Submitting to Her(16)

"I appreciate what you've been doing, Jones," she said quite casually. "I've told the CEO that things are getting back on track, and she's pleased as well."

Zoey stepped in front of me, and leaned back on the edge of her desk, an incredible picture in her crisp white shirt and dark thigh-length skirt, black nylon stockings and calf-covering black leather boots.

A couple of the buttons of her shirt were undone, allowing me a tiny glimpse of black and red lace underneath her shirt, which by itself seemed to raise my temperature a degree or two. I didn't remember those being unfastened during the meeting. I think I would have noticed.

"I think rewards are in order, don't you, Jones?" she asked.

"Yes, Ms Schoenberg," I said, still feeling faintly ridiculous addressing a girl so much younger than me as though she were my teacher, though my craving for my new boss transcended any mild humiliation.

"But that's only your primary directive you've taken care of," she said. "I think you've rather failed in your secondary directive since you went home on Friday."

I couldn't help but gasp at this. What did she mean, failed? I'd done everything she'd asked of me in the office - the team was working at maximum efficiency. Was she changing the rules? And was this apparent failure of mine going to prevent my reward?

She must have read the confusion in my face, since she now explained: "When we spoke last week, we agreed on a strategy, didn't we?"

"Yes, Ma’am."

"It had two directives - firstly, you do exactly as I tell you, and manage your team as if you were head of the department yourself. Well, you've been performing that directive well enough so far, haven't you?"

"Yes, Ma’am."

"But we also agreed on a second directive, didn't we? You compensate me for the stress you've put me under for the past six months. You haven't been doing that so far this week, have you?"

"No, Ma’am," I said, feeling gutted that I had apparently had the chance to be with her the previous days this week, and had missed it.

"Why have you neglected your duties so much?" she demanded.

"I thought I was supposed to wait until you called for me to... compensate for your stress, Ms Schoenberg."

She looked down at me and gave a slight nod. There was a glint in her eyes as she said: "We'll overlook your failure this time. I can understand if there was a glitch in communications. But it means you've got catching up to do."

"Yes, Ma’am," I said eagerly.

"In the future, you will ensure I'm fully compensated every evening. You can wait until the rest of the team has gone home, if you like. But I don't expect to go unsatisfied."

"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."

I felt as though fireworks were exploding inside my chest.

"Kneel on the floor."





*





I did as she commanded. Was she not going to make me strip this time? She made me kiss her boots, all the way from the tip of the toes to the top of the leather, which almost reached her knees.

There was no particular pleasure for me, other than to have her attention, and to be breathing in her scent, which grew stronger the further up I kissed.

As I reached the top of the second boot, she placed a finger on her knee, which I took as a direction to kiss her where she indicated, on the slightly rough nylon of her stockings.

"You seem like a natural at this, Jones," she said, slowly trailing her finger up the inside of her thigh to show me where to kiss.

"Thank you, Ma'am," I said, pressing my lips to the dry fabric, feeling the heat from her leg as I went, her fragrance becoming stronger as I proceeded up to the top of her stockings, and delighted in the transition to the velvet softness of her bare thigh. There was a trace of her own special scent now, beyond her perfume. It was so wicked, so dark and thrilling.

"You don't actually seem to mind a little female authority, do you?" she asked. "Even beyond your pathetic need to hold onto your job."

"No, Ma'am."

She parted her legs further as I moved up her thigh, her skirt riding up to reveal her little black and red lace and satin panties. With the stockings and suspenders, the deep red and black of her lingerie only added to the sense of power she had over me. To my inexpert gaze, her underwear appeared expensive, making me suspect she'd worn these specially, just for me. These weren't the kind for just another day in the office. It made me feel a little warm inside to think that she'd thought of me that morning while dressing, true or not.

Her finger guided me up along the garter holding up her stockings, my lips caressing her bare skin, loving the heat and smoothness of her flesh, and then down along the edge of her panties, where the aroma of her arousal saturated my every breath.