Sweet Surrender Ch. 06

"Oh, my god!"

I would have preferred to have uttered something more original and profound in that moment, but calling out to a deity I did not believe in was the most my mind was capable of. Alexandra's thick, gel cock wasn't merely rearranging my insides; it was scrambling my brain. She offered me no quarter, pulling at my shoulder length hair and slapping my already tenderized backside as she drove her hips into me with each thrust. Despite the mild pain and discomfort, or in part because of it, I felt a huge climax building inside of me. Instead of having to seek it out, I was being tempted by it. Instead of having to break down a wall to reach it, all I had to do was let the wall come down.

"Can I come?" I practically bleated. My need for release was so severe, but my need to please her was right there, too - a second master demanding service and obedience. I knew in my bones that her permission was the key to unlocking something I'd never before experienced. Without it, I'd be cheating - myself, and her. The real prize had to be earned honestly. "Please, Mistress Alex, I need it so bad!"

"Not yet, kitten!" Alexandra loudly ordered, her deep tone commanding and firm. She curled my hair around her fist and yanked my head backward once again. "I want us to come together!"

"Please hurry!" I whined. "I don't think I can hold out much longer!"

"Don't you dare come without me you naughty little slut!" she roared. Her breathing was finally beginning to sound heavier as she began thrusting faster. I took both facts as signs that she was getting close, but as her pace increased, so too did my need - and, though I knew it shouldn't, her use of such a derogatory term toward me only increased the eroticism of the moment. I was a slut. At least I was for her.

"This climax will make you mine, kitten!" Alexandra announced as she slapped both of my butt cheeks soundly. "You won't be able to deny yourself the ecstasy of what I have to offer!"

"Yes," I begged without thinking, "I want that. I want you! I need you!"

"Then come for me!" Alexandra demanded. "Come on my cock!"

I immediately dropped my resistance. The dam holding back the deep waters of my climax burst all at once. I was instantly flooded, a deluge of pure ecstasy threatening to wash me downstream and render me lost in an ocean of pleasure. I gave in willingly, and I was swept away. The rushing water was a violent tide; wave after wave of intense sexual gratification pushed me out into that endless expanse of utter bliss, where floating and sinking were one and the same.

Somehow, I was tangentially aware of Alexandra achieving her own satisfaction. I could feel her hips trembling against mine, the thick gel cock buried deep inside me as her upper body collapsed down on top of me. Seismic convulsions still quaked through us both, and I found myself hoping that she, too, was experiencing the state of joyful nirvana that had claimed me.

<<<<<>>>>>

"That was... wow," I said as I reclined back against Alexandra's chest, the fingers of my left hand reaching up to finger the collar she'd given me. "I didn't know that sex could feel like that."

"It can always feel that way, kitten," she replied, kissing the back of my neck.

"I think that orgasm nearly killed me," I said with a tired laugh. "I feel as though I just finished running a marathon."

"You're likely feeling the effects of good sex mixed with a hint of subspace," Alexandra replied as the index finger of her right hand lazily drew designs on my shoulder.

"Subspace?"

"Ah, that's a state of consciousness that's almost like being in a mild state of shock. Submissives will often slip into it after undergoing intense BDSM play."

"That's kind of scary," I said with concern.

"Don't worry, kitten," she replied, kissing the back of my head. "It's a domme's job to take care of her submissive and help guide her back into a more normal mental state of mind after a scene."

"And that's what I am? I asked. "Your submissive?" I desperately wanted to hear her confirm it - to affirm me, and us.

"Well, I guess that's something we need to discuss," she replied. "It's been more than a year since I've had one, and I wanted you so badly that I kind of put the cart before the horse. But the decision of whether you want to be my submissive is one we both need to make."

"But I thought you brought other women in here?" I asked with confusion.

"I do act as a dominatrix for certain patients who need that type of therapy. But we don't have sex; that would be unethical on my part. You're the only person I've been with sexually since my last relationship ended."

My heart leaped at the knowledge that she saw me as someone special, but I did my best to temper the urge to rejoice at the notion of being in a relationship with her. I still had questions, and there was still the question of the man I was married to. Steve suddenly felt like a mill stone around my neck as I swam in deep water.

"What happened to your last relationship?" I asked.

"It just ended," Alexandra replied with finality, her tone clearly indicating that it was something she didn't wish to discuss. Though I was still curious, I let it drop.

"Beyond the fantastic sex we just had, what does it mean to be your submissive?"

"It means that we'd be spending a great deal more time together," she explained, "and that's where the proposal I mentioned earlier comes into play. I want to hire you as my personal assistant. I need someone to fill the role, and it would supply the perfect cover to explain to your husband why we spend so much time together."

I liked the sound of that. Filling my days serving Alexandra's needs would fill a hole in me - a hole I hadn't even realized was there until just then. Ironically, Steve had actually been after me to find work. We didn't need the money, but every now and then I got the impression that what I spent on myself - for hair, nails, clothes, and the occasional massage - offended him in some way. It was like he didn't he feel like he was getting his money's worth.

"What would the job entail?" I asked, knowing Steve would want to know. He wouldn't want it to interfere with his social calendar.

"I'd need you here six days a week," she replied as the fingertips of her right hand found one of my nipples and began to roll it between her thumb and forefinger. "You'd keep my calendar, schedule my appointments, keep up with my mail, and make my travel arrangements. I'd occasionally expect you to travel with me on weekend trips, too."

I thought about her offer. She hadn't even mentioned money yet, but I was already highly tempted to accept. It all sounded wonderful, except for the travel. How would Steve feel if I was scheduled to be out of town with Alexandra when we were supposed to have dinner with a client? Or worse yet, what if she needed me when one of his horribly boring company functions was scheduled to take place?

I instantly felt bitterness towards Steve. He was a crappy boss at a crappy job. That crappy job was a roadblock, or at least a hurdle, between me and Alexandra. Then and there I made up my mind to do whatever it took to convince him to say yes. I'd been numb to what a rut I'd been in for the last three years. My eyes had been opened to the potential life held, so, for me, there was no going back.

"I'll have to discuss it with Steve," I said, "but if he says yes, then I'd love to have the job."

"Wonderful," Alexandra said, her tone indicating how pleased she was. Her left arm curled around my waist, and her fingers found the hood of my clitoris and began to make small circles against its sensitive flesh. "Now we just need to talk about money..."

<<<<<>>>>>

"It's an easy job for good money, and I can walk to work. I don't see why you would be against it." I tried to keep my tone as even as possible. I didn't want Steve to know precisely how much I wanted the opportunity, lest he dig deeper as to why.

I'd just spent most of the morning and a good bit of the afternoon having sex with Alexandra. Even though she'd left me feeling wholly sated and satisfied at the time, just the thought of all the things we had done was threatening to get me worked up all over again I sat at the dinner table, negotiating with my husband, who at once felt like my current boss and my adversary. Even more titillating for me was the memory of going down on her. My first time eating pussy had left me a confirmed addict; the memory of her taste and aroma was still driving me to distraction. I'd spent my whole adult life blasé about blowjobs, harboring no delusions as to my skill at them, and feeling no urge to hone it. How indicative of my ongoing metamorphosis that "oral sex" suddenly meant something else to me entirely, even though it had always technically included cunnilingus - and that I wanted to practice, practice, practice until I was an expert.

After we'd finished discussing my potential financial package, and Alexandra's fingers had once again worked me into a near frenzy, my new mistress had taken control of the lead attached to my collar and ordered me to my knees. I'd suspected what had been about to happen, and had found myself eager. In fact, I'd been eager for days. I'd settled down onto my knees, and, still feeling very submissive, had placed my hands behind my back. Alexandra had wantonly opened her legs, the shiny moisture from her wet slit clinging to the dark thatch of hair above her cleft like a neatly trimmed lawn covered with morning dew. My tongue's first pass through her most sacred of passes had left me wanting to worship at her holy shrine for the remainder of my days.

I'd made her climax twice with my lips and tongue, and once with my fingers. Each time had filled me with more self-satisfaction than all the times that I'd made my husband climax combined. Alexandra had doused my face with her feminine ambrosia, baptizing me into a new way of life that I hoped would last forever.

"I don't know about these weekends, Brooke," Steve said, breaking me from my reverie yet again. I'd found myself returning to it during every brief silence - at every opportunity. Whatever pulled me away again was instantly a source of irritation. I supposed Steve was playing with house money, there. "What if I need you to go to an event with me and she schedules some out-of-town trip? No, this isn't going to work. It's too much of a commitment."

"But I'll be the one who schedules her trips. Plus, if it comes down to you or her, then I'll choose your event every time."

Okay, that's a lie. Truth be told, I'd rather spend the entire evening sucking her toes after she's spent all day in a pair of heels than spend five minutes even figuratively kissing the ass of whatever business contact you decide to have dinner with. Words can barely describe how badly I wanted to say all of that out loud. Steve's business dinners were legendarily boring, and I despised having to play the role of bubbly arm candy for my husband.

"Still..." Steve said, clearly holding back the real reason for why he disliked the idea of me working for Alexandra.

"What?" I practically barked, trying to get him to spit it out. "Use your words, Steve."

"She's a lesbo," he finally spat back at me, clearly aggravated by my sarcasm, "and I don't think it's a good look for me to allow my wife to work for some dyke who's into Lord knows what."

I sat there, stunned. My mouth was open, but no words were in danger of coming out. What did he know? Had Steve heard rumors about Alexandra's kinky lifestyle? Even worse, did he somehow know or suspect what I'd been up to all morning and afternoon? My heart was beating in my throat as I dug my fingernails into my thighs beneath the table, doing my best to keep some measure of control. I took a deep breath, counting backwards from ten, as I struggled not to let fear overtake me.

But then something sparked to life in me - something that I'd been tamping down on for the entirety of my marriage. In my teens, and before I'd met Steve, I'd been cursed with quite the temper. I could be fun-loving and easygoing one moment and a raging, temperamental bitch the next, and there'd been no rhyme or reason as to what might set me off. It had cost me friends and more than a job or two, but it wasn't until Steve that I had managed to get it under control.

Looking back on it now, I'd become a sort of Stepford wife to get my anger under control. In the two years between marrying Steve and meeting Alexandra, that act - that abnegation - had done more damage to me than anything else, even as it had improved my social standing and helped me keep new "friends" that I hadn't cared about. Yes, Steve was a painfully boring excuse for a man that I wasn't sexually attracted to, and yes, I'd knowingly entered my marital cell in exchange for creature comforts, but it was how I'd denied and suppressed my personality - not my sexuality per se - that had driven me into my depression. After only a few sessions with Alexandra, I hadn't quite figured all of that out, but I'd already realized that I just plain didn't want to do it anymore.

It wasn't even that realization, though, that caused my anger to finally slip its rigid bonds and start building upon itself like fission in a runaway nuclear reactor. Unbelievably, it wasn't even Steve's homophobic slur that brought it on. No, the inciting factor was the fact that he thought it was up to him to "ALLOW" me to work for her. That one simple, infuriating, revelatory comment was what lit a very short fuse inside of me, and made me stop caring if it reached the growing pile of explosives I'd been shoving into a cramped mental closet for our entire marriage.

"Let's get one thing straight," I growled at him as I stood and placed my fists knuckles-down against the table, "you don't 'allow' me to do shit. Maybe that's how we've done things in the past, but those days are gone. The way things are going to work from here on out is that we'll discuss things, I'll listen to your opinion, and then I'll make up my own mind as to what I'm going to do."

"Is that right?" Steve said boldly, though the look on his face told me that he was stunned by my reaction.

"Absolutely," I replied with venom. "And in this case, I've decided that I'll be taking the job with Alexandra. Now you can either learn to accept that as our new reality or not, because either way, I don't give a shit!"

He was still sitting there with that stunned expression on his face as I exited the dining room.

<<<<<>>>>>

The next several days were tense ones around our house. Steve slept in the guest room for two nights before finally returning to our marital bed on Saturday. If he did it expecting our usual weekly sexual congress, then he went to bed sorely disappointed. After having learned what real sex was, I wasn't eager to allow myself to be used for his pleasure.

The air around us at other times of the day wasn't much better. While I was somewhat reserved in my interactions with him following my big blowup, Steve was downright icy. I couldn't tell whether he was still angry or downright scared.

Alexandra was pleased to hear my decision when I told her that Thursday, a day after I'd drawn my new red line with my husband. We decided that I would start work the following Monday, though she did immediately send the information necessary for me to access her iCal so that I could familiarize myself with her weekly schedule.

She had a full list of patients to see on Thursday and Friday, so we were unable to be together. That didn't stop her from sending me salacious texts throughout the day. In one on Thursday, she demanded that I send her nude pictures, something I'd never done before. I nervously did my best to pose while trying to look alluring and seductive, snapping the image of my reflection in the mirror. Another series of texts on Friday demanded that I finger myself to near-orgasm, only to stop when I was about to come. I was required to make a video of my self-pleasuring sessions, which consisted of me propping my phone up on our dresser while I did the deed laying on my marital bed. She had me repeat the process four times that day before telling me I wasn't allowed to come until the next time I was with her.

I'd been operating under the belief that I wouldn't see Alexandra again until Monday, but Steve had barely pulled out of the driveway on his way to play eighteen holes of golf on Sunday morning when my phone received a text.

Alexandra: I expect you at my house and naked in five minutes!

My eyes went wide upon reading her text, and, for the briefest of moments, I froze. But then instinct kicked in and I found myself rushing around the house as I quickly brushed my teeth and hair before exiting our front door. I quickly walked down the sidewalk towards Alexandra's house while fighting the urge to break into a jog. I'd barely stepped up onto her stoop and touched the doorbell when her front door flew open and I was pulled inside, the door slamming behind me.

Her lips were on me in an instant as I found my back pressed against the door, her tongue delving into the depths of my mouth. Despite the kiss, or perhaps because of it, I still found myself feeling frantic to divest myself of my clothes as I'd been instructed. Alexandra eagerly pitched in, helping me to shed my shirt as I fumbled with the buttons on my pants. She continued to kiss me, my small breasts pressed up against her as I shucked off my pants and began trying to remove my panties. I was saved the indignity of having to struggle to remove my bra by the fact that I hadn't been wearing one.

"Upstairs, NOW!" she ordered while grabbing my wrist, her voice full of need as she pulled me along behind her. I didn't argue, working to keep up with her as we quickly ascended the stairs. I was surprised to be headed deeper into her personal space. I'd assumed that our tryst would take place out in her dungeon again. While I was a little disappointed that we were apparently headed towards regular bedroom sex, it was going to be bedroom sex with Alexandra, so I wasn't too crushed.

"On the bed and spread your legs!" she ordered as she began to strip off her clothes. I climbed up onto her king-sized bed and laid down on my back, opening my legs invitingly.

Alexandra eyed me with a voracious hunger the entire time she was disrobing. "You've had me so aroused that I haven't been able to see straight or concentrate on anything since the last time we were together," she chided me as she tossed away the last of her clothing and climbed up on the bed. I was, at first, disappointed when she bypassed my torrid sex and instead straddled my abdomen. My discontent quickly turned to elation, though, when Alexandra shuffled up my body and didn't stop until she'd placed a knee on either side of my head. "Eat me!" she demanded. She lowered her glistening sex down to meet my mouth even as she grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head up into it.

To say that I devoured her sex would not be hyperbole. I attacked her opening with my mouth, clamping down against her outer lips and stuffing my tongue inside her. I was rewarded with an almost primal-sounding moan from my new lover as I lasciviously sucked at her juices, doing my best to drink her dry. Alexandra surprised me by beginning to rock her hips back and forth, practically riding my face as she began to spew a litany of dirty talk my way.

"Oh, you filthy little slut. I got so fucking turned on watching you frig your dirty little cunt for me. I could practically hear your naughty little pussy calling out to me with all the wet squelching sounds it was making as your fingers plunged in and out of it. I was up all fucking night fantasizing about what it would be like to have you in my bed, and meanwhile you were snuggled up beside your useless fucking husband."