Even before she ordered me abruptly to strip, I was tingling all over and my cock was straining in my pants - hoping desperately that this night would see Zoey allowing me the honor of going all the way with her. I'd done seriously well to control myself, but it was getting faintly ridiculous.
Once naked, standing almost to attention as my boss wandered around me, inspecting my body, my manhood quietly bobbed in the chill of the air-conditioned air, like a racehorse straining to get out of the starting gates.
She enjoyed teasing me, stepping slowly around me, occasionally touching me, feeling out my muscles and my ass as though I was some bull about to be auctioned, leaning in to inhale the scent from my skin. She even playfully patted my rigid cock a few times.
"Lie on the bed, Jones," she ordered. "On your back."
I did as she asked, hoping she was going to ride me, wondering if the rock-hard nature of my cock might entice her to take our connection to the next level.
Craning my head to look at her, I watched as she whipped off her skirt - then gasped as I saw that she wasn't wearing panties. Had she been that way all day in the office? Wow. My colleagues would have gone nuts if they'd had any inkling. Framed by the garters holding up her stockings, her pussy was positively mouthwatering with her little patch of dark hair accenting her startling exposure.
She removed her jacket, slinging it over a chair, and then as she unfastened the buttons on her shirt, she slowly revealed the wicked black lace and crimson satin of a beautiful and luxurious corset.
It took my breath away. My God - what a thing to wear all day at work, hidden until now. Zoey might not have the largest breasts in the world - and wouldn't have suited them - but the corset she wore enhanced her curves, pushed up her cleavage and emphasized her glorious femininity. The fishnets gave her an added touch of the burlesque, all adding up to the kind of vampy look that screamed sexual power.
She was stunning, she was extraordinary, she was my goddess and I was desperate to worship her.
"You like?" she asked me, though she could no doubt tell from my expression what kind of an effect her outfit was having on me.
"You look amazing."
She beamed at me. "It makes me feel so powerful. Given me a buzz all day knowing this was here, and that I'd get to show you."
She laughed, adding: "Almost gave in to temptation in the lunch break."
She approached the bed, and crawled slowly up my body like some kind of panther on the hunt, slinking up towards my head, a devilish seductress come to take my soul. The feel of her fishnets brushing my skin as she moved up to straddle my chest invoked ripples of arousal all through my body - what an incredible creature I had before me, so close I could smell her intoxicating scent.
I pushed up my hips to her as the intense heat of her body pressed to mine, as though trying to tempt her to use my manhood, to put me out of my misery. She wasn't having any of it - she continued moving up my body, giving me her heat but nothing more, though as she neared, I at least had a stunning view.
Leaning over me, I thought she aimed to simply tease me by pushing the ample globes of her breasts in my face, feeding my lust with a burst of a jasmine-accent perfume. But that wasn't her intent - she continued moving, reaching for the white cotton curtain trailing down the nearest column, then trailing the material around my wrist.
I couldn't help but offer a wide-eyed look of surprise at this, but I certainly didn't object. She gave me a mischievous smile, her eyes hinting that she had plans for me. Then she stretched the other way, binding my other wrist similarly with the curtain - leaving me with some movement, but not sufficient to achieve anything.
Wrists suitably tied, now she lifted off my body, and tended to my ankles - shackling me with the other set of curtains at the foot of the bed, so that I was splayed out like Prometheus on his rock, ready to face my own torment.
"How does that feel?" she asked me.
"Good," I said. "Comfortable."
"But you can't move."
"No."
"Excellent. You're just an object for me to use, Jones."
I waited for her, not quite able to see what she was up to, unable to quite conceal the tremble in my body. What were her plans for me, now I was completely vulnerable to her every desire?
I felt her climb back onto the bed, and then straddle me again, this time facing away from me, hovering over my hips.
The searing heat of her pussy touched down on my waiting shaft, and I very nearly lost control.
"Mmm… that feels good…" she said, teasing me. "I bet this would feel so good inside me…"
Somehow, I managed to hold on.
Then she was edging back, upwards towards my head, moving slowly and rubbing her warm, smooth body over my own. The sensation of skin on skin was so incredible, so erotic even without the touching of erogenous zones.
She edged back a little more, offering me a superlative view of her firm behind, her hands reaching back to knead her flesh, teasing me a little further before it was time to give into her own desires and ease her pussy into place over my face.
"Oh God… that's what I need…"
Tongue flicking out to press into her burning hot flesh, I tasted her, even as my heavy breathing was saturated with the dark scent of her arousal. She allowed me just to lick her, to nibble on her pussy lips and delve the tip of my tongue into the tight confines of her womanhood to seek out her succulent flavor. I could feel her fooling around with my erection - not actually trying to give me sexual release, but using my cock as a plaything to turn herself on further.
Her want became stronger, so that she took more and more of an active role, pushing back to press herself on my mouth, using me for her own ends. Her moaning drove me wild.
I couldn't help but think, as I struggled a little for air while keeping my tongue available for her to rub against, how wonderful it was to truly appreciate a beautiful woman in this way. I also felt what an enormous wasted opportunity it had been that I'd never really had the chance to do this before Zoey - considering all the women I'd been with in the past decade.
Sure, my past encounters had never appeared to disappoint the women I'd been with - but how many of those orgasms had been real? I wondered if I'd achieved it at all until Zoey had come along.
"Oh, that's it, Aiden, just there… suck me, suck my pussy…"
But really, until Zoey started using me for her own ends like this, I honestly hadn't known what was possible. She'd opened my eyes. It wasn't just knowing this was physically possible, it was knowing that this was something she wanted, and it wasn't going against etiquette or protocol to feast on her like this.
I think guys developing their sexual ability take a lot of leads from their female partners - who else do they have to learn from? The women I'd had to learn from had been so eager to please me first and foremost, they hadn't bothered to show me how to please them.
"Oh you make me so wet…"
Zoey had come along and blown my world. She made me feel like a beginner, even at the age of 30. I had so much to learn - and yet just knowing that I had so much to learn seemed like an important first step, challenging the enshrined belief that I was experienced in the ways of sex, that I'd done it all and knew it all.
Suddenly I felt my cock enveloped by the most irresistible heat, the soft texture of her mouth closing around my sensitive, throbbing flesh.
Oh God - I was going to lose it.
Her hands gripped around my shaft as she began sucking me, her tongue swirling around the ridge of my helmet. Her whole body rocked as she bobbed her head down on me, in time with the grinding of her pussy on my face. I kept up my oral assault on her slippery groove, but my mental focus was on toning down my own arousal, keeping myself under control. She had not given me consent to orgasm yet - and I so badly wanted to show her I was strong.
I knew I would feel better to get my much-delayed release, but I was actually grateful when she finally let up and climbed off me. I wanted this t
o continue.
"Oh God that was amazing," she said as she dismounted, breathless, flushed, exhilarated. I couldn't say whether she'd had an orgasm or not - that last stretch, my mind had been so focused on preventing myself exploding in her mouth.
"I love the taste of your pre-come," she whispered before pulling herself up to kiss my mouth, her lips hungrily sucking on mine, her tongue delving inside my mouth, tasting a little salty, I realized, from my own emissions.
Bound by that confining corset, her fulsome breasts brushed against my chest as she kissed me, the lacework a little scratchy but so sexy, the mere texture on my skin, so unlike the textures I was used to, stoking my fires again. I was just too turned on to object to tasting my own pre-come in her mouth - besides, my mouth was lined with her own flavor, and she didn't seem to object to that. I guess there was something sexy about our emissions blending like that, where they shouldn't.
Now she straddled me again, and this time she brought her pussy up to my face from the front, where she could watch me eating her as she rode my mouth. I was provided the most scintillating view up her body, from her beautiful mound framed by fishnets and suspenders, up her extravagant corset and her shapely cleavage to the hot flush that pervaded her pretty face.
She wiggled her hips playfully once she'd satisfied her itch once more, but wasn't going to fuck my face for long, sliding instead back down my body for another sensual kiss of the mouth, her thighs locking around my waist, her chest crushing mine, her firm rear poised just far enough away to keep my manhood from venturing too close to her exposed sex.
"You don't mind that I'm completely addicted to your oral skills, do you, Jones?" she asked in between kissing me.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," I said honestly.
"It's your fault I'm so hooked - but I will give you your own release one of these days, I promise."
She edged back, sitting up to grasp the straining column rising from my loins, positioning it between her thighs where she could use it to her own ends - while keeping me from mine.
"Oh God, I love tying you up," she said, rocking her hips to graze her clit against my rigid shaft. "But we are going to have to buy some rope, Jones. Do it properly."
It seemed so decadent checking out of our hotel after only a few hours. Zoe left me to pay, waltzing out of the building leaving everyone in the lobby under the impression I'd just slept with a high-class call girl.
I kept my eyes well away from any accusatory stares, though I caught a blush on the face of the receptionist who checked me out. What could I do? I could hardly make a declaration that she was my boss, not my whore. That I hadn't even come the whole time we were up there.
I was sweating with need as I drove home that night, trying to keep the carnal thoughts out of my head. Eventually I was able to calm down, though I wondered just how long my personal resolve would last.
*
I became Zoey's frequent chauffeur, and while I still did my duty regularly within her office, often she'd have me take her home instead, where she could use me to her heart's content without threat of interruption, and then send me packing.
Tuesdays and Thursdays, I'd usually take her to the gym, even acting as her personal trainer. It meant I'd be acting dominantly with her - something to which she seemed strangely responsive. I, on the other hand, after years of dominating my sexual partners, now felt actively uncomfortable ordering her around, feeling more of an urge to kneel before her than lord it over her.
Still, I enjoyed seeing her in her skintight gym clothes, and when she worked up a sweat, she was always keen to head back home afterward for a slow, sensual massage.
Friday night came to be a kind of date night. It meant I missed my regular night out with the guys, but I was so obsessed with my new relationship that it seemed far too easy to cast aside my age-old tradition.
One particular Friday, Zoey was out of town for the day, meeting with a law firm in Alexandria, leaving me wondering all afternoon whether I would get to see her that evening. I'd sent her a couple of texts and an email subtly asking her plans for the weekend, and heard nothing in return. Five o'clock turned up, and my colleagues began to leave, and still I'd had nothing from her.
Six o'clock came around, finding me completely alone in the office again, the distant sound of vacuum cleaners ramming home the depressing message that I should just wrap it up, head home.
But as I pulled on my jacket ready to head down to my car, I heard the quiet ring of the elevator arriving on our floor. My heart skipped a few beats. Scooting over to lean out into the aisle, I could just about see all the way down there as the elevator doors opened. The sight of the FedEx guy made my heart sink.
"Aiden Jones?" He called, spotting me lurking there like an idiot.
"That's me," I yelled back.
He handed me a small box, and by the time I'd got the packing tape out of the way, he'd already left the building. Those delivery guys have big routes to get around.
I hadn't been expecting anything - certainly hadn't been expecting what I received. A pair of little black lace panties and a movie ticket.
What a nice way to be invited out to the pictures. The ticket gave me enough information to track down the right theater, and I arrived just as the lights were fading for the showing - spotting a smiling Zoey Schoenberg towards the back, nicely distant from anyone else.
"Hey," I said quietly as I took off my jacket and found my seat.
"You got my message, then?" she grinned.
"I guess so. I think you dropped something when you were FedExing me the ticket," I retrieved her panties, dangled them in front of her.
"Thought you might need some incentive," she shrugged, then lifted her feet up onto the top of the seat in front. In the silver-blue light from the movie screen, I could see that she hadn't bothered to replace the underwear she'd sent over to me by FedEx Express.
The rows were spacious for a movie theater, but I'm not entirely sure how I managed to wedge myself in position. I had the motivation to find a way, and as it turned out, feasting on the delicious brunette through the first two acts made it quite the most memorable movie experience I'd ever had. Zoey seemed to enjoy it too.
*
I did pretty well on the whole, focusing on Zoey's needs, dispensing with my own. Our relationship certainly wasn't nearly as extreme as some of the dominant-submissive arrangements out there, which seemed to suit both of us down to the ground.
Zoey mostly referred to it as a female-led relationship, rather than dominance and submission. She teased me, she surprised me, she denied me release until I started having the first wet dreams I'd had since being a young teenager. But there was no out-and-out humiliation, no actual bodily harm, no real pain.
I got the impression she hadn't really done this before me. I was fine about that, I was more than happy for her to learn on me. But she told me once that she wasn't a dominatrix, she didn't want to be. She liked telling me what to do, liked having me at her beck and call, but she wasn't going to set up some kind of Red Room or dungeon full of scary medieval implements. She wasn't going to degrade me and turn me into a sniveling slave - she wanted to impose her will on a man, not a mouse. She took pride in my achievements at work, encouraged me to excel. And the way she rewarded me was the best motivation a worker could ever have.
I think if she'd wanted any of that, I could have accommodated her demands. But she didn't want to hurt me, didn't want to debase me, didn't want to mock me - despite the hardship I'd put her through for all of six months after her promotion.
Outside the protections of our privacy, she treated me as just another colleague, though now she had me firmly under her thumb in the hierarchy. What we had together remained secret, for us to enjoy - though there were the occasional risks, not least the continuing use of her office after hours.
It turned out I was particularly talented at controlling myself and sticking to the rules, if I had her pleasure to focus on. I found my own pleasure in w
itnessing her beauty and contentment, indulging in it, and the overwhelming bliss I experienced from making her smile, making her moan, making her come.
Zoey's mood varied, naturally enough - sometimes she felt like being strict, plenty of times she'd reward me for my dedication by relaxing the rules, allowing us to spend time in "Ordinary Mode", almost like normal boyfriend and girlfriend. Plenty of times she just didn't have the energy to be overly dominant, allowing me free reign to pleasure her and soothe her aches and pains as I saw fit. I took pride in learning how to please her, and while her strength was thrilling when she imposed it, those tender periods were sweet and heavenly respites from the pressures of our working week.
And then we went to Philadelphia, and the cozy stability we'd settled into was suddenly thrown into sharp disarray as a figure from her past appeared.
* * *
2. PLEASURE AND PAIN
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
- William Wordsworth, Perfect Woman
* * *
Chapter Ten
In our business, we're away from the office quite frequently, pursuing key clients, attending industry events at which to raise the profiles of our publications and attract new advertisers. On those occasions when Zoey was taken out of town for a few days on end, or when I flew off to another part of the country to tie up my own deal or appear at another tiresome seminar, I had time to consider just what was happening to me.
I wasn't quite prepared for how much it hurt to be apart from her for significant lengths of time, however. It had been something of a Damascene conversion as I discovered the real purpose that surrendering to Zoey's intense and irresistible authority gave to my life. Yet when we were apart for more than a day or so, it really started to become obvious the kind of emptiness I felt without her around.
Submitting to Her Page 8