Submitting to Her Page 2

  Two minutes to five, my eyes firmly on the clock, the hand moving agonizingly slowly around the face.

  A little ding from my email - a message from Zoey Schoenberg, no less. Calling me into her office.

  Damn.

  Now why would she want to see me so late on a Friday afternoon?

  My stomach lurched down into my legs. I straightened my tie, and looked around to see if anyone else could see me, perhaps reassure me. Everybody had gone home already.

  I stepped up, knocked on the door.

  "Come in."

  My career was flashing before my eyes as the door opened, revealing an impeccably tidy and overly large office, with our VP sitting in the office chair like a proud empress. I eyed the room for a brief moment, still with a glimmer of hope this place would soon be mine, though the optimism was beginning to seriously wear off. The blinds were drawn to block out the night sky, giving the place a rather claustrophobic feeling, despite the enviable expanse of the room.

  "You... wanted to see me?"

  "Sit down."

  I swallowed, closed the door behind me, then took three paces forward to take up the offered chair in front of her desk.

  Zoey Schoenberg peered at me for a long moment, and I could do nothing but stare back. Thinking to myself that actually she was really quite attractive. The clamor of my unbridled sense of injustice had completely blinded me to that. Behind her elegant black-framed spectacles she was certainly pretty, with big mocha eyes quietly beaming dark fury my way, her long cocoa hair loosely tied back so that stray locks called for someone to brush them back out of her face. And I'd tell you how stunning she looked in her suit, but I didn't dare drop my eyes below her jaw.

  I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my temple.

  It was so unbelievably awkward. Was I supposed to say something? I opened my mouth, but my throat felt so dry all I could do was croak, then conceal it with a slight cough. I felt ridiculous.

  "You haven't been too happy about my promotion, have you, Jones?"

  I didn't know what to say. The steely grip of dread encircled my heart.

  "No matter, I don't care," she said. "What I do care about is that you've made it very difficult for me to run this department."

  "I - I don't think..." I was fumbling with a dry tongue, though I knew full well there were no words I could find to defend my recent attitude.

  "I don't care what you think. You're fired."

  That I was not expecting.

  I sat for a moment as a depth charge exploded inside my chest. Jesus. Wasn't I supposed to get a formal warning first? Could she do this? My feet, and then my legs went numb. What the hell was I going to do?

  The nausea turned up a few notches, but what was perhaps most surprising was that I didn't feel any anger whatsoever. I guess underneath it all, I thought it was probably fair - with what I'd put her through.

  "I assume you won't be asking for a reference."

  Jesus. What the hell was I going to do?

  I cracked.

  "I can change... Zoey. Really... honestly... I can turn things around. Get the department working really well again..."

  It didn't look pleasant. I'm not going to lie, there was a fair amount of desperation there for a few moments, some sniveling, plenty of pleading, plaintive excuses, even a little blubbing.

  She sat there calmly throughout, hands clasped tidily in front of her, a neutral expression on her face. She was loving every minute of this. This was sweet, sweet revenge on everything I'd dished out to her and more, all in a nicely self-contained little Friday afternoon meeting.

  Eventually, after I'd tried every trick in the book to wheedle one last chance out of her, from reminders of my long service to promises of future obedience and productivity, and ridiculous suggestions of how I'd turn things around, she held up a hand, a conductor silencing a rowdy philharmonic.

  "I don't need you any more," she said.

  I hung my head. God, how stupid I'd been. How the hell was anyone going to take me on without any references, fired from the only job I'd had in 10 years? How was I going to survive in this crappy economy? Flipping burgers along with a load of spotty teenagers in a Burger King somewhere?

  After a beat, she added calmly: "What I need is someone who will do every single thing I ask without question, without hesitation."

  I heard myself catch my breath. Was she offering me a way back in?

  "I can do that," I insisted, by then completely unashamed at what a crawler I must have seemed. "I swear to God - I'll do anything you say. I won't question a thing."

  She looked at me for another long, long moment. Drinking in my desperation, those beautiful eyes gazing at me - languorous, disappointed, yet hinting at pity after my humiliating display.

  "I'll be your right-hand man. I'll make sure everything runs like clockwork, everything you want is done double-quick, highest priority."

  "I'm not sure I believe you."

  "I... I'll show you. Just give me a chance, I'll prove it."

  "I think it would be easier to find someone new, someone who doesn't have resentment clouding their view of me as their department chief."

  "No," I pleaded, hands together out in front, praying to some unseen god of business. "I'll show you. Please. I'll do anything."

  She sat a while, and I could see that she was breathing deeply. Relaxed - or excited? It must have been something of a thrill to have me wriggling on the hook like this.

  Eventually, she rose from her chair, standing tall, looking down on me. I felt like the lowest of the low - but I was willing to be, if only I could save my job, my benefits, my pension.

  She asked: "You'll do anything I ask of you, without question?"

  "Anything, absolutely anything."

  She nodded again, very slowly. I felt a flicker of hope warming my pallid face.

  "I want to be sure," she said.

  "You want something done over the weekend?" I asked. "I'll see that it's done - you'll see. I can catch up, I'll stay late."

  She walked slowly around the desk.

  "I want to see you do whatever I say, without question."

  "Whatever you ask. I'll do it. Honestly."

  Now she took a few more paces over to the door, and I was suddenly petrified she was just going to walk out of there, go home for the weekend, leaving me fired. Or perhaps open the door for me to make a final, irrevocable exit.

  "Really, whatever you need," I pleaded, terror quivering my voice a little.

  She locked the door of her office.

  I didn't even question it, I didn't even think at the time how strange it was that she should decide to lock us inside her office. I was sitting poised on the edge of my chair, waiting for her to tell me what she wanted me to do. I was so determined to carry out her every order without even a hint of hesitation.

  "Take off your clothes."

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  Okay, so that was strange. She had to allow me a slight pause on that one, it would have been unreasonable not to.

  I re-examined her face, seeking out signs that she was joking.

  Her face was impassive.

  Maybe this was all a giant prank to put me in my place, but she wasn't giving any impression it was a joke. A moment later, and she was already looking impatient, her face tightening into the kind of stony glare that anyone in their right mind would take to be a threat.

  Slowly, steadily, giving her plenty of time to step in and tell me to stop being ridiculous, of course it was a joke, I stood up.

  Still, she did not stop me. I faced her, looking her straight in the eye as I removed my tie and slipped off my jacket, depositing them on my chair. Showing that I could do this. If she was taking this further, I would show I could handle it.

  Hell, even if there was some kind of Candid Camera somewhere - some direct streaming link to YouTube - better I fall for that than lose my job. I could take a little humiliation, I deserved it. But in this economy, I needed em
ployment, and if that wasn't to be, I would need references.

  I unfastened my shirt and pulled my shoes off, leaving myself in only my pants, underwear and socks.

  Zoey stood in front of the door, arms folded in front of her chest. She wasn't reacting visibly to my exposed flesh, though she was watching me closely, taking in the firm lines of my torso.

  If she did get me to take off all my clothes, what would she want then? For me to demean myself in some way, like some kind of college hazing? What if this was merely a final twisting of the knife? She'd reduce me to a public joke, and then I'd get fired anyway?

  Ordinarily, I was comfortable enough stripping off in front of an attractive woman - I was a regular gym user. This time, I was trembling like a leaf as I unbuckled my belt and popped the fly of my pants. My skin was rising up in goose bumps from the cool conditioned air. My socks came off, and now I stood in nothing but a pair of gray CK boxer shorts.

  Standing quietly forlorn in my underwear, I waited for her to tell me what a jerk I'd been - and what an idiot I was to be stripping down in front of her now. Then, suitably chastened, I was sure she'd hassle me out of the office to start my weekend.

  She didn't.

  She said only, "Those too."

  I swallowed, took a deep breath, wishing to God that the creatures crawling around my stomach would stop moving.

  Then I put my fingers into the waistband of my boxer shorts and with a little flick of my wrists, the cotton was slipping over my butt and down my thighs, leaving me standing to attention in front of my department head, naked as a jaybird.

  Jesus.

  This young woman, who for six months had been merely a junior member of my team - and now had the power to end my career, put me on the bread line - and I was completely exposed to her, as though I'd stumbled into some teenage nightmare.

  What was she going to do? I felt my cock twitch in the air, out of pure anxiety.

  I had to have looked so ridiculous.

  "What do you want me to do?" I asked now.

  "I don't want you to talk unless you're answering a question, understand?"

  "Understand."

  "You can take that as a new rule, whenever we're alone."

  She took a few steps toward me, and I could feel her eyes running all over my body, peering at me, examining me, assessing me as though I was a farm animal, or perhaps a slave at market. Slowly, she wandered around, just looking at me.

  I was guessing this was some kind of trick designed to make me completely compliant to her every command from now on. I'd comply, though part of me was thinking how she must be breaching dozens of corporate sexual harassment rules. The rest of me was still scratching about for ideas on what kind of job I might get with my qualifications and no references if she was still planning on humiliating me before firing me.

  From behind me, I heard her say: "Kneel on the floor."

  I did as she told me, my pulse accelerating from the complete uncertainty I felt as I slumped down to my knees. I had no idea what she had in mind. Was she going to suddenly march the rest of our team in the room to see me in this embarrassing state?

  "Hands on the floor," she barked.

  I complied, down onto all fours.

  She stood in front of me. I kept my head down since that was the easiest thing to do to keep my hands on the floor. From there I could see only her high-heeled black leather shoes and shapely calves clad in provocative black fishnet pantyhose. Had she been wearing fishnets all day? I hadn't noticed that. I really must have been blinded by my resentment.

  So close to her, I could detect a hint of her perfume in the air, which was surprisingly sweet for someone attempting to come over as a forceful authority.

  "Lick my shoe."

  So, she was really going to put me in my place.

  I leaned forward, craning my neck to reach the cool black leather of her nearest shoe. I took a deep breath, drawing in a stronger hint of her fragrance, and of course the musty aroma of leather itself. I stuck out my tongue as far as it would go, and trailed a long lick from the toe of her shoe along to the heel, figuring I'd show her I could do this properly, whatever wacko demands she had.

  "And the other one," she ordered me.

  I complied.

  It might have been humiliating, but it actually sent a shiver of exhilaration through my body, feeling so degrading, so filthy, that subtle yet sweet perfume of hers added into the mix to make me feel suddenly so alive.

  Sure, it helped she was attractive, but it was a real surprise to me how this compliance seemed such a serious thrill.

  Zoey made me lick both of her shoes again, which I took ludicrous time to complete to show her how willing I was. As I trailed my tongue around the hard leather, she said: "That's good. I think perhaps you can follow orders after all."

  I was about to assure her I could do exactly that, when I remembered her earlier order not to talk unless answering a question.

  Head still bowed respectfully, my lips pausing on the upper slope of her shoe, I heard a whispering of fabric as she reached under her skirt for a moment, and then I was startled as something dropped down onto me.

  Her panties.

  I looked up at her, a burning question in my eyes as she stepped out of the little black thong. She looked ravishing in her smart office wear made wicked by fishnets and high heels, but my eyes widened as she lifted up her skirt, revealing the lace tops of her thigh-high hold-ups and then a beautiful little shaven pussy, adorned by a tidy patch of soft dark-brown hair.

  "Now lick me here," she said, edging her thighs apart.

  I leaned forward and stretched up, in total disbelief at what was happening. Deep down, I still figured she was going to stop me any minute, laugh at me, then reveal where the camera was, or whatever the prank was. Yet now she was exposed, too, taking us outside the boundaries of a possible trick.

  I brushed my cheek against her velvet inner thigh, the intense heat of her flesh shocking me, somehow confirming all this was real. Then my lips touched down delicately just to the side of her pussy.

  She didn't stop me. As I kissed her, I found myself swamped by a stronger hit of her perfume, combined with the spicy scent of her arousal. She wasn't just teaching me a lesson, then, putting me in my place. She looked down at me, and I couldn't believe how stunning she looked from that angle. How had I not had an office crush on this girl over the past six months? Even with my bitter resentment.

  "I said lick me here," she ordered, parting her legs a little now, pointing to her glistening folds.

  It wasn't the easiest angle, but I nestled my face in between her thighs, and now started licking, caressing whatever I could reach with whatever force I could muster. I felt her hand take hold of the back of my head and firmly pull me into her.

  I had to jostle for position a little, but ultimately found a way to get at her oh-so-pretty pussy, delving my tongue into her burning-hot folds before nuzzling her clit. I loved her flavor, as I loved her scent. Savory, slightly sharp, so very exotic.

  She groaned, and I noticed she was now starting to gyrate her hips gently, taking back some control, using my face as her own personal sex toy. I felt her tremble a little, and almost lose her footing on those heels.

  Then she pulled away, said: "Lie down. On the floor."

  I turned and did as she wanted, lying flat out there on the rough corporate carpet. From somewhere out in the rest of the building, I could hear someone operating a vacuum cleaner, and half wondered what a cleaner might think if he or she accidentally stumbled onto this scene.

  For a few moments, I just lay there like a turtle on its back, as she gazed down on me. I could still taste her on my lips - what a treat. Was she really trying to punish me? Or was this something else, the offer of a bribe to get me to bend to her will? For a taste of that exquisite pussy, I would walk on hot coals for her, my new boss. She didn't need to threaten me with the loss of my job. I hoped I could show her that.

  She stepped around me,
occasionally prodding my body with a toe.

  "Not bad, Jones. Tall, dark and handsome - no wonder you have such a reputation with the ladies. Not that there are many around here."

  I remained obediently silent. It sounded so different, her using my surname like that. Not as it had been before - she'd always called us by our first names in the office. I supposed everything was different now.

  "You've kept yourself vaguely in shape. I'm impressed," she said. "I like your cock. Not the biggest I've ever seen, but it looks like a good size."

  With the tip of her foot, she toyed with my aforementioned good size.

  "You know, I haven't had sex in a while," she said. "I've been so busy, so stressed ever since I've worked here. No time to go out, no time to find a boyfriend. Stressed - and that's been because you've made my life so difficult."

  She leaned over suddenly, flexing like a gymnast, and now she was running her pert little nose along the rigid shaft of my cock, feeling it out for herself.

  Then she looked up at my face, said: "I think it's only right you should compensate me for that stress, don't you think, Jones?"

  I croaked a yes, figuring it was a question, I was allowed to answer.

  She smiled. "So maybe I have found a use for you in my team, after all."

  She stepped over me now, so that she stood directly above my face, high-heeled shoes either side of my head. She unfastened her skirt from around her waist, and there was her stunning pussy, in all its glory.

  "So," she said. "I think our new deal needs two components, right? One - you do exactly as I tell you, you manage your team as well as if you were head of department yourself. And, secondly, you compensate me for the stress you've put me under for the past six months."

  She lowered her body now, slowly, so that I could see the muscles tensing in her shapely thighs. I craned my head upwards, craving more of her sweet elixir. With a little chuckle, she wiggled her hips as her stunning kitty edged closer and closer to my mouth, taunting me. I was inhaling her dark, spicy aroma with every breath, and loving it.

  Then, at last, she touched down, and I was given another taste of her exquisite juices.