Submitting to Her

by Max Sebastian

  The next day, again, proceeded as normal. To keep myself going, motivated for the usual day in the sales room, I had to tell myself something was going to happen that evening after work. Only once did a colleague - Brooks - ask me if everything was all right, suggesting I seemed a little preoccupied as Zoey exited her office to head up for a meeting upstairs.

  "Oh you know - trying to get my head around this Fitzroy proposal," I said, citing one of my clients I knew he knew nothing about.

  "You're slipping boss," he laughed.

  "Must be getting old," I said, then added: "But not as old as you, of course, Brookie."

  Joking around a little diverted attention from my own inner turmoil, and I managed to hold on sufficiently to keep it all to myself. I felt so strange, and it was an unusual feeling for me. I'd never before been involved in a relationship more complicated than a sales pitch - and my relationships had all invariably ended the morning after my sales pitch, so I hadn't even had to manage a customer account as far as the opposite sex was concerned. Now, suddenly, I was hooked on a particular girl and completely unprepared for dealing with it.

  How on Earth was I supposed to manage this particular account?

  At 4:30 that afternoon, I received an email from Zoey asking me to attend her office at 5pm to update her on the team's activities. God - the moment I saw that email pop up in my in-box, my heart started racing. I naturally dwelled on her brief instruction, my insides warmed by hope, my eyes meandering between the few words she'd written, trying to ascertain if there was subtext in there, subtext indicating she wanted me physically.

  Shortly before the appointed hour, I saw Zoey return to her office, greeting Finnegan briefly on her way in, followed by a brief conversation in response to his polite question as to how she was doing.

  At 5pm, I noticed to my horror that five other members of our team were entering Zoey's office - the senior salesmen. I followed them in, and took a seat on one of the chairs she had assembled in front of her desk, thinking it a cruel trick.

  "Okay, we're getting back on track," Zoey said to the six of us. "Why don't you update us on where everybody is, Aiden?"

  She turned to me. I'd reacted to hearing her use my first name, rather than the surname she'd used while dominating me on that fateful Friday afternoon. Did she see disappointment in my face?

  I hadn't prepared anything to say for this meeting, not imagining it would actually turn out to be a proper sales update. I could see the others were a little annoyed this should be taking place at 5pm, when they should have been on the way home. Well, I'd have to wing it.

  "Of course," I said to our precocious head of department. It wasn't so bad. I had a good idea what everyone was working on, what progress they'd made recently, and what our deadlines were. I had a positive message to recount - I had been a good lieutenant to our previous head of department, and in six months we hadn't slipped so much that I hadn't been able to pull things back towards a more promising direction within a few days.

  Once I was done, Zoey asked the others a few things, mostly trivial matters, and then asked me more questions about what was coming up for the rest of the month.

  At the end, it was half past five, and I could tell the others were itching to get out of there. Our vice president said she was pleased our team had begun to get back to a good operational environment, and stated her intention to hold weekly update meetings at this time to go over everything. There was a quiet groan at that from my sales colleagues, but our boss let it go. I remembered her previous attempts at weekly meetings with some amusement - the number of people that had failed to turn up, even managing a few worthwhile excuses, which had prompted the concept to die a death.

  This time, I got the feeling our meetings would be very successful going forward - I'd make it so, if Zoey's new confidence faded.

  At last, she dismissed everyone from the room.

  "Oh... Aiden, would you stay behind, please? I want you to take me through some of the Villier numbers before you go home."

  "Sure," I said.

  That analytical part of my brain was whirring into action again, assessing her use of my first name. She'd been acting completely normal around me when our co-workers were present, and that was clearly a good thing. I think my co-workers would have been a little baffled to hear her start referring to me by my surname.

  Yet as my colleagues now streamed out of the room with the clear intention of getting the hell away from this building as quickly as they could, I found myself hoping desperately that once the door closed leaving only the two of us there, Zoey would start using my surname again.

  "That went well, didn't it, Jones?"

  Her voice had changed, as soon as we were alone. I felt a burning in my chest and a tingle in my loins.

  "Yes, Ms Schoenberg. Very successful."

  "And we'll have more successful meetings each week from now on, won't we? Really improve the communication channels."

  "Yes, Ms Schoenberg."

  Slowly, she rose from her chair, and walked around to the door, which she once again locked, managing to do it so quietly I couldn't even hear the mechanism.

  "I appreciate what you've been doing, Jones," she said quite casually. "I've told the CEO that things are getting back on track, and she's pleased as well."

  Zoey stepped in front of me, and leaned back on the edge of her desk, an incredible picture in her crisp white shirt and dark thigh-length skirt, black nylon stockings and calf-covering black leather boots.

  A couple of the buttons of her shirt were undone, allowing me a tiny glimpse of black and red lace underneath her shirt, which by itself seemed to raise my temperature a degree or two. I didn't remember those being unfastened during the meeting. I think I would have noticed.

  "I think rewards are in order, don't you, Jones?" she asked.

  "Yes, Ms Schoenberg," I said, still feeling faintly ridiculous addressing a girl so much younger than me as though she were my teacher, though my craving for my new boss transcended any mild humiliation.

  "But that's only your primary directive you've taken care of," she said. "I think you've rather failed in your secondary directive since you went home on Friday."

  I couldn't help but gasp at this. What did she mean, failed? I'd done everything she'd asked of me in the office - the team was working at maximum efficiency. Was she changing the rules? And was this apparent failure of mine going to prevent my reward?

  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.

  Chapter Seven

  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, nerv
ous, 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.