The Interview Ch. 02

Pt. 2 (Starbucks)

I glanced at my watch for what seemed the hundredth time. Was it the right day? Was I at the correct location? Why a Starbucks, of all places? Unable to keep my eagerness for the encounter in check I had arrived at the Starbucks earlier than instructed. Two cups of coffee later the jitters were beginning to set in. Other than my early arrival, I had followed instructions to the letter; I was wearing jeans, a dark t-shirt, and was seated near the front window with my laptop logged on to the special web mail account. The cafe had almost been deserted when I had arrived but was starting to get busier as people began to venture out into the bright Sunday morning. My reflection gazed back at me as I stared out into the slowly filling parking lot of the strip mall. I was thinking about the weekend before.

I had arrived back at my apartment in a fever of excitement and frustration. The interview had turned my preconceptions upside down; I had expected a dramatic encounter in some dark, carefully staged dungeon ruled by a leather-clad dominatrix who dominated me with an assortment of grim devices. Instead I had found myself in an ancient dairy barn surrounded by a beautiful sunlit field and transfixed by a lady whose casual elegance and calm expectation of total service was more compelling than any of my fantasies. The only prop had been a simple strip of raw black silk and the only restraints, bungee cords and the rough wooden slats of a milking stall. The web mail address and password that she had scribbled across my buttocks were impossible to read without contorting my body into a series of lewd postures. The realization that she had deliberately placed the writing so that I would have to watch myself bend and twist in order to read it made me feel as though she was controlling me from afar...that I was somehow her puppet. It only increased my desperate need to touch myself as I logged onto the account and prayed that there would be a message permitting me to masturbate. There was a message! My elation, however, turned to bewilderment as I read it.

I AM VERY PLEASED WITH YOUR PERFORMANCE THIS AFTERNOON. IT IS TIME TO BEGIN PREPARING FOR OUR NEXT MEETING. TO THIS END YOU WILL BEGIN THE FOLLOWING REGIMEN:

AT LEAST THREE TIMES A DAY YOU WLL STIMULATE YOURSELF IN THE FOLLOWING MANNER ONLY. NAKED, YOU WILL KNEEL, CLASP YOUR ARMS BEHIND YOUR BACK, AND RUB YOUR ORGAN AGAINST ANY CONVENIENT INANIMATE OBJECT. YOU WILL CONCENTRATE ON THE SCENE THAT YOU WITNESSED AT OUR PREVIOUS MEETING. YOU WILL BRING YOURSELF AS CLOSE TO ORGASM AS POSSIBLE WITHOUT ACTUALLY REACHING ONE. YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY FORBIDDEN TO ACHIEVE AN ORGASM UNTIL I PERMIT IT. EACH EVENING I SHALL EXPECT YOU TO SUBMIT A DAILY LOG DETAILING THE TIME AND PLACE OF THESE ACTIVITIES.

YOU WILL BEGIN IMMEDIATELY.

Despite my bewilderment, I found myself complying with the bizarre instructions. I slipped off my clothes and looked around for something to rub my aching erection against. My mind was a welter of emotions as I knelt at the corner of the computer table and clasped my arms behind my back. On one hand the humiliating demands were deeply exciting; on the other, deeply frustrating. Should I simply disobey, please myself, and report what she wanted to hear? It was a tempting idea but ultimately an unacceptable one. If I took that course I would merely be a pale character in someone else's fantasy...throwing away an opportunity to experience the reality of what had haunted my fevered imagination. Again the feeling of being her puppet overwhelmed me. I could almost hear her low laugh and, although I was alone in the apartment, I felt her eyes on me as I began to pump myself against the table leg.

The feeling was luxurious and I heard myself groan aloud as the pleasure washed through me. My hips moved on their own volition, frantically steering my swollen, leaking flesh across the wood. I was trying to focus on the erotic spectacle that I had been a part of that afternoon but the novelty of my situation kept pulling me back to the present. How was it possible that this could bring so much pleasure...could be so deeply satisfying? The beginning of a powerful orgasm was building inside me far sooner than I would ever have thought possible. The temptation to let go rushed up on me again, battering at me almost physically. Gasping and trembling, I forced myself to stop. I was hunched over, hips pulled back, a silver strand of my pre-come still connecting me to the smooth wood. I stayed that way for a long time before climbing carefully to my feet. The orgasmic tension was still coiled in me like a spring...tense and fragile, wanting to explode.

It was a feeling that stayed with me for the rest of the week. I carried it with me embedded in the pit of my stomach; an agonizing yet ecstatic sensation that was always in danger of bursting free. I anticipated each bout of self-stimulation with a mingled sense of excitement and dread, knowing that each time would wind the spring a little tighter. By the end of the week I was in a constant state of arousal; semi-erect at all times...my skin hot and sensitive. Sleep had eluded me for several days. I just lay in my bed, my body pulsing in sympathy with my erection. Twice I had lost my resolve and leapt out of bed, racing to the corner of the computer table, desperate to make myself come. But even as I sank down to pleasure myself against the table leg I knew that I would not go all the way. The mere fact that I had assumed the required position and did not touch myself with my hands was the unspoken proof of my obedience. Both times I brought myself to the edge and stopped. As I logged those midnight entries I could hear her laughter.

A low tone from my computer summoned me back from my reverie...there was a message waiting.

MY CAR IS ENTERING THE PARKING LOT NOW. CLICK ON THE WEB ADDRESS PRINTED BELOW.

At the sight of the message I was instantly erect. I complied with the instructions and then looked out the window to watch as a black Bentley with tinted windows moved smoothly down the rows of parked cars and turned neatly into an unoccupied space. My attention was drawn back to my computer screen as it resolved itself into an image of a seated woman's lower torso and crossed legs. As the image flickered and moved slightly, it became apparent that this was a live web-cast video. The image reduced itself to one third of its former size as the low tone summoned me back to the original web-mail account.

WATCH.

I glanced back out at the Bentley and saw the driver's side door open and a figure that I recognized as her manservant Patrick climb out. He opened the rear driver's side door and disappeared inside. On the computer the delay of the satellite uplink was just catching up with the action; I watched as sunlight briefly flashed over the seated figure in the car...watched the image sway gently as weight was shifted around in the vehicle.

She was wearing a grey suit with a short skirt and dark boots that ended just below her knee. As she uncrossed her legs and spread them her skirt traveled up her thighs, revealing the soft folds that had haunted my imagination for the last week. Her hands appeared, tracing softly up and down the skin of her thighs before grasping the hem of the skirt to pull it up around her waist. Her bottom shifted forward and her legs spread even wider. Her right hand disappeared from the picture.

DO YOU WANT TO TASTE IT? ANSWER ME.

Yes, my hands trembled as I typed the reply, Yes please, Mistress.

DO YOU WANT TO MAKE ME COME? WILL YOU DO WHATEVER IT TAKES?

Yes, I will do whatever you want, The fingers of her left hand were rubbing softly up and down her wet, pouting lips. My pulse was roaring in my ears; I was sure that the entire cafe could here it. I glanced wildly around, sure that everyone was aware of the situation. No one seemed to be taking any notice, however.

CONVINCE ME. BEG ME.

Please, Mistress. Please let me taste you. Please let me make you come with my mouth. I am your toy...I desire nothing more than to be allowed to pleasure you in any way that you desire. Please let me prove my devotion. The words tumbled across the screen, seemingly of their own volition...the self-consciousness I felt from writing them was overwhelmed by the truth that they contained.

WE'LL SOON SEE. WATCH.

Suddenly she was gone from the image on the computer; I found myself staring at the leather backseat of her car. Just as suddenly she was replaced by Patrick's muscular, naked body. He was massively erect...fisting his swollen cock as he settled back into the seat. The scene remained unchanged for several minutes until he began thrusting his hips up aggressively at his hand, obviously on the verge of orgasm. Then she was in the picture again with her back to the camera, skirt hiked way up around her hips as she swung her leg over his lap and reached down to guide him into her softness. She had not buried more than half its length inside before his engorged flesh began to twitch and jerk...he lunged and bucked as his pleasure overcame him. After waiting for his orgasm to subside ,she raised her body carefully off of his and moved out of the picture.

NOW I"M READY FOR YOUR TONGUE. YOU WILL GO INTO THE RESTROOM, REMOVE YOUR CLOTHES, AND WAIT FOR ME.

My head was spinning as I closed the laptop and slipped it into my backpack...was this really happening? I climbed unsteadily to my feet, painfully aware of the obvious bulge in my jeans. As I shuffled toward the restroom I kept my backpack held in front of me, desperately hoping that no one was paying attention. I could hear the door opening as I walked down the short hall toward the unisex restroom so I stole a glance back over my shoulder and saw Patrick holding the door for her. She looked stunning in an austere grey ensemble with a short skirt and tall black boots. Her hair was pulled back tightly against her head in a simple ponytail which accented her high cheekbones. She caught me looking and raised an eyebrow at me. I hurried inside the restroom and locked the door behind me.

The gray tiled room was cold; I was shivering as I quickly removed my clothes. I expected her to make me wait...to keep me in suspense...but almost before I finished undressing there was a light tap at the door and the firm command "Open it!". I unlocked the door and she slipped inside. I kept my eyes on the floor. She placed a hand on my chest and pushed me backwards as she advanced until my back was against the sink. Leaning back against the adjacent wall, she pulled her skirt up around her hips and spread her legs.

"Kneel!...Hurry!"

I sank to my knees, automatically clasped my arms behind my back, and extended my tongue toward her sex but she grabbed my hair and directed my mouth lower, to her inner thighs which were slick with Patrick's come.

"Clean me up first. Patrick has been on the same regimen as you have this week and he's made quite a mess."

I could hear the amusement in her voice...she was clearly enjoying my evident discomfort at her instructions. Although I was thrilled to be serving her lust, I was trying very hard not to think about what I had just witnessed via webcam. She was not going to let me forget and, despite my misgivings, the humiliating circumstance made me even more aroused. I dabbed my tongue tentatively at her for a moment before resigning myself to my fate. Closing my eyes I slowly and carefully licked my way up her thighs, tracking each creamy rivulet to the source. As my tongue neared her wet core she sighed and spread herself even wider by putting her right foot up onto the sink.

"That's right, get it all...That's my good little pussycleaner...do a good job and I might let your poor little cock have a treat." I was surprised to realize that that I didn't really need the encouragement, I was completely lost in the experience...my face buried between her legs, my tongue deep inside her, desperately eager to please and actually enjoying the taste and feel of their mingled juices. Patrick's' explosive orgasm had indeed filled her up and she patiently made me work until she was sure that she was completely clean inside and out. Using my hair, she steered my tongue around her outer labia, occasionally stopping to pull my head back so that she could look at me. From the eyebrows down my face was coated with a mixture of her wetness, Patrick's come, and my own saliva. She was visibly aroused at the sight, moaning softly each time before pressing me back into her body. Her evident arousal filled me with pride and pleasure. I felt a satisfying sense of purpose, accomplishment, and deep contentment. The complex welter of emotions that had been building in me for days seemed to resolve themselves into one simple truth...this was where I belonged; my place was here, on my knees, serving this beautiful woman.

When she was ready, she directed my tongue's attention to her most sensitive spot. I licked and sucked and nibbled at it like a man possessed, determined to please her. She was panting now...climbing the peak toward a powerful orgasm. Suddenly she stopped for a moment and looked down at me.

"I want you to come with me."

My confusion must have shown on my face. Hesitantly I began unclasp my arms from behind my back.

"No! Not with your hand. You may rub yourself against my boot." She shuddered slightly as she said it. "Now, get back to work!"

I didn't need to be told twice. Shuffling awkwardly up to her leg, I began humping her boot as I worked at her clit. The soft leather felt deliciously smooth against my fevered flesh...I couldn't keep my hips from bucking frenziedly. I peeked up at her; she was gazing down at my humiliating display with wide eyes. Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps and she appeared to be in the throes of an immense orgasm as she battered herself against my tongue. The sight drove me over the edge. I felt the waves of pleasure roll through me as I gushed my pent-up semen all over her leather boot. The feeling of release was so intense that the world turned purple around me and seemed to fill with tiny shooting stars. Sometime later I realized that my cheek was resting on the cold tile wall behind her. We remained frozen in our respective positions for several moments while the shock waves subsided.

Without thinking I began to struggle to my feet but she grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back down.

"You are not done. Clean my boot."

I knew what she wanted me to do. Without hesitation I bent down and began using my tongue and mouth to clean up the mess I had made of the leather. It seemed right and natural; I found myself genuinely concerned that I not leave a trace of my pleasure. It became difficult to keep my balance, as I chased the milky fluid lower and lower I was forced to spread my legs and arch my back. Finally I ended up with my chest on the floor, legs strained open as wide as they would go, ass arched rigidly in the air to help counterbalance my efforts on the other end. My debasement was deliciously satisfying...my erection began to throb insistently again while I worked in that awkward position. When I was sure her boot was clean, I squirmed up and sat back on my heels with my eyes lowered submissively. Turning quickly, she reached down into my backpack and pulled out my underwear.

"Open your mouth." I complied and she stuffed the underwear into my mouth until it was hanging down the front of my chin. "Now dry off the boot...go on, make it as shiny as the other one." I went back to work, revisiting those awkward positions as I polished the leather to a deep shine. When I had finished she ordered me to my feet, yanked the underwear out of my mouth, and threw it in the trash.

"Get dressed quickly. Don't bother washing up, it amuses me to see you like that." I couldn't resist looking in the mirror. My face was covered with the half-dried remains of our collective juices. I felt myself blushing with embarrassment as she went on. "Hurry. I want you to go to the counter and buy me a chocolate chip cookie on your way out. Meet me at the Bentley. You are coming home with me for the afternoon."