Giving in gracefully.
By Laurel Aspen - Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.
The red dress should do the trick, thinks Stella; it’s certainly come up trumps before. Why she should have to go to the hassle of dolling herself up is another question altogether. This is the 1990s for goodness sake, For a woman to get taken seriously when building a business is an uphill struggle, trying to organise financing a nightmare. Countless boring ‘interviews’ with stale, pale men who belittle or dismiss her suggestions.
Thinking presentation important in this supposedly serious commercial world Stella initially tries prim and proper ensembles to create a respectable impression. Sadly this proves pointless, she can tell by their asinine questions the sexist pigs haven’t bothered to read her profit projections. “Now what would a pretty young thing like you know about…” Because of a first class marketing degree and glowing placement assessments duh!
One day, in a rush, Stella dons a skirt a little shorter and tighter than of late and observes the identikit man in a suit continually ogling her bum during their meeting. A loan is swiftly arranged and the penny drops. These middle-aged, mediocre managers aren’t interested in her ideas so Stella might as well play them for fools. She dresses up to the nines, low neckline to reveal a Wonderbra (best invention of the ‘90s?) enhanced cleavage. Flaunts thighs, flashes stocking tops, demeanour a mix of teasing and wide-eyed naivety. Plays down to their expectations, flirts, flatters and cajoles. So easy, so predictable, and of course it works. She can put up with leers, and gropes as long as they advance the funds.
Stella makes her confident entrance into yet another office: figure hugging red dress, long auburn hair, a killer combination. Hang on, this isn’t right, where’s the usual old bloke? A handsome - younger than expected - man behind the desk correctly interprets her bemused expression.
“You were expecting Mr Mannering, he’s on gardening leave,” explains the new incumbent. “I’m his stand-in, do please take a seat. Max Pemberton, pleased to meet you.”
“And judging by your expression, not happy to be here? Stella Mills by the way, but you already know that”.
“Well to be truthful I do find this place rather boring,” he responds with a wry smile, “although my employers have booked me into a very pleasant boutique hotel.”
Might he be one of these new men she’s read about in the Sunday papers, wonders Stella? Reputed to exist in cities, unseen out here in the sticks. Better not take anything for granted, safer to give the usual performance. Stella flashes a dazzling smile, crosses shapely legs and dangles a high-heeled shoe from her foot.
“So you’re a troubleshooter?”
“Definitely not,” Max answers emphatically, ‘I usually deal with corporate concerns, just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got lumbered, not that it’s a burden to encounter you of course.“ I like this woman, thinks Max, feisty, attractive, and goodness those legs, most distracting. The feeling is mutual, Stella, similarly impressed, already detects an emerging spark between them. Arousal is in the air.
“This town was voted one of Britain’s best places to live, perhaps I can give you a tour, show you some interesting places?” she suggests archly. Max can certainly think of sites he’d like to see. Get a grip man.
“The previous manager’s unorthodox methods involved some very preferential loans to certain cronies, you excepted”, he adds hastily. “Perhaps you’d like to show me the financial projections to support your application?”
Oh Mr City Slicker you’re actually quite dishy, and better still taking me seriously, thinks Stella, pushing a sheaf of papers towards him. “I just need a small amount of extra capital…”
Twenty minutes later the deal is done, her request approved. “Entirely on its professionally presented merits,” reveals Max. Stella’s genuine expression of delight is however curtailed as he continues. “So your supercharged seduction routine was all for nothing.”
“How was I to know?” replies Stella, hotly. “You’re the first male in authority to take me seriously. If some letch getting a hard on secures what my business needs I reckon the end justifies the means.”
“In a couple of years computers will make these decisions anyway,” shrugs Max good naturedly, “meanwhile, I take issue with your assumptions about me.”
“Do you indeed, because I take issue with why my previous applications were denied.”
“Why don’t we take this outside the workplace and discuss it over dinner,” suggests Max, “I could do with some intelligent conversation.”
“Are you propositioning me?”
“Would you like to be propositioned?”
“We’ll see…”
“I’ll take that as a date. Say 7pm? Wear the red dress.”
Cheek, thinks Stella, but does so anyway: a girl knows when to give in gracefully.
A modest amount of food, a generous quantity of wine: conversation kindling a flame, part seduction, part sparring, tiptoeing towards who knows where.
“So I’m wrong to complain?” Stella pouts provocatively.
“Hardly, but the expectation I’d behave as badly as the rest of my gender is unfair,” answers Max evenly.
“Your honour slighted?”
“Quite so – I think reparations are in order.”
“And how might you go about that?” Stella already suspects she knows.
“If you really want to find out go up to my room while I settle the bill, here’s the key,”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Stella needs to hear Max say it out loud. He lowers his voice, speaks in in a calm authoritative tone.
“I’m going to spank you.”
A silence hangs in the air. Almost imperceptibly her breathing quickens. No refusal, no outrage. Without a word she takes the keys and proceeds purposefully out of the restaurant, head high, hips swaying alluringly, controlling her own destiny even in submission.
When he enters the room Stella is stood looking out of the window and doesn’t immediately turn to greet him, hands on hips, an implicit challenge. Seizing the initiative Max takes her by the shoulders and spins her round. Head swimming, manicured fingers gripping his upper arms for support Stella responds with a fervent kiss, entranced by his masculinity, his smell, his strength. Being assertive has become exhausting; she’s ready to be led by lust, compelled by this entrancing man. Max’s hands roam eagerly across her body, finally alighting on Stella’s shapely rear.
Reluctantly parting from their passionate clinch he steers her towards a small sofa, pulling her unresisting, face down across his lap. A much anticipated unveiling follows, Max raising the hem of her dress to Stella’s trim waist with tantalising slowness to reveal a wonderfully firm and inviting bottom framed by nylons and suspenders.
“Very masterful,” Stella observes, jiggling her derriere enticingly, “I hope you can deliver what you promised.” In response Max delicately pulls down her panties and rests his palm on the now fully exposed cheeks, sending a shiver through Stella’s body.
“So you think I’m going to let you smack my bare bottom?” she enquires, the faintest tremble in her tone, body drawstring taut and quivering with nervous expectation. Actions speak louder than words. Pining her calves and hands to forestall any struggles Max delivers a prolonged series of ringing slaps to the entire surface of Stella’s unprotected posterior. Oh it stings, it smarts, it hurts so wonderfully, the heat quickly spreading to intimate areas, sending Stella’s innate sensuality into overdrive. An intriguing thought crosses her mind: in charge in the boardroom, compliant in the bedroom; that could work.
When Max finally relaxes his hold her obedience is no longer in question, the visual evidence of the spanking’s stimulating affect abundantly clear as Stella unabashedly parts her thighs to reveal the dewy delights at the apex.
“Getting very wet and turned down there,” Max observes.
“You’re not doing so badly either,” his insistent erection presses hard into her upper leg. “That’s quite enough punishment thank you,” with surprising composure she slides elegantly off his lap, “let’s see what you’ve got to offer me.” Adroitly undoing his trousers Stella gives an inadvertent “Wow!” of admiration as Max’s swollen cock springs free. “I am definitely going cowgirl on that!”
Decorously discarding knickers she faces him to enthusiastically straddle the rampant rod. Caught off guard Max blinks entranced as Stella raises her skirt, deftly separates engorged labial folds with brightly painted fingernails and impales her pussy on his pulsating prick. Dominant role temporarily abandoned Max discovers her magnetic sexuality too much to resist.
“After such a build up I do hope you’re going to fuck me very thoroughly Mr Manager”, she purrs provocatively.
Of course he does. Letting Stella take the lead Max concentrates on liberating her boobs, tonguing and squeezing each nipple in turn to the evident pleasure of the putative entrepreneur enthusiastically riding his cock. Grabs her glowing cheeks while thrusting lustily, Stella crying out at the conflicting sensory signals, catalysts to erotic pleasure.
“Take it all and take it deep,’ he urges, lost in the moment.
“Oh yes, make me climax,” she gasps, animatedly rocking against his girth, forcing her clitoris forward to achieve fiercer friction.
“You want to come? Max senses they’re both on the brink.
"Please, please, please,” Stella feels mastered, taken, but thrilling complicit in her own acquiescence. “Don’t stop, it feels so good, do it, do me…” Her thighs shudder and an orgasm engulfs her, Max losing his load at the same time. When at long last she attempts to move the intensity of their coupling has momentarily left Stella shaky and unable to stand. Fortunately there’s no need, Max easily lifts and carries her across to the bed and lays her, arse glowing, pussy leaking, face down.
“I’m going to fuck you from behind this time, slow and steady.” Max allows a dramatic pause: “It’s non-negotiable.”
Two people sort through their possessions; preparing to move from the house they’ve lived in for many years. She’s the CEO of a large company, he having forsaken commerce to work as a landscape gardener
“Remember this red dress,” asks Stella pulling it from the back of a wardrobe. “I forgotten I still owned it.”
“Put it on,” Max says, “let’s see if it can still work magic.”
