0 comments/  104491 views/  22 favorites

Love, Honour and Obey

By: krr1957



This story is in the BDSM category for very good reasons. It deals with strong themes of female domination and non consensual sexual acts. If such material is likely to offend you then please find yourself another story. 

Chapter 1

The club was hotter than hell but as the temperature climbed so did the decibels. The mix master segued in a track by Leftfield and the crowd bellowed in appreciation. My two friends were taking their chances on the dance floor but I had had enough. I bought myself another bottle of outrageously expensive mineral water and went through into the chill out lounge. Even here, the ambient music was loud but it was a haven compared to the bear pit outside.

It took a second or two for my eyes to adjust to the subdued lighting and, as they did, I began to think I had made a mistake. Most of the sofas were taken up by couples getting to know one another better and, in one or two cases, not much was left to the imagination. I decided that I would simply call it a night but, as I turned to leave, I saw her. She was alone, her friends now nowhere to be seen, and for the second time that evening I tried to put my finger on what it was that I found so attractive about her. 

I usually liked my women petite and she was anything but. She was only a couple of inches shy of my own six foot and her short tight skirt and cropped top gave her a sporty appearance but, as I allowed my look to linger, I could appreciate that she was nicely curved. Her dark hair, now suffering the ravages of the Clubs humid atmosphere, framed a face that was, at the same time, both innocent and worldly. Taken as a whole her features expressed a certain naiveté but her discerning eyes, now turned upon me, betrayed a shrewd intelligence.

She held my gaze steadily and. almost without thinking, I walked over to join her. I gestured towards the door which led through to the Club room.

"Too much for you?"

"Not really my thing."

"I'm Chris."

"Suzanne ..."

It turned out that Suzanne was at the Club on sufferance in much the same way as I was. It further transpired that we shared a love of theatre and the following week she allowed me to take her to see an Athol Fugard revival at the National. After that we became inseparable seeing each other most nights and I began to wonder if I was in love. Suzanne was everything I could have wanted in a woman, intelligent, spirited and, whilst she might not be termed classically beautiful, she had something about her that never failed to turn men's heads. The problem was that I was still only twenty three and Suzanne a year younger. I had always thought that I would use my twenties to see the world and sow my wild oats but here I was giving serious thought to settling down.

After three months I asked her to move in with me. I had my own house, bequeathed to me when my mother and father were tragically killed by an earthquake whilst trekking in Turkey, and I decided that I had rattled around alone in it for too long. I needed to know if this was the real deal but Suzanne surprised me by gently refusing my offer. She did not want to end the relationship but she felt that we needed to slow the pace. In retrospect I guess she was right and looking back I wonder if my offer was simply motivated by sex.

Despite an ever greater yearning on my part Suzanne and I had still not slept together. I knew that she had had some bad experiences in a past relationship but she was not prepared to discuss the details and it was left to me to act the chivalrous knight and tell her that we would only do it when she was completely ready. So, she continued to share a flat with two friends and I formed an ever more intimate relationship with my own right hand.

After a year I knew I was in love and was as certain as I could be that Suzanne felt the same way. It almost felt as if I had regained my virginity and I was now prepared to hold it in trust for her. On my twenty-fifth birthday I asked her to marry me. She accepted my proposal and, to my surprise, she suggested that we went to bed together. 

I had often imagined the first time with Suzanne but the reality proved entirely different. Where I had conjured thoughts of joyful animal passion our lovemaking was slow, almost languid, but, as we finally reached a climax together it was the most exultant moment of my life. After that we slept together almost every night with each night much like the first, a slow discovery of one another's bodies leading, sometimes hours later, to orgasms the like of which I could only have dreamt of. 

We never discussed her past experiences but I began to get an inkling. Wonderful as our lovemaking was it retained an almost straight laced quality and I wanted Suzanne to trust me enough to broaden our horizons. More particularly I wanted her to go down on me. I was not so crass as to come straight out with it but I thought that if I paid her the favour first she would reciprocate. The problem was that every time I kissed my way south she would shift her body and bring my mouth back to hers.

I had reached the point where I decided that I would have to broach the subject as tactfully as I could when the fateful day dawned. My job as a graphic designer allowed me to work from home and that morning I lazed in bed whilst Suzanne took a shower. When she emerged, with her body seductively wrapped in a short satin night gown, I snuggled down under the duvet so that just my head was visible. 

"Think of me while you're out there in the cold."

She hated the cold and I knew that there was a hard frost outside. Trying not to smile she ran at me in mock anger and sprang onto the bed.

"Get up you lazy bugger."

"Nope, I'm staying right where I am."

"Well I'm staying right here too."

So saying, she straddled my upper body, pinning me under the duvet, and I began to struggle playfully. I could not move my arms and so I tried to buck her off but all I managed to do was to shift her a little further forward. Since childhood I have always been a little claustrophobic and for a second or two I felt a mild panic rising. My instinctive reaction was to bridge my body but that was possibly the worse thing I could have done. Shrieking with laughter Suzanne tried to stay put but, try as she might, she slid the last few inches until she was resting on my face. She immediately stopped laughing and for a second or two there was an awkward silence. Panic was still lurking in the recesses of my mind but my thoughts now had a new point of focus. Suzanne retained a reasonably lush growth of pubic hair and at that moment it was nestled directly over my nose and mouth. Almost without thinking I sniffed gently. Her pubis was still damp from the shower and the subtle scent of sandalwood told me that she had been using my favourite shower gel.

Up above me she laughed once more.

"Do you give up?"

The greater part of me wanted to do just that. I could feel a prickle of sweat on my forehead which had nothing to do with the temperature but I was being driven by cruder instincts. I dropped my chin slightly and, opening my mouth, I pushed my tongue into the thicket of dark curls. Suzanne jerked slightly, as though unable to believe what had just happened, and then she remained frozen. I kept my tongue in place for the space of half a dozen heartbeats and then began to move it slowly, almost imperceptibly. I pushed the tip deeper into the undergrowth until I grazed her labia and got my bearings. 

Each second I feared that she would take fright but in the closed darkness beneath her I could feel her labia slowly beginning to swell and with that came the first hint of her scent. Emboldened by this modest success I moved my tongue gently through the chasm and then I caught the first sharp taste of her. Somewhere above me she whispered the word "No..." but she did not move away. She hovered barely an inch above me, taking her weight on her knees, as I slowly prised her apart.

Suzanne has very prominent labia and at one time I wondered if she was embarrassed by them but only now, as my tongue went deeper, did I appreciate just how tangible they were. They hugged my tongue with a firm welcome and it was like an invitation to an oasis. She had become wet in an unseemly short time and I swallowed reflexively as a first single drop of her moisture ran over my tongue to coat the back of my throat. 

One of the many things about Suzanne that turned me on was the smell of her arousal. It could quickly pervade the room, imprisoning my senses, and was guaranteed to elicit a Pavlovian response from my manhood; but now I could add to this her taste. It was strong, but not in an unpleasant way, and whilst some men will tell you that all women taste the same I knew that it was not true. Yes, I knew that things like diet had a bearing on it but the essence of it is subtly different and that first true taste of her hit the back of my brain like a blow to the head. At the same time my cock strained to an erection so powerful it almost hurt.

She stayed perfectly still, as though unwilling to acknowledge her own highly charged state, but her body could not lie. That first droplet was followed by wet tattoo as I worked my tongue deep inside her and then I gave an involuntary groan as I began to greedily suck at her. Some rational section of my brain told me to move to her clitoris, to try and make this first time as memorable for her as I possibly could but it was overwhelmed but some more primal instinct that had me snuffling like an animal. 

In the event, it was of no consequence. In spite of my clumsy approach Suzanne reached an orgasm. 

"AAAIIIEEEeeeee..."

It was a keening, animal, sound and with it came fresh flood of moisture and a pounding for my face as she rode out the involuntary contractions. In the silence immediately afterwards it was hard to say which of us was breathing the hardest 

Suzanne lifted herself from me almost apologetically and my thoughts immediately turned to my own unfulfilled needs but any hopes I had were quickly dashed.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm going to be late. We'll talk about this this evening."

With that she picked up her clothes and took them with her into the bathroom. Less than ten minutes later she reappeared fully dressed and made up. She blew me a kiss, said goodbye, and then she was gone. For a moment or two I pondered this gesture and then reasoned that she was hardly going to kiss my face which was coated with a mixture of my perspiration and her outpouring. I closed my eyes and smiled at the progress that had been made. Suzanne could hardly deny that she had enjoyed it and, as I took myself in hand I suspected that the next time I reached an orgasm it would very likely be with her lips fastened tightly around my cock. 

That day I could not keep my mind focused on work. I sat in front of the computer in my study but my thoughts kept turning to the mornings' events and I spent most of the time with a burgeoning erection. In the afternoon I determined to be more disciplined but I soon found myself surfing porn sites and waiting impatiently for Suzanne to return. By mid afternoon I gave up and I went downstairs to start preparing dinner. A quick trip to the fishmongers for some salmon and the deli for some fresh pasta and I was ready to be creative. When Suzanne arrived home I greeted her with a glass of chilled Chablis and she set about the simple, but flavoursome, food with a relish. I had prepared a fresh lemon sorbet for dessert and then, after she had gone upstairs to change out of her work outfit, I served coffee in the lounge. 

I took it as an encouragement when she came back dressed in the same satin night gown that she had worn that morning but I told myself to take it slowly. She wanted to watch the documentary on the pre-Raphaelites that we had videoed the previous evening and so she sat down on the sofa whilst I sat on the floor and did battle with the VCR. The remote control was playing up and it only wanted to work from close range. After a minute or two everything seemed okay but I was in no hurry to get up from the floor. As the programme started I rested my back against the sofa and idly ran the back of my finger across her bare calf. Under other circumstances the documentary would have interested me but my mind was elsewhere entirely. I grew bolder in my attentions and began to rub the back of her legs whilst seemingly engrossed but if my attention to the TV was feigned Suzanne's most certainly was not. She moved her legs slightly, suggesting that my attentions were an unwanted distraction, but at the same time she reached down and tousled my hair

I gave it a moment or two and then half-turned and gently kissed her on the outside of her knee. If she noticed she did not react and so I pecked a second kiss a little higher up on her thigh. Almost reflexively she drew her leg up out of my reach and hugged her own arms around it as she continued to watch. 

My heart began to beat harder and I felt my cock slipping the confines of my under shorts to tent my trousers; if lifting her leg was designed to discourage me it was having completely the opposite effect. I kept my gaze fixed on the screen which suddenly flashed up a still image of Arthur Hughes' portrait of Ophelia. My eyes took in the familiar painting but then, suddenly, my point of focus shifted. I realized that I could see Suzanne's reflected image on the now darkened screen and, more particularly, her sex blatantly displayed. 

I guess, more than anything, it was the fact that she was totally unaware that took me beyond breaking point. In a single movement I turned myself and, before she could react, I pressed my mouth against her pubis and began to lick. There was no delicacy about it. I reached under her with broad, feverish, sweeps of my tongue and within seconds her pubic hair was sodden.

For her part Suzanne stayed frozen with shock but then I felt her hand on the top of my head. 

"Please ..."

I do not know if it was a plea or an admonition but I was too far gone to care. I worked my tongue inwards and upwards seeking out her clitoris. She applied more pressure and I still did not know if it was a signal to stop or simply to slow down but I was now latched on to my target. My fingers had long since told me that she had a prominent clitoris but I had not realized just how prominent until I paid oral tribute. As I coaxed it from its fleshy home it felt like a child's marble beneath my tongue. It was smooth and firm with distinct hemispheres and, as I deliberately started to tease first one side and then the other,

she began to melt. I could sense her vagina relaxing as she surrendered to my attentions and then I felt something on the back of my hand and I realized that she was dripping. I glanced up and found that she was looking towards the television but it was a glazed look and I revelled in my success.

Her scent enveloped me like an invisible shroud and it heightened my madness. I licked her whole sex, pausing at the apex each time to work her clitoris, and then she began to groan. At first it was an almost inaudible sound at the back of her throat but as she came to the edge it became a mantra which grew ever louder.

"fuck...fuck...Fuck...FUCK!"

Suzanne swore from time to time but I had never heard anything like this and the sheer crudity of it spurred me on. Her body began to spasm and I had a hard time staying with her as she went into freefall. Each time I thought it was over she was wrenched by another aftershock until, finally, she had no more to give. 

I turned away from her to get my breath back and I tried, surreptitiously, to adjust my erection which was crying out for some long overdue attention. After a moment or two the silence grew awkward and so I knelt up and opened my arms for a hug. Suzanne had to make an effort to focus but, when she did, I could not read her expression. She looked at my face rather than into my eyes and, for a split second, it seemed like a look of disdain. I immediately dismissed the thought and gave her my best boyish smile. She, for her part, dropped her gaze to my crotch where my own need was self evident. 

I was willing her to come to her knees and return the favour, but it was not to be. Instead, she gently but insistently pushed me down onto the floor until I was lying prone and then, in a single movement, she tugged my trousers and under shorts down my legs so that they were bunched around my ankles. It actually hurt my erection as she did it but, even as I opened my mouth to chide her, she straddled my hips and, without preamble, she took hold of my cock and lowered herself onto me. Her pubis was cool and damp but that only served to intensify the sensation as she took me deep inside where the heat of her passion was almost too great. 

Her face was set as she worked herself up and down on me. She started slowly but once she had found a rhythm she quickly gained speed until she was bouncing almost painfully. This was not the way I wanted it but at that moment my cock was going to take anything it could get; the only problem was that Suzanne was already approaching her second climax. As it started to take hold I feared that I would be left behind and I reached my hands towards her hips to try and exert some control but she was having none of it. She brushed my hands aside and her movements became even faster. Seconds later she started to pant and then I felt the walls of her sex gripping my manhood. Reading this familiar signal I began to thrust at her as best I could and I started to come just as she reached her own zenith. 

When it was over she lifted herself on unsteady legs and allowed me to slip from her. Shattering as my climax had been, after a whole day's anticipation, I knew that I would be good to go again shortly but Suzanne said that she was tired and that she needed an early night. So, it was with disappointment that I waited for her to finish her shower and by the time I had taken my own she was already asleep.

The following morning she had already left for work by the time I awoke and I lay in bed alone with my own thoughts. The previous evening Suzanne had hinted at an animal passion that had hitherto remained hidden and I found the prospect exciting but there came with it a sense of unease. This was the woman I loved, the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and I had convinced myself that I knew everything about her. At the finish I laughed it off; after all, everything in the garden was rosy and even oral sex was back on the menu.

I made up my mind that, when she came home, I was going to suggest an early night. I was still not prepared to ask her straight out to go down on me but I was sure that, with a little careful contrivance, I could lull her into a little soixante-neuf. In the event she phoned after lunch to say that she was going back to her own flat that evening. I was disappointed but her argument, that she had to pick up her correspondence and organize a change of laundry, was irrefutable. I said that I would come over and pick her up later but she declined on the basis that she needed to mend a few fences with her flatmates who were getting a little pissed off with her for using the place as little more than a walk-in wardrobe.

Things got worse. She had to spend two further nights at the flat to meet a deadline for work. I suggested that she work at my place but she laughed and said there were too many obvious distractions. Having made that argument it was hard for me to turn up at her place unannounced which was one thought that ran through my head. Three nights was the longest we had been apart for many months. 

We finally got together for dinner and I could hardly wait to get her out of the restaurant and back to the flat. Once home it became obvious that she had missed me as much as I had missed her. As soon as we were in the hall she locked me in a passionate embrace and we were both half undressed by the time we stumbled into the bedroom. We were still locked together as we fell on to the bed and, as I unceremoniously pulled down her panties, I felt a new charge. They were already sodden and I held onto them a fraction longer than might be deemed polite. Suzanne made a grab for them but, continuing to play the fool, I held them up to my face and took an audible sniff. 


Love, Honour and Obey



For a second or two I thought that I had made a faux pas as Suzanne stopped still and looked at me in an odd way but I was certainly not prepared for what came next. Before I could react she reached forward and grabbed a hank of my hair. I was already off balance and it was a simple matter for her to pull me down. At one moment I was trying to read her expression and the next I sprawled between her parted legs with my mouth on her sex. I needed no second bidding. I put out my tongue and began to lick and I could taste that she had been aroused for quite some time. It made the present task slightly unedifying but as I worked my tongue deeper into the gorge the taste became stronger but fresher. 

I wanted to take advantage of this new show of forwardness on her part and I brought my knees up under me as a prelude to shifting my position. I wanted to get my crotch over her face and trusted that she would get the message thereafter. Keeping my tongue deep inside her I made the first move towards crabbing sideways but even as I tried her grip on my hair tightened ever so slightly. I took this as a sign that she was getting close and so I stayed with it but after a few seconds her grip relaxed and there was no other obvious sign of an impending orgasm. I carried on with long licks of my tongue working almost from her anus to her clitoris lapping up the rivulet of saliva and juices that was steadily leaking from her. Minutes passed and, whilst I was enjoying it, my own needs were growing more urgent. 

I decided to try again. To start with I turned my head so that I could push my tongue even deeper inside her and this met with a growl of approval but as soon as I tried to straighten myself by twisting my body her fingers tightened in my hair once more. I felt a stab of irrational anger but it passed in an instant and I told myself not to be so impatient. I settled back down between her legs and resumed my duties. 

It was hard to judge the passing of time but my tongue was getting tired and, in an inverse relationship, the needy ache in my cock was getting worse. The only thing for it was to bring her to a climax as quickly as possible. I shifted slightly so that I could concentrate on her clitoris but she immediately applied a gentle downward pressure on my head.

"Not yet ..."

She spoke sotto voce and it was hard to read the intonation. A part of me wanted to rebel, not least because my face was sore from having been wet so long, but I also felt proud that she was pleased with my ministrations. I bent to it once more and, if anything, she was wetter still. Over the next few minutes she began to purr and, when I tried for a second time to engage her clitoris, she did not resist. 

It was so firm that I could feel the pulse of it and, with a few gentle strokes, she came to a screaming orgasm but the sound was lost to me as her thighs pressed painfully against the sides of my head. She held me so tight that I was wrenched by her every contraction and only when it was finally all over did she release me. 

I was definitely not feeling my best. My face was hot and my hair was plastered to my head. Suzanne, by contrast, looked totally alluring. She was still breathing hard and her lips were slightly parted but it was her eyes that captured me. There was a light of lust in them that I had never seen before and her pupils were so dilated that the deep blue irises appeared almost black. 

Seeing her like that fired me up once more and I rose up over her. The head of my cock was a livid purple and her mouth had never looked so tempting but no sooner was the thought formed than she reached out and took hold of my erection.

"I want to feel you inside me ..."

In the next few seconds I felt both desire and frustration in equal measure but as she reeled me in, opening her legs wide in the process, I was lost. I entered her with all the subtlety of a rutting stag and pumped like a mad man.

"Yes!...More!...Harder!"

She urged me on, exacting even greater effort, and the sweat dripped from my body. 

"Fuck me!"

This was not the Suzanne of old. She took hold of my buttocks, her nails biting in painfully, and I tried harder still. Normally, when I come, I slow down to savour the moment but not this time. I came in a frenzy and kept on going through my own climax until, seconds later, she reached a second orgasm. As I rolled off of her we were both gulping air and I felt shattered. Minutes later my mind was still racing but when I turned to speak to her she was already asleep. 

The next morning she had already left the room by the time I awoke. I slowly stretched myself, working some life into aching muscles that I did not know that I had, and then stepped into the shower. My face still felt clammy from the night before and I rinsed my mouth in the running water to rid myself of the dry musty cotton taste resulting from my failure to brush my teeth after our bout of lovemaking.

I felt slightly more human as I sauntered into the breakfast room to find Suzanne eating a slice of toast and reading the arts column of the paper. She smiled up at me as I walked in.

"Morning lover, how are you feeling?..."

Without thinking I ran my sore tongue around the inside of my mouth and her smile immediately broadened. 

"...You were insatiable last night."

It seemed an odd choice of words given that her appetite had clearly been the greater but I dismissed it as I took a seat and reached for the sports section of the paper.

"Is there any more toast on the go?"

"After all you ate last night?"

The double entendre took me by surprise, not being her usual style of humour, but I smiled notwithstanding and she immediately got up to slip another couple of slices of bread into the toaster. She was wearing one of her dark business suits which pulled off the trick of being both formal and sexy at the same time but, more particularly, I noticed that she was not wearing pantyhose. She always waited until the very last minute to put them on which meant that she probably had a few minutes in hand. Something had definitely changed in our relationship and I desperately wanted to discuss things with her but I could find no easy way to broach the subject.

I was still staring at her legs, lost in my thoughts, when I realized she was talking to me.

"Is my skirt too short?"

"No, of course not, you look great."

"Then what?...Oh,...did you want something else for breakfast?"

She sat back down but she did not pull her chair under the table. She cocked her head slightly, raised an eyebrow, and slowly parted her legs.

In the next few seconds I underwent a transformation, from rational human being to a Cro-Magnon on heat. My heart was beating like a trip hammer as she smiled and slowly slipped her fresh panties down her legs.

"Come and get it ..."

I was a puppet with someone else pulling the strings as I went down on my knees before her lost in a single moment of depravity. Her sex was lewdly displayed with her dusky pink labia opening like a flower in the sun but the scent was not so much English country garden as jungle tropic. It was difficult to believe that she had become aroused so quickly but I was hardly one to talk. I had an erection that a pole dancer could have used as a tool of her trade.

I moved between her thighs, using my head to nudge her skirt out of the way, and I opened my mouth wide.

"Yessss..."

I felt her hand at the back of my head as, with a single thrust, I pushed my tongue deep inside her.

"...right there!"

Her muscles squeezed my tongue coaxing me towards her g spot and I did the best I could but I was already being reminded of my exertions the night before. The root of my tongue was more sore than I thought but I worked gamely as she gave me further encouragement.

"Do it harder...that's nice...suck it!...now!..I'm coming!"

In the short time it took her to reach a climax my initial blind lust abated and I found myself simply trying to get her there so that I could address my own needs. As soon as it was over I knelt away from her to find her smiling down at me. She picked up a table napkin and began to tenderly wipe her juices from my face and then mopped my glistening forehead.

"Thank you..."

Now was my moment. I stood up in front of her letting my gown slip open to reveal my needy erection and she immediately took hold of it enfolding it in the napkin that she was still had in her hand. It was just inches from her face and I gently, but insistently, pressed forward but she held me just where I was. For the next few seconds we were poised awkwardly; I would draw back slightly and then make another hopeful thrust but Suzanne would not yield. I was getting desperate and was about to ask for what I wanted when I was struck by a most ungentlemanly thought. 

As always, Suzanne had applied her makeup impeccably and I was suddenly overcome by the urge to come, not in her mouth, but all over her face. I had seen enough porn movies in my time and the facial cum shot had always struck me as rather corny but that was what I wanted right then. I do not know if it was an empowerment thing or an element of "serves you right" but the mere fleeting thought brought me to the edge. I began to thrust more purposefully against her steady hand until the dam broke but, at that very moment, she used her thumb to deftly flick the napkin over the end of my cock. 

I gasped and jerked spastically as I pumped wastefully into the napkin and as soon as it was over she took my limp hand in hers and guided it to my cock. She then got up from the chair, leaving me holding the sodden napkin to my wilting erection, pecked a kiss on my cheek and headed to the door.

"I'll leave you to clean up. I have to rush."

Chapter 2

She left the house shortly afterwards but I was in a daze for some time to come. It was not that I felt cheated per se, after all I had not made my wishes clear, but I did feel, in some way, short changed. 

I could not concentrate on work for the remainder of the morning and my frustration grew so great that I phoned Suzanne to see if we could meet for lunch. She said she would have loved to but she was already booked to meet clients and she further compounded my misery by saying that she had to go back to her flat that evening. 

I slept badly that night and another less than productive day passed with each ensuing hour seeming longer than the last. I knew what I wanted to say and rehearsed a hundred different ways of saying it but none of them seemed right. In the end I reminded myself that we were in love and I should be able to say anything I wanted.

When Suzanne finally arrived I bit the bullet. After a welcoming hug and kiss I led her by the hand to the sofa. Her expression told me that she thought something was wrong but she relaxed when I sat down next to her and gave a reassuring smile.

"Suze, I want to talk about yesterday morning."

For a second or two she seemed lost but then memory served and her eyes twinkled mischievously. 

"Certainly a nice start to the day.|"

"It's just that..."

Her expression changed in an instant to one of concern.

"I'm sorry! Was I too forward?"

"No, of course not."

I squeezed her hand gently and she relaxed again.

"I know that some guys don't like to do it... but you really seem to enjoy it."

The conversation was veering from the course that I had in mind but at least we were having a discussion. 

"Of course I do. I love you. I'd do anything for you..."

She gave me a heart melting smile and I pressed my advantage.

"...and I thought that you would do anything for me."

"I would...except..."

She paused for a moment, seemingly lost for words, but then picked up again.

"...I thought we were okay, you know, as we were...but then you seemed so insistent, I didn't want to deprive you."

Her reply was not one that I had allowed for in my many rehearsals for this conversation and I blurted my response.

"Don't you like it?"

"Of course I do silly. Can't you tell?"

The truth was that I suspected that she enjoyed better orgasms when I went down on her than when I actually entered her which, whilst in one sense flattering, was, in another, deflating. I decided to go for broke.

"Have you had a problem?...You know...With other men."

What followed was probably the most awkward silence that had ever passed between us. For fully a minute she looked deep into my eyes and it felt as though she was searching out my soul. When she finally spoke she was choked up and she made a couple of false starts.

"When I was a teenager I had...problems...with my stepfather."

I tried to fill in the blanks.

"He forced himself on you?"

"He tried, on and off for about two years. I always managed to fend him off but I could not tell my mother. It would have devastated her...or so I thought."

"One evening, he cornered me in the kitchen. Mum was out and he had been drinking. It was the first time he ever exposed himself to me...then he grabbed my hair and forced me down to my knees..."

She could not continue. For a few moments she sobbed into my shoulder and then she found her voice again.

"...I was screaming so loud he didn't hear my mother come back. She summed it up in an instant and she didn't hesitate. She hit him just once but she used a cast iron saucepan. He went out for the count."

At this point in her story she smiled and then laughed a little.

"I had been afraid for so long and my mum solved all my problems with a single blow. She locked him in the kitchen and called the police but by the time they arrived he'd gone through the window and neither of us has ever seen him since."

As I gently stroked her hair I felt relief. Her reluctance was now fully understandable but I was certain that I could win her round eventually. We sat quietly for the next quarter of an hour with me continuing to sooth her and then I asked quietly.

"Do you want me to stop doing it?"

Her reply was not quite what I had expected. She freed herself from my embrace and in a single movement she lounged back against the arm of the sofa and lifted her leg onto the seat. This served to ruck up her skirt and I found myself staring between her legs. She waited a couple of seconds for the surprise to register and then, with studied deliberation, she used her immaculately manicured nails to shred her pantyhose and pulled her translucent pink panties to one side. 

I could not help myself, I could not think, I was drawn to her like filings to a magnet. As I bowed down between her legs I was conscious that she was still in clothes that she had worn for the whole day but I was not put off. Her sheer brazenness excited me and overcame any qualms I might have had. As I closed my mouth over her sex the remnants of her hose snagged on the tiny bristles of my five o'clock shadow but, following her own lead, I ripped them aside and started to devour her. 

She was incredibly aroused and her taste quickly filled my mouth. At first it was strong,, almost unpleasant, but as I slipped my tongue inside her flow was hotter and fresher and I swallowed greedily. At some point the awkwardness of her panties grew too great and she pushed me away for a second or two until she had divested herself of them in a frenzy of limbs. Once free, she opened her legs even wider and pulled me back into place. 

I went back to work but her pubic hair, now free of restraint, slowly uncoiled and tickled my nose bringing with it the fusty odours of the day. Once again nagging doubts about the equilibrium of our relationship seeped insidiously into my mind but I was about to reassert myself with the mother of all erections.

I used my thumbs to open her up and set upon her engorged clitoris. Within a few seconds, her body began to shudder and then, to my astonishment, she ejaculated. A gush of moisture hit me square in the face followed quickly by another more copious jet. My instincts made me recoil but she held my head anxiously.

"Not yet!"

She pulled me back into her using her own fingers to rub her clitoris as she continued to come coating my face with her outpouring. When she was finally spent moisture was literally dripping from my face and I wished that I had a towel to hand but I was not prepared for what came next. As I slowly rose from between her thighs she grabbed the front of my shirt and drew me towards her. We remained posed with our faces just inches apart and then she licked me. She was like a cat, running her tongue slowly over my whole face, and at the back of her throat she sounded a pleasurable growl. 

I have had my share of girlfriends and I like to think of myself as a man of the world but nothing could have prepared me for this act of wanton behaviour. My erection, already straining, seemed to swell to even greater proportions but then with a sudden tightening of my balls I started to come. For a second or two I tried to fight it back but it was far too late. I felt myself pumping endlessly as a warm wet stain started to discolour my trousers. I was shamefully reminded of the wet dreams I had as a schoolboy and I felt my face flushing with embarrassment. 

"Get undressed. Let's see if we can coax him back to life ..."

Her tone was gentle, sympathetic, but I found it hard to meet her eyes. I took off my shirt and then peeled my sticky pants down my legs. I wanted to shower, to get clean and make a fresh start but Suzanne had other ideas. She quickly removed the remainder of her own clothing and drew me back onto the sofa. I lay on top of her as we started to kiss and she scissored her legs around my waist. Under other circumstances this would have been enough to excite me but my climax had taken more out of me than I realized. I tried valiantly but my manhood could only make a half-hearted effort to rise to the occasion. She sensed my unease and, as she relaxed her legs, she whispered playfully in my ear.

"There's no rush...we've got all night."

"Just give me a few minutes ..."

"Okay...but while we're waiting..."

She slid from under me, moving upwards so that she was perched on the arm of the sofa with her legs spread and where, at one moment, my mouth had been on hers it was now scant inches from her sex.

"Come and lick me ..." 

I was to become very familiar with that phrase in the weeks to come. If anything our lovemaking grew in intensity during that period but it somehow became assumed that I would always go down on Suzanne as a prelude to penetrative sex. Nor was this simply foreplay; she wanted to be brought to climax before we began in earnest and, at her most relaxed, it could sometimes take more than half an hour to make her come. If I am truthful, I found it a little irksome but I did not begrudge her. She started to drop subtle hints that the door had closed on her past and that, by implication, another door was opening on a brighter future in which her inhibitions would be shed. 

I think that, subconsciously, I formed the idea that if we were finally married then her fears, however they were grounded, would all be calmed. To that end I pressed her to name a day but she refused to be hurried. She made the very valid point that I had yet to meet her mother, who had returned to live in her native Argentina after the formalities of a divorce from Suzanne's stepfather, and it was difficult to get her to commit to a visit. Whilst I could rationalize this I found it less easy to come to terms with Suzanne's refusal to move in with me in the interim. She said that when she did move in she wanted it to be into her marital home but I was damned if I could see the difference. 

When I reviewed things in the cold light of day I knew that I should have been more than happy. I was engaged to a beautiful woman with whom, with one notable exception, I was enjoying wonderful sex and there were other things besides. Suzanne had introduced me to her circle of friends which was much larger than my own and I revelled in her popularity. Everyone loved her and, amongst the males, I was sure that I detected a friendly jealously which only served to boost my ego. 




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.




Love, Honour and Obey



By the time Suzanne finally returned Ruth was dressed and had her make-up fixed and I just had time to sluice myself down in the bathroom. I felt as though the guilt was radiating from me but ironically it was Suzanne who was offering profuse apologies for taking so long. 

"I'm so sorry..."

"No problem, Chris has kept me amused, you just give him a subject and he can give tongue to it."

We took a cab home and it was clear that Suzanne felt that I had made a good impression. I hoped that my reward would come in bed but she pleaded tiredness after a long day and I contented myself with spooning up against her naked back. I found it hard to drop off and my mind kept returning to thoughts of Ruth. Eventually, I got up to get a drink of water and when I returned it was to find that Suzanne was asleep on her back having sprawled herself across the whole bed. For a few moments I contemplated her naked form in the half light and I was filled with a warmth that only true love can bring. 

Without thinking I bent between her legs and slowly began to lick. I suppose it was a form of catharsis, a way to try and rid myself of the guilt I felt over Ruth. The familiarity of the unruly nest of curls was oddly comforting and, as I gently ministered to her she rested a sleepy hand on the back of my head. My tongue was sore and so I stopped every now again only to resume with the same gossamer touch. I made no attempt to push inside and simply contented myself with caressing her labia. At some point she began to leach moisture, almost like a fine perspiration, and I collected it on my tongue and swallowed it as though it was precious ambrosia. Time seemed to stand still but the dawn chorus had started when she finally shivered into a deep, lazy, orgasm that barely disturbed her sleep. 

The next morning we travelled into the office together. Suzanne had connected me with a major advertiser who was going to run an expensive campaign in the magazine. I had done some work for them previously and now they were paying for my advice on the lay out and positioning of the new ads. 

Suzanne kissed me goodbye outside her office and I made my way up to the next floor to the board room. The clients were already there and we exchanged pleasantries whilst we awaited the arrival of the magazine's advertising manager. I was a little taken aback, therefore, when Gillian came into the room.

"I'm sorry to keep you gentleman. Unfortunately Dana has phoned in sick but I'm sure that I can cover all of the issues."

I had met Gillian on a number of occasions but this was the first time since she and Suzanne had become potential rivals. I must admit that this made me a little uneasy but, in the event, she was the consummate professional. In fact I would have to say that she did a remarkable job for someone filling in at such short notice and the clients were clearly impressed. This was helped, in part, by her sheer presence. 

The magazine Christmas party had had a film star fancy dress theme and, with a clever application of lipstick and a little judicious padding, Suzanne had made a more than creditable job of impersonating Angelina Jolie in Lara Croft mode; but Gillian had outdone everyone as Renee Zellweger's Bridget Jones. 

Suzanne bears a strong resemblance to Angelina but with Gillian the resemblance to Renee is almost uncanny. She has the same blonde hair framing a face in which her chipmunk cheeks almost cause her eyes to close when she smiles, which she does a lot of the time, showing her perfect teeth. In reality Gillian is some pounds heavier than the film character but she always wears expensive tailored clothes which serve to show off her body to its advantage. 

During the course of the meeting she had flirted playfully when it suited her purposes and the clients were putty in her hands. I wondered, not without a little jealousy, if Suzanne adopted similar tactics if the need arose but we had agreed, from the outset, that, because of the ethical considerations, I would have no direct dealings with her on matters pertaining to my work for the magazine. I had, therefore, never seen her in action. 

As the secretary ushered us from the board room at the close of the meeting Gillian called me back.

"Chris, could you spare me a couple of moments?"

I told my colleagues that I would catch up with them later and sat down again. Gillian came round to my side of the table and took the seat next to me.

"I understand that your meeting with Gillian went well."

I said nothing and waited for her to continue.

"I've decided to ask Suzanne to step aside."

She must have seen the instinctive flash of anger in my eyes.

"Hear me out. Claudette's husband is running for mayor next year and I know that she is going to resign so that she can support his campaign. That means that there will be a vacancy for an editor in Paris and Ruth has always made it clear that she wants the European titles to be run by Europeans."

I suddenly felt very uneasy. The prospect of Suzanne working abroad had never occurred to me. 

"So why don't you stand aside and wait for the Paris vacancy?"

She looked at me as she appeared to ponder this for a moment and I felt as if she was looking into my mind. 

"I suppose I could...Paris is generally considered to be the most prestigious of the European titles...wouldn't you like Suzanne to have it?"

The honest answer was no. Unlike Suzanne I could not speak French nor did I have any great love for the French as a people. The idea of relocating held absolutely no appeal and I knew that if I was engaged in a long distance relationship I would be eaten up with jealousy.

Gillian smiled, as though I had expressed these thoughts out loud, and then spoke again without waiting for my answer.

"Well, I suppose I could be induced ...why don't you try and tempt me...I understand that you have wonderful powers of oral persuasion."

I wondered if I had heard correctly but the look of the wicked amusement in her eyes left no room for doubt. I felt a tight knot in my stomach. I am as guilty as the next man of bragging about my sexual prowess amongst friends but I wondered just what Suzanne had disclosed about our love life and to whom.

I remained frozen for the next few seconds until Gillian grew impatient.

"The door is over there. Either go through it or lock it. It's up to you, Paris or London?"

As she said it she parted her legs and allowed her short skirt to ride up. Her legs were nicely tanned and she had eschewed pantyhose but I was stunned to see that she was not wearing panties either. The thought, that she had been like that throughout the whole meeting just feet away from me, was guiltily arousing.

Yet again I faced a moral dilemma. If I did what Gillian so obviously wanted Suzanne would get the London job but would she want the Paris job even more were she to become aware of the possibility? In the end my selfishness got the better of me. I got up slowly, walked to the door, and slipped the lock.

When I turned back to her she was smiling broadly. 

"Let's just hope that you're as good as I hear you are."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"You don't. You'll just have to trust me."

It was galling. Given a choice Gillian was almost certain to go for the more prestigious of the two jobs but I could not take the chance. I tried to muster as much dignity as I could before going down to my knees but Gillian was struck by a new idea.

"Wait!" She got up from the chair and unfastened her skirt allowing it to fall to the floor. Then, with a grace that her size belied, she eased herself up onto the boardroom table.

"I'll be able to picture this moment when Suzanne hosts her first editorial board meeting."

She leaned back, taking her weight on her forearms and opened her legs wide and I appreciated, for the first time, just how voluptuous she was. She had the toned thighs of a woman who exercised regularly but the deep creases which formed the plateau of her pudenda suggested that she would never quite convert all her body fat to muscle. Likewise, now that she had propped herself up, her clothes could no longer fully disguise the hint of plumpness around her waist. 

I am not normally drawn to larger women but seeing Gillian like that I began to see what the attraction might be.

"Come on, I haven't got all day."

In keeping with her general physique her sex itself seemed larger than life. At some point she had had a Brazilian but she was allowing the hair to grow back in and her pubis was dressed with a fine haze of blonde hair that caught the overhead lights. Her long labia were already swollen and were slightly parted to reveal a glistening coral interior. 

I readied myself and bowed down between her legs catching the, by now familiar, scent of a woman who had been aroused for a long time. I was left to wonder just how premeditated all this had been. Was she so sure of herself? Did she know, every time she caught my eye during the meeting, that at the end of it she would have that same face down in between her thighs?

I drew nearer and it quickly became clear that she was going to wring every ounce out of the situation.

"Kiss it...gently."

I did as she asked pecking tiny kisses across her whole mound.

"Good boy...now lick...keep it gentle."

I guessed that she wanted me to focus my attention on her labia and so I licked along each one in turn using just the tip of my tongue.

"That's nice...keep doing that."

I continued, running my tongue over the slick folds of flesh, feeling them yield at my passing, and then swelling once more as though in contentment. No further orders came for some minutes and I kept to my task with only the occasional "Oh Yes!" from Gillian to punctuate the stillness in the room. 

"...use your lips"

I turned my head so that I could take each of her labia, in turn, between my lips and then, having stretched them very slightly, I used my tongue to arouse them once more. She seemed to like this and she cast her eyes heavenwards as she surrendered to the stimulation. 

I was stooped awkwardly and my neck was beginning to ache but despite her apparent hurry earlier on she was certainly intent on taking a more leisurely approach now. 

"...inside...slowly..."

I was pleased to be able to change my position, if only slightly, as I braced my tongue and pushed gently but firmly against her inner lips. 

"...more...all the way..."

I pressed more deeply and was rewarded with a rivulet of moisture which oozed from her to dribble down my chin. 

"...eat me..."

Keeping my tongue in place I opened my mouth wide and clamped myself to her. I could do little more than wiggle my tongue slightly but this seemed to have the desired effect as my mouth quickly became filled with the taste of her. 

She kept me like that for some minutes but my discomfort quickly grew. My jaw began to protest and I could feel beads of sweat forming at my temples. In part this was due to the mild claustrophobia induced by valley of her powerful thighs in which I was forced to labour. 

"...you know what to do..."

I took this as an instruction to finish her off and I was pleased to be able to close my mouth as I used my tongue to seek out her clitoris. 

"...there!...that's it!...not too quickly!"

The tiny pleasure dome had already shed it's fleshy cloak and, following her instructions, I licked slowly. I worked patiently, sensing that she was inevitably approaching the point of no return, and then I froze. Behind me someone was trying the door.

"Don't stop!"

She pressed a hand to my head and held me with her thighs just to reinforce the message.

I increased the tempo, desperate to get free, and she immediately started to respond to the faster, more positive, movement of my tongue.

"...Yesss!...More!...Do it!"

With each exhortation she squeezed my head more tightly until, finally, the dam broke. Her ample body began to rock with the rhythm of her convulsions.

"Don't move!...Suck it!"

There was little choice my mouth was being squeezed hermetically to her sex and it was swallow or drown. She was flooding moisture and I drank it all. Off I the distance, in another world it seemed, I heard the door again but whoever it was gave up and the loudest sound in the room was Gillian's panting as she finally started to recover.

"Suzanne's a very lucky woman. If you and she ever decide to call it a day you can always look me up..."

Her mischievous smile did little to dissipate the anger I was feeling but at least I had the satisfaction of knowing that Suzanne's future was secured. 

"...There's a mens room just outside."

I grasped this invitation to escape and headed for the door half hoping that whoever had tried to get in earlier might come back and catch Gillian whilst she was dressing. With this image in mind I went to clean myself up.

Chapter 4

Suzanne got the London job.

Everything in the garden should have been rosy. Our love life was still not back on track but I put that down to the worrying number of hours that she worked in the days immediately following her appointment as she tried to put her personal stamp on things. To some degree matters were worse. She would come to the house expecting me to 'relax' her but then she would not spend the night. Her shared flat was far more convenient for the office and facilitated her very early starts.

I still believed that if we were only to be married everything would get back to the way it once was and to this end I kept pressing her to ask her mother over for a holiday so that at least one hurdle would be cleared. Suzanne promised that she would try but nothing materialized.

It was two weeks after her appointment that things really nosedived. It was announced that Gillian was transferring to the Paris office and it did not take long for Suzanne to put the pieces together. She was absolutely livid and it appeared that, wilfully or not, I had badly underestimated her desire for the Paris editorship.

As a result things took an unexpected turn. Suzanne knew that she had nearly a year before Claudette resigned and Gillian ascended to the throne. She determined that, in those months, she was going to make such a success of the London edition that her New York bosses would have little option other than to offer her Paris when the time came. 

She threw herself into it with an almost superhuman energy and I found myself dragged along on her coat tails. My contributions to the magazine had been well received and I was getting sounded out by a couple of rival publications. My personal loyalty was never in doubt but Suzanne pushed even more work my way and I began to feel that the particular ambience that I brought to my work contributed, in some measure, to the magazine's rapidly increasing circulation figures.

Unfortunately, it meant that I was working long into the night and I had little energy left for my personal life and, physically, I was of little use to Suzanne. By the time the February edition went to press we had gone a fortnight where we had only seen one another at the office and it had been weeks before that since we had last shared a bed. 

I finally took a stand when I simply fell asleep over the computer at two in the afternoon and did not wake until ten in the evening. When I awoke I could not even remember what day it was and I decided enough was enough. I did not need the punishing work schedule and Suzanne and I deserved some time to ourselves. 

I decided that I was going to her flat. I could not remember the last time that I had made love to her, properly, as a man but that was going to change. I took a shower and found myself coming to an erection that still stood proud as I struggled into a fresh pair of trousers.

There was half chance that she was still working, dinners with clients having become the norm, and so I looked out the spare key which I eventually found, long abandoned, at the back of a kitchen drawer. 

Having taken this positive decision I felt as though a burden had been lifted and my spirits were raised further when I drew up in the car and saw that the lights in the flat were on.

I was about to ring the doorbell when I thought why should I? I was her fiancé after all. I unlocked the door and then crept along the hall ready to surprise her.

I was brought up short by a long drawn out groan and it was certainly not the sound of someone in pain. I stood there feeling like an intruder. In my state of tunnel vision I just had not given thought to the prospect that Suzanne might not yet be home. 

"Please...let me come...it's been more than an hour."

It was Gwen's voice and as I heard the words my heart began to hammer and, to my shame, it was much a matter of arousal as of guilt. Gwen, one of the flat mates, was Suzanne's friend from University, a vivacious Irish redhead who was as universally popular in her own way as Suzanne was in hers. 

I felt a little better knowing it was Gwen, I knew that she would see the funny side. Had it been Irene I would not have been so sure. Irene actually owned the flat that they shared. She was in her early thirties and taught at a private girl's school. We got along but we were never going to be bosom buddies. I sometimes got the impression that she resented me because I was going to break up their cosy domestic arrangement

I started to back down the hall and I had taken just a single step when I was brought to a halt.

"Stop!...Don't you dare!...Take your hand away."

The new voice was Irene's and I was halted as much by the natural tone of authority as by what she had said. In the next few seconds my imagination painted a number of lurid pictures and I found myself waiting for something else to be said but there was nothing but a tantalizing silence. 

The door to the living room was just three feet away and it was temptingly ajar. My conscience was telling me to leave immediately but it was slowly being overwhelmed by my naturally voyeuristic instincts. I told myself that one quick peek would do no harm and, having made my decision, I took a stealthy step forward and put my eye to the gap between the door and the frame.

What I saw caused me to take a sharp intake of breath. Gwen was completely naked. She was sitting in an armchair with her legs spread and draped over the arms allowing me an almost gynecological view. Her sex, with its neatly trimmed bush of red hair, was an angry pink and the fingers of her hand, where they rested on her thigh, glistened with moisture. In fact, her whole body glowed with a fine sheen of perspiration and her normally immaculate hair hung somewhat limply. Her chest was heaving and her nipples appeared to be almost painfully erect with the surrounding redness suggesting that they had been subject to some vigourous attention. Overall, she appeared exhausted.

"Get up."

"Please...let me rest."

"Don't be silly. We're just getting started. Now don't make me tell you again."

Gwen winced as she brought her legs together and, as she slowly got to her feet, it was clear that her muscles were badly cramped. She stood unsteadily with an arm across her chest and her hand covering her sex.

I had not taken a breath since taking in the scene and I now found myself trying to breathe slowly and deliberately. As I continued to watch Irene stepped into view. She was fully dressed in her usual simple and conservative mode. In typical male fashion I had often wondered how she would appear when naked even though she was not my type. She made good use of the schools expensive gym facilities and she obviously had a hard body. I had joked about this with Suzanne and, for a while, I had nicknamed her Demi referring to the character in the film "GI Jane". The impression was reinforced as she had, for some while, worn her brunette hair in a short, almost severe style.




Love, Honour and Obey



If I had not known better I would have pegged her as a lesbian but she had been in a long term relationship with Rory ever since I knew her. That is what made this present situation all the more incredible. Gwen, too, had recently got engaged to a Danish colleague who worked at the same firm of investment brokers.

In the next few seconds I began to think that I had a genie granting me wishes. Irene was standing directly in front of me with her back turned and, without another word she reached round and unfastened her skirt. She stood for a second or two and, I had to admit, she had a great pair of legs with a tight peach of a bum made all the more desirable because she was wearing black stockings and suspenders.

"Please,...I don't want to do it."

"What you do or do not want to do has no bearing."

So saying, Irene slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slipped them down her legs.

"I hate doing it."

"I know you do...and that just makes it all the sweeter."

She moved around Gwen and took a seat on the armchair and now it was her turn to unwittingly put herself on display albeit not quite so blatantly. With her legs parted I could see that she was completely shaved and this sent more blood coursing south to my already impressive erection.

"Get yourself a cushion for your knees...this might take some time."

Gwen docilely retrieved a cushion and placed it carefully on the floor at Irene's feet and I wondered what the hell was going on. Gwen is a sassy, intelligent woman holding down a high powered job and yet here she was acting like a harem slave. 

"Let me come..."

"Make a good job of it and we will see..."

As Gwen dropped to her knees my hand involuntarily dropped to my crotch and I was nearly overcome by the urge to unfasten my trousers.

"...come on, I'm dripping...I want you to lap me up."

Gwen had her back to me but I could tell by her body language that she was fighting to overcome some inner resistance. She almost willed herself forward as she surrendered and bowed her head. As soon as she was engaged Irene closed her eyes, growled, and gave a beatific smile.

"...yes...that's where you belong..."

For the next few minutes I watched as Gwen carried out her appointed task. I could see nothing but the back of her head bobbing gently and moving slightly every now and again as she changed her point of attack but Irene's running commentary left no doubts in my mind.

"...let me feel your tongue...yes, that's nice...suck it...."

I could not imagine the set of circumstances that had brought them to this moment but the sweat of excitement was making my clothes damp and the fierceness of my erection was painful.

As Irene's climax drew near she hooked one leg over the arm of the chair stretching herself even wider and I sensed that Gwen wanted to pull away when that moment arrived but she was not to be spared. Irene joined her hands behind Gwen's head and pulled her in tight.

"You sweet little bitch!...Drink it!"

At that moment she started to come, a long, powerful, shuddering orgasm that had her grunting with effort. Gwen was clearly in distress but that was of no consequence. She was forced to endure until the final shivers slowly diminished.

Irene released her and slumped back in a state of sated exhaustion.

"Finger yourself again."

"Please, I..."

"Don't question me, just do it, and just remember what will happen if you come without my permission."

I watched in bemused fascination as Gwen did as she was told. Her shoulders were slumped in tired resignation but after a moment or two I could see the tension growing in her neck muscles.

"Play with your nipples, I want to see them nice and pert."

The exchanges were unreal, almost theatrical, but there was no doubt that Gwen was genuinely reaching a peak of excitement. Through the back of her legs I could just see her hand as she began to stimulate herself more vigourously. 

"Stop!"

"No...not now...just a little more...please."

"Stop!"

To reinforce the command Irene leaned forward and slapped Gwen's hand away from her breasts. It was not a heavy slap but it had the desired effect. Gwen dropped both hands to her side and, when she spoke again, her tone was almost petulant. 

"Why? Why do you make me do this?"

"It keeps you on edge; and, besides, all the time that there is a chance that I might allow you to come, it keeps you nicely attentive to my needs...speaking of which..." 

She leant forward and used the fingers of both hands to open herself obscenely wide.

"Get your tongue in, as deep as you can..."

Again I sensed Gwen's reluctance and it was hardly surprising. She was confronted with raw, wet, cavern which almost threatened to swallow her up. She braced herself and then, like a beginner hesitating on the high board, she finally took the plunge. 

"Deeper...you can do better than that."

From where I stood it appeared that Gwen was trying her best. Her mouth was pressed tightly to the maw and she moaned with effort as she strained her tongue. 

Out of her sight Irene's face bore a cruel smile and I knew then that this particular act of the play had more to do with humiliation than stimulation. She allowed Gwen to struggle valiantly for a moment or two but after that she could hold off no longer.

"Suck my clit."

She continued to hold herself open and Gwen obediently, and, I guessed, with relief switched her attention. 

She was either very good or Irene was very aroused either way it was not very long before she started to scale the peaks once again. As before she kept control by taking a grip of Gwen's hair and guiding her tongue just where she wanted it as she greeted this fresh climax with a string of expletives.

I decided that the time had come for me to make a move. I had been standing still for so long that my body ached and my erection was clamouring for urgent attention. I took a last look and my heart went out to Gwen. I could see her trying to work some life into her tired tongue and recent experience had taught me exactly how she felt. Behind her Irene got up from the chair and stretched and yawned lazily affording me a last look at her desirable legs.

I eased away from door but, as I did so, I heard a slow handclap.

"That was quite a performance."

For a second my heart literally stopped and there was a sharp pain before it picked up again and started to beat furiously. The voice was unmistakable, it was Suzanne. 

I pressed my eye back against the gap with such force that it hurt but I had to know what was going on. Gwen was still on her knees with Suzanne standing over her. My immediate thought was that she had come into the room and caught them in the act but then I remembered, with a jolt, that the room only had one door and I was peering through it. That could only mean that she had been in the room the whole time and I could barely digest the implications.

I had to keep shifting my position in order to see all three of them. Irene had retrieved her skirt and panties and was in the process of getting dressed and Suzanne was gently stroking Gwen's hair.

"Please Suze, not tonight ...I've had enough."

Gwen's voice was only just loud enough to hear but there was something in its tone. Only later, thinking back on it, did I realize that she was afraid.

"Well that's hardly fair now is it? I've sat here patiently watching you two having all the fun; are you going to deny me mine?"

"Please. Tomorrow...I'll do it tomorrow."

"Sorry Gwen, but you do put on such a good show; the fact is you've really got me hot and bothered."

My brain could not take it in. I just could not string coherent thoughts together. When I replayed the scene, as I would for many years to come, I saw myself storming into the room demanding explanations but in reality I stood there mutely feeling seedier than I had ever done in all my life.

"Come on Gwen...you know how I like it."

Irene laughed at this but for me it was the final damning affirmation that this was not the first time. 

Gwen turned around so that she was facing me and I could see that her face was flushed and wet. I thought, for a moment, that she might rebel but the very fact that she had stayed on her knees betokened her submission. She looked up at Suzanne with pleading eyes but it was to no avail.

"Lie back."

She allowed herself to fall back, almost in slow motion, until her head was resting on the seat of the armchair and she was staring up at the ceiling. Suzanne looked down at her for a few seconds and then she hitched her skirt. She was still wearing a smart, two-piece, business suit and, like a furtive schoolboy, I tried to spot if she was wearing underwear. 

With feline grace she took up a kneeling position on the seat facing the back of the chair. She was now straddling Gwen's face and she smiled down at her one last time before she allowed her skirt to fall. She remained poised for a few seconds and then, with an audible sigh, she slowly descended and let her weight settle.

I should have been feeling disgust, betrayal, instead I felt an inner numbness and through it all my erection remained bone hard.

Suzanne wiggled her hips slightly as she squirmed into a comfortable position and then she remained perfectly still for a moment or two. I found myself holding my breath and when, at last, she rose slightly, I heard a muffled, almost panicked, gasp from beneath her skirt causing me to draw in a deep sympathetic draught of air. 

She settled once more, pressing the back of Gwen's head deeper into the cushion, and then she began to rock gently, almost imperceptibly. It was a rhythmic movement that meant that her upper body stayed still and then she began to hum. It was a sound I knew well and it meant that she was starting the slow ride towards a long lazy orgasm.

In the event I stood stock still for nearly half an hour during which time Suzanne kept up the same easy tempo pausing only now and then to allow Gwen a full lungful of air. Her orgasm, when it hit, was almost muted. She joined her hands and lifted the hair from the nape of her neck but the real evidence was Gwen's heaving chest as she fought the smothering embrace of Suzanne's sex. 

Irene, now fully dressed, moved back into view.

"How was it?"

"Delicious..."

"Do you think we should give her a break?"

"Not just yet. Put some music on. I think I'll have another one whilst I settled here..."

Which was more than I could manage. At some point in the proceedings I had unfastened my trousers and I was now wondering what to do with my sodden handkerchief.

Reluctantly, I moved away. I was left with a final image of Gwen struggling to get away but with her legs folded beneath her and Suzanne's not inconsiderable weight on her face she had no choice but to endure.

Chapter 5

Over the following two days I thought I would go insane. I wanted to confront Suzanne with what I knew and to get some sort of explanation. She was denying me coitus whilst expecting oral favours and it seemed that even this was not enough for her. In the end it came down to a simple question. If I did confront her, and I was not happy with what she had to say, would I be prepared to split up with her?

In my heart of hearts I knew the answer was no. My love for her was now so deeply entwined with my own fabric that to part from her would change me forever. She had opened up my life in a way that I could never have imagined and there could be no going back; but it was this belief, in the inner strength of our relationship, that finally gave me the impetus to confront her. We had both been going through a stressful period but, now that she had achieved her immediate goal, things could be different. I simply needed to put the relationship back on an equal footing.

Screwing my courage to the sticking place I put through a call to her at the office and as good as demanded that she cleared any appointments that she might have so that we could have dinner together at my place. To my surprise she immediately agreed and sounded happy to do so. Could it be that she was looking to me to be assertive? Did she need some help to get her work back into some sort of perspective?

The meal was just like old times. We were more relaxed together than we had been for weeks and my heart was soaring. I even dared hope that we would end up making love as we had in the early days with that same free spirited passion. But lurking there, knotted in my stomach, was a desperate need to know what I had witnessed.

"Suze, will you be truthful with me?"

"That's an odd thing to say."

"Hear me out. If there was...someone else. Would you tell me?"

"Are you suggesting something?"

There was a sudden glint of anger in her eyes.

"No...of course not."

"Then why ask? Do you think I just pretend to work late at the office?"

Her cheeks were flushed and the situation was threatening to get out of control. I knew that I had to stop being circumspect.

"I came by the flat the other night. I used the spare key. I saw you ...with Gwen."

She stared into my eyes and then, after a pause, she burst out laughing.

"Suze, this is serious. I saw what you did with her. It was ..."

"....girly fun."

"I saw it. It was more than that."

"Look, it was just the three of us blowing off a little steam."

"It didn't look as though Gwen was enjoying it."

"It was just role play, What the hell do you take us for?"

I was determined not to be put on the back foot.

"How long has it been going on?"

"Look, I've known Irene and Gwen a long time. Before you were even a part of my life."

"That's not an answer."

"If you're asking if I'm a lesbian then the answer is no. You saw for yourself, there was no kissing."

That was true but I'm not sure what it proved or even if it made me feel any better. She continued.

"Look, you hadn't exactly been attentive to my needs in the past few days. It was just a way of relieving a little stress."

"Are you saying it's over?"

"I suppose I'm saying it shouldn't be necessary."

Somehow I was being skilfully outmanoeuvred.

"Suze, you can't blame me. Our love life has not exactly been a meeting of equals of late."

She took a moment to weigh this up and then she took my face in her hands.

"Chris, I love you. I want to marry you but I want the ceremony to have meaning in the truest sense. We could be like other couples that just move in together and simply coalesce. I want more than that. I want a proper wedding night."

This was not what I was expecting.

"Are you saying that we can't have sex again until we are married?"

"Would that be a hardship? I promise you that once we are married there will be no inhibitions."

In one sense it was everything I wanted to hear but in another it was a body blow. I needed something more positive.

"When would we get married?"

"Well I think I've finally got my mother pinned down and we are agreed on a simple ceremony so why not next month?"

With those few words I forgave her everything. We even agreed on two potential dates and Suzanne said that she would try and sort out the registry office. I cleared the table and brought a bottle of Cava from the fridge. It was not quite Champagne but it was enough to celebrate the euphoria I was feeling.

"So...did it turn you on?"

"What?"

She moved a little closer and smiled at me.

"Did it turn you on?...watching me...riding Gwen's face..."

The truth was that I wanted to put the episode out of my mind. I wanted to move forward but Suzanne would not let it drop.

"...Did you come?"

I could not tell her a lie.

"...Yes"

"Did it make you jealous?"

"I suppose so..."

"Oh, you poor boy. Nobody does it quite like you. Nobody makes me feel quite so special."

As she said it she slowly opened her legs and, as she knew I would, I dropped to my knees.

The next few weeks became even more frantic. The first date that we had set drifted by and we could not get booked for the second. I found myself back in the familiar regime. Suzanne would drop by when she could and I would spend my time between her thighs. The perversity of it was that I tried harder than ever to please her. She promised that there would be no more fooling around with Irene and Gwen but she still continued to share the flat and I found it ever more difficult to rein in my jealousy. 

I seemed to be confronted with two different versions of Suzanne, One was the outgoing open-hearted woman with whom I had fallen in love who seemed to be trying her damnedest to organize our wedding but, on other occasions, she was the ambitious business woman with no time to spare.

There was also a lot more work coming my way culminating in a three day trip to New York where one of the big perfumeries wanted to run a campaign in the magazine. I was given to understand that the material was to be more "edgy" and I was to be there to advise on house standards. I hoped the break would help to clear my mind but I could not have been more wrong.

I had now attended a number of shoots but this was to be the first time with an all female crew. As I discussed the story board with the director and photographer my mind was set in a strictly professional mode until the two models came back onto the set. 

When they first arrived they were both without make-up and dressed casually in jeans and trainers. Now they had been transformed. Katya, the dark haired girl was dressed in black latex which appeared to have been sprayed on, It covered her from her ankles to her neck and served to emphasis her height which was already above average. Her make up was designed to make her face look severe and, to that end, the artist had been entirely successful. 

With Emily, the blonde, the look was vulnerable but alluring. Her hair and make up had been styled to make her look young but the flimsy white bra and panties she was wearing were straight out of Agent Provocateur. When I was first introduced to her I guessed she was about twenty two maybe twenty three but now, having removed her engagement ring, she could easily pass for teens. 

In the centre of the studio, under the lights, was an old fashioned bed with a high mattress and a wrought iron head board. The story board called for Emily to be handcuffed to the bed and there was much giggling as the director spread her arms above her head and fastened them in place. 

As soon as she was secure I felt butterflies in my stomach. She was achingly beautiful and for a brief moment I almost forgot that we were not alone. 

"Nipples, Katya."

The director's tone was very matter-of-fact and Katya knew exactly what was wanted. The latex was moulded so tightly to her skin that it looked as though she was wearing a breastplate but as she brought her hands up and began to pinch gently her nipples quickly perked up and I have to confess that they were very impressive specimens. Had I been a gentleman I would have looked away but I could not help but look and, as she caught my eye, she gave me a conspiratorial wink. 

They were promoting a perfume called "Taste" and they wanted an image that suggested oral rape. To this end Katya duly took up a position between Emily's legs and over the next twenty minutes they experimented with various angles. The girls giggled throughout but the photographer was growing more and more perplexed. It was hard to strike a balance that allowed the best light for Katya's costume without bleaching out Emily's.

When, at last, they found a pose that everyone was happy with I was tempted to intervene. Katya's mouth was poised scant centimetres above the crotch of Emily's panties and I knew that such a photo would never get past the editorial board. 

"I can't see her nipples."

This was from the photographer who, with her eyes fixed on the view finder, had just exhorted Katya to remain perfectly still.