It wasn't exactly easy to breathe, but I just about coped, doing my best to allow her as much contact as possible with my mouth and tongue, as she now gripped onto my wrists and wiggled her hips, her pussy now so warmed up and so firmly wedged against me that it only took small motions to give her the sensations she desired.
She leaned back, and I could see how hard her nipples were, jutting out from her heaving chest as she gasped for oxygen.
Her moisture was everywhere, so that I wondered if a person could possibly drown like this. The thought made me smile a little as I continued doing my best to please her - was drowning in a beautiful woman's come like this a tragedy, or a glorious way out of this world?
Her pace on my face accelerated, and again there was very little I could actively do as she drove herself towards her end - I was merely a passenger in this ride.
When she came I felt her whole body tremble, energy rippling through her as her writhing faded over and around my face, consuming her totally as she cried out at the glorious gratification of her needs.
*
There was probably some kind of payback underpinning the fact that once satisfied, Zoey simply curled up and drifted off to sleep.
I was in two minds again - part of me was deeply contented at the fact that I could make this girl come to the point at which she simply didn't have the energy to stay awake. But the other part, which was strongly connected to my increasingly blue balls, was feeling a little aggrieved.
I think that latter part of me was even plotting all-out revolution.
In mitigation, I was a pulsating mass of lust-fueled energy, and so many days of enforced restriction while simultaneously having the dripping pussy of a delicious female constantly smothering my face did put me in something of a precarious position.
Now she was lying there naked before me, such a beautiful sight and with my cock so hard between my legs. I couldn't help but touch it. I knew she had forbidden me, knew that she had threatened me with some kind of punishment, but I was so far gone that just a couple of touches, and suddenly I was losing control, feeling that twinge as the point of no return was reached, and my hot seed was on its way, come what may.
In the split second that I felt myself losing it, I suddenly freaked out that I was going to spray it all over her as she slept, perhaps waking her from her contented slumber to discover my transgression. So I panicked and reached for her neon pink panties, the nearest things available to offer an alternative receptacle.
It felt so dirty coming into her underwear, but the sheer relief from unloading was tremendous.
Only when I was done, my heart rate subsiding once again, I heard Zoey say: "Oh, we're going to have to punish you for that, aren't we, Jones?"
Chapter Eleven
The pitch to RJS went well the next day, though I'd had difficulty sleeping that night, and even during the day's proceedings I felt a constant sense of anxiety, which I could not deny came from my fears about how my exquisite vice president was planning to punish me for the previous evening's transgression.
We came away confident that we had done everything possible to win the account, particularly in the light of the shortened preparation time.
A few of the folks from RJS invited us out for drinks at the end of the day in a little bar on Chestnut Street, which was pleasant enough, but they were all a little older than us, and as it turned out all had families waiting for them, which meant they weren't going to stay out too long.
Zoey had the idea of calling up a few old college friends of hers who now lived in the area. Her calls did not bring results other than one single guy, whose name was Brandon.
I thought he was okay until Zoey revealed they were together back in college, in fact for quite a while. That raised the hackles on the back of my neck. I was able to contain myself, however, concealing my feelings.
"Hey Zo, you remember Billy Keefe?"
"Sure - he was a linebacker, right? Asked you to loan me out to him one time, I seem to remember."
"God, he was an idiot. But you know, I saw him last month at a conference in San Diego - he was asking how you were doing."
Brandon was a big meat-head of a guy, a football player in college, he was a tall, blond Beach Boys type and still powerfully built following the end of his athletic career, with Zoey flirtatiously noting he was still something of a "tight end".
"You know I would never have dated you if you'd gone out with Sheila first."
"Only hit on her to get you fired up."
"You're a bad man, Bran."
The two of them still had a definite chemistry that kept on poking a knife-point into my chest throughout an otherwise pleasant meal. Though Brandon was certainly not the sharpest knife in the drawer, he did have an easy manner and charm that I could see warmed Zoey, although I was mildly surprised that she seemed to tone down the intellectual nature of her conversation around him. Their easy familiarity made me feel threatened, but I was able to calm myself a little by imagining that if they had once had something, they must have explored it far enough back then - there was no need for them to rekindle it.
I didn't really mind Brandon as a person, though I minded his easy flirtation with Zoey and the way she was so warm to him, and in comparison cold to me that evening, referring to me only as a work colleague to her former flame, her approach only seeming to confirm in his mind that she was still available to him, and I was no barrier.
What was she doing? Was she punishing me? Was this punishment for the previous night's transgression, or for the six months of hell I'd put her through after her promotion? Certainly the constant pang of guilt I felt for what I'd done made me feel I deserved something.
Towards the end of the evening, it all stepped up a notch or two.
*
Brandon had just got up to head for the restroom, leaving me alone with Zoey, when she said: "It's time for you to go back to the hotel, Jones."
"Yes, Ms Schoenberg," I said, instantly compliant in the hope that strict obedience would somehow encourage her to end my punishment.
"You'll excuse yourself when Brandon comes back," she said, "and you'll go back to your room on your own."
"Yes, Ma’am."
"You won't close the door between our rooms, you'll open it fully - and you won't turn on a single light in your room. You are to wait in there, and not make a sound, no matter what, understood?"
"Yes, Ma’am."
"And as you receive your punishment, you are not allowed to make a sound, enter my room, or otherwise make yourself known until I tell you. Right?"
"Right, Ma’am."
I felt dread filling my chest at her suggestion that my punishment was yet to come. It stirred up not just butterflies in my stomach, but a nest of vipers, writhing and spitting and biting throughout my frame.
Surely she wasn't thinking of punishing me in the way I suddenly feared?
I was genuinely frightened. Ever since that fateful Friday, I had bowed to Zoey's every command - but though it had been a little frustrating to have her take control of my orgasms, there had been arousal in that as well. This evening I felt seriously vulnerable, seriously exposed. Was I only able to handle giving up control to my beautiful boss if she did things that met with my approval?
What if real control meant she did things I did not want? Could I have it both ways?
Our arrangement so far had been mild - I knew that. Ever since she'd curtailed my orgasms, I'd stopped venturing online to find pictures of naked women, and it had left plenty of time to fill with research that had included a casual investigation of this whole dominant female thing. My research revealed people whose whole lives revolved around a deep submission to their dominatrix lover, including all kinds of degrading and humiliating behavior. What Zoey had with me was soft by comparison - femdom lite, I'd seen some people labeling it. Female-led relationships. But as with all kinks in human sexuality, it could develop in various different directions. What was Zoey's taste in a dominant-submissive
relationship?
Was all this about to get a whole lot darker?
I felt panic gripping my throat. Should I plead with her? Tell her I loved her? She would think me ridiculous. She would lose what little respect she had for me. We'd been together no time at all - we weren't even publicly out as a couple. She could walk away from me, and nobody would know we'd even had a thing.
I felt so fragile.
Brandon returned from the restroom, and I had no choice but to comply with my orders, though every cell in my body was crying out about the dangers of leaving Zoey alone with her college sweetheart.
"Well, I guess today just about wiped me out," I said, trying to sound relaxed and natural. I wasn't bad as an actor, as it turned out.
"Hey, from what you guys say, it was all worth it, though, huh?" Brandon said, the big slice of ham.
"I think so." I reached for my jacket, "but I'm going to have to get some sleep so I can get the follow-up strategy into gear soon as we get back into the office tomorrow."
"Fair enough," was all Zoey had to say, offering me a smile that concealed her own involvement in my decision to depart.
"Well, hey, man," said Brandon, standing up as I did, to shake my hand across the table as though we'd just played a worthy game of football against each other. "It was sure great to meet you."
"You too," I said, smiling myself. He was like a big Labrador, or perhaps a golden retriever considering his complexion. You couldn't hate him - it wasn't his fault my vice president was using him as a pawn in her power games.
One last look passed between Zoey and myself before I made a swift exit. I think I must have looked rather pitiful, as though making a final appeal to a merciless one-woman jury, while her eyes harbored a darkness that suggested I was in for a rough night - and fully deserving of everything I got.
In that one cruel glance, I could see that this was about more than simply my transgression the previous night. This was payback for everything I'd put her through.
Though it chilled my heart more than ever, I had no way to complain. I could have walked out of there - our presentation was done, after all. We didn't need to be in Philadelphia another night. But leaving now would be a sure-fire end to our relationship, and I couldn't handle that.
I returned to our hotel rooms, and did exactly as I had been told, though I felt so nervous and nauseous I very nearly had to throw up my recent meal. As instructed, I opened the door between our two hotel rooms wide, then extinguished the lights.
Then, I sat on my bed for a long, agonizing wait.
Chapter Twelve
Alone in the dark, I waited for two hours.
I had no idea when she might be coming back to her room, when I would be released, but I had my instructions and I did not want her to surprise me by returning quietly to find me watching TV or lying sleeping in bed fully visible from next door.
During that long wait, I had so much time to think, to contemplate my failures as a human being and think about what might have been, if only I'd been a nicer person during the first six months of her promotion, not giving in to my baser jealousy at being overlooked for promotion. Would she have ended up starting this relationship with me?
I even I wondered if our whole relationship, ever since that first Friday afternoon licking her boots in her office, had been one big long set-up, all leading up to this point where she could take real pleasure in twisting the knife in between my shoulder blades.
The only brightness I could muster was that this was some way of her dealing with our past, so our relationship could be placed on some kind of even keel, upon which we could build something more meaningful than just her crush and my fear of losing my job.
Or maybe I was reading too much into this. Maybe it was just a little teasing, a little psychological punishment. Make me jealous by spending a little more time out with her old flame, while I stewed back here in the hotel waiting for her.
But if it was just punishment, when would this punishment end? How far would she push it? In my research about the whole dominant female thing, I'd read of some truly frightening possibilities. Zoey hadn't appeared to be cruel before, but that last look we'd shared before I left for the hotel had sent shockwaves down by spine.
Perhaps she'd simply return home alone, laughing at the jealousy that had oozed out of my every pore. But I had to concede she did have some legitimate revenge issues to work through.
In the darkness, I also thought about how I felt about her - but did she feel the same way about me?
God, I felt like an angst-ridden teenager again.
I kept coming back to that amazing kiss of hers. While permission to go down on such a beautiful woman was wonderfully intimate and thrilling, it was her tender moments that really got to me. When she was in the mood to adore me as much as I adored her, rewarding me with a taste of near-equality, it made me think this was all real.
I tried to think positive thoughts through that long wait, but knowing how badly I'd treated her in the past, I knew I deserved something awful in return.
After such a long wait, when I heard the door unlock in the room next door, I think I came close to suffering a heart attack.
*
As I'd most feared, it was the two of them returning to Zoey's room that night. She had, as I had increasingly expected, brought the big blond Californian back with her, and I got the sense that I was not going to be in for any kind of easy let-off.
I heard their voices, and now suddenly found myself dreading the very worst.
Was she expecting me to stay here? Or was she assuming I'd see them arrive together, and either shut the door between our rooms or simply vacate the hotel altogether, her betrayal confirmed. I knew that closing the door would only lead to more punishment if I decided to stick with this relationship - and for all the poison that now raced around my veins, I did still crave Zoey like an addict craves his drug.
What surprised me as I watched them enter the room was the strange note of curiosity I now felt - a dark compulsion to see what happened, how far Zoey intended to take this. I had an almost scientific need to see what kind of pain she intended to dole out, now she'd decided to inflict it on me. I was like one of those people that slows to check out the scene of a car accident.
I suspect that shock had somehow numbed me to the horror, the adrenalin making me immune to the awful anguish.
I sat feeling like an explorer preparing to take on the Antarctic - I wanted to see what my body could take, what I could suffer before it all got too much. Hopefully I'd conquer it, I'd reach the South Pole, I'd come out the other side stronger, more ready than ever to be the partner worthy of Ms Zoey Schoenberg.
Maybe I'd come out the other side a wreck of a man - but it would be no less than I deserved.
"No, it's just another room," I heard Zoey say, no doubt in response to a question from her Tight End about the open door. "They only had suites available, you know? Since the company's paying..."
Were they going over towards the bed? I wondered if there was a place I could be from where I could watch without being detected. It would no doubt hurt more to see what was going on, but the force of my curiosity was irresistible.
I lodged myself in the shadows by the side of my bed, from which I could see in through the open door all the way to the side of Zoey's bed. I was pondering how not so long ago I had been lying on that mattress, satisfying her with my face wedged firmly between her thighs.
Now, that handsome idiot Brandon launched himself on to the bed, lying back against the headboard with a look of clear expectation.
Was it just me, or had someone sucked all the oxygen out of my room?
I could understand that Zoey might still have the hots for her old college boyfriend - he was quite a specimen, almost statuesque in his athletic masculinity. He lay there, back against the pillows now, not even bothering to remove his shoes. Even so, surely she'd get to a point where she'd decide I'd had punishment enough.
"...just a co-wor
ker..."
I could hear only traces of their voices, and it was mainly her voice I could hear from where I was, the whisper of the air conditioning masking the full details of their conversation. Brandon in particular was hard to distinguish because of the lower pitch of his voice.
"…God you look amazing, Zo…"
"…not so bad yourself…"
Zoey now hopped up on the bed and straddled him, wearing nothing but her little black skirt and little black top. She pulled herself up to kneel over his lap, her hands sliding over his shoulders as she ducked down to kiss his mouth.
I gasped. Brandon's hands moved gently to the back of her head as she kissed him with real affection. That caused me real hurt.
"...so good, so hard..."
They seemed great together - so natural, though it pained me seriously to accept it. Brandon stroked her hair out of her face, and Zoey now caressed the back of his head, pulling him up to her as they became passionate. I merely pouted in the darkness, wandering what Brandon had done to deserve the reward she was giving him.
Those little shoulder straps slipped aside, and her black top now slid down her stomach to reveal her bare breasts - no bra - so perky with nipples so dreadfully stiff.
He was turning her on. She loved it. Did she now hate me? Was I nothing to her?
Zoey was rocking gently back and forth, no doubt stirring her hot little pussy against Brandon's hideously hard cock, although he was still wearing his jeans. He sat up, hands holding her narrow waist as he clamped his lips over one of Zoey's hard nipples.
"...like that? You... more?..."
His hands slipped down to her butt now, pushing up her skirt to reveal smooth cheeks and a scandalously scanty black thong, almost a G-string. He had big hands, which now spread over her butt, coaxing her firm flesh, until she stopped him by forcing the removal of his shirt.
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