First Surrender

As he heard the door close, Eric sat there in shock. He looked down, the small dark damp outline of a circle spread out from his fly. With only her words, he came undone. He had never had that happen before. He had never focused much on masturbation, but this was still unlike anything that he'd ever felt. The way her eyes pierced through him, her voice taking hold of him... it all felt so electric, so eruptive.

Why had he been so reckless, in sharing so much? What would she do with that information? His whole career, his reputation, his entire world-- she could burn it all down now. The horror of it all flooded his mind. A nausea gut punched him. He reached for his waste bin, hurling into it as he doubled over. His head was pounding. He needed a plan. He needed to think.

Day turned to night, and the next day came. Eric fought every fiber of his being to go see Jennifer, or to write to her. Her words were crystal clear: "you will give me the time and privacy to decide what I want that to be." Still, the panic was drowning him. He carried on his work, but barely ate and slept even less. He thought about contacting the authorities, only to realize that would involve admitting to what happened. And even then, there was no crime on her part; if anything, he was the one who committed a leud act. That's ridiculous! She made him cum. She knew what she was doing. She knew her words and her ways would overpower him. He saw now that she was slowly building up his excitement to that inescapable edge.

Yet, sitting there hoping to find an escape, the memory of it had Eric aroused. It was midday, alone in his office, and his thoughts raced back to her. Remembering her legs crossed just so, that toned line up her thigh. Her cinched waist. Her lips, oh her lips. And those eyes... Eric undid his pants. His hand reached for his feeble cock as he gave into the memory of this mortifying interaction. He closed his eyes.

Jennifer's voice whispered, "Bratty girls arouse you. You need it. You love it. The humiliation is what defines you, and you want more. Serving them, spoiling them... don't you Eric?" The saddest little dribble spurt onto his hand as he convulsed in his office chair. And just as he did, a notification appeared on his screen.

"Jennifer: This is my personal number ###-###-####. Message me there immediately, this exactly.

'Hello Jennifer. What I did was unacceptable. When I had a full sexual orgasm in my office on Wednesday November 3rd at 1:42pm, you were entirely innocent. Doing so in your presence, having you witness that, was wrong on every level. To have you see the semen stain on my pants, how small I was, my horrifying expressions-- I make no excuses. I hope we can find a resolution tomorrow, and thank you for the chance to speak.'

If I do not receive it in the next 60 seconds, I will presume resistance & enact consequences."

Eric read this message, and immediately felt his chest tighten again. Proof. She wanted it in writing. 40 seconds. If he sent this, she would have all the cards once and for all. However, if he resists here, there is no telling what consequences she might pursue. 30 seconds. He pulled out his phone from his pants across his ankles, and in his stupor the phone fumbled from his hands and flew across the room. He dove after it.

20 seconds. Sprawled on his office floor, pants ankle bound, he swiped open his screen to open his work chat. He opened his DM with her. 10 seconds. Number. Copy. New Message. Paste. Text. Copy. Paste. Send.

2 seconds were left. 58 seconds elapsed. He exhaled, then he saw three little dots appear.

Jennifer typed back to him, "Good. Now I have you. Don't answer this message. Be there tomorrow, and start by sending me your location. Again, 60 seconds or I will take it as resistance."

Still holding his phone, Eric realized he'd never done so with anyone before. No one ever really cared about him enough to bother. Yet, now here was this woman whose power had upended his entire life in less than a week, and he found himself giving to each of her new demands. His fingers, on autopilot, searched the settings to share his location indefinitely with her. Given his work, he could never afford to be without his phone, so he knew that she was likely aware of that, and in yet another way: had him.

He found how to share it, and with a hard swallow, pressed the button. Sent.