Submitting to Her(26)

I trembled as she said that. What was she planning?

"When I started as an intern," she was explaining while I quivered next to her, "this is where they put me up for the first week until I got an apartment sorted out."

"That was nice of them," I said, my thoughts tumbling out of my mouth since I was a little on the nervous side.

"They wanted to impress me, I guess," she said, overlooking my unauthorized speech.

It did feel good to get away from it all, and indulge in the stylish yet anonymous interior of a top hotel. Ours was an impressive room - complete with a large four-poster bed, with clean white bedding and semi-transparent white curtains at each corner that made the place look more suited to the tropics, perhaps, for some colonial island governor's master bedroom.

Even before she ordered me abruptly to strip, I was tingling all over and my cock was straining in my pants - hoping desperately that this night would see Zoey allowing me the honor of going all the way with her. I'd done seriously well to control myself, but it was getting faintly ridiculous.

Once naked, standing almost to attention as my boss wandered around me, inspecting my body, my manhood quietly bobbed in the chill of the air-conditioned air, like a racehorse straining to get out of the starting gates.

She enjoyed teasing me, stepping slowly around me, occasionally touching me, feeling out my muscles and my ass as though I was some bull about to be auctioned, leaning in to inhale the scent from my skin. She even playfully patted my rigid cock a few times.

"Lie on the bed, Jones," she ordered. "On your back."

I did as she asked, hoping she was going to ride me, wondering if the rock-hard nature of my cock might entice her to take our connection to the next level.

Craning my head to look at her, I watched as she whipped off her skirt - then gasped as I saw that she wasn't wearing panties. Had she been that way all day in the office? Wow. My colleagues would have gone nuts if they'd had any inkling. Framed by the garters holding up her stockings, her pussy was positively mouthwatering with her little patch of dark hair accenting her startling exposure.

She removed her jacket, slinging it over a chair, and then as she unfastened the buttons on her shirt, she slowly revealed the wicked black lace and crimson satin of a beautiful and luxurious corset.

It took my breath away. My God - what a thing to wear all day at work, hidden until now. Zoey might not have the largest breasts in the world - and wouldn't have suited them - but the corset she wore enhanced her curves, pushed up her cleavage and emphasized her glorious femininity. The fishnets gave her an added touch of the burlesque, all adding up to the kind of vampy look that screamed sexual power.

She was stunning, she was extraordinary, she was my goddess and I was desperate to worship her.

"You like?" she asked me, though she could no doubt tell from my expression what kind of an effect her outfit was having on me.

"You look amazing."

She beamed at me. "It makes me feel so powerful. Given me a buzz all day knowing this was here, and that I'd get to show you."

She laughed, adding: "Almost gave in to temptation in the lunch break."

She approached the bed, and crawled slowly up my body like some kind of panther on the hunt, slinking up towards my head, a devilish seductress come to take my soul. The feel of her fishnets brushing my skin as she moved up to straddle my chest invoked ripples of arousal all through my body - what an incredible creature I had before me, so close I could smell her intoxicating scent.

I pushed up my hips to her as the intense heat of her body pressed to mine, as though trying to tempt her to use my manhood, to put me out of my misery. She wasn't having any of it - she continued moving up my body, giving me her heat but nothing more, though as she neared, I at least had a stunning view.

Leaning over me, I thought she aimed to simply tease me by pushing the ample globes of her breasts in my face, feeding my lust with a burst of a jasmine-accent perfume. But that wasn't her intent - she continued moving, reaching for the white cotton curtain trailing down the nearest column, then trailing the material around my wrist.

I couldn't help but offer a wide-eyed look of surprise at this, but I certainly didn't object. She gave me a mischievous smile, her eyes hinting that she had plans for me. Then she stretched the other way, binding my other wrist similarly with the curtain - leaving me with some movement, but not sufficient to achieve anything.

Wrists suitably tied, now she lifted off my body, and tended to my ankles - shackling me with the other set of curtains at the foot of the bed, so that I was splayed out like Prometheus on his rock, ready to face my own torment.

"How does that feel?" she asked me.