Submitting to Her(46)

She was quite attractive, which only made it worse. Before I turned away to focus again on the bookshelf, I caught a slight smile on her lips. There was pity in that smile, more than amusement. Empathizing with someone else who was downtrodden by those in positions of power.

Giselle seemed to take her time cleaning the place in which I'd been standing, and then she touched my other arm briefly, allowing me to return to my position. Before resuming my careful observation of Who's Who 1981-95, I noticed Giselle's eyes drop briefly to my groin, checking out my equipment up close.

I felt as though my humiliation was now complete, full-to-bursting. It was now veering into strange new territory where it was becoming a thrill. Like when wine had been open too long, and turned into vinegar, turned into something else. Was Zoey turning me into a sexual freak? Had a streak of voyeurism and exhibitionism been inside me all along, to be revealed only when this girl I adored decided to have sex in front of me, or invite another woman into the room to peer at me? Or was this thrill something entirely new?

Were these strange reactions to difficult stimuli common among men? Some kind of innate behavior, perhaps, from the days when humans ran in packs and humped whatever they could get their hands on in the hope that their genes would be passed on. Or was it just me, and I was becoming a monster?

Giselle seemed to take her time cleaning in there - I'm sure we would have gotten faster service if she wasn't distracted, didn't feel the need to dust the bookshelves on that particular evening as well as vacuum the carpet.

Eventually, I heard Zoey thanking her, and she was saying quietly in reply: "Of course, you are welcome, Miss."

And she was gone.

She hadn't acted or sounded like someone who was going to run for her lawyers, or hammer down the door to the human resources department. She'd sounded respectful, someone who wasn't going to question things she didn't understand. She had an immigrant's desire not to cause trouble in her new country.

It was a huge relief when the door to the office closed again, and this time I heard Zoey locking it.





Chapter Seventeen





"So I can see that you enjoyed that, Jones."

Zoey Schoenberg stepped beside me, and I felt her cool fingers now encircle my cock, even giving me a little squeeze to emphasize her point.

I remained silent, abiding by the Question Rule.

"I'm not sure punishment should be something one enjoys, should it?"

"No, Ma'am."

It felt gloriously dirty to have her standing there next to me, wearing her normal office clothes while I was naked. She was holding my cock as though wanting to help me pee.

"Well, we'll have to think about that," she said, and dropped my manhood again to move back over to her desk. "Perhaps I should reconsider using young women in your discipline like that."

My hardness was not going away. I was hoping desperately that I might soon get the chance to perform my duty, servicing our head of department once again. Yet after that last comment from her, I was now curious as to whether she'd conspired with the cleaning woman beforehand to set up my punishment.

"Come here," came her command, and I turned to find her leaning on the front edge of her desk, having removed her skirt and panties. She was still wearing her white blouse, her shoes and thigh-high black stockings, and looked as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on whatsoever - except for the startling display between her thighs.

Her pussy looked simply stunning the way she stood, legs slightly parted, butt perched on the edge of her desk. Yet it was her eyes - so dark and stern and brutally intelligent behind those delicate glasses - that drew me over, made me so desperate to please her now.

I approached, trying not to seem like a slavering fool, though I was completely on fire inside. With one flick of a finger, she directed me down on the floor in front of her.

"Now, you know what to do, Jones," she said.

I tilted my head upwards, and craned my neck forwards, and was rewarded with the scent, the warmth and the delicious flavor of Zoey Schoenberg's exquisite pussy.





*





You would have thought it might have become fairly routine. After work, I'd stay late, and then appear at her office at 6pm, knocking politely before entering, often to find her waiting for me like that, leaning against the front of her desk, with or without her skirt or underwear, for me to come forward and kneel before her for worship.

It wasn't routine for me, however.

Every day I felt so fortunate to be given another chance to please her, another opportunity to experience her, to see her beauty and attempt to enhance it with soft moans and shrill cries of ecstasy. To inspire secret lust in those dark eyes, to breathe in the earthy spice of her arousal, to nuzzle into her divine pussy, nose tickled by her little smudge of dark hair, tongue buried in her smoldering vagina, mouth flooded with her savory goodness.