on it at the end
of the day," she said. "We have a sales pitch to give next month,
and I want to be seriously well prepared."

"Of course." Oh be still my swollen cock.

"This is a high profile account - Ms
Jenkinson was asking after the details, so I want to know
everything there is to know about it."

"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."

She picked up her briefcase and I could see
that she was about to leave, though the promise of a meeting with
her at the end of tomorrow was enough to dispel the twinge of pain
at her ending our encounter just now.

She walked past the front of the desk and
stooped to pick something up from the door.

"Here," she said, dropping her damp thong in
my hands. "This time I'm giving them to you as a present. But you
will save yourself for me, won't you, Jones?"

"Yes, Ma’am," I said, feeling the stirrings
of rebellion between my thighs, which would have to be quelled by a
cold shower or hefty slug of scotch.

"I like thinking of you saving yourself for
me."

Then she was gone, and it wasn't until
afterward, when I was walking to the parking lot, that I realized I
didn't even mind that I hadn't been allowed an orgasm of my own.
That kiss had been so special.

I spent almost the whole of the next working
day putting together a briefing on our prospective client, RJS
Solutions. The promise of spending time with Zoey through this
pitch had me working on full throttle. I desperately wanted to
please her, I desperately hoped she would reward me in some
way.

As soon as 9am came along, I told the rest of
my team who were in the office that day to get on with their calls
and try not to bother me, so I could focus all my energy on RJS, a
communications software company based in Philadelphia, which we
were hoping would spend some money to flash their rebranded look
within the pages of our telecoms magazine.

At about 11am, Zoey walked out of her door
and without even a glance my way, headed away down towards the
elevators, dressed smartly for a meeting somewhere.

I felt my heart suddenly flutter, with a
sudden burst of anxiety that she would be gone the rest of the day,
that my appointed time to brief her about RJS might not happen.