Submitting to Her

by Max Sebastian

  Eventually, while she still slept, I was up and slipping on my old shirt and pants, then my shoes, without bothering with socks or underwear. Taking care I had the room key with me, I headed out of the room and down to the hotel's front desk, to ask discretely for a late check-out for myself and Zoey.

  Another hour or two of contented slumber next to her, and it was past noon when she finally stirred.

  "What time is it? We have to check out," she murmured sleepily, rolling over onto her back.

  "We're okay. I asked for a late check-out."

  A broad smile grew across her pretty face. "Clever boy," she purred, "I think that might deserve a reward."

  My heart leapt. Something else did, too.

  "But first," she said, "I think I need a little service, don't you?"

  Lying there on the bed, she peeled back the bed sheet to reveal her stunning body, in all its naked glory.

  "Yes, Ma'am," I said, dutifully moving between her legs to kiss my way along her parting thighs towards her exquisite tender pinkness.

  "Good boy."

  Her skin bore the scent of soap along with the overall aroma of her fragrance, making me recall her late-night shower, and specifically the reason she had taken it. Had I really watched as another man did those things to her?

  "Oh, quit with the teasing, Jones," she moaned, "just lick my pussy, will you?"

  A little quiver of excitement shot down my spine at her demand for me to do the very thing I most craved. Is there anything hotter than a woman asking her guy to get down there? I gently held her upper thighs and parted her legs further, then I was kissing up along her outer pussy lips, breathing in the first earthy traces of her arousal as they broke through the soap-and-perfume veneer.

  Oh, how sexy to be between the thighs of such a beautiful woman, running my tongue gently along her slick groove, sucking her tender petals inside my mouth, nibbling on her folds as she began to get really wet, lapping up her sweet juices like a confirmed addict. Tending to my own need as well as her own.

  "Oh, Jones…that's it… oh, God..."

  But this time, as I marveled at her beauty and the sensual extravaganza as I worshipped her pretty pussy, I also had the dizzying thought running through my head that another man's cock had defiled her the previous night, stretching apart these delicate velvet folds to force its way inside.

  The thought caused a sharp shard of pain to slice into my heart. Yet for some reason it also thrilled me, though I wasn't sure why.

  Perhaps I was a masochist. Perhaps it was just the exhilaration of really feeling something, after what seemed like years of a mediocre existence. Perhaps it was the lingering knowledge that while she had used another man as a sex toy, it had taken my presence for her to come. Having me watching her - that had taken her to heaven and back, not Brandon's performance.

  Whatever it was causing it, for some reason the excruciating pain of betrayal and rejection and jealousy somehow made me hard as a rock as I feasted on the succulent sex of my goddess.

  "Like that, like that, just like that... oh don't stop, don't you dare!"

  She came, of course. That may seem like bragging, but after so much intense connection with her, I was becoming an expert in getting her off, knowing exactly how best to draw out the perfect crescendo with a little flick of my tongue at the right time, the right force as I sucked her clit, the precise location when I slipped my fingers inside her to hit her magic button.

  "Oh, Jones… oh, Jones…"

  Gasping and bucking and groaning and screwing up her face as she shuddered around me, her pussy flooding with her tangy nectar.

  Brandon had never made her come like that. He'd never made her come at all, not until she'd had me watching.

  "You definitely deserve your reward after that," she said breathlessly, eyeing my powerfully erect cock, and the fact she was looking at my hardness with lust in her eyes only made it throb all the more forcefully.

  But then she added: "Oh, but we have to get going, don't we? We can't waste the whole day in a hotel room."

  Silently, I groaned.

  "Maybe if you're a good boy and you help me take a shower, we'll have a moment or two for your reward."

  My heart swelled.

  I dutifully followed her through into her room for the shower, my insides buzzing with the thought of what might happen, my granite-like cock straining for release.

  "Get in and turn the water on," she ordered. "I don't want to join you until it's a nice temperature."

  I did as I was told, and making as if to step to the side of the shower to avoid the ice-cold water when first turning on the flow, I saw her shake her head firmly, no. I took a deep breath, and stood, as she wanted me to, directly under the showerhead.

  The chill was a shock to the system as I turned the handle and the water coursed all over me. I could see it amuse Zoey for a moment, before she hid her smile. I didn't mind - the heat kicked into the stream quite quickly, and to take my mind off it, I had the sight of a beautiful naked brunette standing in front of me.

  "It's up to temperature," I announced once the water felt comfortably warm.

  "Okay," she said, and now stepped into the little shower booth, embracing me under the warm water, pressing my hard cock up against the smooth skin of her belly. "Not bad, Jones," she said. "So, are you going to clean me up?"

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  Her skin felt so wonderfully smooth and slippery as I applied her coconut-scented body wash, and scrubbed her body with my hands, making the most of the opportunity to touch almost every inch of her sweet curves, from her perky breasts to her round behind, including plenty of careful time lathering her up between her legs.

  When I crouched to ensure her legs were washed, she laughed and pulled my face against her pussy. Kind of challenging, licking her there while the water coursed all down her body, but she didn't allow me much time before ordering me up again.

  "Don't you want your reward, Jones?" she said, her voice softer than usual.

  "Yes, Ms Schoenberg."

  She put her hands on my cheeks and kissed me, and I was completely taken aback at the sweetness of our connection.

  She hadn't had anything to eat, she didn't have any flavored lipstick on or anything like that - how could her lips be so sugary like that? I suspected that my senses were overloaded - because she was so dazzlingly pretty, and her kiss so tender and soft, she was swamping my senses.

  My cock was throbbing as it brushed against her stomach now, straining at the leash as she gently sucked on my lips and teased me with her tongue, her hands trailing down my bare chest.

  When she broke away, I felt a pang of fear inside, that her kiss was, once again, what she meant for my reward, and only her kiss. But her hand now reached my hardness, and her fingers wrapped around my shaft, and as she looked at me, she bit her lip.

  "Jones, you're magnificent, you know that?" she said, pumping it gently now, exploring my entire length. I felt such a buzz from her complement. "Time for that reward, huh?"

  "Thank you, Ma'am," I said, and she smiled at me before dropping into a crouch herself, to use her cheeks to caress my cock, rubbing my obscenely swollen organ all over her pretty face before slipping it in between her lips.

  "Oh God..." I moaned as she grabbed the base of my hardness with one hand, and sucked the end deep into her mouth.

  As she now bobbed her head on my cock, her other hand gripped my butt for leverage. Her heat and the contact with her wet mouth and tongue was sensational.

  But then as I began to feel myself nearing the end, the powerful forces she was coaxing out of my whole body threatening to make me explode, she suddenly stopped.

  "Did you enjoy your reward, Jones?" she asked, standing up.

  "Yes, Ms Schoenberg," I said, forcing myself to stifle a groan.

  "We'd better get on the road," she said. "I told my friends I'd go out for drinks with them tonight, and we've still got a two-hour journey to get home."

  Chapter
Fifteen

  Zoey slept almost the entire journey home, but while I was positively quivering with sexual need as I drove, after she'd declined to allow me full release in our shower as I'd hoped, I was at least happy she'd shown me the kind of personal attention she had that morning.

  I felt so fortunate. Merely lying there next to me in the car, she had a powerful effect on me. She was so beautiful, she filled the air of the vehicle interior with her fragrant perfume. All the way back to the city, I considered how thrilling it was to be with her, compared to any other woman. I thought about how it was to serve her, I dwelled on the few but exquisite kisses she had bestowed upon me.

  But I also harbored the simmering fear that what happened with Brandon might not be a one-off. For all the thrill I'd experienced, I wasn't sure I could stand up to that kind of intense mix of emotions again.

  Zoey awoke in time to help direct me back down to the end of I-83, past the downtown area then left up East Baltimore Street toward her apartment.

  "It's been a good few days, Jones," she said as I dutifully carried her suitcase inside the little brick house on the end of the street.

  "Yes, Ma'am, it has."

  "Now, you're going to be a good boy this weekend, aren't you?"

  "Yes, Ma'am, of course."

  I carried her case upstairs to her bedroom.

  "And you know what being a good boy means?" she said as I came back downstairs.

  "No touching."

  "Good boy," she patted me on the behind. I only groaned quietly in frustration. "Maybe I'll allow you a little release soon if you keep it up."

  *

  When I finally returned to the small apartment I shared with two other guys, in an apartment complex just outside the beltway in the northern suburbs by Lutherville, I pretty much collapsed as soon as I was inside the door. In fact, the rest of the weekend I entered a kind of hibernation state - my body shutting down after such an intense few days.

  I had supper on the Sunday with Robin - who'd cooked a mass of steaming-hot pasta, and as he often did, offered me some when he saw I was in for the evening. A plate full of carbs was just what I needed.

  "How's it going with that babe from work?" he asked me while doling out spoonfuls of creamy carbonara.

  I was startled a moment, before remembering smatterings of our conversation from the nightclub bar. I said: "I don't know. It's complicated."

  "Show me a girl who's not," he said, "and I'll tell you she's a dude in a wig."

  We slumped down in front of the TV, and I could tell he wanted more from me than just 'it's complicated'. I sighed, knowing it was probably good to talk. "I think I've forgotten how to date people. You know, more than one night stands."

  "So it's serious, then?" His eyes seemed to light up. I'd never known Robin to be such one for gossip.

  "I'm not sure. I mean… we're dating, I guess. I guess I really like her…"

  Robin chuckled, "Who is this mysterious girl, and what's she done with the real Aiden Jones?"

  Again, I felt the need to ask Robin his thoughts on my situation, but how the hell could I tell him what went on, and leave myself with any shred of dignity?

  I said: "We're dating… I guess… but I guess she's still dating this other guy at the moment, as well."

  Robin nodded sagely. He said: "People do that, you know? You have been out of the dating game a while. I guess you've been dating her, what, a few weeks?"

  "I don't know. Something like that."

  "That's like a lifetime to you, my man," he leaned over and patted my shoulders. "Welcome back to reality - it's still early days. Your urban female - they like to date you a while, maybe see other guys, keep their options open. Then if you're still going a while, you can talk about exclusivity."

  I nodded. It was early days, sure. But most girls wouldn't subject their dates to watching their other dates pound them into submission right in front of them.

  I was just a mass of confusion. Somehow, underneath the layer of fear and pain, there had been something deeply thrilling about seeing my Zoey engaging in such depraved coupling with that brute. I couldn't explain it, even to myself. Seeing her take such pleasure in having me watching her have sex. Knowing that a large part of her orgasm came from having me watching her.

  "It's complicated," Robin said. "Dating's complicated - period."

  "Why d'you think I stuck to one night stands so long?" I said.

  "But you're sleeping with her? Going all the way?"

  "Well no, I guess not quite all the way."

  He nodded. "A full Clinton, though, certainly," and I thought he had some kind of insight before remembering I'd lied to him that night in the club bar, saying she'd given me a blow job at work. "So I guess if she's dating someone else at the same time, you have to assume she's treating you equally…"

  "Maybe," I said, hoping he wasn't going to somehow read my mind and see images there of Brandon shoving his fat cock into the object of my affection right in front of me.

  "Well, I guess you don't want to speculate to that level of detail. But some people don't see that as sex nowadays - again, blame Clinton." Robin shrugged. "I think when you do get a home run, you guys need to have that little chat about exclusivity."

  I nodded, but knew full well that in this relationship, it wasn't really up to me.

  Somehow, a dark part of me found that little idea a little exciting - though I still had no idea why.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When I slept, I dreamed of Zoey Schoenberg, bossing me around, stepping on me, ordering me to serve her. It was no wonder I awoke on Monday morning to find that I'd had yet another incident. Well, it was some kind of release - and it did comply with my no touching rule.

  Nevertheless, it did worry me as I arrived nice and early at the office that morning. One of these days, she'd decide to grant my dearest wish of full sexual release, and she'd know full well there wasn't as much come inside me as there should have been.

  Yet there seemed to be no opportunity for me to tell her what was happening in my sleep.

  During the day at the office, I was able to ignore my concerns for the most part, and business continued as well as it had done since my new strategy for success had kicked in. There was plenty to keep me occupied managing the team. Then at the end of the afternoon, as I was already beginning to get hopeful again that I might be given the opportunity to serve my boss sexually once more, I received a short but devastating email from her.

  It said only: "Present yourself in my office at 5:30pm to explain why you have failed to carry out your instructions."

  My heart sank like a torpedoed submarine, and I think I must have audibly sighed, since my colleague Scott said: "Everything okay, dude?"

  I sighed again, trying to portray casual annoyance this time, although inside my chest there was something of a nuclear meltdown going on. I said: "Yeah, I just realized I forgot to include a couple things in the RJS presentation."

  "Ah well, it went pretty well from the sounds of it," he said, buying my line.

  "Yeah, it did."

  "You seem to be a pretty good team with Zoey these days."

  I smiled, hoping desperately that I wasn't blushing like an idiot. I said: "I guess you could say I've had my eyes opened to her effectiveness as a leader."

  I was dreading our meeting a little before I went in. What had I done wrong? I really had no idea. Was it possible she'd found out about my wet dream? How? I hadn't told a soul.

  The thing was, if she wanted to punish me, she now had the inside track on how to do so in such a way as to really hurt me. I couldn't see her bringing Brandon into the office on a weekday evening, but there was renewed recognition within me of Zoey's real power.

  Waiting to go in there, I had the suspicion that our head of department had a quiet desire to punish me anyway, regardless of whether she had genuine cause to complain. Maybe she'd make an assumption that I'd touched myself at some point. I'd find it hard to lie to her if she asked me.


  *

  At last came the appointed time. Everybody else had left for the evening other than the cleaning woman. I nervously stood outside Zoey's door and knocked.

  "Come!"

  My heart was racing and my stomach full of butterflies as I entered her office.

  "Ah, Jones. Close the door behind you."

  She was sitting at her desk, apparently working on some paperwork as I slipped inside and closed the door behind me, then took a few paces towards the desk, to stand demurely at attention.

  For a few moments, she ignored me, and the tension within me just continued to build.

  Then she said: "What were your instructions, Jones?"

  "Not to touch myself during the weekend."

  She breathed once, twice, then shook her head. "No. Not those - I assumed you complied with those instructions."

  "I did," I insisted, adding: "Ma'am."

  She scowled at me. "And now talking when I haven't asked you to? Oh dear, Jones. No, the instructions I'm referring to were your requirement to ensure I'm compensated each day for the stress you inflicted. Correct?"

  "Correct, Ms Schoenberg."

  My head spun as I tried to figure out what she meant. Surely I'd been attentive? I gasped as I realized what, perhaps, she was getting at.

  "And so what happened yesterday?"

  Sunday. She'd never enforced Sundays before.

  "I... I don't know, Ms Schoenberg," I stammered. "I forgot... it was Sunday..."

  She shook her head gently. I tried to appear calm, though inside my chest my nuclear meltdown response team was scurrying about with no real idea how to contain the catastrophe currently laying waste to my internal organs.

  I half wondered if Brandon really was going to show up, drop by the office to see his ex. Or maybe we'd go back to her apartment, and he'd be there. That idea, strangely, was a little exciting to me, not just horrifying. I was a mess, but it turned out that getting to watch Zoey Schoenberg being pleasured, no matter who was doing it, was a scintillating notion.