Who I Am

Sobia stood looking out of her tenth floor office block watching the Friday evening traffic crawl towards the weekend. She was anxious, waiting for a telephone call before she could go home. Her PA had gone home hours ago and only the cleaners were now in the building. Her brief case was packed, her coat wrapped across the back of her custom designed chair but she could not leave until this call came otherwise the day's business would all be in vain. The client had promised six thirty at the latest and it was now almost seven.

She had promised Phillip she would be back by seven thirty. Isabel would be there as well. If she arrived after eight she knew Phillip would spank her but Isabel would reap the benefit. What had so far been a good day was rapidly falling apart.

Sobia walked in the house at quarter to nine; Isabel and Phillip were both on the sofa listening to some Wagnerian dirge which Sobia hated. Isabel was pleased to see her and called out the moment Sobia came into the room.

"Darling," she called out, "how lovely to see you. You look tired."

Sobia explained the frustrations of the day's end and Isabel was, typically, sympathetic and kind. Phillip stood up, announced that dinner was ready and marched into the kitchen. The two women looked at each other, Sobia's expression and gestures asking the other woman how things stood. Isabel gestured with her hands to indicate she was unsure.

"It's on the table," Phillip called from the kitchen.

The two women walked in together. Isabel walked straight to her chair and Phillip was already standing behind his. Then Sobia noticed there were only two places laid and only two plates of food. All three stood and said nothing. Sobia searched the faces of both for some mediation but it was clear that Isabel's silent gesture of a few moments ago had been a lie. She knew. Phillip spoke.

"You were supposed to be home by eight."

"Yes, I'm sorry but..."

He cut her short.

"Go to your room," he ordered, "and get ready for bed."

Briefly Sobia stood her ground and looked at both faces to see if there was any possibility of a reprieve. Both were expressionless and she turned around and did as she was told.

The spanking, when it came soon after, was not as severe as some. But it was not her backside that hurt so much but that afterwards he left her to go to Isabel. She had so wanted him tonight and to be spanked and then left was cruel. She imagined Isabel laying on the bed waiting for him to return, her slim, perfectly proportioned, milky white body sprawled across the bed. When he came and undressed she would have cooed at scale of his erection that properly belonged to her. She imagined them fucking for hours. She sobbed herself to sleep.

The following morning, only seconds after the sun broke through Sobia's bedroom window, she felt a weight bearing down on the side of her mattress. She turned over. It was Phillip. She lay back and looked him, silently and sulkily. It was one of her talents that she could effortlessly move from young, ambitious, aspiring executive to a sulky girl.

"You were cruel to me last night," she muttered, barely opening her mouth.

He paused before replying, keen not to sound as though he had come to apologise.

"You said you would be home before eight and you weren't and so you were punished."

"I don't mean that. I mean afterwards. Afterwards, when you went to Isabel. I wanted you. I always want you afterwards, you know that. But you fucked her instead. That was cruel, very cruel."

He stayed silent.

"You did fuck her, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"Yes, of course. Anyway," she continued, getting out of bed and going to the wardrobe to remove her clothes, "she's only your whore, isn't she?"

She looked quickly at him to see if she had provoked him but she had not.

"Yes, she is my whore."

"The live-in-whore," she echoed, "how unusual, how quaint!"

He got up.

"We've discussed this before. Anyway, she's going today."

Sobia paused for a moment and was about to register her pleasure at this news and ask if she would have him to herself this evening but decided not to give him that satisfaction, no matter how much she wanted him.

An hour later she kissed him as she got out of the taxi to chair an important meeting for which Phillip had already briefed her.

Just before closing the door she said, "Eight o'clock."

"Eight o'clock," he confirmed. She threw him a salacious smile.

What Phillip had failed to tell Sobia was that her father was one of the delegates attending Phillip's own meeting. Sobia's father had introduced the two about three months ago because he so much respected Phillip's experience, range of contacts and ability; he thought his daughter would benefit from his advice. An old fashioned Asian patriarch he had, rather naively, assumed that his twenty five year old daughter would be safe with a man precisely thirty years older than her. It is just possible that Phillip decided to fuck Isabel last night rather than Sobia because he could not bear to look her father in the face the following morning. Whereas the spanking, for poor punctuality, her father might have approved of.

Business flowed through Sobia's veins. Her father pushed her hard at school from the beginning; every mathematical problem, no matter how simple, he presented to her in terms of money and business. He liked to talk to her about decision making even when she was too young to make decisions about anything. He taught her ambition. He taught her how to win. At twenty five she was already holding a position that most rarely achieved until they were thirty and they were almost always men.

Sobia's father asked Phillip, an old business colleague who he had known for years, to be on hand to offer his daughter occasional advice in difficult situations. He also asked him, as a man of the world, to keep an eye on her in more worldly matters; there were, after all, some unscrupulous men in the business to which a young woman might become fatally vulnerable no matter how clever she might otherwise be. Initially, Phillip demurred on this: he had no desire to play the father figure to over ambitious young women. Until, that is, he met her.

One morning, two days after these requests were made and accepted, Phillip decided to cement this responsibility by calling Sobia and taking her out for lunch. He thought she would not mind -- she did not -- if he offered her the name of some useful contacts as well as some people to be wary of. By the time the sweet course came the business relationship was forged. Afterwards he took her home and fucked her. She was not a virgin, which did not surprise him; she also had an orgasm, which for one of Phillip's women was rare. Within hours the roles of father and lover were entwined. Twenty four hours later she was convinced she could not live without him and the more he fucked her, the more she believed it. When, later, the lover turned out to be a father as well and exercised strict disciplinary measures for wayward behaviour she accepted it without question.

The following evening she arrived home a long time before eight, sorely hoping that Isabel had gone. As she entered the house she looked around for signs of Isabel's possessions but there were none. Beautiful smells wafted from the kitchen.

"Darling, what consummate timing, I was just about to pour the G&T!"

She threw her arms around him and gave him a passionate kiss. At one moment he moved to pull away but she held the back of his neck tightly until the kiss had finished, telling him how much she loved him. For him, more than anything else, it was the soft, silken feel of the youthful body in his arms that he ached for.

"Turn round," he said, their lips barely separated.

She smiled, knowing what he meant. With her back now against him and her arms in the air, he brought his hands around her front and grasped her breasts, figuring her nipples with his thumbs. He was infatuated with her breasts. He had never seen any so beautiful in his life. Sometimes he demanded she walk around the house stripped to her waist just so that he could wallow in their visual delights.

"Can't we eat a little later?" She asked.

"Of course, other appetites must come first," he said, as indeed for him they usually did.

He took her hand and led her to his bedroom. At the bathroom he stopped.

"Go and get undressed," he said and patted her on the bottom as he went into the bathroom.

He did not like to undress in her presence; he liked to go to her as the finished article. He checked himself out in the full length mirror and although he badly wanted her, his cock failed fully to register the urgency. He pumped it hard with his hand as porn stars do before they film. When he walked into the bedroom she was sitting on the side of the bed.

"Um," she uttered as he walked towards her, as though she was just about to have a sumptuous meal, which in fact she was.

He took her head gently in his hands and directed his cock into her mouth, then carefully eased it back and forth. At times it was hard for her to breathe but he held her head tightly. Soon he was urgent.

"Lie back," he said.

He took her left leg and pushed it aside far enough to enter her easily and she gasped as she always did. It was only just in time. He was quick. Very quick.

"Good girl, good girl," he gasped, as he always did at this point.

After he came he withdrew, physically and emotionally and she was left empty. Of course, he was her teacher, had taught her everything, but these moments left her desolate. She thought sometimes of telling him but he would be angry. Students should not presume to tell their mentors things they know so little of themselves; yet she had waited for him almost a whole day and now he was asleep.

When his deep breathing reassured her he was in a deep sleep she slipped her fingers between her legs and quietly finished the job he had started in the kitchen.

Phillip and Sobia's father, Sammie, lunched after their meeting. It was a relaxed and comfortable affair. Most of the time they discussed work related matters, until some twenty minutes before they finished.

"And so," Sammie asked, "how is that daughter of mine?"

"Oh, she's fine, just fine. She's quite a girl, you know."

Sammie beamed.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. You've certainly taught her a thing or two about business, Sammie. She has a certain, what shall I call it, acumen, intuition, well beyond her years."

Sammie was overwhelmed with pleasure.

"You really think so?"

"Certainly. Frankly, I think she can achieve anything she wants. It's down to her. She's got it all."

"Well," the proud father replied, pensively and with affection for his listener as well, "I can't tell you how much I value your kindness in keeping an eye on her, I know just how busy you are. If she gets in the way, you just get on with your own work but any bad reports I would still like to hear from you."

"There won't be any bad reports I can assure you."

"Is she seeing any men, do you know, that's the sort of thing that worries me? I know what some of these young bucks in this trade are like."

"You leave her to me I'll make sure she comes to no harm. I even take her to lunch occasionally, that's how much trouble she is!"

They laughed, more loudly than they should have done in a busy restaurant.

"You're a rare bird, Phillip, you really are."

Sammie had spent all Sobia's life worrying about her. He never felt truly up to the job of bringing up a girl and young woman in these times. Now, for the first time, he truly felt she was safe. A surrogate father! What luck!

Sobia's phone rang.

"Hello. Sorry? Oh, yes, sorry, sorry. Luke. Yes, of course I remember you, I was just preoccupied with something, something from work, it's nothing, really."

Now listening to the voice at the other end, her face quickly betrayed conflicting emotions. She began gesticulating extravagantly as she searched for the right words.

"Yes, yes, I'd love to. When? Erm....yes that'd be fine. Where...where exactly? Yes, I know it. Sure. Lovely. Look forward to seeing you. Bye."

She sat down and began breathing heavily. She was afraid and the realisation of this was more worrying than being afraid itself.

She had been trying to put Luke to the back of mind. She had met him about a month ago at a meeting. They got on well. She liked him, perhaps she liked him a lot. She had recently texted him and a few others about some work related issue so he had her number and obviously was now feeling that they had got on well enough to invite her for a drink. She could not deny she was attracted to him but what about Phillip? She was not a free woman, was she? Was she?

In the end she lied to Phillip and met Luke and spent a disarmingly pleasant evening with him in a wine bar in a part of town she knew Phillip never ventured to. At moments during the evening she kept asking herself why she was so enjoying herself. It came to her finally: she was relaxed and realised that otherwise she never was, not at work, or with Phillip, or with her father, both of whom were always spying on her or subtly interrogating her about her life. Luke did none of these but she kept thinking that any moment he would but he never did.

He did other strange things. He listened to her. He did not dominate the conversation; he even gave the impression he was interested in what she had to say. He took seriously what she said and thought about it. He made her laugh and she made him laugh. There was no sinister subtext to what he said: what he meant was what he said. Good God, he was courteous and polite! On the way into bar and on the way out, he gestured to the door with his left hand and gently placed his other hand on the small of her back for her to go first.

She wondered if, at the end of the evening, his mask would drop and he would invent some flimsy excuse to get her on her own or leap at her with a clumsy grope, but no. Were there really such men as this? Perhaps. He asked to see her again but she was in such turmoil because of the intense pleasure of the evening and because of Phillip, that she prevaricated and said she would call him.

She could not understand why this evening troubled her. There were obvious explanations, primarily guilt because she had lied to Phillip. But that was not it, not remotely. It was something deeper, something far more troubling, that was not just about Phillip, nor about Luke but about her. A terrible suspicion that a lovely man like Luke could never make her happy. Not Luke specifically but men like him, the kind of men that women are scouring the streets of the city for or investing their dreams in the Personal Ads, without luck. This was not about happiness; after all, what did that really add up to? Contentment? Perhaps; well, if there was such a thing, it was about being who you believe you are even if you do not like who you are, even if that makes you unhappy. Luke only offered something superficial and transient, a mere diversion from that brute fact. That was the difference then, between men like Phillip and men like Luke.

Alone in the taxi on the way home she held her head in her hands. Maybe Luke would forget her; maybe he did not enjoy himself, as she did. Maybe it would all be all right. Now, though, she would have to face Phillip's inquisition.

Sobia could never lie to Phillip. The moment she came in he knew what she had been doing. Without saying a word her forced her across his knee and tanned her backside until she yelled.

Almost two hours later Phillip moved over to Sobia's bedroom door and opened it slightly before returning to the sofa and his beloved Wagner. For five minutes nothing happened until Sobia emerged. She walked in on all fours, doggie style, wearing only her bra and pants and padded over towards him. She stopped directly in front of him, still in the same four-legged position. They stared at each other but said nothing.

Sobia eventually broke the silence.

"So, are you going to speak to me at all, ever?"

He said nothing. She now got up on her knees so that it was harder for him to ignore her. She tried again.

"Well?"

"Why do you want to speak to me, I thought you preferred the company of schoolboys."

"Actually, he's twenty six."

"As I said, a schoolboy."

"I only had a drink with him, that's all, I didn't go to bed with him."

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Actually, yes."

This candid reply surprised him; he thought she would lie.

"Phillip!" She said wearily. "It doesn't mean anything."

At this point she pushed his legs apart and shuffled up to the sofa so that she could be nearer to him. He did not resist. This was to be a difficult explanation, one she had wanted many times to say but was sure he would misunderstand and be angry. But now she felt she had to try. As she spoke she moved her hands, affectionately, up and down his legs.

"Sometimes I just need a break."

"From me?"

"No, not from you, from us."

"I don't understand that."

She spoke carefully, searching for the words that would not make him angry or impatient.

"I suppose you might call it light relief."

He looked and studied her face carefully as she spoke.

"When I was with Luke last night I did enjoy myself, I admit it. He was easy to be with because I was relaxed and it was fun. And we're never relaxed are we? And we certainly don't do 'fun' either."

He continued the careful scrutiny of her face.

"But, and this is what you must understand, on the way home I realised that, whilst he seemed to be a lovely man, probably the kind of man most women would queue up for, I knew that I couldn't make a life out that. An evening yes, a week-end, holiday, yes, but not a life. Sure, he was kind, considerate, gentle and for all I know a wow in bed, but not a life. It wouldn't last would it and what would I be left with after it had gone? Boredom forever. But with us there's a kind of......I'm not sure there is a word that really fits us, but it's a kind 'edge' when we're together and I can't live without it but I didn't understand that until last night. With you I can be different people, I don't have to be a single person, whether you're fucking me, punishing me or teaching me things. But if I were with someone like Luke I would have to be the same person all the time and life would lose its 'edge', but I can't live on the 'edge' always, sometimes I need break."

She stopped and searched his face for some response before adding, "That's it, I guess."

After a moment he picked hold of her hand and planted on it a gentle kiss: a silent but eloquent reply and she understood every syllable of it. Nevertheless, poor man, he should be given the opportunity to express himself in his own way, in his own language.

She unclasped her bra and removed it, flicked her fingers over her nipples so that they hardened. His hands were raised in an instant to clasp her breasts but she intercepted them and put them back by his side. Without taking her eyes off him she undid the button at the top of his trousers and pulled them down. The strength of his erection had pushed the elasticated part of his pants out from his waist. She stood up to remove her own pants, then straddled him and slowly directed his cock inside her. He was a big man and she always gasped slightly at this moment. He remained still whilst she rode up and down his cock until he came, quickly, as usual.

'Never underestimate the expressive power of male sexuality' was one of the first lessons he ever taught her and she had not forgotten it.

Soon the two lay in bed side by side in sleep's oblivion: the sorcerer and the apprentice, although it was difficult to know which was which.

The exorcism of Luke had to be done quickly. Sobia had arranged to have the next morning off so she did not wake until late, by which time Phillip had gone. She got out of bed, made quite sure he had gone and called Luke. He had a busy day ahead and finding time to meet Sobia for lunch was difficult but, for her, he was prepared to change his arrangements. Equally, she was not prepared to take 'no' for an answer. So it was : two o'clock.