And at last she was letting go, streaming her juices over me as her body shook violently, and a couple of yelps did escape her mouth.
I felt the pressure of her hot flesh around my head loosen, then withdraw completely, making me feel suddenly quite cold in the climate-controlled office. I was gasping for breath, though feeling an incredible buzz from what had just happened. From this pretty brunette having her way with me, her sexy snatch grinding into my face.
But now I was looking for her and she was not there. Desperate for my own release, I was suddenly alone on the floor.
Looming over me, to my overwhelming disappointment I saw that Zoey was refastening her skirt around her waist.
"So, you've shown you can do what's required of you," she said looking down on me with what appeared to be mild contempt, though the pink flush and breathlessness softened her bearing a little. "We'll just have to see how you do next week, won't we?"
"Yes," I said. "Yes, Ms Schoenberg."
"Ms Schoenberg..." she absently tapped her shoe against my thigh. "I like the sound of that. It seems... respectful."
"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."
I felt like an idiot for my expectation of release.
By now, at least it wasn't so much my job security which concerned me - but I felt like a bigger question now faced me, whether my new boss was done with me. Was this all to be some mad one-off to get me in line? I craved her, but did she hate me? Did she think me stupid, not worth her time? Would this ever happen again?
Zoey nudged my swollen member with her foot once more. "You enjoyed it, didn't you? Servicing me. Compensating me."
"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."
She nodded pensively. "Very well. So if I see results from you, you'll continue serving me."
"Yes, Ms Schoenberg."
"And this..." she kicked my erection a touch harder, "...you're not to touch until I allow you to - understood? Other than for bathroom necessity, of course."
"Understood, Ms Schoenberg."
"I want you focused. You're mine now, Jones. Your cock is mine. Your tongue is mine. Better get used to it."
And with that, her door was unlocked and my new boss was gone for the weekend.
*
As soon as she was out the door, I sprang up to relock it, securing the room while I dressed myself. I was not going to risk the cleaner coming in and seeing me like this.
My cock was still semi-hard as I pulled my boxers and my slacks on, throbbing with need. In fact, I was still tingling all over at what had just happened, my every blood vessel jangling with testosterone.
Could I really comply with her demand to avoid taking care of business for the whole weekend, after that?
I saw the little scrap of black lace lying on the floor by the side of the room closest to where I'd been lying. Zoey had left her panties behind.
I picked them up, pressed them to my mouth and nose, breathing in the traces of her scent. Then I slipped them into my pocket and ducked out of the office, offering a brief wave to the confused cleaner, Giselle, on my way out.
It was going to be difficult to be master of my domain until Monday, but I had strong motivation: I so badly wanted another taste of that delicious brunette.
Chapter Four
Being kept back at the office like that meant I was a little later than usual for the regular weekend-opening drink at O'Shawnnessey's on Filmore Street. Not that anyone really noticed. The rest of my little circle of thirty-ish pals was, as ever, too wrapped up in the mundane quirks and quibbles of modern existence to notice my lateness, let alone my dazed and confused demeanor.
I managed to slip into my empty space around the corner table without raising an eyebrow.
"She wanted to do what?"
"I know, right? Jesus."
"Run and hide, my friend, run and hide."
Discussing Benny Jensen's kinky fiancée was a perennial favorite for this ragtag bunch of ex-college buddies, former co-workers, current and former roommates. But it made me even more reluctant to spill the beans on my strange encounter with Zoey Schoenberg.
What would these guys think of me, that I had been threatened with the sack by someone I'd never shown any respect, and my response had been unconditional surrender and humiliating submission? What would they think if they knew what an unbelievable thrill it had been to serve the exquisite brunette as she had demanded?
"Hey - don't knock it. Plenty of guys would kill for a girl like that."
"Plenty of guys would be killed by a girl like that. Jesus."
"Can you die by - "
"Lethal injection, I think they call it."
My friends usually never bothered to ask me about my day at work - and in fact, we rarely discussed each others' jobs other than vague semi-rhetoric greetings asking how it was going. When your work consists of selling ad space in industry magazines, there's not much you can say to nonbelievers to keep them interested.