The Shape of Surrender (Ch. 05)

The Shape of Surrender (Ch. 05)

soppingwetpanties

This is Scott's unrequited fantasy of female domination.

Thank you Scott and Frank.

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 Five

Lila

It was 3 a. m. and my daughter Clara was anxiously awaiting an explanation for my unannounced four hour absence. I'd just visited the office of her sexy boss, Sabina Carlisle, a twenty-something book editor of Larkspur Editions, purportedly to deliver her a hoagie and fries, but really for her to find out if my interest in the BDSM power exchange was real or just of academic interest. She found out my interest was real, so I ended up spending a good part of that time worshipping Sabina's delectable asshole, not exactly the kind of thing you'd want to confess to your nineteen year old daughter.

I was on the spot and decided to give her a slightly sanitized version of the truth. My mind was still a bit fuzzy and I couldn't concoct a believable lie.

"I was with Sabina."

"Sabina? My boss?"

She was incredulous. Sabina was more than twenty years younger than me and could have been my daughter.

"Yes Clara. Sabina."

"My God... you were having sex?"

What else would we be doing in the middle of the night? I had no choice but to confirm her fear.

"Yes," I said, not being able to stop myself from dipping my head down low.

"So, your fascination with her breasts. The talk about a power exchange..."

Suddenly my sexual freedom didn't feel so free.

"I'm sorry."

I have to give Clara credit. She wasn't as irate as I thought she'd be.

"You don't have to apologize, Dad. I'm just surprised... no shocked... that you'd be with someone who's probably twenty years younger than you. What you do is your business... I guess."

"It just happened Clara. It wasn't planned...," I said, still struggling to make a proper apology.

"No wonder you and Mom broke up."

"We didn't get along for a long time," I argued.

"Mom's living with a woman and you're having sex with my boss, when you're old enough to be her father. It's all kind of hard to swallow."

Clara was spot on. I was feeling for her, but also mindful she harped on me to treat her as an independent woman, not a child.

"You're a big girl Clara and now you understand we all have adult issues. I know having to learn about your parent's sex lives isn't what you signed up for."

"Ughhh," she said in disgust. "It's pretty much the last thing I want to know about."

"Well just know that your Dad is safe and so is Sabina. It was consensual so let's leave it at that."

"Please," Clara said before yawning and stretching her arms over her head. "I've got to go to work tomorrow to help Sabina with her manuscript. She was supposedly pulling an all-nighter but that wasn't all she was doing. Good night Dad."

I escaped, but just barely.

* * *

Vivian called me the previous evening while I was with Sabina and Sabina took charge of my phone and answered it. The result was predictably bad, with Sabina giving Vivian some unwelcome sass. I was in deep shit with my Domme and dreaded my phone buzzing with a missive from her. There was nowhere to hide.

It was late morning and I'd just finished teaching my freshman intro Comparative Thought and Literature course and had an hour and a half to devote to office hours for those students. My office was located on the second floor of Seelye Hall, a Gothic inspired building finished in 1909, and was tucked away at the end of a quiet corridor -- a generous accommodation for an English professor.

The office boasted two tall arched leaded pane windows framed with limestone and beneath them was an old fashioned cast iron radiator painted in flaking layers of silver. It was furnished with ancient sturdy oak furniture, marred and scratched by heavy usage over the years. The creaky floorboards were covered with several mismatched Oriental rugs purchased at a flea market and the bookshelves were crammed with literary criticism, poetry collections and well-worn novels that I had good intentions to re-read. It was a place of comfort that was all mine.

No one had made an appointment for that morning so I spent the first forty-five minutes reading and correcting essays before my door opened and a perky blonde bounced in, one of the students in my intro class. She sat in the first row and asked good questions and took meticulous notes. I'd never had the opportunity to talk to her, but remembered her name was Lila Pennington.

Lila was a study in casual innocence who looked both studious and effortlessly flirtatious. Her blonde hair was pulled up with a hair clip and her face bore minimal make-up, just a touch of pink lip gloss and mascara that made her blue eyes brighter. She was wearing a sheer cream colored knit sweater, slipping off one shoulder to show the narrow strap of the sky blue camisole she wore underneath. Her denim skirt was high waisted, cut at mid-thigh, paired with scuffed brown ankle boots.

Something stirred in me when Lila came into my office. Her innocence was a diversion. I sensed trouble.

She sat in one of my two guest chairs, polished to a sheen with decades of use. The seating surface had been recently reupholstered with dark green leather. She crossed her legs, causing her skirt to ride up on her thighs. I couldn't help but admire her legs and her youthful beauty. She was trouble.

"What can I do for you Lila?" I asked her, interlacing my fingers and placing my hands on my desk, trying to look like a proper academic rather than a horny middle aged man in the company of a comely blonde. She was toying with me.

"I see you know my name," she said, somewhat surprised. She made sure she was sitting up straight so I could see the distinct points of her breasts framed by her tight sweater. She was proud of her body.

"You ask good questions in class. I make note of those students," I said truthfully. I also looked her up on social media because she was so damned attractive.

"I'm flattered," she said. "I really enjoy being in your class."

I could sense a subtle change in her tone and the way she sat in her chair, recrossing her legs at the ankles and opening her legs slightly to allow me to see the darkness between them and think about the treasures beyond. It was calculated... and seductive. I didn't need that right now but there it was... wrong time, wrong place.

"I appreciate that Lila. It's good to hear from good students like you. So what would you like to talk about?"

I was praying it was something benign, though I was getting a vibe she was about to come on to me. That usually happened once a semester, and usually went nowhere. I didn't cheat on Rose when we were married and the few years I'd been single there wasn't a student who sparked enough interest for me to test the boundaries of the school's prohibition on sexual relationships with students.

"So Professor Alden, I've been reading Tess of the d'Urbervilles and I'm struggling with Tess's relationship with Alec. Is Hardy critiquing male domination, or simply romanticizing it?"

Her pointed question made clear she'd carefully mapped out her seduction of her English professor.

I should have been rude and asked her to leave. I didn't. I knew I was going down a road that was going to lead to my ruin but I felt powerless to stop myself. Vivian had given me everything I ever wanted and now Lila was pulling on the same strings - the latent submissiveness that bloomed into full scale submission.

While Lila was studying my face as I pondered her question I wondered how I got into this situation. Her question was one I raised in my own mind when I read Hardy's work when I was a teenager. It made me realize the works of Hardy and Virginia Woolf may have served as the unconscious underpinning of my own fascination with the power exchange between dominant and submissive. I should have known at that point I was playing with a raging fire. To my credit I did make an attempt, however feeble, to sidestep her question.

"It's a great question Lila but I haven't given it a great deal of thought. Let me ponder it and I'll pull you aside after a class to discuss it."

She gave me a look I didn't expect. She looked hurt, like a puppy who'd been hit with a rolled-up newspaper.

"Why the long face Lila?"

"Well... Professor Alden... I didn't expect you to lie to me."

"Lie to you... how?" I asked, already feeling bad even though I didn't know what I did wrong.

"I've been interested in your entire body of work on the topic. You taught a senior seminar on "Voice and Vantage: Narratives of Power and Intimacy," and a good part of the syllabus delves into the exact question I've posed."

She got me. Fuck.

I was a forty-seven year old professor. She was a young student, maybe not even twenty, but she had the upper hand.

"I'm sorry Lila. I didn't mean to," I said. I didn't want to give her the real reason.

But then she demanded it.

"Then why Professor Alden?"

She purposely cornered me. The little minx carefully prepared the ambush and I blundered into it. I tried to push back.

"The truth Lila? I think you had a hidden agenda for this meeting. You don't want to talk about Hardy or anything of the sort."

She didn't seem surprised by my challenge. She smiled at me like a cat playing with a mouse.

"Then what do I want to talk about?" she asked, offering me no escape.

"I'm not going to say it," I said.

"You're thinking it's sex," she said, almost in an accusatory tone.

"What if I was?" I asked.

"You'd be right."

There it was. I was afraid we'd end up at exactly that spot. I couldn't stop myself from thinking what it'd be like to have sex with her the whole time she was in my office. Ordinarily she'd be the unattainable blonde, even if I was twenty years younger. I already had put one foot into some very deep shit. I made one last desperate attempt to escape.

"Lila, we can't be having this discussion."

She looked hurt.

"I'm sorry Professor Alden. I'm sorry you don't find me attractive."

Now I felt hurt. And she was successful in continuing the discussion. I couldn't let it end there. I wasn't that cruel.

"First of all, if we're going to have this kind of discussion you need to drop the Professor Alden thing and call me Scott. Second, I do find you to be attractive... in fact very attractive... it's just that the school has a policy against fraternization between faculty and students. I'm sure you understand."

"Like that rule has never been broken..."

"Why me Lila? You could have any of your classmates, man or woman."

"If we're to be entirely honest with each other, I'm fascinated with the power exchange as part of a relationship, that's why I wanted to talk to you about Hardy. I find it to be intensely exciting. You seem to be an expert on this topic. I want you to show me."

I could feel my other foot inching into deep shit. Why was this happening to me? I couldn't stop myself from asking the next logical question.

"With you as a submissive?"

"Of course."

I paused to absorb what she'd told me. I had no interest in dominating her, or potentially losing my job, but an insidious idea popped into my head, one that would solve my problem with Vivian.

"Lila, if we're to be entirely honest with each other, let me ask you how you'd feel about being dominated by a woman?"

Lila put her hand to her mouth, pondering my question. I listened to the radiator hiss in the background as I visualized Lila and Vivian together, making love while I watched. The visual was intensely erotic.

"Is this woman experienced?" she asked me. She just skipped over my question so I assumed her answer to my question was in the affirmative.

"Before we go any further I want to assure you I'll respect the privacy of this conversation. Can I rely on your discretion as well?" I asked.

My question was all for show. But I wanted to hear her answer anyway.

"Of course Scott. I don't want what I've told you repeated to others. What did you want to tell me?"

"The answer to your question is yes. The woman I have in mind is very experienced in these matters."

"OK."

"Lila, I'm speaking from personal experience," I added.

"I see," she said, realizing what I was telling her.

"So you..."

"Yes Lila. I'm like you."

That convinced her.

"Yes, I'd very much like to meet this person."

"You're sure?"

"I couldn't be more certain."

"OK," I said. "Just to be clear. I'm only going to make the introduction..."

"Understood," she said, though I assumed that neither of us knew what was going to happen. I couldn't help myself from lusting after her. The visual of her and Vivian in a "69" position popped into my head. My dick was so hard it hurt as it tried to get out of my pants.

She got up out of her chair and instead of leaving my office she darted behind my desk next to me to see the sizable lump in my pants.

"I guess you do find me attractive," she said, blowing me a kiss. "So I'll be hearing from you soon?"

"As soon as I can," I promised. I couldn't wait.

I gave Lila my phone to enter her contact information.

Like Alice in Wonderland, I felt like I was in freefall down yet another rabbit hole.

* * *

It's a strange way to live, waiting for the phone to ring. Every waking moment my ear was attuned to the opening bars of "Call Me" by Blondie, the ringtone I purchased and assigned to Vivian. I was taking a shower after a couple hours of strenuous work raking and bagging sugar maple leaves, a cacophony of brilliant oranges and reds piled high in my backyard. I was so hot the cold bracing shower did little to stop me from continuing to sweat. I was playing with the temperature of the water when the dun de dun de dun of Chris Stein's pounding beat startled me. My hand twisted the temperature knob to "hot" and my involuntary reaction was to step back. Unfortunately I had a tiny shower stall so I slammed into the back wall while the water went from chest high to waist high, giving my balls a dose of scalding water.

"Fuck!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. I pounced on the knob to turn the water off. Without the noise of the shower the song sounded louder and more urgent. I opened the shower door and dripping wet I pulled my phone out of my back pants pocket, answering it as it finished its fourth ring, about to go to voicemail.

"Hello?" I gasped breathlessly.

"What took you so long to answer?"

There was no mistaking Vivian's voice. We hadn't talked in a couple weeks. There were no pleasantries.

"Finishing a shower."

"Good. You're coming here to Le Cygne Noir tonight and I want you showered and in some nice clothes. Be here at 7."

I never knew what to expect, so a dinner at Vivian's restaurant was a pleasant surprise. I wanted to mention to her my meeting with Lila. I wasn't sure if it was the right time.

"Is there something else?" Vivian asked when I didn't speak right away.

I decided to tell her.

"I met a student today who wants to meet you."

There was a pause. That wasn't good.

"You told her about me?"

I was hitting myself for not explaining myself more clearly.

"I didn't tell her about you specifically by name. I just said I had a Domme and she wants to meet you."

"Is this some stupid research project?"

"No. I think she has a real interest in what we do."

"Text me her picture."

I found the picture I made off one of her social media pages, one of her in a revealing white string bikini holding an umbrella drink mugging for the camera with a group of friends, and sent it to Vivian. There was a couple second delay.

"Bring her."

"To the dinner?"

"Do I have to repeat myself? What else have we talked about?"

She was right. I was expressing incredulity at a perfectly reasonable request. Lila was attractive and, well, Vivian clearly liked women. What had I done? Now I had to track down Lila and bring her. She might have left town for all I knew.

"Right," I said. "What if she's not available?"

"Don't come without her."

The line went dead.

* * *

I got out of the shower and dressed quickly, picking my best sport coat and the only pair of navy pants that fit and were in style. My wardrobe sucked. I'd have to upgrade it if I was going to hang with Vivian. I planned to go to my study to track down Lila. I left my bedroom and passed by the kitchen on my way to my study.

Clara was sitting in a kitchen chair in a cute dusty rose wrap dress that was a high school graduation gift from her mother. The dress was made of a lightweight crepe and flowed beautifully with her dancer's body. Her long dark hair was up in a French twist and she was wearing full make-up. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and she was sipping on a soft drink. She looked great.

"Ready to go?" she asked me. "You look nice."

Fuck. I'd promised Clara I'd take her out to a nice dinner that night. I totally forgot.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"So where are we going?" she asked me.

"Uh..." I uttered, mouth open.

My brain was in lockdown and the only thing I could think of was...

"Le Cygne Noir," I blurted out.

"Ohhh, fancy... Daddy, that's so exciting."

I had really done it. I had no choice but to plow forward and try to save myself from complete and utter ruin.

"Give me a minute... there are other people who are going to be at the dinner and I need to firm up those plans... just a minute, OK?"

Clara didn't seem fazed by my clumsiness, probably because I was acting as my normal addled self. I shut the study door behind me and sat at my desk while looking for the text to Lila. It was six, and with the drive time I had about a half hour to find Lila and convince her to come with me.

I called her first. It rang four times and went to voicemail.

Hi, you've reached Lila. I'm probably up to something far more interesting than answering my phone, but leave a message in the hopes I'll get bored.

Great.

Hey this is Scott. The woman I told you about wants to meet at Le Cygne Noir at 7. Call me.

There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell she'd listen to my message. I sent her a text.

Urgent. You have a chance to meet my Domme at 7. Le Cygne Noir. Can you make it?

I waited for an eternity, which in reality was only five minutes.

Yes, I'll be there.

I went to fetch Clara and prayed to God this would all work out.

* * *

The heater on my Saab had gone out and the weather had turned cold, in the low 40's. Clara had a wrap on but that did little to cover her bare legs. She was shivering in her seat as we made our way to the restaurant.

"Here, put this over your legs," I said, reaching into the backseat and handing her my sport coat while also trying to stay on the winding two lane road.

Clara did, and that made things much better for her as she settled into her seat.

"Le Cygne Noir, that's a cut above where you normally take me."

"I take you to nice places," I said with just a touch of indignation. I'd taken her there once, for her 18th birthday.

"No, I appreciate it. It's the only restaurant in Northampton with a Michelin star, and now it has two. How did you get a reservation?" she asked.

She was impressed. Oh God, how was this all going to end?

"I know the owner," I said, almost in passing.

"You know the owner!"

Her voice was both incredulous and indignant.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I'm sorry. She wanted to keep it on the down low."

"It's the hottest restaurant in town and I'm your daughter."

This time her voice had only indignation.

"I'm sorry," I said and I meant it.

"Well, at least you're taking me there. Wow. Will the owner be joining us and who is she?"

I was fighting hard to stay on the road. How could I tell my daughter enough to satisfy her question but not everything?

"Her name's Vivian Stroud. She'll be joining us."

"Oh my God. The owner of Le Cygne Noir is having dinner with us!"

That made me happy. We might have a car crash on the way there or a train wreck in the restaurant, but for that moment in time I'd pleased my hard to please daughter and that made me feel good.

"There is another person coming to the dinner."

"Who's that?"

I had to be careful. We were about to go down a very slippery slope.

"It's Lila Pennington. She's a student in my freshman intro course. Vivian wants to meet her."

"Why?"

I wasn't able to process a plausible story on the fly. So I had to tell her a lot of the truth. But hopefully in a circuitous and hard to understand manner. I put on my professor hat, starting with...

"She interested in certain aspects of human behavior..."

But Clara cut me off before I could launch into my explanation about why Vivian would want to meet one of my students. She knew how to cut off my bullshit. She'd read all of my stuff. She knew about my fascination with the power exchange. How could I hide this?

"It's domination and submission, isn't it?" she asked me. She was older and wiser beyond her years. She'd figured it out.

"I think so," I said.

"What else could it be?"

"I don't know. Vivian didn't give me her reasons for wanting to see Lila."

"But Lila told you, didn't she?"

"Yes."

I was wishing we were closer to the restaurant but we still had five more minutes. The five minutes seemed like five hours.

"So with you and Vivian..." Clara said, bringing her questions to a logical conclusion.

"It's complicated..."

Clara was like her mother... persistent... like a dog with a bone.

"No it's not."

"I think we're about done with this discussion. Let's talk about something else."

Again, Clara respected the boundary I'd drawn. She didn't hear me say it but she knew the answer.

The rest of the drive was in an awkward silence.

* * *

We arrived at Le Cygne Noir five minutes early. It was off the main drag in Northampton, a 19th century one story brick structure that was originally a tailor's shop. It had a simple sign hanging off a wooden post, painted in white on a black background. Vivian had remodeled it several years earlier, adding arched windows in the front that glowed warmly in the waning sunlight. I opened the front door to be welcomed by the seductive aroma of fine French cuisine and Barbara, the restaurant's hostess, a middle aged blonde with brassy hair and the figure of a woman ten years younger wearing a clingy black dress.

"Good to see you again Mr. Alden," she said with a smile. "And is this your daughter Clara?"

I'd never mentioned I had a daughter to Barbara. Clearly, she knew much more about me and my relationship with Vivian than I suspected.

I introduced Clara to Barbara and the hostess, ever vigilant, quickly sized her up with her eyes.

"You have a lovely daughter Mr. Alden."

The heavy red velvet curtain separating the foyer from the dining room parted and Vivian breezed through like she owned the place (which she did). Her sleek black hair was parted to the side and cut in a bob that skimmed her jawline. Her pale skin had a cool undertone in the muted light. Her lips were painted a deep claret red, as if matching the wine to the mood. She had on a black silk blouse that flattered her generous bust and framing her neck was a platinum chain supporting a pendant with a round brilliant cut diamond that shimmered in the candlelight. Her skirt was a high-waisted pencil skirt in jet black wool, hugging her hips and tapering just below the knee, and on her feet black Italian leather stilettos, low cut on the sides to reveal the curve of her foot. She was the vision of power and control in an elegant package.

Clara was stunned and awestruck. I could see it in her face. I was glad I wasn't the only one Vivian had mesmerized.

"Why, this must be Clara. This is a pleasant surprise. I'm Vivian Stroud," she said, offering her hand.

Vivian showed no anger at me bringing an uninvited guest. Instead she appeared to be delighted.

Clara took her hand. "Thank you so much for having me here. I'm honored."

Vivian looked at me. "Scott, the pictures of Clara don't do her justice."

I'd shared some photos of Clara, but none of them were with Clara dressed up wearing full make-up.

"Thank you for allowing me to bring her."

"I wouldn't have had it any other way."

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I wasn't sure how Vivian would react.

"Oh, and our other guest arrived a bit early. She's waiting at the bar. I need a minute with Barbara to take care of our table for dinner."

Vivian opened the curtain to let us through. The dining room was intimate, not cramped, with about thirty tables, the light low and golden with antique sconces and dimmed pendant lights. The walls were a deep charcoal gray and the dark wood tables were topped with crisp white tablecloths. At the back was a small bar, the countertop a slab of polished black marble streaked with veins of gold. Behind it were glass shelves lined with vintage cognacs and difficult to find bourbons and whiskies. Lila was at the bar perched on a black leather stool with a brushed brass frame sipping a Perrier. She turned her head when she sensed we were approaching.

"Hello Scott."

Her greeting made it sound as if we were old friends.

She was wearing a crimson satin cocktail dress, drawing attention to her cleavage and long toned legs. Her feet were dangling down, showing me her black spiky heels and the graceful curve of her calves. Her long dishwater blonde hair was in natural waves tumbling over her shoulders and touching the swell of her breasts.

Gone was the minimal makeup baggy college look. She looked spectacular and she knew it.

"Hi Lila, this is my daughter Clara."

"Your daughter?"

Lila looked as if she was trying to stay composed. My guess was that she was thinking that Clara's unexpected appearance added competition for Vivian's attention. I was absolutely hoping that Clara wasn't going to be Lila's competitor. I wanted Clara to have a great meal and meet Vivian and that was it.

"Hello Lila, so you're in my Dad's class?" Clara asked, coming up to Lila.

"He's a great professor..."

"Am I interrupting something?"

It was Vivian. Suddenly the air seemed to leave the room and I felt short of breath.

"Excuse me," I said, feigning I had to use the men's room. Suddenly I couldn't face Vivian. I couldn't face the fact that I'd scrambled my home life, my profession and my fucked up sex life in one dinner party. I left before she could say anything to me.

The restrooms were discreetly tucked behind a dark paneled door off the main dining room, almost hidden unless you knew where to look. Inside were individual private rooms for any gender, each one designed like a miniature personal retreat. The door to the first room was ajar. I pushed it open and entered, and before I could lock it Vivian came in behind me and locked it shut.

"I..."

Vivian put her finger on my lips.

"Hush."

Suddenly my anxiety level hit the roof.

"You're nervous Scott. Sit down."

She pointed to the toilet.

I sat.

She moved in front of me so her legs were almost touching mine.

"Look at me Scott."

I raised my eyes to look up at her.

"You're mine Scott. That means I'll take care of you."

"Thank you Mistress Vivian."

"You have to trust me."

She pulled up her skirt over her waist. She wasn't wearing any panties.

"What do you want Scott?"

She knew what I wanted. She just wanted to hear me say it.

"I want to lick your pussy Mistress Vivian."

"That's a good boy. I'm glad you haven't lost your focus. You did well to bring Lila. I can tell that she wants to submit to me."

I was greatly relieved. I thought I'd fucked everything up but it looked like I landed on my feet.

"Get up Scott and stand over there and face the wall," she said to me, pointing to the corner where there was a wooden stand holding cloth hand towels and a floating votive candle to give the room a more serene atmosphere. I was anything but calm. I heard her sit on the toilet and pee. The sound of her pissing was both revolting and arousing.

I heard her stream dribble and then stop and then the toilet flush.

"Come here Scott."

I turned around. Vivian had moved forward on the seat so her bottom was on the front of it. Her legs were splayed wide open. I could see her dark trimmed bush, glistening with droplets of dew and the exciting pinkish folds of her sex. I dropped to my knees and took a deep breath, smelling the perfumed scent of the candle mixed with piss.

"Do it Scott. Taste me."

I plunged my head between her legs, rooting for the center and lapping at her pee soaked cunt, tasting the earthy essence of her pussy. The idea of a demented sex act in the restroom of a fine dining restaurant got me incredibly hard. This was another shape in the erotic art of surrender, me on my knees, hunched forward with my head down, buried in Vivian's pussy just inches from the toilet seat. I reveled in the darkness.

"That's it Scott. Keep licking my pussy," she said in words that started to slur together. I looked up and saw that her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed. Her right hand dropped down between her legs and her fingers did their familiar dance on her clit.

I missed a drop of piss that was almost to her asshole, the place of holy worship. I lowered my head almost touching the toilet rim with my chin, and flicked my tongue to the center of her nether hole, giving her a quick rimming before licking her pussy clean.

I felt a light slap on the side of my head.

"Naughty boy Scott," she said to me. She was looking down at me, seeing me on my knees on her bathroom floor. She could see the love in my eyes.

"Be a good boy and make me cum."

I had my tongue buried deep in her pussy, wiggling the tip while sucking on her pussy lips. Her fingers were a blur and the squishing sound they made matched the intensity of her moans.

"Yes... yes Scott... oh... oh..."

I was almost hyperventilating when I heard her starting to cum. Her bottom rose off the seat and body stiffened.

"Scott... Scott..."

Her legs shook as my tongue speared her pussy. She was soaking wet, and it wasn't piss.

I had forgotten we were in a public restroom. I was making Vivian cum with my tongue and absolutely nothing else mattered.

"Good boy Scott."

Her voice was still shaking. We'd both experienced a cathartic sexual experience. I'd never forget it.

Vivian tugged on my hair to pull me to a stand.

"I didn't give you permission to lick my asshole," she said to me, though I could tell she was still feeling the aftershocks of her second orgasm. I would rather ask for forgiveness, which I did.

"Please forgive me Mistress Vivian. If I can explain, it's because I love you so much."

She chuckled. "Love is it? Maybe I'll love you in time."

I couldn't believe that this lowly English professor was capable of being loved by a powerhouse of a woman in Vivian. She had single handedly taken a tailor's shop and converted it to a two star Michelin restaurant by force of her will. And she was beautiful. She was giving me exactly what I wanted. I would take "maybe" as an answer. I would dream of the day that she told me she did love me.

"Thank you Mistress Vivian."

"You're welcome Scott. Now I'm going to leave. You wait behind for a few minutes before you come out. I'll make sure no one sees you coming out."

She washed her hands, checked her hair and make-up, straightened her skirt and slipped out. I locked the door behind her. Thank God no one was waiting outside.

I let my heartbeat slow before I brushed off the knees of my pants and then washed my hands.

My God, I had public sex in a bathroom tasting the pee soaked pussy of my Mistress.

I loved it.

And she did too.

* * *

"Where were you?" Clara asked me. Vivian and Lila were deep into a separate conversation. Clara was standing at the bar waiting for me to return.

"Just taking a break," I said. I could still taste the acrid flavor of Vivian's piss, a reminder of my place.

"You were gone long enough."

"I wasn't gone that long," I protested, though I had no idea how long it was.

"Right," she said, giving me "the eye." It was the same look Rose gave to me when I fed her a line of bullshit.

"Dinner?" Vivian asked us. She signaled to Chantal, who was on the opposite side of the dining room, to lead us to our table.

Saved by the dinner bell.

* * *

I was holding a leather folio containing the menu and deciding between the canard à l'orange, a duck breast with a Grand Marnier glaze, and the ravioles de homard, a lobster ravioli in a saffron beurre blanc. I decided on the duck. Clara was pondering the menu choices and picked the coquilles Saint-Jacques -- scallops in a cream sauce.

While we were waiting for our entrees Clara had the gumption to ask Vivian about my relationship with her.

"So how did you meet?" she asked Vivian.

I held my breath.

"We met on a dating website," she answered, conveniently leaving out the name, which was "The Thorned Kiss," the most popular BDSM-themed meeting place.

"And how long have you been dating?"

"A few months, though we're not exclusive."

I could see the wheels in Clara's mind turning. She was smart enough not to probe deeper. She'd already figured out the true nature of our relationship. She changed the subject to something less intrusive, or so I thought.

"So you received a second Michelin star recently. That's quite an achievement. How did you do it?"

Vivian paused, letting her wine glass hover just beneath her lips as she regarded Clara across the candlelit table. I'm sure she'd answered that question many times before but her pause and her reflection told me we were going to get an honest answer, not a platitude.

"How did I get it?" she said softly, setting the glass down. "By bleeding for it. By sending back fifteen plates a night until my sous chefs hated me. By insisting on perfection when everyone else wanted to settle for good enough. I made the world bend to my will. I didn't ask for permission or forgiveness. I just did it."

Lila always asked good questions in class and asked Vivian a tough one.

"The freedom to do what you want always comes at a cost. What did it cost you?" she asked.

Vivian picked up her wine glass, swirled the deep red liquid, and took a long sip before answering.

"Closeness. Intimacy. Everyone kept me at arm's length. You have to make some hard decisions and not be afraid of it. That means not getting close to many people. You've heard the saying that it's lonely at the top. It's true."

"You have Scott," Clara said, looking at me.

Vivian drew a deep breath, knowing she was skirting the border between honesty and discretion. She'd just told me that she hadn't made her mind up about me. Clara wasn't going to change her mind.

"We don't have that kind of relationship," Vivian said. "Your father requires... a firmer hand... and I'm rather good at providing it."

Her words snapped us to attention like the crack of a whip. Now Clara knew the truth first hand and no doubt resolved any doubts Lila may have had about Vivian. This was to be a relationship about control, not love, and that my love for Vivian was unrequited.

The rest of the meal unfolded in calmer waters, the storm having passed. The truths about control, ambition, and Vivian's relationship with me seemed to settle like fine ash, the fire having burnt itself out. It was, in the end, a civilized meal among complex people, all holding their secrets close to the vest, revealing only what they chose to share, and having those revelations covered with a veneer of civility and polite conversation. Everyone at the table knew what Vivian and I were up to, though I doubt any of them could imagine the utter depravity of what I had done with her and for her.

I came away from the meal with newfound respect for all three women and a better understanding of how Vivian felt about me. There was no way at that point did I doubt my love for Vivian. Clara was going to find out the true nature of my relationship with Vivian eventually so no better source than to hear it then from Vivian's own lips. Lila? She was sitting there as if she were in class, watching intently and mentally taking notes. I'm sure she figured out that I was madly in love with Vivian but her face didn't reveal her true emotions.

* * *

With dinner finished Chantal came over to supervise the clearing of the table. I was stuffed with good food and satiated with fine wine. I sat at the cleared table with a glass of a good Côtes du Rhône, swirling the ruby red liquid up the sides of my glass and wondering what Vivian had in store for me. Whatever it was didn't account for Clara's presence, though I was confident Vivian had already figured out workaround.

Chantal was watching a team of two finishing the table clearing by using gold plated crumbers to give the tablecloth a fresh appearance. Chantal stood there emotionless, not giving a hint that she was Vivian's girlfriend and had dominated me in my own home. She was a cipher to me - to outsiders they'd say she was cold and calculating. For me, her hard edge was more nuanced. She understood the subtleties of submission and easily won me over. But then again, being a drop dead gorgeous woman with a French accent, she had me at "hello."

When we were together she never gave me a hint that she was attracted to me. I think to her I was an annoyance - - someone to take away some of Vivian's precious time. I tried not to make eye contact but was watching her, her fluid movements and ever appraising eye, watching everything and missing nothing. I had a secret hope that Vivian would create a scene for both Chantal and me.

The cleaning finished, Chantal approached the table and the side conversations stopped.

"Thank you for dining at Le Cygne Noir, hosted by our incomparable owner Vivian Stroud."

Vivian nodded to Chantal and clapped her hands quietly together to acknowledge the excellent food and service.

"I understand Clara expressed interest in knowing our restaurant better. My shift ends now, so allow me to give Clara a tour of the restaurant and wine cellar. I know that Vivian would like Scott and Lila to stay on to discuss some matters in her office so I'll take her home when we're done."

Of course Vivian figured it out. I would entrust Clara to Chantal. But then I wondered why Chantal would agree to use her personal time to take Clara home.

Oh.

I was such a vain douchebag I never considered Chantal would be attracted to Clara. I was thinking about myself. But of course this made sense. Clara was beautiful young woman. I was at best average and twenty years older than Chantal. I realized all eyes were on me as I discerned Chantal's true intentions.

"Uhh... sure... that's fine with me," I said, surrendering yet again to Vivian's agenda.

All eyes were on Clara. "Would you like that?" Chantal asked.

Clara seemed dazzled by the lovely Chantal and I couldn't blame her.

"Very much so!" Clara said immediately. She turned to me like the kind and considerate daughter I helped raise.

"Would that be OK Dad?" she asked me.

"It'll be fine honey," I answered, hoping Clara would be able to handle herself with Chantal.

"Be good," she said to me, rolling her eyeballs. She had no expectation I would be.

"I will," I said, making my hollow promise to her. Her definition of "good" was no doubt different than mine. My definition of good was whatever Vivian told me to do.

Chantal extended a hand to Clara with a smile that was both warm and suggestive. Clara accepted, and their hands lingered together longer than politeness required. There was something in the way Chantal looked at my daughter that bordered on flirtatious. I wondered if I should be amused or concerned. Clara was a big girl and could make her own decisions, but if the two of them hooked up that would make my relationship with Vivian that much more complicated. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

"Bye Dad," Clara said looking back at me while under tow from Chantal. It was clear Vivian had given Chantal the rest of the night off as a reward for taking Clara home. I owed Vivian in a way but the possibility of Clara and Chantal together made my head spin.

Vivian had clearly orchestrated Clara's exit and if Chantal had an interest in Clara there was a pretty good chance Chantal told Vivian. But of course Vivian had none of the angst I harbored. She seemed as confident as ever when she looked at each of us and said, "the two of you. Follow me to my office."

We wound our way through the crowded dining room to a hallway that went past the kitchen to the back of the building where a narrow stairway led to a second story I didn't know was part of the restaurant. At the top of the stairs was a doorway with a frosted glass window that said:

Vivian Stroud, Proprietor

My heart was pounding in my chest as I watched her push open the door and lean inside the darkened room to flick on the light. Inside, Vivian's office was a reflection of her personality - - intimate and elegant. The walls were painted a deep charcoal gray, offset by crown moldings in a high gloss black. Heavy floor length drapes in a muted garnet color covered a high narrow window overlooking the restaurant's herb garden behind the building. Against the wall was a settee framed with carved mahogany, upholstered with a rich brown leather and tufted with leather covered buttons. The faint scent of jasmine hung in the air.

Vivian closed and locked the door with a reassuring "click."

Lila and I turned back to face her. I could still hear the clink of glasses and silverware through the thick paneled door. Vivian had her dark eyes trained on Lila.

"I think you both know why we're here. Lila, you talked a good game at dinner but talking and doing are two different things. Are you sure you want to be here?"

I heard Lila catch her breath, though she didn't hesitate with her answer.

"I do..."

"Mistress Vivian."

"Mistress Vivian," Lila repeated. "I do Mistress Vivian."

I could feel my heartbeat as I watched the interchange between Domme and her prospective sub. It was fascinating to be on the outside looking in.

Vivan approached Lila, her stiletto heels clicking on the hardwood floor, and put her index finger under Lila's chin, raising her charge's eyes upward to make contact with hers.

"Playtime is over. This is for keeps Lila. I'll be angry with you if you back out now. I'm going to ask you to do something you'll find intensely erotic or incredibly disgusting. We won't know for sure until you experience it. Are you sure?"

Lila looked back at me, maybe for reassurance. Vivian would have none of that.

"Eyes on me little one."

"Yes."

Vivian smiled. She got her way, but she always got her way.

"Excellent, Scott, show Lila the present position."

Vivian had taught me and now I'd teach Lila. I stripped off my clothes and put them in a neat pile, then stood naked next to her.

"Take off your clothes Lila," I told her. I could see doubt in her eyes.

"It'll be OK," I said.

She was more self-conscious that I was when I took my clothes off. I'd overcome the anxiety of being naked in front of others. Vivian had done a good job of weaning me from body shaming myself. Lila of course had nothing to be ashamed of with her trim and fit body, but being in the presence of her English professor and a highly self-confident owner of the finest restaurant in the area was intimidating.

She pulled the silky dress over her head, revealing a black lace unlined balconette bra and matching panties. The lace was so fine her creamy ivory skin was visible under her bra and as were her wispy blonde hairs under her panties. She glanced at Vivian, wordlessly asking if she should continue. Vivian's watchful eyes told her yes. She reached behind herself, thrusting her chest out and displaying perfect young breasts as she shed her bra, showing me the pinkish hued skin of her nipples. Then she slipped her panties down her thighs, pausing and then taking them down to her ankles and off. The blonde hairs of her pussy were glistening with her desire.

Ever since she walked into my office I wondered what she looked like under her shapeless college clothes. Seeing her naked was better than I imagined.

"Do as I do," I told her.

I knelt on the floor, knees wide apart to expose my genitals, hands resting palms up on my thighs.

Lila knelt next to me, assuming the same position as mine, though needing correction.

"Back straight Lila, and hold your chest out. Be proud of your breasts," Vivian said.

I watched as Lila assumed the correct posture.

"Now eyes down."

We were side by side, enjoying the quiet before the storm, when Vivian's phone unexpectedly buzzed.

She picked it up off her desk and looked at it, annoyed. She let out a heavy sigh. "I'm going to have to take this. Stay in your positions," she said, before starting her phone conversation. There seemed to be an issue with a credit card being tendered by a large group. I listened for a while before my mind drifted to Lila. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, the perfect submissive for Vivian. What a stroke of luck that she'd wandered into my office. I chuckled when I thought about school policy, which prohibited "intimate touching." I chuckled because technically I hadn't touched Lila.

I lost track of how much time passed as Lila and I stayed in our submissive positions while Vivian finished her call. I'd occasionally sneak a peek at Vivian, holding court on her phone, while I longed for her. Even though Lila was the perfect embodiment of the young blonde, her presence did nothing to diminish my desire and affection for Vivian. Vivian was the perfect embodiment of the confident, dominant woman who knew how to exploit my dark urges.

While she was talking she leaned over to open a desk drawer, using her finger to flick through some things before pulling out a pair of brown leather gloves. She stared at them first while she complained about a particular credit card issuer she despised. She tugged on the end of one, wiggling her fingers to pull it tight on her hand. She balled it up in a fist and smiled as if she recalled something pleasurable. The call ended and she put the phone down and pulled on the other glove. She smacked the palms of them against each other, making a loud clap that startled me.

"See these gloves Scott? They were made for me while I was in Italy. Looks at the palms."

She held her hands out, palm side up. They palms were the same brown leather but the surface was darker and burnished to a gloss.

"It's from the sweat and cum from sluts like you," she said. "Beg for it Scott. Beg for me to touch your unworthy cock. Let Lila hear what a slut you are."

She liked the begging. So did I. It was humiliating having Lila hear me beg like the slut I was. Vivian had it right about me and my willingness to do almost anything for her. I reverentially took her hand and licked her gloved palm, tasting wickedness in the sweat, leather and cum.

"Please Vivian. Please touch this worthless slut's cock and I'll forever be in your debt."

Vivian wasn't going to give me instant gratification. She wanted me to wait - and watch, and come to a rolling boil. She told Lila kneel on the floor next to me.

Vivian gave me an impish smile as she crouched down and showed her glove to me before coaxing Lila's slender thighs to a wider stance. In went her gloved fingers, parting the young blonde's ripe lips and plunging into the depths of pleasure.

"Oh God," Lila moaned as Vivian twisted her fingers inside Lila's gaping maw. Her pussy was wide open and she was going to cum - hard.

Vivian used her free hand to brace Lila's back so she could push farther in, fucking Lila's to a loud squishing noise.

"Oh... going to... ahhh," Lila sighed as she slipped off the edge and into the black chasm of submissive desire. Vivian was holding her power over Lila with her gloved hand. Lila was to be treated like me. Like me she wallowed in Vivian's magic touch, her hips gyrating as Vivian repeatedly rubbed Lila's g-spot with two fingers.

I was tempted to touch myself but I remembered Vivian's warning about cumming without permission. I didn't trust myself not to cum so I resisted even touching myself as I watched Vivian spin her web around Lila's young and firm body. It was torture and I loved it.

Lila, like me, had finally climbed the mountain to discover sexual and emotional bliss. But to experience the height of submissive bliss came at a price. And the price was the shameless devotion to Vivian, and whatever perverted sex fantasies she could conjure up. It may sound attractive but it was terrifying as well.

Lila was kneeling but her body was more like a limp rag, wrung out by Vivian's gloved hand, now coated in Lila's sexual essence, another imprint soaked into the fine leather.

Vivian was the director, moving Lila so she was on her knees in front of me, her mouth open like a baby bird, chin tilted up, eyes looking up and trained on mine, waiting to receive her meal. Vivian smiled with satisfaction when we were both in our correct places in her mind's eye.

Vivian tugged on the glove on her right hand to pull it snug, then joined her thumb and forefinger to form a perfect "O,"

"Watch me slut," she said. It was completely unnecessary because of course I was going to watch what she'd do. She used the opportunity to call me a "slut" in front of Lila. Vivian wanted us both to know the new world order, was the she was the Domme to both of us.

I watched with heavily lidded eyes as the pleasure of her cunt soaked glove stroking my cock made me want to close them. The visual of seeing her hand grip my cock and the thought if where that glove had just been was too much for me.

"Uh... uhhhhh..." I grunted.

Each stroke of her hand was a bolt of lightning - a burst of pure pleasure, as my turgid cock was inches from Lila's open mouth, her eyes pleading for me to paint her face with my cum.

"Do you want his cum Lila? Look at me stroke his cock. He's so hard Lila because he wants to cum on your face. Beg for his cum Lila."

Lila's neck stretched towards me, her eyes glassy as she started to finger herself to relieve the building tension.

"I want it Mistress Vivian. I want his cum."

"Look at her Scott. Lila's my slut now and she wants your hot cum. Tell me you love me Scott... say it."

"I love you Mistress Vivian... oh God..."

The feel of the slick leather against my sensitive skin made me explode.

Wads of thick white cum splattered on Lila's innocent face, then splashing on her chest and trickling down towards her pussy. Weeks of abstinence and the session with Vivian in the restaurant's restroom made it feel as if I had an ocean of cum for Lila's yawning mouth.

"Uh... uhh... uhhhh..." I grunted, lewdly thrusting my hips forward, as viselike grip of Vivian's leather glove milked every drop of cum out of my balls. Some dripped off her chin like honey sliding off the curve of a spoon -- slow and glistening, and into the palm of Vivian's waiting glove, rubbing it in with her fingers to add to the gloss of the burnished leather.

Vivian stared into the young blonde's heavily lidded eyes.

"Are you enjoying this Lila? Tell me how much you love the taste of Scott's cum. Tell me how much you love the taste of submission."

"I loved it Mistress Vivian," she cooed. There was no hesitation in her voice. There was still cum staining her lips.

"I think I need a taste of Scott's delicious cum," Vivian said. "Lila can't have all the fun."

Vivian bent over and used her hands to spread Lila's legs further apart, then kneeling between them.

Vivian crouched forward so her lips were on Lila's dew covered hair. Vivian's blouse hung low, and I could see the full shape of her breasts as she lapped at Lila's cum flavored cunt.

Her eyes came up to meet mine. I was still dazed by the orgasm and spraying cum on Lila's face. It was too good. Now I was watching my Mistress eating my cum off another woman's pussy. The dinner disaster had turned into one of the best nights of my life.

But then Mistress Vivian, ever the cunning Domme, put me on the horns of a dilemma while looking up at me with her face planted in a wet blonde pussy.

"You know Scott, my tongue is tired of licking your cum off Lila's delectable pussy. I know you haven't technically touched her yet, but it would please me if you finished for me. Will you do that for me Scott?

She'd read the same rule I did. By licking the cum off Lila I'd definitely be touching her. I'd have no argument against the "no fraternization" rule and be clearly risking a tenured professorship. But she knew me. Knew me better than I knew myself. And knew I'd sell my soul to do anything she asked.

I got down on my knees next to Lila. Vivian moved her head away to allow me to put my head in place of hers, seeing a mixture of Mistress's saliva, Lila's pussy juice and my cum that matted Lila's pubic hairs. I wanted to please Mistress Vivian. More than anything else. I dipped my face into the fragrant swamp between Lila's trembling legs, she too wallowing in the depths of submission with me, us both groaning with pleasure as Mistress Vivian watched with a smile on her face.

I licked Lila's pussy, letting her writhing motion rock my head back and forth, letting me tongue fuck her. I licked her pussy clean, then followed the trail of her cum and mine dripping down the thin isthmus of rippled skin between her pussy and asshole. I let my tongue wander lower, rimming her asshole and then up to staunch the flow of cum coming out of her pussy.

"Oh... oh... oh..." Lila panted at the sheer depravity of my act. She was a willing partner in our erotic dance for our Mistress. Her legs were open, begging for me to feed the fire that Vivian had started. I stabbed her asshole with the tip of my tongue, making it wink, and telling me I'd made her feel good. I kept fucking her that way until she needed more. She used her hands to pull her ass open.

"Deeper," she implored.

I smashed my face against her ass and pushed my tongue as far into her ass as I could. The smooth muscular walls contracted around my tongue.

"Yes... yes..." Lila panted. "Don't stop."

I kept pushing against the resistance of her anal ring, forcing it open to allow my tongue in.

I could have licked her ass forever but I had a more urgent task, so I moved upward to her tummy to lick it clean. Her arms were to her side so her breasts were fully exposed, ripe for plunder with my lips, kissing and licking every delicious square inch of her delectable breasts.

"Thank you Lila," I whispered in her ear as she relaxed her head in my hand and I kissed her, capturing the cum that was on her lips and chin, and sharing it with her as our tongues swirled together. It was a glorious act of submission.

Mistress Vivian was clearly pleased when she saw us performing for our pleasure and hers. She showed me she had a puddle of cum in the cup of her tongue. She beckoned me to her to give me another cum filled kiss. So good, her forcing her tongue into my mouth and letting the white goo slide down my gullet.

I was in awe of her power over me.

"You're a good boy Scott," she said to me, making my glow even brighter. "Now bend over that chair so I can let Lila whip your ass."

Yes please.

* * *

It was pitch black outside and I was still sex drunk when my old Volvo sputtered and died on my driveway. I couldn't believe I'd just spent the last three hours in Vivian's office having sex with her and Lila. I was dog tired and just wanted to go to bed.

I had my head down as I approached the house, noticing for the first time that the lights in the house were still on. Then I looked back at the street. Chantal's car was parked there. There was no mistaking her black Porsche 911. When I looked at the car I thought of a panther, a perfect match for Chantal - sleek, beautiful and deadly.

I used my key to open the front door. The lights were on in the living room but no one was in there. I was going by the kitchen when I heard the sink faucet open, filling a water glass. It was Chantal. I saw her from the back, hunched over the sink. I came up from behind her and tapped on her shoulder.

She straightened up and whirled to face me. Gone was the buttoned down look of the manager of Le Cygne Noir. Her hair was mussed and her make-up was smeared on her face. She was wearing only her expensive white silk chemise, now torn beyond repair. She had a vacant look in her eyes.

"Hi Scott," she said to me, though it sounded like she was sapped of energy.

"I hope you were good to her," I said, wondering if Chantal looked like that what Clara looked like.

She looked at me funny, like I didn't get it.

"Who do you think was the Domme?" she asked me.

I made an assumption about my daughter that was clearly wrong.

"Oh," I said out loud.

My God. Clara was the Domme. That's why Chantal chased her down.

* * *