Once again, jealousy flared up within me, a white-hot searing heat in my stomach.
But I couldn't help but find the idea exciting that my Zoey had been walking around in public with no panties on, flirting with guys who wanted her, even though she was mine.
She let out a peel of laughter, and I guess my cock must have responded to the dirty thoughts I was having.
"It turns you on, doesn't it?" she asked. "That I have the power to drive other men wild. And maybe I'll act on it, and maybe I won't."
"It terrifies me," I said, though with a little humor in my voice. "But you're so hot being in full control."
She licked the length of my shaft, then kissed my swollen tip. "Mmm… I love it when you give me a little pre-come," she purred. "It shows how horny you are."
She slipped me inside her hot mouth, sucking me ferociously as she began to move on my shaft. I watched with the strange thought running through my head of my Zoey sucking someone else, even imagining I was that someone else.
Had she completely broken my spirit? After what had happened with Brandon and Ms Jenkinson, was there any possibility Zoey and I would go back to a conventional relationship? A little part of me felt sad that we couldn't just settle down into a cozy long-term thing. But the rest of me was living on the fire that our relationship was built on, the hot but uncertain flames of Zoey's desires and my consent. The sex was like pure cocaine, there was no way I could stop now.
"Mmmm… I love your cock, sweetie," she said, then shot me a look that was pure fire. "I wonder if that other guy measures up."
I felt myself nearing completion, so I told her to stop. It felt strange giving her commands, but she could see in my face I was worried this would end too soon.
"You want another wish now?"
I nodded.
"You want me to untie you?"
"Not yet," I said, surprising myself even. My limbs were aching more than a little - but I was so excited to have wishes, I didn't want to waste them on something conventional like eliminating my bonds.
"What then?"
"I want to watch you touch yourself," I said.
"What?"
"I want to see how you do it - close up. I want you to make yourself come and show me."
"Oh." She blushed heavily. For someone who had ground herself against my face in a most intimate way on countless occasions, it was strange how the request to see her masturbate should be so awkward. It was such a personal activity, though, I supposed.
"You have to do it," I said. "You said."
"Really?"
"I want to see."
She glared at me, hinting that I was being a little demanding for a man tied up like a Christmas parcel.
Then she gave a slight nod, and as though protesting, began rolling around on me, turning onto her back, stretching out her limbs, then flipping over onto her stomach, her copious silky brown hair flowing all over her and me like peat-stained river water. Leather creaking, she trailed herself all over my body, dragged her soft skin and stiff corset and boots over my sensitive flesh, rolling around as though someone had just given her body for the first time, and she was trying it out, checking all her muscles.
I watched in awe, my taking in her extravagant beauty like an audience at the ballet.
She gave a final sigh, but then rolled off me, and hopped off the bed. "Okay," she said. "I'll show you."
Another visit to the bathroom, and when she returned her boots were gone - and she was carrying something long and lilac blue. A vibrator.
"You really want to see?" she asked me, but didn't need to wait to hear my answer.
She climbed onto me once again, sliding up towards my head until her exquisite pussy was mere inches away from my chin. Her lips were glistening from her arousal, bright and puffy from the blood rushing through, and her scent was deliciously strong.
She leaned forward to stroke my cheek for a moment, as though still debating whether she should show this to me. And then she began, initially with only her hands, slowly caressing herself, fingers flowing over and around her tender folds, showing a grace and confidence no man could ever achieve in touching a woman. Her fingers of one hand sank inside her, while her other hand drew ever-decreasing circles around her little button, pressing, nudging against it, drawing out the kind of moans that made her sound almost surprised, and perhaps she was a touch surprised by the force of the sensations as she played with herself for my viewing pleasure.
With every breath laced with her spice, I was tingling all over to watch her, but I could not move to force my mouth onto her succulent pussy.
She brought her toy up between her legs, starting it up so that it offered a low-pitch buzzing sound. It seemed like such an alien device, but so hot to watch her press it gently against the hood over her clit, running it slowly down her pussy lips, listening to her little moans and gasps, her heavy breathing as she lightly stirred her hips in response to the rhythm of her stimulation.
Most of her focus for the toy was around her clit, though she also slipped fingers inside her slippery pinkness, spreading her moisture and driving my hunger.
Despite the way she'd dominated me thus far in our relationship, I think it actually took her a little while to get comfortable with this, showing me this personal act of hers up so close. Yet even when she seemed to visibly relax into it, and though she was certainly making herself feel good, it seemed to me that lying on me like that, playing with herself even in so apparently expert a manner, she appeared to plateau, rather than rise towards the kind of climax a guy might expect from masturbation.
Maybe I was simply prejudiced about what masturbation was and what it was supposed to achieve.
"What's your final wish?"
"Come for me," I said, simply.
"That's your wish?" she was genuinely confused. "You don't want me to untie me, or fuck you?"
"I want you to come."
She eased forwards, and my heart started performing little cartwheels as I realized what she was doing. My tongue slipped out even before her hot flesh touched down on my mouth. As I lapped at her nectar, she continued to press her vibrator against her clit, and with all that stimulation it wasn't long before she was shivering and shaking and gasping over me.
Afterwards, she untied me anyway, but as I got up from the bed I was almost completely unable to move. The pain shot through me, telling me clearly it had been a bad idea to remain bound to the bed so long.
I laughed about it, and dismissed any concern from Zoey. I just needed a little time to warm things back up, to ease my muscles back into regular use, to coax my sinews back into a normal position.
She left me to it, but by the time I felt ready and back to a usual state, I looked up from where I'd been stretching on the floor to find her dressed in that same cocktail dress of hers.
"What - ?"
"I can't miss the whole of the dinner," she said simply. "Have to show my face, don't I?"
"I suppose - "
I was confused again.
"Maybe if you're a good boy and you stay in the room, I'll grant you three more wishes," she said.
"Yes Ma'am," I said, but my thoughts were already turning to the dangers that the older man waiting downstairs might pose.
She read my expression easily enough. Just before slipping out of the room, she said: "Jones, you have to accept I do as I wish - if I want to flirt with a smoldering older gentleman, that's what I'll do. But I will always come back to you - you know that, don't you?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I said.
Once the door had clicked shut, leaving me alone within my luxury cell, I thought how difficult it was to get exactly what you wanted out of life - there always had to be some downside or other. The bliss of having Zoey in total control was balanced by the risk that she would want something I didn't, that she would take decisions I would not want her to take.
Yet as I waited, I was beset by that confusing blend of feelings as I thought about my sexy brown-eyed girl flir
ting and teasing the guys downstairs.
When she eventually returned to me that night, she was horny as hell, and I was on a hair trigger. At last allowing me to penetrate her with my near-bursting erection, the climax I shared with her was down right explosive.
Chapter Twenty Five
When the annual technology exhibition descended on Atlantic City, it was too big an opportunity for promoting our IT titles not to send along our vice president, though I was extremely nervous at the proximity of the place to Philadelphia and the home of a certain former flame of Zoey Schoenberg.
It would have seemed strange for our company and our key tech industry clients not to have our VP there, so there was no question about her going to the event. But knowing the sway that Brandon still had over my beloved, I knew I had to be there with her as well.
Although she loved me, and I knew full well that she loved me, I couldn't deny that she still had an attachment to that buff blond. Though she hadn't actually transgressed since that night with Brandon, unless you counted Ms Jenkinson, she'd given me the idea that while she was committed emotionally to me, she saw sex with anyone else as purely a physical thing. I guess her boundaries were a little different to mine, but if I wanted to be with her, I had to compromise, and in our relationship the whole point was that she was in control.
I did see the sexy side to the idea of Zoey being such a sexual creature, making all other men tremble in her wake. Yet with Brandon, who apparently couldn't make her come when they were alone, I just caught the sense that there was a little more than a purely physical connection.
Going into Atlantic City, I felt the need to be there in some form, to remind her of the life she had with me.
I went with her, and lo and behold, there he was, approaching us at our exhibition stand with the invitation of a particular deal he thought Zoey would be interested in - but only if she dealt with him alone.
"Why the hell does he need you on his own?" I demanded to know. "Sounds pretty suspicious to me."
"It's just a contract he wants me to sign," she said. "What, are you refusing me permission to see him?"
She was pretty annoyed at my whole jealous lover act. I admit I played it wrong, I should have just dropped it. I antagonized the situation by making it so clear I didn't want her to see him. Though it didn't seem quite right to me that I should have no veto powers in this kind of situation, for now I knew I had to just deal with it.
And in this economy, she couldn't afford to turn down a contract for a worthwhile cause - I knew that.
*
That evening, we met Brandon in the hotel bar, and this time he seemed different to me - somehow more grown up. He was in business mode.
Our conversation seemed much more business-like too, as Brandon went through what it was he believed he could get us together with his client, and how we ought to proceed to maximize our chances of a deal the next day. Essentially, Brandon's marketing agency had part of a portfolio of contracts for a major blue chip company's campaign, and he believed he could tap a sizable part of our range of magazines in order to target their campaign to the particular business sectors we served.
Zoey was naturally enthused, and as we talked business, it was clearly in all of our interest that this thing work out, though ultimately Brandon could have taken the deal to other magazine publishers, of course.
The difference in Brandon was quite astounding as we dealt on a professional level, but I could only imagine he was trying particularly hard to impress Zoey.
She was responding to his flirting, that was for sure, and though she'd been at pains to stress on the way up from Baltimore that she needed to make him feel loyalty to her in order to get him firmly on their side for the next day, I was more than a little afraid under the surface.
I had to just let it go.
I got the strong impression she was going to have sex with him again, to seal the deal. There was little I could do about it. Zoey didn't give the impression she needed that to happen in order to get the contract, but she hinted that it was something she wanted in celebration of the success. I could only sigh and ensure from my body language that I wasn't entirely happy about the situation.
As the evening wound down, Brandon headed for the men's room, and before he went, I caught a little flash of his eyes that was intended only for Zoey's view.
Was he telling her to get rid of me? How dare he!
He scampered off, and with a definite edge to my voice, I said to Zoey: "You want me to get out of here, huh?"
She sighed, and said: "Look, if we get tonight out of the way, pull in the deal tomorrow, then we're out of here, right? We don't have to see him again."
"Until he decides to visit Maryland on a weekend, or finds another nice juicy deal for the company?"
Zoey's lips seemed to harden. She said coldly: "Jones, I can see you have some lessons to be learned. You don't talk to me like that."
"No Ma'am," I said demurely.
She said: "I've said before that I love you. That is not for questioning any longer, you understand? That is a firm fact."
"Yes, Ma'am," I said. My insides seemed to thaw a little at that.
"Now go upstairs and prepare my room so that everything is tidy for when I return with Brandon. And when we return, I want to see that door between our rooms open - but you may not enter the room under any circumstances. Understood?"
That hit me in the chest like a solid boot, knocking the wind out of me. Yet all I could say was: "Yes, Ma'am."
"You need to know the difference between sex and love, Jones."
"Yes, Ma'am," I said, but I felt her cruelty like a dagger through the heart.
*
I did as she told me, scurrying away before Brandon even returned from the restroom, to head upstairs and ensure Zoey's room was perfectly in order, her clothes put away, case stowed out of sight.
I felt so nervous, I nearly threw up.
Was this how it was going to be with Zoey? Was she going to keep testing me like this? When I had suggested that I might be able to handle her playing with another man so long as it wasn't a former flame, or someone she might see again, why had she set up this rendezvous with Brandon?
She might have been testing me, but I suspected she might actually have been testing herself. She had to decide who she was - the dominant or the dominated. Her old life under Brandon's thumb, the pliant obedient little woman, or her new life in control of me, the independent, empowered goddess.
Perhaps I had to help her choose.
I knew Zoey was worth it. Thinking of how fortunate I was to be with her kept me going, kept me obedient. I dutifully finished up and vacated the room, leaving the door through to my room open.
If I continued to please her, she had to continue to love me. I figured if I could get us past this, somehow show her that she didn't need to look back to her past, our sexual exploration could keep moving to the next level.
She said she didn't love him, and at the end of the day I had to trust her. But perhaps I was Icarus getting just too damn close to the sun.
I kept the light off in my room, and could do little more than pace as I waited for Zoey to return.
*
It was a long while I had to wait. Much longer than before. Lying on my bed in the darkness, I had actually nodded off before I was awakened by the sound of Zoey's door opening.
Instantly alert, I scrambled to get off my bed, to take a more concealed position on the floor.
I wondered if I was making a mistake by watching them again - perhaps it would be easier to take this if I left, allowed them to do their thing, wait until the inevitable departure of Brandon once he'd finished with her. Yet there was that dark, curious part of me that wanted to see - even craved the burn of seeing her with him, because it was also so exciting to watch her express her sexuality.
Frustratingly this time, through the door I had only a view of the sofa in the other suite, not the bed. It wasn't quite as convenient a room layout as bef
ore.
I could hear Zoey's voice, and if I was not mistaken, it sounded a little slurred. "Just a quick drink from the minibar, Bran. We have to be up early tomorrow."
Brandon was muffled, I couldn't hear what he said.
Then Zoey said: "I wasn't kidding, Bran. I'm with Aiden now. I told you."
I felt my heart swell, my chest filled with warmth. She'd told him she was with me.
But Brandon walked past, holding a beer from the minibar in his hand as he went to peer out the window, and I had to wonder why she'd brought him up to her room if she was going to tell him she was with me.
"There's no way he'll keep you happy," Brandon was saying, looking over to where Zoey was, making me envious merely for being able to see her.
She said something I couldn't hear, then Brandon said: "Come here."
With a single hand signal he directed her to sit on the sofa. There she was. God, she was beautiful, and blushing slightly. I thought I saw her trying to peer in through the door, to see if I was there. I'm not sure if she spotted me in the darkness, but she seemed to be purposefully sitting in a position to show me that she had no panties on under her skirt.
I felt my loins tingle. I had to force myself to believe she did not love him. She was just keeping him happy for business reasons.
"I'm not sure if I'm going to allow you to have him," he said, approaching her now, looking down sternly.
She crossed her legs and put her hands on her thighs, looking at him with submissive deference in her eyes.
Looming over her, Brandon said: "You don't need a wimp like that - you never did. You need a firm hand, like always."
I saw him grab hold of her top, yanking it up to reveal her bare breasts, and I felt the anger beginning to bubble up inside me. What was he doing?
Zoey, my strong-willed Zoey, was not stopping him. She sat up, straightening her back and stretching up to put her face inches from his, her mascara-laden eyes flickering over him from behind her glasses as she offered him a half-smile, as though she was wrestling with the conflicting impulses to dominate or be dominated.
Submitting to Her Page 20