The Shape of Surrender Ch. 04

The Shape of Surrender (Ch. 04)

soppingwetpanties

This is Scott's unrequited fantasy of female domination.

This story can stand alone although reading the previous chapters will give you more context.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

Chapter Four

Sabina

Clara was an intelligent, attractive and headstrong teenager. She was also my daughter, the only bright light to emerge from my loveless (and virtually sexless) marriage to Rose. She was a student in Kenyon College's English department (where both Rose and I attended) and was between her sophomore and junior years, working as an unpaid intern (is there any other kind of internship?) at a small, but well recognized publishing house in Northampton, Massachusetts.

She was living with me for the summer while her mother was away on an international book tour introducing her new collection of award winning short stories. Rose achieved all the professional accolades I craved (as an aspiring but yet to be published author) while I tried to content myself with teaching and academic research as an English professor at Smith College. She also moved in with her lover, a sexy blonde, Dr. Eleanor Vance, who Rose met, ironically, at a faculty event that I dragged her to. Her lover, fittingly, was a full professor heading the Study of Women and Gender department at Smith.

I now had to eat a large helping of humble pie at Smith faculty events, as Rose and Eleanor came as a couple, a power couple if there ever was one, Rose achieving international acclaim for her most recent collection of short stories that explored the inner lives of women navigating desire, betrayal and reinvention, and Eleanor's reputation for scholarship on gender, power and the politics of intimacy. I have no doubt that Rose's widely read stories were a thinly veiled narrative of our marriage, where an affair I had many years ago with a former girlfriend was a body blow to an already failing marriage. It turns out that I wasn't the only spouse who strayed. Rose started her affair with Eleanor years before we were divorced, and her moving in with Eleanor was simply a public recognition of a poorly kept secret.

Maybe it was that humiliation, or something deeper in my past, that caused me to seek my sexual gratification as a submissive, finding Vivian Stroud on a BDSM-themed website. Mistress Vivian helped me reorder my priorities, with of course her coming first and me being at her beck and call. For the first time I felt real purpose in my life - - a reason to wake up in the morning - - to be of service to a woman I truly worshipped. I loved Mistress Vivian with my very soul.

Though my soul belonged to Mistress Vivian, my heart still belonged to Clara. To my amazement (and chagrin) Clara blossomed over the past year from a giggly teenager to an attractive young woman. She had the slender build of her mother and also her height, just a few inches over five foot, and her auburn colored hair. She realized she was becoming attractive to older men and discarded her college clothes for those of a young professional. Her stint at the publishing house no doubt raised her awareness of the "real" world and her level of sophistication.

Clara made a number of friends at the publishing house she worked at, Larkspur Editions, and entertained often. I didn't mind being surrounded by youthful beauty, even though I knew they regarded me as an old fart at the age of forty-seven. I wasn't a threat to them so I often hung out with them at the pool we had in the backyard. It was tough duty serving drinks and snacks to scantily clad young women.

The pool was the best feature of my house. The house itself was built in the 1930's and demanded more money and attention than I was willing to give to it. But the pool, installed just before I bought it, was in pristine condition and popular with Clara and her friends. Summer was quickly becoming fall, with the leaves turning and the temperature dropping, though the past week brought a heat spell and one last hurrah at the pool.

I'd been with Mistress Vivian for several months and between time with her and the demands of the job I'd spent less time with Clara than I would have liked. Though with her, I was always self-conscious about revealing my true self. How would my daughter react to my admission that I'd licked a woman's pussy in a crowded restaurant, masturbated on her boots and then licked the cum off, and stripped naked under her dinner table and ate out her girlfriend's drenched cunt? I reconciled myself to behavior that others would deem shameful as I'd already unconditionally surrendered my soul to Mistress Vivian and the darkness within me. Now I embraced and reveled in the darkness under the guidance of Mistress Vivian's firm hand.

It was Wednesday, my usual day off, and my routine was to catch up on personal paperwork, yard work, and waiting for Mistress Vivian to summon me. But Mistress Vivian was out of town on business that day so I decided to take Clara up on her offer to join her and her book editor to enjoy the last vestiges of summer. I was in my bedroom trying on my swim trunks, standing sideways in front of my bathroom's full length mirror and assessing the slight outward curve of a belly that was once perfectly flat, the price one pays for a bachelor's diet that had too much delivery pizza, beer, sodas and fast food in it.

Fuck it. I'd wear my trunks. Somehow my sexual freedom didn't unshackle me completely from my usual insecurities about my body, though my male ego wouldn't let go of the hope I'd somehow impress Clara's guest. I knew that the book editor Clara worked for was a tad under thirty and reputed to be a real looker with a razor sharp intellect. I remembered her name, Sabrina Carlisle, and recalled a few years ago she attended one of my seminars, attractive with long dark hair, though I couldn't remember exactly what she looked like. I imagined she had large breasts and that thought immediately triggered an erection, not exactly the look I was hoping for in tight fitting swim trunks.

So I thought about Rose and my erection disappeared. I fished in the refrigerator and pulled out a longneck, popping the cap, and walking out of the sliding glass door in my swim trunks (sans erection) and flip flops. Clara and Sabina were sitting with their backs to me on padded chaise lounges that faced the pool. I could see that Sabina had long, dark hair like I remembered as it glowed in the bright sunshine.

Clara jumped up when she heard me walking towards them. She was wearing a bikini with a floral design. I tried not to look at her breasts when she stood in front of me.

"Where is everybody?" I asked her. There were usually five or six of them on hot days like this one. It was strange that Sabina was the only Larkspur employee there.

"Don't you remember Dad? Rose is doing a book signing in Boston. She's kicking off her worldwide tour there. The others decided to drive there to attend it. I'm skipping this one because I'm flying to Paris over Christmas break to attend the one there and in Rome."

Fuck. I'd forgotten that the last time I saw Rose she mentioned the book signing and I promised to attend it. Of course I promptly forgot and it never made it to my calendar. She was going to be pissed at me for missing it, knowing my ego couldn't stand her success. She always thought that was the reason I brought up the idea of a divorce (and not her). She didn't know the real reason and never would.

"I thought you were supposed to be there," Clara added after thinking about what she'd said.

"I was," I said. "I forgot."

"Bad daddy," Clara said, playfully admonishing me.

She knew I was jealous of Rose's success but would no doubt give me dispensation for my sin. She knew that professional jealousy didn't cause my split with Rose though her mother could sometimes be an insufferable prima donna. I told her the reason was personal to me and she never asked me another question. I loved that she respected the flimsy boundary I'd drawn for her. She too would never know the real reason. As a bright academic, she understood the frailties of the human condition and had already judged me a good and worthy father. I would do nothing to dissuade her from her judgment.

"I know," I said. "Mom's going to rip me a new one."

"You already have so many," Rose said, giggling. She'd been witness to some of the fights Rose and I had, most of which I came out on the short end.

"So sorry Daddy. This is Sabina Carlisle. She's the book editor I'm working with."

Sabina sat up in her lounge chair and raised her sunglasses so I could see her shimmering emerald green eyes framed with jet black eyeliner. She had espresso brown hair with subtle lighter chestnut undertones and a heart shaped face with high cheekbones and a slightly pointy chin. There was a quiet intensity to her features. She filled out a bikini that redefined the word "skimpy." I tried not to look at her attention getting breasts but was apparently unsuccessful.

"Dad!" Clara barked at me.

I realized I'd been staring at Sabina's chest. She outdid my imagination. Her bikini barely covered her breasts, and there was a large area of exposed skin that was much lighter in color, suggesting this bikini was more revealing than the one she usually wore. I was not per se a big boob man but it was hard to ignore the majesty of perfect breasts.

"That's OK," Sabina said to me, before I could utter an apology. "You're not the first."

"It's not OK," Clara insisted.

I was embarrassed.

"Let me apologize," I said.

"Thank you," Sabina said to me, taking me off the hook.

She was a knockout... and also too young for me and no doubt not interested. On seeing her face I remembered she attended one of my seminars for seniors, "Voice and Vantage: Narratives of Power and Intimacy." It explored the power exchange in a BDSM relationship, and was the most popular seminar given by the English department. I remembered stealing glances at her as I gave my lectures though I never spoke with her. Of course she looked a whole lot different with practically no clothes on.

I pulled up a plastic lawn chair in front of Sabina and Clara, trying to be friendly and trying not to have a boner staring at Sabina.

"What do you do Sabina?" I squeaked. My throat felt constricted when I tried to talk to her.

She seemed amused at my awkward attempt to start a conversation.

"As Clara said, I'm her book editor. It's my job to review books that are submitted and I use Clara to sift through the submissions for ones that she feels are worthy of my time. I have three interns in total. So what do you do Mr. Alden..."

"Scott."

"So what do you do Scott besides working as an English professor and ignoring your ex-wife?"

I was embarrassed again.

"Sorry you had to hear that."

"So?"

"Not much," I said. I couldn't come out and tell her that I spent most of my free time pining over Mistress Vivian and dreaming about how I could submit to her as a sexual slave to prove my undying love.

"That's a shame," Sabina said. "At your seminar you were really enthusiastic about the topic and I really enjoyed it. I read the supplemental material you recommended. I'm surprised you're not interested in BDSM."

I was. I was living it. And loving it.

"I was looking at it only as an academic, not as a voyeur Sabina. I think the power exchange in a BDSM relationship is fascinating, but studying it and doing it are two entirely different things."

I thought my lie was cogent and believable.

Sabina raised her sunglasses again so she could see my eyes.

"Bullshit," she said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Scott (I noticed she was already using the familiar when we'd just met and I was almost twenty years older), no one talks with that kind of passion without being interested. I disagree with your point. You talked as a voyeur. That's what made your seminar so interesting. It was standing room only."

I was really in a box. She had pinned me in under a minute. She was right of course, but Clara didn't know it. I wasn't going to admit it to Sabina. So I turned tail and ran.

"Sabina. I don't want to get into my personal life right now, and maybe it'd be better if you and Clara had some alone time."

"Scott, I didn't mean to scare you away. Stay," Sabina insisted.

"I think I should go now," I said, waving the white flag of surrender.

I slunk back to the house with nothing to do since I'd planned on being by the pool. Sabina was beautiful but also dangerously crafty and was getting too close to home and exposing my kink to my daughter. I wisely retreated into my study and shut the door safe, I thought, in my lair.

I plopped myself down into the well-worn leather cushion on my wooden swivel chair. I cleared some space on the desktop, moving aside a stack of papers I meant to read that day, and put my feet on the day and reclined back. Mistress Vivian had been kind enough to send me the video she took of me masturbating while sitting at her table and then diving under the table to eat her pussy. She graciously deleted it on her phone so I had the only copy. I'd played it dozens of times already to remind myself of how wonderful my first experience was with a real Domme. I cued it up again and watched the pained expression on my face as I tried to cum into a napkin I had under the table next to my cock. It made me hard again watching me perform an act of perversion under Mistress Vivian's watchful eyes.

The video was halfway done when I heard a knock on the door. I sat up abruptly, swinging my legs off my desk and in the process knocking a tall stack of papers and my phone on the floor. My phone was still playing the video. The door opened before I could pick up the phone. It was Sabina, and my boner was unfortunately very evident in my swim trunks.

"I'm sorry Scott. I thought this was Clara's bedroom. She sent me in to get some more sunscreen. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important."

She looked at my erection and then down at my phone and could see the video playing. It was the part where I went under the table.

"Oops," I said, swooping down to pick up my phone and pushing the power button.

Instead of leaving Sabina stepped into my office and shut the door behind her, leaning against it with her back.

"What was that on your phone?" she asked me. Her tone was sharp.

"Nothing," I said, holding my phone behind my back.

"Give it to me," she said firmly. The tone of her voice evoked a familiar feeling - - the same feeling I had when I ceded control to Mistress Vivian. Without thinking I handed it to her. Before I could protest she grabbed my thumb and put it on the phone to open it.

"Sit down."

I sat.

To my horror Sabina watched the entire video, watching impassively and saying nothing. When it was done she looked at me with a glimmer in her eyes.

"Now the seminar makes perfect sense. You were describing yourself when you were talking about the submissive male. That's you going under the table no doubt eating that woman's pussy."

My secret was out and I did it to myself. I should have deleted the video the moment I got it from Mistress Vivian.

Idiot.

Much to my relief she handed the phone back to me. I turned the power off again and put it inside my desk drawer, promising myself I'd delete it the moment Sabina left.

Sabina saw the look of relief on my face and started laughing. "I already texted myself a copy of the video. Who's your Daddy, Scott?"

The walls felt like they'd fallen in on me. I was fucked.

"You are," I said in a resigned voice.

"Damn right," she said. "You stay by your phone Scott. I'll be contacting you soon."

"But... but..."

I was thinking about how to explain that I had to be available at all times for Mistress Vivian. Did I want to go there? Would she care?

"What Scott?"

"Nothing," I said.

Shit.

* * *

I stayed in my study hoping Sabina had gone home, not having the courage to face her. Clara was puzzled by my sudden shyness when she knocked on my door.

"Hey Dad. Hiding out here?"

"Just finishing up a few things," I said, shuffling a few papers on my desk. In fact I'd been staring blankly at the wall for the past hour wondering what Sabina was going to do with my video.

"I thought you were going to join us by the pool."

"Sorry. Got caught up grading papers."

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were avoiding me... or Sabina."

"It's not you," I said.

She could read me. "It's Sabina. She's making you uncomfortable."

"Possibly."

"I saw the way you were leering at her breasts like a dirty old man."

"Clara!"

"It's true though, isn't it?"

"She's very attractive."

"I take that as a 'yes'."

"I know I'm your father but I can't stop being a man."

"OK Daddy, I understand... but what about her questions to you about your seminar?"

"I don't want to get into it with you."

"Well... OK... I better get back to her. Enjoy your study."

She left me alone, making me wonder who was the adult in the room.

* * *

It'd been thankfully a few weeks since the incident with Sabina and almost a month since I'd heard from Mistress Vivian. It was good to have a break because my job was taking up all of my time. I was teaching two courses and one seminar in addition to the research I was doing on postwar fiction and the changing views of masculinity. The seminar I taught on that topic sparked a lot of passionate debate. The macho Marlboro man of the 60's had become a much more nuanced person with genuine feelings and true respect for women. I considered myself in the latter category though for me the word worship might be more appropriate.

It was just starting to get cold during the day so instead of polo shirts I changed over to long sleeve shirts. That necessitated going through the attic to pull down my fall and winter clothes.

The attic. It was a forgotten space in my house, a dimly lit chamber that was tucked beneath a sharply pitched roof. There were cobwebs galore and a musty smell that made my twice a year visit there most unpleasant. I only used it because my house had little closet space, and with Clara living with me and hogging most of it I was forced to put my unused clothes up in the attic.

I had my painting clothes on, a pair of jeans ripped at the knees and streaked with various shades of paint and a tattered white t-shirt, climbing up the pull-down ladder mounted in the ceiling. My ever present phone was in my back pocket. It buzzed when I was almost all the way up. It had to be Mistress Vivian. Who else would text me at 10:30 p. m. on a weekday?

I was so excited I fumbled the phone and dropped it six feet to the hardwood floor. It made a sickening thud as it hit and bounced.

Fuck.

"What's going on Dad?" Clara shouted. She was in her room working on her computer. She usually stayed up till midnight, which is why I was able to root around in the attic at that late hour.

"Nothing," I shouted back. "Just dropped my phone."

I heard no response, which was good. I climbed back down the stairs and stooped over to pick up my phone. The screen was badly cracked.

Fuck again.

I went to the message app. Thank God the phone still worked.

Sabina: Can you pick up a Quad Crusher and an order of Deluxe Fries at Leo's and be here at the office as quickly as you can? I'm starving.

I stared at my broken screen and the blinking cursor awaiting my reply.

Me: I'm right in the middle of something. Can you get a delivery service to do it?

I held my breath. Three dots flashing... and flashing... and flashing. I was wondering what the fuck she was doing.

Then a still from my submission video appeared on my screen and underneath it was 413-555-2857. Obviously a phone number, but whose? It seemed familiar but I couldn't place it. I did a search of my phone directory and the name "Dr. Constance E. Hargrave" came up.

Constance was a quick witted woman in her early 60's with a penchant for 19th century British literature. As head of the Smith English department she was also my boss.

Me: I'm on my way.

* * *

It's funny how your priorities change in the most unexpected of ways. Little did I dream that Clara's editor would somehow have me by the balls. It was clear she knew how to play her hand and was not to be fucked with. If the video was sent to Constance my career would be finito.

So I rushed to Leo's in my painting clothes. I didn't bother to change, knowing it wouldn't matter in a college town. Leo's Slice & Sub was a Northampton institution serving greasy hoagies and pizza since 1948. It was open till 2 a. m. and always packed with college students. I'd never been there and in fact fastidiously avoided it. I hated crowds. It took me ten minutes to find a parking space two blocks from Pleasant Street, where Leo's was wedged between Type and Timber, a used bookstore and stationary store, and Eclipse Video and Espresso, where you could watch a movie with fresh brewed coffee. It was close to 11 p. m. on a Thursday night and the sidewalk was teeming with people. There was a line at Leo's snaking out the door. I was certain it would take forever.

Me: There's a long line. Might be an hour in line.

She didn't take long to reply. I got no sympathy.

Sabina: Be here in 20 minutes.

I thought for a moment about protesting. Before I could compose an answer another text from her appeared.

Sabina: 413-555-2857

I didn't answer. It was twenty minutes or my academic life was over.

I wanted to panic but I took a deep breath and thought hard about my options. Money. I'd buy my way in. I'd intended to pay the painter who was painting the outside of my house $1000 as a progress payment. I had the cash in my wallet in $100 bills.

I pushed my way to the front of the line, getting a number of dirty looks as I bumped shoulders to get through. At the front of the line was a couple about to order, both looking like they were college students. The girl recognized me. "Hey Mr. Alden. Fancy seeing you here."

Her hulking male companion gave me a skeptical look.

"Can I help you?" he asked me, while trying to keep the attention of the clerk who was taking his order.

"I'll give you $100 if you order a Quad Crusher and Deluxe Fries for me. They only cost $30, so you can keep the $70 change," I said.

The man was wearing a varsity jacket of some sport, but the size looked like XXXL.

"$200," he said, staring down at me and knowing he had all the leverage.

I gave him two of the hundreds in my wallet.

I waited for a few minutes withstanding the withering stares of the folks I cut in front of, though with Mr. Big holding my $200 it didn't look like anyone wanted to challenge me. The order was filled and I was handed a big white paper bag already boasting a grease stain on the outside and holding a 14" hoagie with roast beef, salami, provolone, hot peppers and a tangy house dressing on a sesame seed roll wrapped in wax paper, and an order of fries in a rectangular brown paper box smothered with grated cheddar cheese and jalapenos. I carried my precious cargo outside running through a gauntlet of disgruntled customers.

I gunned my Saab and was at Sabina's office door to door in eighteen minutes. Her office was located in the Thistle House, a three story brick structure built in the late 1800's, located a block off the main drag. Larkspur Editions was known for offbeat memoirs, feminist poetry and meticulously crafted short stories. Rose was one of Larkspur's most renowned authors.

I went up a creaky staircase covered with faded carpeting that gave little clue what color it was when it was new. Larkspur was on the second floor, and the front door was cracked open. The lobby of the office was small, with a weathered but elegant settee in blue velvet whose cushions sagged from the many authors who graced Larkspur's impressive stable. The walls were lined with framed dust jackets of well-known books it published.

Sabina's office was at the end of the hallway, its frosted glass upper panel bearing her name in an elegant script:

Sabina Carlisle - Senior Editor

I knocked on the door. I heard a rustling of papers and the scrape of a chair on the wooden floor. Then the door opened. Sabina was wearing a fitted black ribbed tank top, the fabric so thin the lines of her bra and the curves of her sumptuous breasts were evident. Over it she draped a dark gray cashmere wrap. Her dark jeans were well-worn, snug at the hips and thighs and rolled at the ankles to reveal bare feet with burgundy polish on her toes. Her face was striking, with high cheekbones and green eyes framed by long, dark lashes and arched eyebrows that gave her an almost feline presence. Her rich dark hair, thick and wavy, was pulled back with a tortoiseshell clip.

"Hello Scott," she said. She looked at her watch. "You're a minute early... I knew you'd figure it out. So what do you have?"

I held out my valuable cargo. "As requested," I said.

"Excellent," she said, opening the bag and placing the hoagie and the fries on a cleared space on her desk. "I'm working on a novel from a new queer writer, Eli Navarro, called "The Quiet Between." It's been two months of hell pulling together his manuscript. I've got to get the final draft in the publisher's hands by Monday."

The publisher, and owner of Larkspur, was Margot Ellery, a classmate of Rose and mine at Kenyon. She was brilliant, and eccentric, and one of the first people to recognize Rose's potential as a great writer. It was Rose's first collection of award winning short stories that propelled Larkspur Editions to prominence.

I watched Sabina sit back down in her desk chair with her back to me, opening the box of fries. I could see the cheese stretching as she pulled a clump of fries out of the box and dropped it into her mouth.

"Heaven," she said, with her mouth half full. "Nothing like a late night snack from Leo's."

"I'm glad you like it," I said. It was closing in on midnight and I had a class to teach at 8 a. m. "If that's all, I'll be on my way."

I pivoted and reached back for the handle to her door.

She turned her head to look at me.

"I'm not done with you yet."

I let go of the handle. It was too late for this, whatever it was.

"I've been sitting at this desk for twelve hours with only a couple short breaks. Be a prince and rub my shoulders while I work."

I sensed it was another inflection point for me. Surrender to another female or leave and suffer the adverse career consequences of my dalliance with Mistress Vivian. You know what I did. I lacked the will to resist.

"That's nice Scott," she said to me as I kneaded her shoulders. "Now a little lower on my back."

I couldn't help it as I started to get hard. Feeling her supple shoulders and touching her bra straps reminded me I was only inches from the luscious curves of her breasts. The urge to worship her body took hold of me to the exclusion of all other thoughts. I worked down her spine as she stretched her arms upward, then getting up and turning around to face me. She looked down to see the lump in my shabby jeans.

"Getting excited Scott?"

She reached down and took a bite out of the hoagie.

"Ummm... delicious. But that's not what you're interested in eating, is it Scott?"

My eyes instinctively went to the floor, avoiding the gaze of her probing eyes.

"Look at me Scott when you answer."

I raised my head up, feeling shame at my submissive feelings.

"No."

"Tell me what you want Scott."

"You," I said.

"Of course you do," she said smugly. "Which part?"

I didn't have to think about the answer. "Your ass Sabina." Her young and firm ass.

Her fresh young face smiled at me with a glow that was enchanting.

"I was hoping you'd say that. It wouldn't be fun unless you beg for it Scott. Beg."

I had some practice begging with Mistress Vivian and her girlfriend Chantal. As an English professor speaking to a senior book editor, this had to be good, so I tried to embellish my plea.

"Sabina, ever since I saw you at the pool your image has haunted me. I'm glad you saw that video. I'm glad my destiny is in your hands. As a sign of my fealty to you, would you grant me the pleasure of worshipping your delectable ass?"

She gave me a surprised look.

"Not bad for a first try Scott. Request granted."

She turned around and put her hands on the back of her chair, showing me her mouthwatering backside housed in clingy denim.

"Go ahead Scott. Pull my pants down."

The heart attack at Leo's was worth it. A former student and my daughter's boss had given me permission to pull her pants down. Somehow I'd landed in heaven. I didn't feel worthy, but that didn't stop me from reaching around her and putting my hands on the button of her pants. I unbuttoned the pants and slowly started unzipping them, leaning forward so my lips were near her ear, my chin buried in a thicket of soft, curly hair.

"Thank you Sabina. Thank you," I whispered in her ear.

"I knew your seminar was a study in self-reflection. It was so obvious. You're fascinated by the power exchange... me having control over you. It excites you, doesn't it Scott?"

"Yes... yes... I wanted to tell you by the pool," I confessed.

"But Clara was there."

"Yes."

"But now she's not here."

"No."

"So go ahead Scott. Take off my pants and panties. Lick my asshole. It's why you came here, isn't it?

"Yes."

"Be my bitch Scott and stick your tongue in my ass."

I eagerly got on my knees and pulled her pants down to her ankles, lifting one foot and then the other to allow me to take them off.

I couldn't resist my urge to bury my nose in her panties, using it to cleave her butt cheeks and smell the musty odor of her ass.

"Ummmm," she purred. "You really want to get in there don't you?," she said, obviously impressed by my enthusiasm.

I was too busy kissing her pantied covered ass to answer. She tightened her butt cheeks when I started sliding her panties down. They were white lacey bikini style panties that looked so sexy on her I was sorry to take them off. But my prize was there. Her bare bottom. I planted a juicy kiss on her tender butt cheek.

"Thank you Sabina."

Then another kiss on the other cheek.

"Thank you Sabina."

I could see the gloss from my lips on her soft, pale white skin. Her skin quivered when I blew on it, raising goosebumps.

"Touch me Scott."

I would have dawdled forever because just planting kisses on her ass was satisfying enough but she was tiring of me, and pushed me along. I wet a finger in my mouth and then traced a circle around the rim of her asshole, making it tighten. She issued a guttural moan.

"ooooooohhhh... yes Scott... like that..."

I used my left hand to pull apart her ass cheeks enough to create a small gape, allowing me to enter her dark passage with my middle finger of my right hand. The ring of muscle gave way to softer, spongier tissue, tingling with pulses of pleasure.

"ooooh... deeper... deeper..." she beckoned. My finger went all the way in to the webbing, stroking the smooth wall of her inner chamber with my fingertip.

"Yeah... yeah... yeah..."

Her breathing became labored and irregular.

"Lick me Scott. Lick my asshole."

I used my hands to pull apart her ass cheeks as she widened her stance to allow me to wedge my nose firmly between her cheeks, sucking in air as my tongue probed into her crack, finding the ribbed skin of her pucker. The promised land.

"That's deliciously wicked Scott," she said when she felt my tongue rim her asshole.

Her words of gratitude gave me the shivers. The dark spot in my soul Mistress Vivian discovered and nurtured now ruled my mind and body. Nothing else mattered. I tongue fucked her asshole, trying with quiet desperation to push inside her as far as possible.

"Do it Scott. Fuck me."

Her hand dropped down to finger herself as I tongue fucked her ass. She started squirming, her body wriggling, making me hold on to her hips while my tongue was firmly parked in her asshole, seeking the depths of my own submission, and my surrender, to her.

"Get in there Scott. Fuck me and make me cum."

I needed no encouragement. Pleasing her was ingrained in my DNA. I only felt regret because I knew this would soon be over. Where would I rather be in the world than having my tongue stuck up the ass of a beautiful woman? A rhetorical question to be sure...

"Yes... Scott... oh... oh... oh fucking Scott..."

I couldn't take it anymore. I dropped my hands down to open my pants and started jacking off. This was too good. I didn't think Sabina would mind.

I could feel her thighs quivering with my face buried in her ass. She was cumming. I remembered Mistress Vivian's admonition about jacking off. I was way beyond the point of caring besides which I was past the point of no return. Cum started spurting out of my cock, hitting the back of her calves and then splattering on the floor of her office. Being spur of the moment made my orgasm that much more intense (and sweeter).

Sabina's arms were draped over the back of her chair and she was panting heavily.

"God that was good. But what the fuck Scott? Did you cum on my legs? That's disgusting."

"I did," I said sheepishly.

"Clean it up."

I bent over to lick my cum off the smooth fragrant skin of her sexy legs, tasting the sandalwood and vanilla of her lotion and the acrid and metallic edge of my cum. Another detestable and repulsive act of submission.

I loved it.

Sabina turned around to face me, seeing me on my knees with my cum-coated lips and the smile on my face.

"You like this, don't you?"

I looked up at her with pleading eyes.

"More than you'll ever know."

"You'd do this even if I didn't have the video."

"I would," I admitted.

My phone started to buzz in my pants, which were crumpled on the floor.

Shit.

Sabina looked annoyed when it kept buzzing.

"Did you want to get that? Someone really wants to talk to you."

I reached down to retrieve it, praying it wasn't Mistress Vivian. I looked at the display, which simply said "V."

"Give me that," Sabina said to me.

"I can't," I said.

"I still have the video. Hand over the fucking phone right now."

I took a deep breath, knowing this wasn't going to be good. But my instinct to surrender to a dominant female was something I couldn't overcome. I gave Sabina the phone, and she showed me the screen before answering it.

"Who is this 'V,' Scott?"

"It's Vivian."

My heart sank when Sabina answered the phone, putting it on speaker:

Sabina: Is this Vivian?

Vivian: Who is this?

Sabina: Sabina.

Vivian: Well Sabina. Is Scott nearby?

Sabina (giggling): He's very nearby, but indisposed at the moment.

Vivian: What are you doing with Scott?

Sabina: I think that's between Scott and me.

Vivian: We'll see about that.

Sabina: Have a good evening Vivian.

Vivian: You don't know how much better my evening just got.

Oh shit. I just realized the shape of surrender was a bullseye on my forehead.

* * *

It was 3 a. m. by the time I pulled into my driveway. The lights were still on in the house. That wasn't a good sign. I had no choice but to take the bull by the horns and walk in the front door. As expected Clara was waiting for me in the living room, sitting in the same chair, Mistress Vivian's favorite, that my Domme occupied a few weeks earlier. On that occasion I was granted the privilege of jacking off on her boots and licking up my cum, and sealing our relationship with a cum-filled kiss.

She stood up and struck a defiant pose, hands on her hips.

"Where were you?" she asked me. "You were rooting around in the attic late at night and suddenly you dropped your phone on the floor and then ran off for four hours in the middle of the night."

Shit again.

* * *

Chapter Five - Can Scott skirt the truth about himself with his daughter? Will Mistress Vivian punish Scott for his massive fuck-up?