Submitting to Her

by Max Sebastian

  "You really do whatever I say, don't you Jones?"

  "Of course, Ms Schoenberg."

  She attempted a serious expression, and said: "You know, Jones, I'm feeling generous."

  "You are, Ma'am?"

  She picked the pizza box out of my hands, and turned to take it over to the couch opposite her huge television. "Yes, I think you're in line for another reward."

  "I like rewards."

  She smiled at me, and then looked at her watch. "For the next two hours," she said, "I want you to forget that I'm your boss, and treat me as your girlfriend."

  I raised my eyebrows. I actually wasn't exactly sure what I was supposed to do. We'd done Ordinary Mode a number of times before, of course, but mainly that had been simply equality in conversation. I wasn't quite sure how to be Zoey's boyfriend. What did boyfriends do with girlfriends?

  She patted the couch next to her, and held up a slice of pizza for me. "You think you can do that, Aide?"

  My first name suddenly sounded strange in her voice.

  "I... I... I guess so, Ma'am," I said, feeling a bit of an idiot.

  She grinned, said: "You can start be calling me Zoey."

  Chapter Twenty

  It was like a first date.

  We talked about trivial things, like what our favorite pizza was, what we liked to watch on TV. The fact that I had three older sisters.

  Zoey was curious about me, and that was fine, but stripped of her position of power, suddenly she seemed so much younger than me. I began to understand a little of why once upon a time, I had felt aggrieved that she had been promoted above me.

  Chatting with her over pizza certainly seemed to help us take our minds off the morning's scheduled meeting with our chief executive.

  As an only child from an affluent conservative household in Annapolis, Zoey was interested in hearing of my being brought up by in small town Ohio, though from my point of view it wasn't the most fascinating of stories.

  "Have you told your sisters about us yet?" she asked me, her use of the term 'us' proving strangely exhilarating, as her confirmation that we were a couple. I guess that was important to me after what had happened with Brandon.

  "I don't talk to them as often as I should," I said. "They're all married with kids - they have busy, busy lives. Even when I do talk to them, I rarely get a word in edgeways."

  "I bet they'd be interested, after all your one night stands," she said. "If I had siblings, I'd tell them all about you."

  "You told your parents you're dating someone?"

  Behind her glasses, Zoey's eyes flashed. "I wouldn't tell them until there was a ring on my finger," she said. "As far as they're concerned, I don't even know how to kiss a boy."

  I'd say it probably took an hour or so before I started to really settled down into this new arrangement, and feel comfortable in no longer taking orders from her, not waiting for a question before speaking my mind.

  "I suppose if we were really pretending I'm not in charge right now, you should have put some clothes on while we ate pizza," she said as I now polished off the last bite of the aforementioned Italian-American feast.

  "I didn't even think about it," I said with a grin.

  "I like it when you're naked," she said. Then she tilted her head and asked: "Do you really like it the way I treat you?"

  "When you're being my boss?" I asked, and she nodded. "I love it."

  "Why?"

  I looked at her, and curiously, wasn't quite sure how to explain my love of her authority. It had all started off when I had been afraid for my job, and willing to do anything to keep it, even humiliate myself in front of this beautiful young woman. Then we'd both seemed to take to it like ducks to water, it was hard to pinpoint exactly why my new role being subservient to Zoey Schoenberg fit so well.

  "I was surprised how easy it was, actually," I said, ending up opting for a kind of stream of consciousness approach to cope with my temporary lack of word power - a salesman's technique, just keep talking. "I guess it makes me sound lazy, but when you're in control, you give me this strange peace of mind - I know how to please you, because you're telling me how. It makes me feel this huge… serenity, I guess."

  "I can understand that," she said. "The women you were with before… they didn't tell you how to make them feel good?"

  "Nope," I said. "I guess I never hooked up with the right kind of girls, but they always seemed to want to get me off as fast as possible, and that was it."

  "I guess it's that social pressure to seem like a good lay for the man," Zoey said. "But they don't help themselves by doing it like that."

  "Men always get the blame for failing to give women orgasms - but it's not only our fault, I think," I said. "I mean, I think if you gave most men the choice, 99 percent would want to give their partner a good time while having sex."

  "A lot of women fear the guys will feel humiliated to be told what to do - or even quietly asked."

  "And most of them would be wrong, I think. It's an unbelievable turn on to genuinely satisfy a woman you care about. That's the bottom line."

  "But guys don't like asking directions, do they?" Zoey chuckled.

  I smiled. "And how many of them are happy to use sat-nav these days to get somewhere new? They might not enjoy asking, but they don't mind being given directions."

  "You don't find it degrading when I… use you?"

  "No. Fulfilling, exhilarating. Not degrading," I said. "Humility's not the same as humiliation - I guess it's like religious leaders, when they do things like wash people's feet - it shows their modesty and respect, it's not degrading."

  "I don't want to degrade you," she said. "I want to make you feel as amazing as you make me feel."

  "It doesn't hurt that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever known."

  "That's not a reason."

  I shrugged. "I see you, and I can't help but crave contact with you, as up close and personal as possible. And there's nothing as close and personal as going down on you."

  "You are such a dirty boy."

  "What can I say? I love it when you shove your hot, wet pussy in my face."

  At that, Zoey actually blushed.

  "You do actually like it, then?" she said, her voice tinged with skepticism, lifting one of her feet onto the couch between us now, as if to examine the subject of our conversation. Under her little pink skirt, she was wearing a white cotton thong, which fit well with the look of purity she appeared to be going for on this particular evening.

  "More than anything," I said, reaching forward to skim the back of my forefinger along her inner thigh, up to the edge of her soft cotton underwear. "Never mind the fact that your taste and your scent drive me wild, it's also so sexy to have your thighs either side of my head and my face buried in your sweet pussy."

  She giggled. "I love how filthy you are, Aide."

  "I love how filthy you are," I returned. "I never asked you to sit on my face that Friday afternoon."

  She nodded. "I was really upset. I wasn't really thinking - I'd been after you so long, and you'd ignored me the whole time. And you were so horrible to me. I was just frustrated."

  "Then I'm glad I frustrated you. A little glad, anyway."

  "I don't know, I guess I thought I'd humiliate you or something, I'd be ridiculing your masculinity, and maybe you'd feel you had to leave the company."

  "You wanted me to leave?"

  "A little. Up until when you started licking my pussy."

  I felt a little shiver course through her body as my finger grazed over her mound and down over the pure white cotton to the part that was covering her pussy, which was already becoming somewhat damp.

  "I don't know what I was thinking," she said. "I guess I thought I could somehow... sexually harass you, make your life as hard as you made mine. Only, it turned out to be a little more fun than I expected."

  "I'll say."

  *

  She sent me downstairs to dispose of the empty pizza box, and when I returned to th
e bedroom, I found that Zoey was also naked, her hair now tied up in a bun behind her head, making her look a little like a ballet dancer.

  She had a purple bottle in her hands.

  "You wanna try something fun?" she asked.

  "Sure," I said, a little confused.

  She tipped the bottle up over her breasts, and some kind of oil seeped out to slosh over her skin. I just stood back to watch as she smiled, and began sweeping her hands over her body, coating herself in the slick lubricant.

  "What do you think?"

  "Pretty hot," I said, "But then you know that much."

  She grinned, looking at my swelling manhood. There wasn't much hope of hiding a reaction when you had no clothes on. Not that I needed to hide my reaction just them. Zoey flicked her head to signal for me to approach.

  I climbed onto the bed, and she bade me lie down on my back.

  "Aren't we going to mess up your sheets?"

  "Who cares about sheets?" she said, kneeling up astride my knees to pour some of the oil over my abdomen until it was beginning to trickle off the sides of my body. I jumped as it first touched my skin - it was cold, but soon warmed up. It smelled gently of coconut.

  "Shouldn't we use your massage table?" I suggested as I lay back.

  "I'm not sure it's designed to take the weight of two people," she said, and began to spread the oil around my stomach, down over my thighs, and carefully around my pubic area. Though initially avoiding my hard cock, she gave in to the temptation after a few moments.

  It was so sensual, so quietly exhilarating to feel her touch, her soft hands gliding all over my oil-coated skin.

  She pressed her body down on me, her breasts crushing against my thighs, before she slowly slid upwards over my cock, my hard shaft surrounded by the hot velvet flesh of her breasts.

  "Mmm..." she moaned, and I echoed that moan, as she indulged for a few moments in the sensation of her breasts rubbing over my thighs, my lower abdomen, my crotch and my rigid manhood.

  "Feels nice," I said, almost purring myself.

  Slowly, she moved further up my body, her oiled skin gliding over my chest, until she came to rest seated atop my cock, which pressed against her pussy lips. She reached for the bottle again, and now poured more oil over my upper chest.

  Now she kissed me on the lips, then down my neck, and resumed rubbing her body on mine, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, possibly reflecting the unusual situation in which she was appearing to serve me for once.

  "You’ve done this before?" I asked as she moved back and forth over my body, and I delighted at the sensation of her body sliding over mine, including her sizzling pussy.

  "No," she said. "I read about it. Isn't it nice?"

  "Incredible."

  She held herself lying along my legs, and her hands went to my oiled cock, slipping and sliding up and down its length, touching her lips to the tip in a brief kiss, before slipping it back between her breasts, for that wonderfully dirty sensation of fucking her pert little tits.

  After a few moments, she was massaging my cock between her legs, and I could smell her arousal even over the gentle coconut of the oil.

  "I love your body," she said. "I could just look at you - and touch you - for days and days on end."

  "Might have to take some vacation time," I joked.

  She smiled, and then turned around, slithering over my chest, to resume rubbing her body over mine, only this time presenting me with the beautiful view of her oiled pussy. This time as she rubbed my slick cock between her breasts, I gave in almost immediately to my temptation and pulled her - provoking a surprised but amused squeal - back so that I could bury my face in her pussy, tasting her juices blended with the coconut oil.

  As I feasted on her pussy she slipped my cock into her mouth. With the powerful sensations, I felt my control beginning to break down, and feared I might explode in her mouth before she wanted me to, Zoey suddenly pulled herself up on me, releasing my cock from her mouth and hands. Her moans were growing in pitch, and now she was pushing back on my face, getting to that point where I was no longer leading the process of licking her pussy, she was in charge, rubbing her pussy over my face, this time aided by the oil.

  Oh how I adored making her come like that, seeing her shivering all over, breathing in her secret scent, that dark spice to which I was so addicted, hearing the sounds of her soprano sighs-turned-cries as the force of the climax swept through her body.

  "God, how do you make me come so easily?" she said afterward. "Nobody's ever been able to do that before like you."

  What could I say to that? Having made her come by merely lying beneath her, having her rub herself over me, doing most if not all the work - I could hardly claim credit.

  Then she was leaning over to her bedside table, and I couldn't see what she was doing, but suspected she might be reaching for a certain little something to sheath my cock.

  It wasn't long before my cock was gliding into her hot, tight pussy, and we were both crying out from the incredible sensations of our oiled bodies moving against each other, inside and out, writhing and rolling and thrusting like we were wrestling in mud.

  *

  We talked so much that night. And I did stay over, for once. It felt as though it was our last night before execution - we both wanted to spend time with each other, really experience each other before the time came for Ms Jenkinson to fire one or other of us, or both, thereby disrupting the hierarchy around which our relationship had been conceived.

  "If we're in Ordinary Mode," she said to me at one point, "You'd still answer me honestly if I asked you to?"

  "Of course."

  I felt a little shiver, my every instinct as a man warning me that this was a conversation heading toward Heavy Territory. Was she breaking up with me? After everything we'd been through? Had she decided to do it preemptively, without waiting for Ms Jenkinson's verdict?

  I tried to keep calm, keep my paranoid thoughts from running away with themselves.

  "What did you really think about… you know… what happened with Brandon?"

  "What happened with Brandon?" I blinked stupidly, a little surprised that she would raise that subject again, seemingly so far after it had happened. "I don't know - what d'you mean?"

  At that particular moment in the evening, we were taking a shower, having lounged around for a long while after our adventures in oil, ending up feeling like freshening up. Since I'd been going out with Zoey, there had been countless new experiences, but strangely, I think one of the most genuinely pleasurable, most relaxing things I'd never done with anyone else was simply taking a shower together, pressing our bodies together under the wonderfully warm flow of steamy water, running my hands over her unbelievably smooth, soft skin, fingers caressing her, slipping over her body with ease thanks to the sheen of luxurious coconut-scented body wash.

  Normally, when I was serving her, it would largely be me washing her body, ensuring she was clean and content, before a quick wash and rinse for myself as she got out. That evening, however, we were in Ordinary Mode, which for us somehow seemed like anything but Ordinary, and Zoey was taking as much care to wash me - and feel me up - as I was her.

  We were relaxed, so unbelievably relaxed in there. It seemed like a safe environment for Zoey to divulge what was on her mind.

  "I guess I just want to say sorry," she said.

  "Sorry? For what?"

  "Everything that happened that night," she looked up at me with a sudden vulnerability in her eyes. She said: "I guess a part of me… well, that part really did want to… hurt you."

  I took a deep breath, recalling the strange, powerful mixture of feelings I experienced that evening, when she had returned to her hotel room with her ex- in tow.

  "It was bizarre," I said, trying to portray utter calm by grabbing the bottle of body wash once again, pouring some out into my palm before applying it to her shoulders rather pointlessly, considering that particular part of her was already clean. "I'm not sure I thought
you were purposefully hurting me."

  That was a white lie. I think actually that night was bordering on the terrifying for me. The thing was, at the time, and even now, I'd felt I'd deserved every minute, what I'd put her through. And there was that little dark place inside of me somewhere that thought the whole thing seemed curiously exciting.

  "I had a few drinks, and I felt like I wanted to punish you," she said.

  "I knew you wanted to punish me. You were clear about that. I guess we needed a safe word, or something like that."

  "We shouldn't need a safe word. I should be able to see when too far is too far."

  She shook her head, those big dark eyes so apologetic, fearful, I thought my strong Zoey was about to cry. She said: "It was more than just our game. I wanted to punish you for what you put me through before. I know you'd changed, you saw the error of your ways - and you were making it up to me. But I still just wanted you to feel the kind of pain I went through when… well, you know."

  I kissed her forehead, hugged her, almost platonically if you can believe it just about then.

  "I deserved it, everything I got," I said quietly.

  "You didn't deserve that," she insisted. "I had a few drinks, and I was going to tease you a little. Brandon had been bugging me for ages to reconnect, so I figured I'd give you a little scare - only I got too drunk. And I gave Brandon the wrong idea. And then it just went too far."

  I nodded, and for a moment we gazed into each others' eyes, and while hers were clearly filled to the brim with regret, mine were quite obviously full of forgiveness and love.

  In this moment of candor, I felt both the urge to expose the darkest secrets buried within me, and also the need to comfort her with the reassurance that it hadn't all been as bad as she thought. I said: "You know, it was a shock, but there was some part of me that kind of… well… I don't know, enjoyed it."

  "Enjoyed it?" She wrinkled her brow up at me.

  "I don't know," I said, suddenly sheepish, slightly wishing I'd kept my secrets to myself, moment of candor or not. "Watching you… you're so beautiful, watching you from a completely independent angle - I'd never seen anything like it. I guess there's nothing I love more than seeing you being pleasured - even if it's not necessarily me doing it."