Erica's Submission

Robert smiled good-naturedly. "It could very well be the Bordeaux," he said. "I picked this out particularly…it is a bit powerful, but I think you'll agree it is quite remarkable."

"Indeed," I said, as Erica bent to take my glass. I found myself staring at the ample swelling of her bosom above her blouse—I had never really noticed just how big her breasts were before this. She had bent from the waist and was taking her time resetting my coaster, and I felt sure if she just took a little longer I could see what would most undoubtedly be the most beautiful nipples…

Suddenly, I realized I had been staring at her smooth, soft skin and forcibly tore my gaze from them. My face felt hot and flushed.

I looked over at Robert and he seemed to be enjoying his view of her, too—as his chair faced mine, I'm sure her bending over had caused him no end of delight. But before I could even speculate he raised his glass toward Erica and told her that we would like one more glass each, and then it was time for the evening's entertainment. He smiled at her as she left.

I assumed he meant dinner, and so I didn't object to the wine. As Erica left the room Robert looked at me, his face showing every indication that he was enjoying the night as much as I was.

"Erica is quite a lady," he said.

"I agree," I said, hoping he was making a generalized remark, and not one based on my own embarrassing social error. "I think she's one hell of a woman."

"She tells me you've been close for years," he said, in a nice way—not probing, just inquisitive.

"That's nice of her," I said. "Yes, it's been about three years we've known one another. I think of her as a daughter, in many ways, and I want to help her any way I can."

Robert nodded. "You've been a lot of help to her, I can tell. She thinks the world of you. She has told me her worst fear is of disappointing you."

I smiled. The wine was making me a bit thick-tongued, and I redoubled my effort to sound as sober as I could. After such compliments, I didn't want to let Erica down. I decided to make my answers as short as I could.

"She could never disappoint me," I said.

"Good," he said, and leaned forward confidingly. "I was glad she said she spoke to you the other day. It seemed to ease her mind about things."

"What things?"

Robert smiled, and said, "About our relationship. How shall I put it? I can sense Erica is not an…experienced…woman,"

"No," I said, and despite my best conscience I found myself speaking more honestly than I intended. "She's not. She's kept out of social circles until recently."

"That is what she tells me," Robert said, shaking his head slightly back and forth. "I want to assure you that I will never treat her unkindly. I am becoming very fond of Erica."

I nodded, smiling. I resolved to drink no more of his wine…I really could feel its effects now. I was surprised: a couple of glasses rarely had this effect on me, even before I ate. I felt like loosening my collar and rolling up my sleeves, but decided against it.

Robert continued. "John, Erica told me that you had some concerns as to her new…lifestyle. Knowing how important you are to her, I thought I would try to convince you as to its merits."

Robert clapped his hands, and on cue, Erica stepped into the room. But Erica had changed. Oh, how she had changed.

If she had challenged John's concept of her before, this time she blew him out of the water. She wore precisely three items of clothing: thigh-high black leather boots with stiletto heels, black leather gloves that stretched to her elbows, and a black leather corset that pushed her breasts up without any regard for covering them.

Her pussy was bare, completely bare: the corset came to her navel, and she had been thoroughly shaved.

On her left arm she bore a tray, with two more glasses of Bordeaux. She smiled shyly, her head down slightly, but her big brown eyes were looking upward at me. She walked slowly up to the end table at the arm of my chair, and she bent down to place my glass of wine upon the table. Her breasts swung free of her corset as she bent. Even hanging down, they still seemed as full as they could be, the nipples puffy and pink and distended. They swayed only slightly as she situated the drink on the coaster. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, accenting the beauty of her neck and face. She smiled at me, her face flushed, and then straightened up.

Erica moved toward Robert, and bent at the waist again, her back toward me. There was no hiding it: I could see her slit, situated between two bare puffy lips, with everything visible and open for me. She held the pose while she placed Robert's drink on his coaster, and just before she stood upright she turned her head toward me and smiled.

Everything I stood for inside of me rebelled, but I did nothing...I never took my eyes off her pussy; I never let my gaze wander. I knew this was wrong on so many levels, but I was entranced by the exquisiteness of what I was seeing. I could not look away. My pants seemed to tighten around me.

Erica stood up straight, and took two steps to stand by Robert's right shoulder. Her breath was apparently short, as her breasts heaved up and down as she stood there. Her nipples stood out from her breasts by a full half inch…her aureoles looked as if they had been pumped full of air.

"I wanted you to fully understand what Erica and I were experiencing before you made your decision," Robert said. "I think it important you to know the lifestyle that Erica and I are enjoying."

I know I smiled, my mind dulled (or sharpened?) by the experience I was undergoing. I felt I couldn't help myself—I was staring at an apparition, a goddess. She looked remarkable, like a scene lifted out of a long forbidden fantasy.

Robert turned slightly and, placing his hand at the back of Erica's calf, slowly ran his hand up the back of her left leg. I watched as his fingers traced the inside of her leg, past her knee, up her thigh, so slowly, so slowly, until the tip of his index finger was just below the juncture of her legs. It was so erotic—as he lifted the finger, sliding it up into the tiny little fold at her center, Erica's eyes lifted up just as her lids closed.

"Baby," he said softly, "unless I am mistaken, John has a problem that needs attending to."

"Yes, Master," she said, looking directly at my lap.

Erica nodded, and began to step unsteadily toward me. It took what seemed an eternity…I saw her coming, and yet she moved with the speed of a distant memory, a long-recalled recollection. I saw her hips sway as she moved, her puffy lips swaying right and left as she walked, and a smile upon her face. When she reached me, she stood before me like a vision. My gaze wandered over her soft skin, up from her bare pussy to her tiny waist, her belly flat and small, to her full, swelling breasts, past her distended nipples, up beyond her long neck and thin, soft lips, to her wide brown eyes, unblinkingly staring back at me. She stood still, apparently waiting.

"You see, John," Robert said, "you will never know what it is that you must judge, until you have experienced it. Relax, and enjoy. Then you will know."

Robert settled into his chair, his ankle of his left leg upon the knee of the right, and he placed his chin in his right hand, his elbow on the arm of the chair. He stared with intensity at both of us, apparently pleased with what he saw.

"Erica," he said.

"Yes, Master." Her voice was soft and dreamlike.

"I want you to kneel before him."

"Yes, Master," she said, and she sank down upon her knees, placing her hands upon my knees. I wanted to react—something deep within me told me to stand, to say something: this had gone too far and I needed to stop it. But that part of me slid further and further away, so deep I could barely hear it anymore.

"I want you to kiss him deeply, baby, as you slowly slide your hands up his legs."

"Yes, Master."

Erica's hands slid up my thighs as she leaned in toward me. As her gloved hands reached the area of my mid-thigh, her lips touched mine, and I felt the gentle softness of her mouth as she pressed her lips against my own, and felt her tongue reach in and stroke my teeth until I opened my mouth. We kissed long and hard, and without consciously willing it to my tongue probed hers, locking against it and licking her tongue, her teeth, and her lips. I did not move any other part of me—I sat still, tasting the sweet liquor of her lips, my hands still on the arms of my chair. But I could feel the insistent swelling in my loins, a swelling that increased rapidly as I felt her little girl's hands slide ever closer to me.

And then they were there, and they softly traced the outline of my penis, touching me as gently as feathers, but inquisitively, as if touching something alien, something new.

"Is he hard, Erica?" Robert asked. Erica's lips broke from mine, but her eyes never left my eyes.

"Yes, Master." She smiled, still staring directly into my eyes. "He is very hard."

"Unbutton his shoes, baby."

"Yes, Master."

And like that, without question, Erica bent down to untie my shoes. I felt like a mannequin, as if I were their toy, but I could not voice my concerns. Nor, in any real conscious way, did I want to. I lifted my feet, and she took off my shoes.

"And the socks, baby."

"Yes Master."

That task accomplished, Erica sat back on her heels, waiting for word. Her gaze had returned to my eyes, and she sat unblinking. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, quickly.

"You may return to kissing him, Erica," Robert said, and Erica smiled as she rose to meet my lips. "As you do, I want you to unbutton his shirt, and remove it."

Erica's lips were again on mine, and I let her take the lead now, feeling her soft mouth searching mine, her lips not so much kissing mine as they were searching them, moving around my mouth as she unbuttoned my shirt, one by one. I could feel her gloved fingers against my bare skin as she worked, moving lower. Though it went against everything I felt was correct I accepted what was happening without question—I felt as if I were clay, being molded by two artists.

When Erica reached the last button, she tugged the shirt off my shoulders, pulling slowly at each sleeve to strip my garment from me. As I came forward slightly to accommodate her, my chest brushed the tips of her nipples, and I sucked air in my lungs as she tossed the shirt aside, and sat back against her feet again awaiting her next orders.

"Erica, take off John's pants, and his underwear with them."

"Yes, Master," she said, grinning at me.

She unclasped my belt, then unbuttoned my pants, and took the tip of the zipper between her thumb and forefinger. She drew it slowly down, holding the top of my pants tight as she did. Her face was only inches from my cock beneath the cloth. I could only watch it happen…I felt almost as if it were occurring to someone else. When the zipper reached the end, she reached up and placed her fingertips inside the top of my pants and drew them down. Without any conscious effort on my part, I raised up enough for her to pull the pants down my legs and off my feet. She sat back on her heels again, awaiting her orders.

I sat before her, stark naked. My cock had sprung up and lay against my belly, almost reaching my navel. I don't think I had ever been this hard in my life.

"Describe John's cock for me, baby," Robert said, his voice as calm as if he were asking for stock quotations.

"It's…big," Erica said. "It's nice and smooth, and has a slight curve in it."

"Oh, really?" Robert said. "In which direction does it curve?"

"To the left…um…his right," Erica said.

"Thank you, baby," Robert said. "Is there any moisture at the tip?"

Erica rose to her knees once again, and peered over the tip of me. "I can't see it well enough, Master. May I move it to see?"

"Ah, yes," Robert said. "Take off your gloves, and lift him with the fingers of your left hand, and touch it with your right forefinger."

I sat back as she did so. Her tiny hand made my cock look huge, and she very delicately lifted it so that it was perpendicular to my body, the tip pointed directly at her. She peered carefully at it, as if examining an item she picked up from her purse. Her face was mere inches from me there. Oh, how I ached for her! I was shocked by my own desire. She extended the tip of her right forefinger and dabbed it on the tip of my cock, sliding it between the lips of my opening. She brought her right hand closer to her, never letting go of my cock with the left, and rubbed her thumb upon the tip of her forefinger.

"He's moist, Master."

"Taste it, Erica," he said, still sitting placidly on the chair opposite me. "Place your fingers in your mouth and lick them clean, and tell me how he tastes."

Erica did, closing her eyes as she licked off one finger, then the other. She sucked her fingers as if they contained honey.

"They taste salty, Master, but not overly so. It's very agreeable," Erica said, her eyes open now and upon mine. She had not yet let go of my cock with her left hand.

"Good, good," Robert said. "Do you think you might like to taste him some more?"

"Yes, Master," Erica said. "I would like to very much."

"Very well," Robert said, standing up. He stood up and strolled over to me, his hands clasped behind his back. "But I have certain conditions. First, I would like you to grip him with your right hand, and stroke him up and down for me. When you see he is moist, you may lick the moisture off. But you may not take him in your mouth under any conditions. Do you hear me, Erica?"

"Yes, Master."

"Very well. You may begin."

I sat there, stunned, as I watched Erica encircle as much of my cock as she could with the fingers of her hand and she kneaded me up and down, softly at first, as if she were milking me. Her hand held the skin of my cock as it slid up and down the meat of my now very thick pole. When she saw there was a little liquid at the tip, she leaned forward. Robert watched her carefully, as I did, as her little tongue came out of her tiny mouth and expertly licked the slit of my cock, drawing the precum to her mouth without touching any more of my cock than the slit. She slid her tongue back into her open mouth, then closed her mouth and we watched as she sucked the moisture off, the walls of her mouth moving if she were sampling wine. She sighed.

"Would you like more, baby?" Robert asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Very well, Erica," he said. "The same conditions apply. A little advice, if I may. Grip his cock tighter. I believe John will agree that tighter is better. And before you lick, pull the skin of his cock down to the very bottom of his cock. Again, the tension will allow our guest to enjoy the sensation a little better."

"Yes, Master."

She applied herself anew to the task, working my penis with her hand, vigorously stroking me in both directions, and pausing whenever she could to skillfully lick off the moisture that collected. I found the exercise exhilarating but frustrating as well—I wanted to thrust my cock into her mouth, but I didn't seem to be able to. I simply had to watch it all play out in front of me, like the scenes of a carefully scripted movie.

"You might have noticed something, John," Robert said, walking around my chair slowly as he spoke. He seemed fascinated by the scene playing out before him. "To start with, I guess you can probably tell that Erica is quite attracted to, shall I say, oral delights. And I think it is not an exaggeration to note she is also quite skilled at it." As her tongue had just flicked off a large droplet of my lubrication, I couldn't have agreed more.

"Additionally, John, as Erica said, I like to be in control. As much as I like the physical activities of sex, I like the sensation of power that surrounds it even better. That power doesn't have to be violent, however, or even hurtful. It is simply enough that it is there.

As he spoke, Erica licked another drop of my moisture from my cock. My eyes felt like they rolled backwards in my head, like the eyes of a doll.

"One can control through fear, or pain, or legislation, or threats," Robert said, "but that kind of power does nothing for me. No, John, I like to dominate through subtler means."

Erica worked my cock like a piston, her fist gripping me tightly. Her eyes were as intent as if gold might drip from me.

"For instance," Robert said, "you may have notice the Bordeaux you drank was a little unlike any wine you had previously drunk. Well, suffice it to say that it was brewed especially by me, and is rather especially…intoxicating. I consider myself quite the chemist, in fact. Over the years I have made several different vintages, all with slightly varied properties. This particular one works on depressing the conscious will, and makes it's consumer rather, shall I say, moldable. I am sure you can agree that this is true." I weakly nodded my head.

"I needed to do that, John, so that you could get over the mental hurdles you had set up concerning Erica. You viewed her, if Erica's own comments could be interpreted on your behalf, as a father views a daughter."

I closed my eyes. Certainly, he was right—that was exactly how I viewed her.

"But I needed you to view her through my eyes to understand what I felt. I needed you to see her less as a daughter, and more as a sexual being. To that end, I believe I have succeeded."

As he said this, Erica had goaded a particularly large gob of my precum on the tip of my cock, and she tugged my skin down as tightly as she could and licked me clean in two swipes of her tongue. She rolled her tongue inside her mouth like it was ice cream.

"But there is something you need to know, John," Robert said, fully following the actions of his young protégé. He smiled as he knelt down to my right, Erica's left, as she pumped my knob with a vigorous delight. He looked at her ministrations, then up at me, waiting until I turned his way to look directly into my eyes.

"Erica, are you still enjoying yourself?"

Erica gave a throaty reply. "Yes, Master!" she said, her hand sliding up and down on me.

"Would you like to give John a little more…attention?"

Erica smiled, her eyes hazy. "Yes, Master!" she replied.

"Then I think it is time you take him in your mouth, baby, as deeply and as fully as you can."

With that, Erica licked her lips and leaned forward, tilting my cock toward her. She stared at it, opening her mouth, and flicked the sensitive underside of my dick. My cock jerked in her hand, and she stood back for a second to appreciate it. Then, without a word, she separated her lips and began to lower her head, letting the tip of my cock touch the center of her mouth, then slowly slide inside. She let my cock slide deeper and deeper, until almost one half of it was now within her mouth.

"Stop there!" he commanded, and Erica did as she was told. Even her tongue stopped, as it was, on the underside of my cock.

"As I was saying," Robert said, his eyes still on me, "I carefully constructed my Bordeaux to work exactly as I wished. It did render your, shall we say, conscience, a bit to the back of your mind, did it not?"

I nodded yes to the best of my ability. My cock was bursting from her attentions, and this sudden stopping was driving me out of my mind.

"But John, I only designed the drink to affect you for a limited time. You've been free of its spell for the last fifteen minutes."

I looked at Robert with disbelieving eyes. He lied! I would never have allowed this to get this far without being coerced. There was simply no way.

Robert smiled, and looked deeply into my eyes. "Try lifting your right hand, John. It's entirely in your power to do so."

I looked from my dick to my right hand, and tried to raise it. Surely, it was beyond my ability to…