Love, Honour and Obey

The other, unexpected, bonus was the boost to my income. Suzanne's job on the magazine had opened the door to all sorts of new contacts and I was now receiving more challenging and lucrative commissions. I was even considering renting a bigger studio and taking on an assistant and, in truth, this new found ambition gave me more of a buzz than I could have imagined.

I decided that I should be thankful for what I had and that showing a little more patience was not too much to ask of myself – but my castle of dreams was about to come tumbling down.

It started with the resignation of Suzanne's editor. At first this seemed like a wonderful development as it left the door open for Suzanne to apply for the vacancy but there was a stumbling block in the shape of Gillian. She had been a colleague of Suzanne's for nearly two years and it was clear to the whole staff that they were the only two who were realistically in the running. The overnight change from friends to potential rivals put a strain on Suzanne. She started to get stressed and our love life suffered. We would cuddle for hours as I tried to comfort her but she could not get in the mood for sex.

We had gone seven days without making love, which easily qualified as our longest ever fallow period, when Suzanne came to the house in a foul mood. I guess that physical frustration had something to do with it but I lost my temper and told her to pull herself together. For the next half an hour we tore into one another, and I said things that I would later regret, but I badly underestimated the strength of her feelings.

"If you're going to be such a total shit then perhaps it's time we took a break from each other."

In the following few seconds a myriad of confused thoughts entered my mind.

"Suze...you don't mean that."

As if to prove her point she rose quickly from the sofa and reached towards her discarded jacket.

"Suze!..." I stretched out to take hold of her wrist "...You're tense, you just need to relax."

She paused to look at me with the spark of anger obvious in her eyes.

"Let me use your face."

"What?"

"You said I need to relax, let me use your face."

I was in no doubt about what she meant but she had never before asked anything of me in such an offensive manner. My immediate instinct was to swear at her but then it occurred to me that she might be goading me. If I were to resort to expletives then she could flounce out having taken charge of the moral high ground. I fought down my anger and decided that, galling as it might be, I would play her at her own game.

Without another word I knelt down in front of her and, reaching up under her skirt, I tugged her pantyhose and panties down her legs in one piece so that they hobbled her ankles. I was betting that she was bluffing and now I had called it. There was a long silence as I waited for her to make the next move fully expecting her to kneel down and give me a conciliatory hug. It never came.

With slow deliberation she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her underwear.

I wanted to see the look in her eyes but I dare not look up. I had already abased myself and I was afraid of what I might find. Without another word she put her hand behind my head and, with the other, she lifted her skirt. I was confronted with the all too familiar sight of her thick black triangle of curls and, within, the proud protuberance of her labia.

She held me there for a second or two, as if allowing me to appreciate a shrine, and then she stepped forward. There was no subtlety. In a single graceful move she pulled my head back and then she settled on my face.

I was aware of several things at once; the immediate strain on my neck, the coarseness of her pubic hair as it chaffed my skin but most noticeable of all the fact that she was extremely aroused. She shifted her position so that her sex was over my mouth and, in doing so, I was smeared with her sap.

I was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. On the one hand the macho part of my nature wanted to push her away but, on the other, her audaciousness was pushing buttons and I was already coming to erection.

There was no way back but at least there was the prospect of making love at long last at which point I hoped our argument would be forgotten. I stretched my tongue and lapped at her as best I could but the awkwardness of my position made it a clumsy effort. Nevertheless, it seemed to have the desired effect.

"Yessss!...lick me!"

She started to move, at first almost imperceptibly as she applied more pressure and spread herself so that I had access to her inner lips and then more determinedly as she grew more demanding.

"Get your tongue inside me!"

It was as though she was seeing how far she could push me and whilst, instinctively, I knew I should have drawn a line there was something oddly comforting and somehow exciting about relinquishing the decision making process.

I pushed my tongue inside and was almost choked by her tart outpouring before I regained control of my gag reflex but she was heedless of my discomfort.

"That's it!...Don't stop!"

In fact I was doing very little. In her excitement she had bent my head even further back and it was all I could do to stay with her. At some point she had released her skirt and I was now trapped in a hot steamy darkness where every breath seemed heavy with her moisture. For some minutes she seemed content to rock herself gently back and forth, groaning in contentment every now and again, but the pain in my neck was becoming too much to bear.

She must have realized that I had reached the limit because her movements suddenly became more urgent. My tongue was now slack, held in place only by her tensed muscles but she now had a new focus. She rode herself upwards so that she could use the bridge of my nose to apply pressure to her clitoris and, seconds later, she started to come.

It was a frenzied climax that threatened to do permanent damage to my neck but, even before it was over, she relaxed her grip on the back of my head and took a step back. She made no move to lift her skirt. Instead, she held the side of my face against her sex as she strove to bring her breathing back under control. Her scent was strong, almost unpleasantly so, and I could feel a trickle of moisture on my cheek.

I could wait no longer, Notwithstanding a half hearted attempt to keep me in place I struggled to my feet and used my handkerchief to wipe off my face. I hoped to see something of a guilty conscience in her expression but she looked like the cat that got the cream. I could not help myself, I resorted to sarcasm.

"Fully relaxed now?"

"Not quite. Take a couple of minutes break and then we'll see if you can do it again."

And I did. She undressed fully, sat comfortably on the sofa, and I went to work between her legs. It took an age and when it was finally over she consented to make love and it was my turn to be selfish. I came quickly, almost forcefully, and afterwards I immediately regretted it. Suzanne said nothing but her disdain was self evident.

The following night I tried to apologize but she her mood had hardly cooled. Somehow, I found myself guilted into performing cunnilingus on her, with no thought of my own satisfaction, and that became the pattern of things for the next few days. She was always too tired for coitus but expected me to help her "relax".

I knew I was a fool, but even a besotted fool has his limits. Something had to change...and it did.

Chapter 3

Suzanne broke the news that Ruth, her New York managing editor, was flying over to spend a couple of weeks in the London office. It was obvious that she was coming to cast a personal eye over the two potential candidates and it increased the strain that Suzanne felt that she was under.

In the middle of the second week she caught me off guard by announcing that Ruth wanted to take the pair of us to dinner. Apparently, Ruth liked to meet partners so that she could get a more rounded picture. Whilst I was not averse to this part of the process I was a little concerned that I might turn out second best to Gillian's fiancé. From what Suzanne had told me he was a City high-flyer who had turned name dropping into a high art.

Suzanne soothed my ego by telling me that Ruth liked to mix with more arty types and that my background was a positive advantage. Nevertheless, I still found something intimidating about Ruth when we were finally introduced. She was not as brash as some Americans that I had met but I was left in no doubt who had hold of the reins.

Suzanne had described her well. She was about average height and kept herself in shape. I knew she was in her late thirties but she could have knocked ten years off her age if asked and got away with it. She made no attempt to play down her Jewish heritage, if anything, she made an advantage of it. She was good looking, not a natural beauty, but she used cosmetics to great effect. She used a bright red lipstick which, on someone else, might have looked tarty, but, when set in contrast with her large dark eyes and perfectly sculpted eyebrows a pleasing balance was struck.

Throughout the meal she was easy company and her questions, whilst probing, were not intrusive. She had a clever way of appearing slightly naïve and she coaxed answers in a disarming way.

She had chosen the restaurant of the hotel in which she was staying and, after the meal, she invited us to take coffee in her suite with its spectacular views across the park to Kensington palace.

I thought that the evening had gone well, and was quietly congratulating myself, when Ruth turned the conversation back to business.

"Suzanne, I'm sorry to impose, but I didn't get a chance earlier this evening, do you think you could pop downstairs and make sure everything is okay for tomorrow morning."

"Of course, no problem, Chris can have another coffee."

After the splendid meal we had just enjoyed I thought that it was stretching a point to remind Suzanne that she was still on duty but she seemed genuinely happy to help. The magazine was hosting a marketing seminar at the hotel first thing in the morning and the conference room, audio visuals and buffet menu needed a final check.

As Suzanne left the room I was slightly uneasy. I had no wish to answer questions without her being present but Ruth smiled pleasantly.

"I hear that you are quite talented."

I wondered if this was a loaded question. We had not discussed my graphic design contributions to the magazine and I was not altogether sure if Ruth approved of Suzanne bringing me on board.

"I make a living."

"I think you misunderstand me. There's a lot of girl talk around the office

...sometimes one overhears."

"I'm sorry?"

"Chris, let's be frank. You know that I had dinner with Gillian and her fiancé and I must tell you that I found him to be a most impressive young man, a little overbearing but someone who knows what he wants. Now I find you to be equally capable, in your own way, but how are you going to give yourself the edge?"

I was not sure where this was going; did she want me to offer my design services at some sort of discount rate? She registered my puzzlement and then seemed to reach a decision.

We were sitting opposite one another on a pair of matching sofas and, before I could appreciate what was happening, she stood up and unfastened her dress. The black silk hissed to the floor and she stood proudly in a very expensive matched pair of bra and panties with her legs sheathed by dark stay up stockings.

Once or twice during the meal I had cast a surreptitious glance at her impressive cleavage but I could now see that her breasts were even fuller than I had painted them in my imagination. Having taken in the view I cast my eyes down guiltily but I found myself admiring her legs which were accentuated by a pair of stiletto heeled Jimmy Choo's

"Now, Chris, if what Suzanne tells her friends is true then you have a very talented tongue. For my part, I have not had sex since I arrived in London, and, to be quite honest, I am dripping. Perhaps you ought to think of it as an oral test."

I was totally stunned. Ruth was not unattractive, albeit somewhat older than my usual tastes, but she was Suzanne's boss!

"Ruth, don't get me wrong, you are a very beautiful woman, but Suzanne and I are serious about one another."

"And so you should be. She is a very desirable young lady, and, if you please me, she might well find herself to be our London editor."

My mind was in turmoil and the room suddenly felt several degrees warmer. I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples and, for a brief moment, I thought I might faint. The last thing on earth that I wanted was to be unfaithful but was it a greater betrayal not to secure the job for Suzanne?

Ruth seemed to read my mind. She sat back down on the sofa and spread her legs.

"I'm not asking you to make love to me. I just want to make use of that cute little mouth of yours."

I stood for a moment, desperately seeking salvation, and then took half a pace forward.

"Ruth, you have to get dressed, Suzanne might be back at any moment."

She smiled and looked at me as though I was a simpleton.

"There are one or two unforeseen "difficulties" with tomorrows function. Suzanne will be back when I phone down to the manager and let him know I am satisfied...if you'll pardon the pun."

She had me by the balls and she knew it.

"Suzanne will never know?"

"Of course not. We have a professional relationship to maintain."

In the next few seconds I twisted my thinking to fit the circumstances,: if I did this one thing then Suzanne would get what she most desired and we could get our love life back on track. Hopefully, she would even be prepared to name the day.

My heart was heavy as I moved towards Ruth but I told myself that it was just five minutes out of my life which would guarantee the future that I dreamed of. She, for her part, recognized my submission, and there was a glint of triumph in her eyes.

"Kneel down."

I went to my knees between her legs and I could see that she had not been joking. The crotch of her panties was dark with moisture and, even as I watched, the stain grew more obvious. She made no move to remove them and so I reached forward tentatively.

"No hands."

She smiled as she said it but there was no doubt that she was serious. I sighed, dropped my arms, and leant forward. I opened my mouth and she laughed as I clumsily tried to get a grip of the delicate waistband. She closed her legs slightly to make my task a little easier but as I started to peel them down I was breathing through my nose and her scent almost overwhelmed me. She had clearly been aroused for hours and the only surprise was that I had not noticed before that moment. It was a musky, almost exotic, odour which seemed to hint at her Middle Eastern heritage.

She brought her feet together so that I could remove her panties altogether and then she opened her legs once again. I took a deep breath and braced myself. Her pubis was fringed by a dark, immaculate Mohican. It was about an inch and a half wide at the top and then tapered almost to a point at the base of her sex. The flesh to either side was completely bare and I guessed that she used electrolysis and an expensive depilatory. There was no doubt that it was very high maintenance and I had certainly never seen such a perfect result outside of an airbrushed photograph. But that did not make my task any easier.

As I drew closer I saw that the dark streak was glistening and I wondered if she applied some sort of oil but then I realized that it was simply the product of her extreme arousal.

"Keep your eyes open. I don't go to all this time and expense not to be appreciated"

I had closed my eyes without a thought and I was surprised that she had noticed. I put out my tongue and gave a first tentative lick. Her pubic hair was more springy than it at first appeared and, as I ran my tongue over it, it yielded moisture like dewy grass. The taste of her was in keeping with her scent. It had a sharp tang that bit at my tongue before rounding out into a rich peaty taste at the back of the throat.

I pressed firmly, seeking out her labia, but I was surprised to find that she had a tight, almost childlike, slit. I knew that she was sexually mature, having had two husbands who had both subsequently been sacrificed on the altar of her career ambitions, and I suppose that I expected something more yielding. I continued to lick over her mound and it seemed to work the trick.

"MMMmmmm...Chrissie...your fiancée wasn't lying...you are a clever little boy."

Buoyed up by this modicum of success I pointed my tongue and tried to work it inside at which point she opened like a flower. It happened quickly, almost like time lapse photography, at one moment her sex was virginally coy and the next it was fully open to my tongue.

This unveiling brought with it a fresh outpouring of her juices and added to the heady scent that already filled my nostrils but I took no time for pause. I licked at the pink gash that was revealed only breaking my rhythm to swallow from time to time.

"Do I taste nice?...Of course I do...Drink it all up baby..."

Once or twice I ventured upwards but she was not having it,

"Take your time honey...you're bringing me nicely to the boil"

So saying she slipped her hand inside her bra cup and I sensed, rather than saw, that she was rubbing her nipple. For my part I fixed my attention on the small tattoo which she had just above her pubis. Close to, I could see that it was a red, smiling, imp complete with tiny devils horns and a trident. I guess that it was supposed to be in good humour but I could not shake the irrational notion that the malevolent little bastard was mocking me.

"Now Chris..."

I knew what she wanted. She slipped down slightly, opening her legs wider still, so that her clitoris invited my attention. The nub of flesh was small, and certainly less prominent than Suzanne's, but her reaction, as I started to lick, suggested that there might have been some compensation in having that wonderful bundle of nerve endings concentrated in a smaller area. She went off almost immediately draping her legs over my shoulders so that she could pull me closer.

"Yesss!....Don't stop!...Suck it!"

I tried hard but her movements had become so frantic that I was no more than a passenger as she rode the roller coaster of her orgasm. Fortunately she did not seem to care. She slumped her head and then laughed.

"Holy shit! That was fucking marvellous."

I could have happily strangled her. At least my travails with Suzanne were taking place within the context of a formal relationship whereas Ruth had simply used me and everything in her demeanour was designed to let me know it. She still had her legs splayed across my shoulders as she came down from on high and I was left to try and clean myself as best I could with my handkerchief.

At long last she reached for the telephone and I cast a surreptitious glance at my watch. I was horrified to find that I had been down on my knees for the best part of half an hour.

"This is suite four. Put me through to the duty manager...Hi, yes everything is fine, but there's an extra hundred in it for you if can spin it out for another twenty minutes."

"Whatever you are thinking...don't"

The words were out of my mouth even before the phone was back on the hook.

"Don't be a spoilsport Chrissie...I can see Suzanne's name on the editors door right now. The view is just a little hazy but I'm sure that one more orgasm will clear the picture."

With that she used the weight of her legs to draw me in, assuming my inevitable submission, and I meekly put out my tongue.