Looking back, I think I always had that sense of being incomplete, and my earlier efforts to bed as many shiny but vacantly pneumatic blondes as I could lay my hands on had been a way of distracting myself from that emptiness.
Thinking about my sexual history, I realize that all the real high points along the way had been when women I'd been with had displayed little glimpses of the kind of power that Zoey lived every moment she was with me.
It had started with the loss of my virginity at the end of high school in the sunny corner of a Pennsylvania cornfield, when Sally Donovan had grown tired of me kissing her and nothing else. After a stern talking to from my father in the Baptist-inspired name of sex education, I had been under the impression that if a guy attempted intercourse with a girl before their wedding day, it would be deemed a sexual assault, with the guy ending up in jail. Sally had told me to quit stalling and lie back so she could get a condom on me, and then she'd straddled me without so much as another word. At the time, I think I was so overwhelmed by the loss of my cherry and the life-transformation that represented that I completely missed the underlying thrill of being ordered to lie back and allow Sally to make use of my equipment for her own ends.
There had been Eliza Reeves in first year of college, the first girl who had ever worn proper lingerie for me, and the first and only girl prior to Zoey who had ever actively asked me to go down on her. God, how hot had she been? She hadn't the prettiest girl in the world, but so sexy and curvaceous in stockings and suspenders and all that lace, showing off the kind of outfits that couldn't be anything other than clothes specially picked out for sex.
Helena, a redhead I met in my first real job, selling classified ads for a newspaper before that whole part of the industry was shut down by Craigslist. She'd had the dirtiest mouth of any woman I'd ever met, and while she had never dominated me, her running commentary whenever we screwed had made me harder than any girl before, and told me exactly what kind of things got her going, which had ultimately served to ensure she came at the end as well as I did.
I even recalled a one night stand with a girl called Rita that happened at some point when I was 26 or 27, because that particular night we didn't have a condom, and she hadn't been in the mood to go down on me. I'd spent that night tonguing the alphabet over her clit until she'd rolled over and gone to sleep. The experience had been memorable, although at the time I'd been seriously disappointed not to go the distance with her.
Perhaps I had now re-engineered my memory in the light of my new-found obsession, but the fact was those few encounters had certainly lodged in my head out rather than the countless others had simply faded into the ether. If I'd only recognized at the time what was going on, and why it had been so hot.
When I thought about it, I'd been waiting for Zoey all my life.
Where did it all go wrong? I suppose as I matured, moved away from home and found the confidence to actively pursue the opposite sex, like many men I took the line of least resistance - going for the girls who literally threw themselves at me. Hey, if they were pretty, why wouldn't I go for them?
Only, with almost all of them the fires of desire were quickly quelled. Even though the sex might be distracting for the first night or so, it quickly became routine, even with a string of different women.
Looking back, it's easy to get depressed that there was nearly a decade of my life that was essentially wasted as I never got to truly appreciate the women I had been with. Sure, now I can see how selfish I was at the time, but until Zoey came along there was really nothing to help steer me in the right direction - the vast majority of those girls did not want to show me how to satisfy them properly. Maybe they didn't know how, either.
But it doesn't help anyone to have regrets. At least I discovered my tastes eventually - some people live a lifetime without finding out.
I'd heard about the whole dominatrix thing back in college, of course - I wasn't a complete innocent. Like many people, I thought domination and submission was all about freaky whips and chains, medieval torture equipment and so on, all pain and horrific debasing humiliation. I didn't see that there could be different shades of power within a relationship, that there might be a particular level of female authority that would hit the sweet spot for me.
And sweet it definitely turned out to be - to have a sexy, empowered female become my own personal goddess.
Our own relationship did not always maintain the same power balance, either. It's worth noting that sometimes Zoey would be in more of a mood for equality, or decided to reward me with a little time off from the sterner side of her authority. She could be incredibly soft and almost demure at times, sweet like candy, playful, flirty. Other times she'd be strong and put me firmly in my place.
The denial of orgasm was strangely important to our fledgling relationship - it was a long, long time where she did not allow me release. It wasn't always easy for me, though I feel it was a help in keeping me motivated to tend to Zoey as she deserved.
In fact, the way in which Zoey controlled my access to her made our relationship seem strangely like the first times I'd been with a woman - uncertain as to what I'd be allowed, constantly hopeful she'd let me take the next step, and always finding that the biggest reward of all was Zoey's happiness.
Yet just as I was getting used to this new form of relationship, it became clear that Zoey herself was yet to discover her own sweet spot in the whole spectrum of the power balance.
I was about to discover just how dangerous it could be if the balance shifted completely out of my comfort zone.
*
Zoey emailed just before lunch one day, calling me into her office. She said RJS had suddenly pushed everything forwards a week, and that we were to give a full presentation of our proposal first thing the following morning.
Philadelphia wasn't far, but instead of driving up there at the butt crack of dawn, my boss wanted us to go that afternoon, staying overnight in a hotel so we were completely fresh when meeting with the execs from the software firm.
I was instructed to polish up our proposal ready for the presentation - a fair amount of work, actually, since I usually left the final push on a pitch until the last few days so that I was fully immersed in the details when I gave the presentation.
"You have two hours to put everything together - the PowerPoint, the handouts, and so on. I know you're extremely familiar with the client. Once you're done, we'll drive up there - is that clear?"
"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."
"If you're on time, then you'll be rewarded. A minute late, and you will not. Understood?"
"Yes, Ma’am."
I felt a little giddy, actually, at her use of the word "reward", not to mention the plan for us to stay overnight in a hotel. Would we have one room or two? The company would no doubt book two, for the sake of appearances if nothing else.
She dismissed me, and I scurried out of her office, the next couple of hours becoming perhaps one of the most intensive work periods of my career thus far, as I essentially postponed the team's lunch break to set all hands on deck.
We were done, with the best possible proposal we could muster in such a short period, with five minutes to spare.
"Excellent," Zoey said, not bothering to examine the goods, simply standing up to usher me out of the office.
She thanked those members of our team who had not yet rushed off to get their late lunch as we ventured through the office towards the elevators. I wondered if any of the other members of staff might have a clue at what was happening between Zoey Schoenberg and myself.
In the car I began to brief Zoey on the final RJS proposal and its context even as I was still driving out of the parking lot - detailing the market in which it operated, and the various elements of our proposal to promote their brand in our portfolio of magazines.
The briefing continued as we passed the beltway and, off and on, all the way up the I-95. I was careful not to speak unless she asked me a question, respecting the rule when the two of u
s were alone together, but those questions kept coming, even as we headed through Delaware, past Wilmington and then on towards the South Philadelphia suburbs and into the heart of the city.
My final points were made as we stepped out in the little courtyard in front of the Sheraton down by the end of North 2nd St, checked in, and rode the elevator to find our rooms. As I had suspected, we had two separate rooms, but as we came to our adjoining doors, she wasn't simply going to invite me to share her room - I would be based in my own space.
"Excellent, Jones," she said regarding my briefing as she opened the door to her room. "I think you've earned your reward."
"Thank you, Ma’am." I was shaking. God, I needed release.
"We'll open the door connecting our rooms, and then I want you to take a shower and come to my room. You won't need any clothes. Got that?"
"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."
Keeping calm was no easy matter when I felt like I had some kind of amphetamines flowing through my veins. We unlocked the doors to open up our two rooms, and then yours truly took the quickest shower ever.
Then, I dutifully arrived in Zoey Schoenberg's hotel room, naked as the day I was born.
*
Zoey was lying curled up on the bed waiting for me as I ventured inside her suite. She was wearing nothing but a pair of uncharacteristically bright neon pink panties and a matching bra, along with a hungry-looking expression, her glasses sitting on the bedside table. She was breathtaking - every curve presented in such a way as to drive a man crazy.
"I'm going to be nice to you, Jones," she said, her voice softer than usual, making me wonder if she wasn't in the mood for a little 'Ordinary Mode' loving. "I appreciate the work you've put in for this presentation."
"Thank you Ma’am."
"Come here," she ordered me.
I walked forward, my cock appearing to grow harder with every step, influenced no doubt by her near-nudity, that little bra and panty set, which seemed somehow too girly for her new dominant persona, making me suspect she had elements to her character I was yet to fathom.
She patted the bed next to her, and I climbed on board, crawling my way up to my appointed position.
"Lie down, on your back, so I can get a good look at you," she said.
I did as she asked, and she began to stroke my chest, then my whole body, checking out the firmness of my muscles, the texture of my skin, and finally a most attentive examination of my hard cock. Prodding me and poking me as though performing a medical.
"You have a nice cock, Jones," she said. "I think it's one of my favorites."
"Thank you, Ma’am."
She lay between my legs, and caught me quite by surprise by ducking down to slip the tip of my cock inside her mouth as she gripped it firmly by the base.
I groaned long and hard at the intense heat that enveloped my swollen helmet. She sank down on my shaft, and after so long with zero activity, I worried I was going to erupt in her mouth any minute.
By no small miracle I held it together until she withdrew.
"You'd better not come until I tell you, Jones."
"No, Ma’am."
She flicked her long brown hair out of her face, and sank down on my cock once again, her lips stretching around my shaft, her hand squeezing the base while she alternately sucked, licked and bobbed up and down on my hardness, the heat and wetness of her mouth holding the very real threat of taking me over the edge, risking me failing to comply with her order.
"Feel good?" she asked, her lips smacking as she briefly withdrew from me.
I could only groan, and she smiled broadly at my inability to express myself beyond a caveman noise. Pumping me, licking me, shaking her silky cocoa hair over my skin as she sucked the end of my swollen manhood, I wondered if she wasn't trying to set me off, doing her best to make me break her rule. I had to try to hold on, though - she had not consented to my release.
I'd been insanely good at sticking to her rules so far in our relationship - I suddenly wondered, was she disappointed I wasn't giving her more opportunities to punish me?
Somehow I held on, and now she lifted herself up on all fours, and I sat up to meet her kiss, placing my hands gently around her head to suck on those sweet lips, sharing a short but affectionate kiss.
"Back to work, Jones," she said softly, playfully, sitting up in my lap and slipping one strap of her bra over her shoulder, her expression clearly indicating what she wanted.
I slipped the other strap down, to reveal her beautiful breasts, so prominent, so begging to be sucked. I took one of her stiff pink nipples into my mouth, breathing in the scent of her perfume and her skin as I swirled my tongue around over her soft flesh.
"Oh, that's nice," she moaned softly, reaching behind herself to remove the neon pink bra completely, allowing me to kiss all the way around her breasts, the top of her stomach and tease those hard little nipples with my hot mouth.
But she stopped me, pushed me back on the bed, and between my legs now managed to slip off her panties, leaving her breathtakingly naked.
"You know, Jones, I used to have a crush on you?" she said, kneeling up again, as I pushed myself up to kiss her stomach, my hands reaching around to caress her bare behind.
"No, I didn't, Ma’am."
She pushed me firmly down again, placing her hands firmly on my upper chest as she now straddled my stomach, and then continued to move up my body, placing her left knee beside my head, her right foot beside my bicep so that her exquisite pussy now arrived over my mouth. It was already glistening with her juices, and I could detect the musk of her arousal before she even touched down onto my eager lips.
"I did everything I could to get you to notice me," she said. "But you were so dedicated, so professional - you completely ignored me."
I trailed my tongue through her slippery folds, tasting her wonderful tangy juices, and she began to stir her hips as I lapped at her tender lips.
"I thought I was too young for you - but guys don't normally mind that too much, do they?" she said, and I could see she was massaging her breasts as I sucked her clit into my mouth.
"Funny how things turn out, huh?" she asked.
"Yes, Ma’am," I said, before I was stifled by her pressing down on my face a little harder, grinding her pussy against my mouth.
She said: "I was always going to be promoted to head of department, you know. That's what they hired me for."
Well, that explained a few things. By now, I didn't even care she'd gotten the promotion instead of me - I felt thankful things had turned out the way they had.
"They're putting a number of us fast-track graduates across the company at the moment, to improve the overall gender balance. It shakes things up and offers long-term prospects of stability at the firm - and female readers are increasingly important to our company."
With one hand I caressed her pert behind as she writhed over me, grazing her wet sex over my mouth and nose, but with the other I subtly stroked my cock, perhaps something I wasn't allowed to do, though she wasn't stopping me.
She moaned loudly, then said: "You know, it really hurt that you didn't support me when I was promoted." She put one hand over my ear now, and stroked the side of my head a little, before her grip tightened, and she was pulling my face firmly into her pussy, her rocking on my mouth accelerating.
"It's funny how the threat of losing your job was all it took to get your attention," she said, becoming increasingly breathless now, but releasing my head from her grip, as she now lifted herself up.
I was a little confused - why was she bringing all this up now? But I was too wound up to ask her if everything was okay between us.
Zoey turned around, looking behind and down on me as she now presented her pussy again, though this time from the other direction. Now I was enveloped in her smooth, firm flesh, as she wedged my face between her buttocks, pressing herself down again to begin rocking her wet pussy against my mouth.
There was a kind of edge to her treatment of me just
then - a new hardness, almost brutality. She was venting long-held frustrations. I could feel her hands supporting herself on my stomach as she forced her body down on my head, her hips beginning a gyrating movement, rendering it difficult for me to do much other than open my mouth and push out my tongue to allow her to use me as she saw fit.
I could hear her panting, moaning, but then she leaned down, her fingers encircling my cock as her chest came into full contact with mine. Now it was my turn to groan as I felt her take my hardness back inside her mouth. I slipped my arms around her hips, so that I could hold her buttocks, pulling her beautifully round cheeks apart to offer me more air and better access to her pussy now that she lay against me.
Zoey slowed the motion of her hips to a standstill as she now focused a little on my cock, allowing me to take charge for a while, kissing her pussy, sucking her clit, pushing my tongue as far as it would go inside her.
This was the ultimate for me: being able to indulge completely in her delicious pussy while at the same time having this pretty brunette sucking my cock deep inside her mouth, her velvet breasts pushing against my lower stomach.
I was a hair's breadth away from losing control when she let go of my cock, and resumed pushing back against my face, taking charge and rubbing her pussy over my whole face, from chin to mouth to nose to forehead and back, and I got the feeling she was reveling in the sense of power she had, to shove her sex so obscenely into the face of the man she'd had a crush on only to have her attentions spurned.
And while I was now safe from coming, it was clear what was on the way for Zoey, although she now turned again, flipping over so that she could now look down upon my face as she pressed her pussy down over my mouth, my nose wedging against her clit.
Sitting on me with knees either side and just in front of my head, her feet pressing in against my shoulders and upper arms, she squeezed her thighs together now, locking me in a vice-tight hold that was like some kind of filthy wrestling position, my head almost completely enveloped in her sweltering flesh.
Submitting to Her Page 9