Under Control: A BDSM Love Story

Author's Note: Thanks to CandyCaner for the endless well of encouragement and Jenn for the nice comment :) Soon I will be adding some delightful BDSM smut to the mix for your entertainment! Stay tuned.

"Only the one that hurts you
Can make you feel better
Only the one that inflicts pain
Can take it away"

-- Madonna, "Erotica"



Despite how strenuous the organizing turned out to be, I got through it relatively well and the day passed by quickly for the most part. Hector -- or should I say “Mr. Davis” -- kept to himself, and I didn’t bother him the entire time, even when I was tempted to ask him where he wanted me to put certain things. I think part of me was afraid that interrupting him would jinx it and suddenly I’d be back in reality with Mr. Clark’s dick in my mouth. Needless to say I was very intent in my work and I stayed as far from Mr. Davis’s door as possible.

At six on the dot, Mr. Davis opened his door and came into the room with his hands in his pockets. “So, Delilah.”

“Yes sir?” I said, standing up from my spot on the floor where I was stacking files into different piles. “I mean, Hector.”

“Well, I think you’re fitting your role in my business rather nicely,” he said with an approving grin. “And just look at that,” he added with a glance at the diminished wall of boxes. “You’ve put quite a dent in that mess. Fantastic job.”

“Thanks,” I said, and I couldn’t help smiling under his praise. “Actually I’m pretty surprised I got this much done.”

“Some people are good at cleaning when they have a lot on their mind,” he said, motioning for me to follow him as he walked into his back office.

I closed the door behind myself and made a beeline for the couch, grateful for the comfort of lying down after such hard work. I let out a sigh of relief.

“You’ve had a hard week,” said Hector, taking his seat in the armchair and crossing his legs. “Care to tell me about it?”

I laughed. “You already know about everything. I mean, I must have called you about a hundred times from all the little things I’ve been updating you with.”

“I meant how you feel,” he said with a significant look. “It can’t be easy, what you did to your boss.”

“Which reminds me,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket. “You need to hear this.” I played the voice memo for him, and in spite of the emotions it stirred up inside me, it was surprisingly easy to listen to it in the comforts of Hector’s company. When it was done playing, I said, “What do you think?”

Hector, though maintaining a composed expression on his face, was emanating an atmosphere of pure hatred. His fists clutched the arms of the chair, and after a moment he winced. “I think I just might have to pay this man a visit.”

I shook my head. “It’s over. I just want to put this all behind me.”

“Oh, by all means, feel free to forget him. He’s lower than dirt.” He uncrossed his legs and laced his fingers together. “But one way or another he needs to be taught a lesson.”

“It sure won’t be me,” I said. “I just wanted to make him think I would sue him so that he’d leave me alone.”

Hector grinned. “That was brilliant, by the way.”

“I’m sure it’s what you would have done,” I said, returning the smile.

“I certainly would have vomited at the thought of seeing this man with his pants down,” he said, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh, God. Don’t remind me,” I said, covering my face.

“Don’t feel bad. That man is most definitely not eye candy.”

“That’s not it,” I said, shaking my head in disgust. “It’s just that… he reminded me of my father.”

“Oh?” Hector said, looking at me intently. “Your father was fat and balding?”

I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest bitterly. “Even if that was true, it wouldn’t be the only reason.”

Hector paused a moment, not taking his eyes off of me. “What did your father do to you, Delilah?”

I swallowed, trying not to cry. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about him right now.”

Hector continued studying me for a while before letting out a sigh. “Alright, fair enough. Let’s change the subject then.”

“Good idea,” I said, wiping my eyes.

“I want to play a little game,” he said, standing up.

“What is it?” I asked, sitting up and giving him a curious look.

“Just a small exercise,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I know you must be having a bit of a hard time adjusting to this new situation, and I thought I might help you out.”

“What makes you think I’m having a hard time?” I asked.

“For one, you didn’t say a word for six hours straight.”

I looked away, unable to deny it.

“And for another thing, this is the first time you’ve ever had to refer to me as your boss. I’m sure that in itself is difficult.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “So what is the game?”

“This exercise will be a way for us to get a bit more comfortable in our roles as employer and employee.”

“Oh,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “So, you assign me a task, and I do it?”

“Exactly,” he said with a smirk. “You’re already making my job easier.”

“Sounds fine,” I said, clasping my hands together in my lap.

“Good,” he said, and he went over to his desk and took a seat. “You go behind the door and I’ll call you in.”

“Oh, alright,” I said, crossing the room uncertainly and starting to close the door behind me. “So I just… wait for you to call me in?”

“That’s how it works,” he said, giving me a smile.

“Okay,” I said, and closed the door. At this point I wasn’t sure exactly what this would accomplish, but he was the psychologist. I was certain he knew what he was doing.

“Ms. Jones,” I heard his voice muffled by the door.

“Sir?” I responded.

“Would you come in here, please?”

I opened the door and walked in, standing in front of the desk. “Yes, Mr. Davis?”

“Your first mistake was that you waited for me to ask you in,” he stated unsmilingly. “When I call your name, I need you to come right in here and stand right where you are.”

I nodded, taking mental note of what spot I was in. I was about a foot away from his desk. “Alright, sir.”

“Good,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Ms. Jones, would you be so kind as to mark down the fifteenth in my black book? I have a meeting that day at two forty-five.”

“Right away, sir,” I said, turning to go do it.

“Not so fast,” he said evenly.

I turned to face him once more, a feeling of dread in my gut. “Yes, Mr. Davis?”

“Anytime I tell you to do something, you always ask if there is anything else I need before you leave. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath and released it. “Is there anything else you need, Mr. Davis?”

“If you would get me a cup of coffee, that would be great,” he said, picking up a book and leafing through it’s pages.

I turned to leave, and as I closed the door behind myself, I wondered if he really wanted me to do those things. I decided to play it safe and do it anyway, and I set to finding where I put his calendar.

When I found it I marked down the date and time, and then I set to finding a mug. After I finally located one, I realized that we had no coffee or percolator, and so I filled it with water.

I knocked on his door, and he said, “Come in.”

“Here’s your coffee, sir,” I said, setting it on his desk. “And I set the date on your calendar. I’ll be sure to remind you during the week, since I know you’re always busy--”

“What is this?” he interrupted, looking at me with cold eyes.

“Um… well, that’s your coffee, sir,” I said.

“This is not coffee, Ms. Jones,” he said, his voice like venom. “This is water.”

“Well, sir,” I said, thinking he was joking, “there was no coffee or coffeemaker. So I settled for what we did have.”

“Ms. Jones,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “What job did I hire you for?”

“Uh… your personal assistant?” I asked, becoming nervous.

“Right,” he mused. “So I don’t pay you to settle for what we have. I pay you to do what I want. And what I want is for you to get me a cup of coffee.”

“Sir,” I said, my voice shaking, “I thought this was just an exercise.”

“And I thought you were experienced,” he shot back, his expression cold and aloof.

I could feel tears stinging in my eyes, but I did my best to hold them back. “Alright, sir. I’ll get you that cup of coffee right away.”

As I turned to leave, I heard him go, “Uh-uh.”

I stopped in my tracks, cursing myself in my head. I turned to face him once more and said, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, nothing else.”

I turned to leave, wondering why the hell I took the job.



After walking several blocks, waiting in line behind a bunch of college hipsters for nearly ever, and walking all the way back, fearing for my life the entire way, I returned and placed the cup of coffee on his desk.

He didn’t even look up from his book when he said, “You didn’t knock before coming in.”

My jaw dropped. I was jumping through hoops for him, having already risked my life searching through the mound of boxes for his black book, and to top it all off I walked out for a mile in the dark to fetch his fucking coffee which I was already certain he would not drink, and all this for a stupid exercise. But even though I wanted to yell at him, all I said was, “I’m sorry, sir.”

“You have already made lots of mistakes, Ms. Jones,” he said, standing up from his desk. I would have cowered if he was any taller.

“Forgive me, sir,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s my first day on the job.”

“Your job is not to make mistakes, Ms. Jones,” he said, his voice menacing, “and my job is not to forgive them.”

I’d had enough of this. I couldn’t believe how he was treating me, after everything that happened between us. I broke down. “I don’t know what you want from me,” I said, tears coming to my eyes. “I did everything you asked, what more do you need?”

“I need you to learn your lesson,” he said evenly. He stood up and rounded his desk, and I backed away as he swept past me and out of the room. I had no clue as to what he was doing, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to guess. He came back carrying a metal folding chair. He walked over into a corner of his office and unfolded the chair, placing it down facing the corner. He came back over to stand directly in front of me so that he almost seemed to tower over me, and he looked into my eyes with his cold hazel ones. He then pointed at the chair, while still holding my gaze. “Sit.”

I looked in the direction he was pointing in, not believing the situation. Was he really telling me to sit in the corner, like a dunce in the classic cartoons? I would have laughed had this not actually been taking place.

“Sir, I’m not sure I underst--”

“Sit in the corner,” he commanded, his voice deep and emotionless.

I absolutely could not believe this, and I knew he could see it on my face, because he stepped even closer to me and said, “This is not an option.”

Slowly, dazedly, I began walking over to the chair and with great trepidation sat down facing the wall. When I had settled in, I chanced a look back at Mr. Davis. He went to his desk and sat down, picking up his book again.

“You will sit there until I feel you have learned your lesson. You will not speak. You will not move. You will not even look away from the corner,” he said, emphasizing the last bit, and I snapped my head forward, my heart pumping in anxiety.

I started wishing I had just settled for unemployment.



After about ten minutes of the punishment, I started getting antsy. Why am I taking this sitting down? I thought, even though I already knew the answer. I needed this job more than anything. I knew I would never have the courage to tell off somebody like Hector, much less risk getting fired from probably the last good job I would ever get. Briefly I entertained the thought that there could be something more behind my cowardice, but I didn’t acknowledge the feeling.

I argued with myself for a bit more before he finally said, “Alright, I believe you’ve learned your lesson now.”

I let out a sigh of relief and stood up, grateful to see the end of it. I thought children were the only ones truly affected by that type of discipline, but I suppose being disgraced is something anyone can relate to.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, standing in front of his desk.

“Now put that chair back where it belongs.”

I stood there for a moment, stunned that this was still going. I thought for sure that the punishment signaled the end of the exercise and that I would be free to go home. I but my lip and turned to get the chair. “Just a moment,” he said, stopping me.

I turned back, thoroughly angry at this point. I lifted my eyebrows in response.

“You forgot to say, ‘Yes, Mr. Davis’.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to go off like a time bomb. I managed to keep my voice down to a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

He shut his book and looked intently at me. “Because, I am your boss.” He then stood up and walked over to me, stopping in front of me. “Is there a problem with that, Ms. Jones?”

My whole body was shaking at this point, a bad sign. I was close to breaking down completely, and I could not look him in the eye for fear of setting myself off. “No, sir,” I whispered.

“Then what do you say when I tell you to do something?” he said, so close to me that we were almost touching.

I swallowed hard, feeling humiliated. “Yes, Mr. Davis,” I breathed.

“I can’t hear you,” he growled.

I gritted my teeth and said it louder. “Yes, Mr. Davis.”

“Look at me,” he commanded, and hesitantly I brought my eyes up to meet his. “What is your job?”

“To do what you want me to do, Mr. Davis,” I murmured, and I could hear my heartbeat as it quickened.

“And you will do whatever I want you to do, won’t you, Ms. Jones?”

I nodded, my ability to speak having dissipated completely.

“Say you will do anything for me,” he commanded.

“I will,” I whispered, my knees almost giving out beneath me. “I will do anything for you, Mr. Davis. Anything.”

Suddenly he reached out toward me, grabbing my jaw in his hand so that I was forced to look into his eyes. It took me a moment to notice that we were both breathing hard, and I fought to keep myself calm in his grip. His eyes burned into mine, the intensity almost frightening. But I did not try to look away, and I refused to let myself cry even though I so desperately wanted to.

“Good,” he said, releasing me at last. We both stood there staring for a moment longer before he turned away and sat in his chair.

My legs felt weak, and in fact my entire body felt sapped of energy. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion, and my heart would not calm down. I couldn’t wrap my brain around what had just taken place.

“Clean up your work space,” he said at last, smoothing his hair back with his hands. “Clock out and get ready. I will be taking you home.”

I stayed where I was, trying to shake myself from my daze. When I was finally somewhat back in reality, I nodded. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

He looked at me and shook his head. “No. That will be all, Ms. Jones.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, and turned to leave.

“And Delilah?” he said.

I looked at him questioningly.

“You did well today.”

I didn’t respond. I simply left the room, cleared the floor, and gathered my things.

What a day.