Total Control

11 min read

photo: The Life Erotic

I took three deep breaths before I knocked on Mr. Thomas’s door. I would have run, but it was raining so I walked. In my heels. I wanted to look sexy.

The door opened and his eyes flared. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” I waited for him to list the reasons: he was my boss; I was too young; he was only separated and perhaps he wanted his wife back.

“Come in,” he stepped back, opening the door wider. I stepped into his house. This was not the first time I’d been there; as his personal assistant I was there often. However, so was his wife until two months ago.

“I was about to have dessert. Do you like chocolate?” His voice and gaze were steady.

On the list of things I thought he’d say, that would not be one. “Of course, Sir.” My voice trembled.

Mr. Thomas put his hand on my lower back and my nerve endings lit up. When I sat at his formal dining room table, he went to the hutch at the side and opened a drawer.

“I hoped you’d come,” he admitted.

“You said I shouldn’t be here.” I stared at his back. He was still wearing his suit, minus the jacket and tie from the office, his shirt sleeves rolled up. I should have taken a job with a less attractive boss. Ha! His looks were half the reason I accepted.

Mr. Thomas returned to my side, holding a length of black fabric. “That’s true, but I also wanted you. You have been a perfectly compliant assistant, and I have fantasized about controlling you sexually.”

He liked to be in control. Of everything and everyone. He pulled a cloth over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. “Stay there,” he said.

His footsteps disappeared, leaving me in my thoughts about this afternoon, when I’d stumbled on his personal ad on a fetish website.

Wanted: Control

I am a professional man, aged 43, looking for a woman aged 30–40 to be under my sexual control. Impact play, pain tolerance, light bondage and total submission required. Possible long term arrangement.

How long had I been fantasizing about Mr. Thomas bending me over his desk and spanking me? How many times had I masturbated in his private bathroom imagining he was fucking me against his office door?

Mr. Thomas had returned to his desk to find me looking up the term impact play. I’d apologized for invading his privacy but explained that it was accidental, and before either of us could react I said, “You can spank me anytime you want.”

My body shivered in reaction to his dark stare. He pulled me up from the chair and against him. “I control you at the office, I can’t let that control cross into our personal lives.”

We stared at each other for several seconds, until both our phones buzzed, then his office phone rang. He took his hands off me and I answered the phone call.

He likely thought that was the end until I showed up at his doorstep.

Now here I was waiting for chocolate dessert. What would he do with it? Smear it all over me then lick it off? Mr. Thomas’s shoes on the dark hardwood alerted me as he returned. The ceramic plate scraped along the wooden table before me.

“Will you do all the things you wrote about in your ad tonight?”

“Not all of them. This is one night, one shot, Miss Sharpe. When you say stop, we are done.”

“What?” How could that be his rule? What if he was unsatisfied?

A chair scraped the floor beside me. Was he moving closer?

“After the cake, you can agree or I can take you home.”

“I agree.” I’d been his assistant for a year. Whatever limits he pushed tonight would be nothing compared to the first month of working for him.

“You agree to give me total control of your body?” His mouth pressed against my ear, his breath warm and moist, his voice harsh and demanding.

My body shook to the core. Total control and one chance to say no. “Yes Sir.”

The spoon scraped the plate. “We’ll start with cake then.” A cool bite of cake pressed against my lips and I opened my mouth. As I swallowed the first bite I tried not to worry about what I’d gotten myself into.

Mr. Thomas fed me the chocolate cake. Time stood still as I ate in silence. I wanted to speak but I couldn’t form words. So I ate, barely tasting, wondering what was next. Would he undress me? Fuck me? Make me suck him off?

“Miss Sharpe, stop worrying about what is next. Focus on each bite, on your breathing, on your heartbeat. Stay in the moment.”

He pushed another bite between my lips. I focused on the moist chocolate in my mouth and my tongue moving as I swallowed.

“Better. What do you know about pain?”

“That I should avoid it?” I laughed. The darkness he’d trapped me in became real.

“Most of the time, yes, we try to avoid pain. In sadism, pain is an art. Too little and it’s pointless; too much and pain overwhelms the sub. The right amount and you get flooded with intense hormones. Some subs describe it as a spiritual experience.”

“Will I get there tonight?”

He fed me another bite. “Not on the first night. And this is the only night. I will ask a lot of you. Your refusal is always acceptable, but final. If you say no, the night is over. I will push your limits of pain, but it’s about sex.” His mouth closed on my earlobe, his tongue lathed the tender skin. I had no idea my ear was sensitive. Or his mouth was that skilful.

“The way you moan from my tongue on your ear. How will you sound when I lick your pussy?”

I dropped my chin to my chest.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“And aroused.” I whispered the admission. He had soaked by panties by licking my damn ear.

“Last bite, Miss Sharpe. Then my turn for dessert.”

I focused really hard on the last bite. Rich and moist against my tongue. When it was gone, the plate clattered away.

“Let’s see what you are offering.” He pulled the chair back and me to my feet. “Shoes off.”

I kicked them away then stood still in the blackness as Mr. Thomas unzipped my dress and slipped it off my body. I strained to hear him. Was he looking me over? Judging me? Did he like what he saw?

“It is a treat to see what I’ve imagined for months. Do you always wear black lace?”

“Not always. I have other colours.”

He didn’t reply. “Mr. Thomas?” I asked.

“Tonight, you can call me Sir.” His voice rough enough that it scratched down my back.

He grabbed my hands. “I’m going to lean you on the table.”


“This is a chocolate cake moment, Miss Sharpe. Focus on the moment, not what is coming.”

I tried to follow his instructions, but my mind twisted with wondrous possibilities. Forced orgasms, denial of orgasm, maybe he’d take off his belt and tie my hands or whip me. Each thought was another strand of arousal binding my body.

He bent me over the table, my forearms supported my upper body. Mr. Thomas adjusted my panties and rubbed his palm over the curve of my ass. “So lovely and pale,” he murmured.

Crack! His hand slapped me and I cried out. Hot pain bloomed where he’d left a hand print.

“Breathe for the other side.”

Smack! I gasped. Another blossom opened inside me. The next blows came closer together without comment.

The sting released after a few smacks. Instead, I leaned into his palm as the pain melted into my muscle.

Maybe he realized I enjoyed it or maybe he was ready for more. The slaps came harder until I whimpered and trembled. Fear gripped me as I jolted off the table. Too hard, too much pain. Was this where the night ended?

“So lovely and pink. Much better. How was it?” Mr. Thomas caressed my ass.

“I almost said stop, Sir.” I was glad for the blindfold, it hid my tears.

“You handled it well. I hit harder than I would normally begin with, but I knew you could handle the challenge.” His fingers brushed away tears on my cheek. Not so hidden.

I pushed up then leaned down. I gave him control and he didn’t order to me stand. Mr. Thomas’s fingers moved between my legs. My rough lace panties were slippery. I had enjoyed the pain more than I imagined.

“And even if you aren’t sure you enjoyed it, your body knows it did.”

“Did you?” I choked out. Why was I nervous?

He pulled me up and around and pressed my hand to his erection. “I haven’t been this hard in months.” I wondered what his face looked like. There was so much I missed in the darkness. All non-verbal clues. I knew him well. Most of my job was reading his body language.

My fingers massaged and he dropped his hand in silent consent. His dick strained for more touch. He was big and getting bigger as I stroked.

Sir pushed my hand away. “I didn’t get dessert.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Those words I’ve said to him a thousand times on the job. They were difficult at first, but they became easy.

He pushed me back on the table. “Lie back, Miss Sharpe. You are my dessert.”

I eased back, my body shivering. “Chocolate cake moment,” he reminded me. “Feel the table under you.”

I focused on the cool wood on my back as he pulled my panties off. I was glad to be hidden behind the blindfold as he exposed my body.

“Your pussy is as pink as your ass.” He rubbed the mound of flesh before peeling back the layers. There was no tease of fingers, just his mouth on my heated pussy. He sucked on my clit and I nearly came as he licked the new wave of arousal.

“Jesus, I don’t know if I’ve ever made a woman this wet.”

“God knows I’ve never been this wet.”

His tongue was inside me, lapping up each new drip. Then he was on my clit. I tried to relax into the moment, instead of wrapping my legs around him and riding his face to orgasm.

If I chased the pleasure, he’d deny me. Instead, I focused on the throb of my clit under his velvet tongue.

He used his teeth and lips and tongue to spin my arousal.

“Don’t hold back,” he panted.

“I’m not. I’m enjoying the moment.”

He smiled against my pussy before licking me bottom to top. He licked me again and I tensed. He sucked and I got tighter. It was the scrape of his teeth that broke me. The pleasure rushed my body, shaking out every cell.

Being focused on the moment made it the easiest orgasm I’d experienced.

I was still snapping with ecstasy as he sat me up. Into a puddle.

He kissed me, and my taste flooded my mouth.

“No one has taken my direction so well as you. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I always am with you.”

He pulled away from the blindfold. I’d almost forgotten how intense his eyes were. This was only the beginning.

Mr. Thomas took my hand. I had never been past the outer rooms. The foyer and living room. He pulled me deeper in. Past the living room, up a grand staircase. I wanted to run my hand along the shiny dark wood but we moved too fast.

He didn’t turn on lights but I could see outlines of furniture. Tables with empty vases. Had his wife filled them with flowers? A wall with a scattering of pictures but some were clearly missing. The spacing of the remaining photos was too odd to be deliberate.

Had Mrs. Thomas taken them or did Mr. Thomas remove them?

We stopped and he pushed open a large oak door. He turned on a light. I stood just inside the doorway while he crossed the room and opened a drawer. His back was to me but he spoke over his shoulder, “Take off the dress.”

I froze at his instructions. Get naked just like that?

“I can take you home.” The threat was soft. A reminder that refusal ended everything.

I pulled the zipper down and dropped the black fabric to the floor. His eyes caressed me.

He came to me wordlessly and wrapped a collar around my throat. He fastened the clasp at the back of my neck. “Lovely,” he murmured, running a finger over the leather. He pulled off my bra and tossed it to the floor. “Don’t move.” He watched me as he massaged my breasts, fingers concentrated on my nipples.

I knew he checked out my chest at the office, especially on cold mornings when my nipples showed. I pretended not to notice, but sometimes I played it up with tight shirts, low cut tops, no jacket. Only on days I needed a boost.

Tonight, he pinched and tugged the sensitive centers. “My clamps are missing so I’ll have to spend extra time.” He squeezed and I whimpered. “Eyes open, I want to see your reactions.”

I didn’t have to look at him. My gaze focused on a spot over his shoulder, the curtains covering the window. Before I found his secret ad, I would have said I was immune to his looks. That was a lie. Mr. Thomas made my body flutter every time I walked into his office.

He pinched tighter on both sides and I panted. Abruptly, he let go and I panicked. What was he doing? Simultaneously, he shed his shirt and pants. I knew he worked out but… damn. My fingers itched to rub the coarse hair covering an impressive set of pecs. His arms and shoulders could hold up the world. Maybe they did.

“Touch me,” he urged before I looked further down.

I stepped forward and put my hands on his shoulders. His muscles remained firm as I moved down his chest and abs. I followed the trail of hair from his navel to his erection. My nails grazed the head of his cock.

“Impressive.” I could admire a good dick when I saw one.

His breath hissed between his teeth. “Wrap your hand around me and stroke. I haven’t had sex in two weeks and I spent all week looking at your ass.”

“Yes Sir.” I met his eyes as I stroked his cock with my fist. Part of me wanted to run. I wasn’t all that special. A warm body, a pretty thing to look at. My hands faltered as hot tears pressed my eyes.

“You came to me,” he reminded. “But I can tell you all the ways you differ from the last three women I fucked.” Mr. Thomas pinched my nipple hard.

I gasped and squirmed.

He twisted. “I never let them in my house. I never asked them to endure any pain. And I didn’t need to fuck them so I’d stop fantasizing about them at work.”

My face heated to a boiling point. “I didn’t mean to get jealous. Of course you have slept with other women.”

“Fuck. I fucked them. Like I am going to fuck you. Get on my bed, on your hands and knees. I will get a condom.”

My eyes tracked him as I knelt on the bed. He covered himself, protecting us before kneeling on the bed behind me.

His hand pushed my thighs wider. Two fingers entered my pussy, my body sucked him in. I rode his fingers; I couldn’t control myself.

“So eager to be fucked. I spent a whole year appreciating your body and I didn’t know the extent of your talents.”

His hand pulled out but was quickly replaced by his cock pressing against me.

“Do you want this as much as I want you, Miss Sharpe?”

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Thomas. I want you… to… uh…”

“Say it. Tell me.” He growled.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He grabbed my hips and slammed into me. “God yes, you are tight.”

He slammed me again, his fingers digging into me painfully. The speed of his thrusts matched the pressure in my body. The mix of pain and pleasure was his intention.

His paced slowed as he fought to catch his breath. I relaxed, thinking I’d missed his orgasm.

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. “Not yet, Miss Sharpe.” His free hand wrapped around my throat lightly as he drove for pleasure.

Orgasm coiled in me and each thrust pulled it tighter. And then one thrust and it burst open, flooding me with ecstasy. Satisfaction snapped through the network of nerves in my body.

When I returned to consciousness, I realized he’d come as well. I’d missed the moment, but it didn’t matter.

“Simultaneous orgasm on the first try. Not bad.” He left me cold on the bed. I wanted to collapse, but I knew I had to leave. He’d demand it in a moment.

He tossed my dress to me. I searched the floor beside the bed for my bra. “No bra,” he said from where he was dressing. “For the rest of the week. I’d prefer no panties.”

My eyes rounded. “What? You can’t control what I wear at work!”

“You gave me control,” he said evenly.

“And you said for one night.” I pulled on my dress with hands shaking.

“You didn’t say stop, so it’s not over between us.”

Mr Thomas had found a loophole in his own rules.

He dropped me at my place fifteen minutes later. I shed my dress, my body still dripping and warm. I touched the collar he didn’t take back, then ran a fingertip over my lips. He hasn’t kissed me through the entire evening. And what the hell would happen Monday morning?


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