Submitting to Her(24)

"I think my hands are a little cold," she said, "but you'll soon warm them up."

I did flinch as her fingers closed around my shaft, pale and chilled as icicles. She used both hands to spread the oil over my full length, and then slowly began to explore me, checking out my erection in a patient fashion, perhaps mirroring my slow exploration of her pussy at the tail end of my massage.

"You remember that you're not to come until I say that you can, don't you, Jones?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, hopeful that I would get that release soon.

"Good," she said, sliding her fingers all over my sensitive hard flesh, feeling me out via the slippery oil. "I enjoy the pleasure you give me, but I also enjoy the pleasure I give you - and I don't want you taking that for yourself. I control it."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She poured a little more of the cool oil over the tip of my cock, making me flinch slightly once again.

"If you have an orgasm without my permission, you'll be punished, Jones," she said, putting her hands together to close around my well-lubricated shaft to continue pumping me, both hands together able squeeze me so tight.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"If you take your own orgasm, you'll only have to wait longer for another one," she said, and then she briefly stopped pumping me to add: "Oh, and if you do slip one off behind my back, you'll tell me - or else the punishment will be worse. Understand?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Great. Then I think we're done for the night, Jones."

God, I walked right into that. I guess in life there's always a balance of good and bad - everything can't always go your way. I had saved my job, I had the most beautiful woman I'd ever known ready to use me for her own sexual pleasure - and tell me how I was to fulfill her every expectation, which was valuable in itself - there had to be a downside somewhere.

So here was my downside - walking back out to my car, my loins throbbing with a denied need.





Chapter Nine





I guess, looking back, Zoey had started dressing in power suits ever since she'd been promoted to the vice president position, and although my sulky attitude meant I had entirely failed to notice the change in her from the librarian she'd been before, she had definitely changed.

But now she'd taken control of me, taken control of my orgasms, I think she was encouraged to go even further, wearing particularly hot outfits just to rub it in my face. Short skirts became scandalous, bras became seriously push-up, shirts went a little more transparent. Taunting me.

Yet it was her confidence I found most sexy, her knowing attitude and the occasional mischievous glance that told me in no uncertain terms she knew exactly what affect she was having on me.

I spent some restless nights after tending to Zoey's needs either in the office or her apartment - lying in bed all worked up with no release possible. Sure, I was tempted to cheat on my pledge. But despite feeling convinced I could cover up the physical signs of my transgression, I knew full well that I'd find it difficult to lie to Zoey. She'd only have to ask a few questions and I'd cave.

So I had to suffer - and Zoey was not going to make it easy for me.

My co-workers even remarked on the way she was dressing these days, and I had to rein them in a little to keep their focus on the job at hand.

In particular, whenever she wore fishnet stockings to work - even with a slightly longer skirt to downplay it a little - the testosterone levels in the office shot through the roof. My colleagues on the sales floor were finding it hard to keep their tongues inside their mouths.

"Wish she'd go visit a few of my clients dressed like that," Finnegan muttered as I declared a unilateral ban on spending fruitless time staring at our VP's door hoping she would appear again.

"Finn, please," I said.

"Hey, I'll get some of that action - my clients won't budge." That was Brooks, who like Finnegan wasn't having a good month.

I sighed, "You guys saying you need a woman to help make sales? Maybe I should fire you, hire a few women instead."

In fairness, our sales team was horrifically male - we did badly need more of a gender balance, that was true enough. My recruitment policy took a significant diversion after Zoey tamed me, but back then we were unlikely to recruit anyone extra unless our numbers improved.

The semi-joking threat got the boys to simmer down, but there were still a multitude of glances directed toward Zoey's door, just a little more subtle. And some of those glances were mine.

It wasn't just her dress sense that got me going.

I'd be sitting at my desk, and she'd send me increasingly risky messages through the instant messenger system. While she avoided email, which was traceable, the IM system seemed safe to her.