Under Control: A BDSM Love Story

Author's Note: Hey guys, I've got a few things to say, so this is gonna be a relatively long note :P I've been getting a good amount of reviews lately, all of them positive, which makes me really, really happy! Just wanted to address a couple of them because I was curious about what certain people had to say.

SFC Omicron: You noted that I had made a typo, capitalizing the word "he" after a bit of dialog. I'm pretty anal about typos too, so I don't blame you for pointing that out. Nevertheless, that's a weird thing to point out. Eagerly awaiting your explanation in the email you promised to send :P

Dierdre: Just out of curiosity, what did you mean when you said the story lacks detail? Specifics would help, so I can make corrections as soon as possible :)

Jenbug: Thanks for the critique! I sincerely appreciate any help I can get. I'm so glad you get the characters, your descriptions of them is exactly what I was going for, down to a T. About how Hector breaks the bounds of professional psychology: that's because every psychologist has their own methods. True, his are unorthodox/illegal, but nobody else knows that, do they? As he had said before, Delilah was his first client, one with an extreme problem. So he adopted extreme methods for helping her. And the threatening with a knife thing (aka knife play or fear play) was not only part of his psychology method, but also part of fulfilling his need to control someone. I suppose there are things I should change around in the story so that people can see that without me explaining it. Thank you for pointing that out, though. You also agreed with Dierdre about needing to put more detail in the story. Specifics?

Side note to all: Going over this and the last couple of chapters, I realize that my writing has been rushed. I blame it on myself for worrying about posting it up for everyone, since I hate keeping everyone waiting. Once I finish writing the story, I will make serious edits/changes to help the plot make more sense.

Anyway, thank you once again to everyone who has reviewed! Keep it coming! And now, without further ado, CHAPTER 14!!



Facing Mr. Davis the next day was one of the hardest things I had to do in a long time. Not only was I confused about our relationship, but I also felt as though I had failed him. I hadn’t completed the task he had assigned me, and the fact that I felt obligated toward him in every way made me even more ashamed of my failure. I came into work apprehensively, not wanting to see his disappointment.

“Good morning, Ms. Jones,” he greeted me with a casual air that caught me off-guard. “How are you today?”

“F- fine, sir,” I stammered, thrown for a loop. “And you?”

“I’m well,” he said with a nod. “I hope you’re ready to work hard today. I have lots for you to type.”

I was taken aback by his total difference in attitude from the night before. Of course, he did say things would be the same between us when it came to the office but… I hadn’t been quite prepared for it. He had an amazing way of being able to switch back and forth between his professional side and his less harsh side, whereas I was stuck just being myself. Clearly I would have to learn to adapt.

“Of course, sir,” I said, making an attempt at a confident smile.

“Good,” he said, gesturing to my desk. “I hope you won’t mind getting started right away.”

“Not at all, sir,” I said. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Davis?”

His eyes came to rest on mine, and for a split second I saw something strange behind them; something other than his aloof self. Something devious… savage… like a predator the moment just before he catches his prey. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but not before it sent shivers down my spine.

“That will be all,” he said before turning to go into his office.

I looked after him as he walked past me and waited until he closed his door before sitting down and starting up the computer. This is… weird, I thought to myself, watching the boot-up screen come up. I mean, he’s acting… normal toward me. Not that it was a bad thing. It was just unexpected. I wasn’t sure what would have been harder: having him act differently or having him act the same while I sat there wondering if I had just imagined all the things from the previous day. It’s all so confusing, I thought, rubbing my temples. When the desktop had fully loaded, I took out a document from the pile on the desk, started up the writing program on the computer, and then set to typing.

Immediately after reading the first sentence on the paper, I felt knots in my stomach and a lump in my throat. It said, “Now that you are finally ready for work, Ms. Jones, let’s begin.” My heart began pumping faster as I realized Mr. Davis had written this. I looked over my shoulder to make sure he was still in his office. Satisfied after seeing the door closed, I turned back to the paper and continued reading silently. “The first thing I want you to do is get up and lock the front door. Do not read any more of this until you have done so.”

I stopped, my eyes lingering on the last word of the sentence. Part of me was sure this wasn’t real and was pushing me to keep on reading in spite of the rules. But the other part of me -- the curious part, I suppose -- wanted to do it and see what happened. After considering this for a moment, I decided it couldn’t hurt to try. I stood up from my desk and headed cautiously to the front door, making sure to lock the knob and the deadbolt. After checking to see if the door was shut and locked all the way, I headed back to my seat, eager to read on.

“Good girl,” it said on the paper, and I could feel a blush come to my cheeks. “Before you get too comfortable in your chair, stand up and take your panties off.”

I stared at the paper speechlessly, not knowing what to do. After what Mr. Davis had told me about being professional at work… I wasn’t sure if I should continue. But on the other hand, I argued with myself, Mr. Davis wrote this, and he is your boss. I knew I didn’t want to disappoint him or myself any further. I swallowed back my uneasiness and stood up, slowly reaching under my skirt and pulling my panties down to my knees, then letting them fall the rest of the way to the floor. I didn’t know what to do with them, so I picked them up and crumpled them in a ball in my lap. I picked up the paper and began reading again.

“Now, Ms. Jones, if you would be so kind as to take an envelope from the top drawer of the filing cabinet?”

Confused, I stood up once more and went to the filing cabinet. Sure enough the manila envelopes were there. I took one from the pile of them and closed the drawer, then sat behind my desk once more. Where is this leading? I thought.

“Good,” I read, almost hearing Mr. Davis’s voice in my head as my eyes scanned the page. “Now, place your panties in the envelope. Seal it closed.”

My jaw dropped. He couldn’t be serious. This was wrong… I couldn’t seal my underwear in an envelope! Why on earth would I do that?

Because he told you to, I chided myself. And if you don’t do it, he will be angry.

I didn’t want to make him angry. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out again slowly. I opened my eyes again and, opening the envelope wide, I picked up my panties and placed them inside; an oddly delicate operation. Hesitantly, I sealed the envelope, hoping the next task would not be any worse.

“Label the envelope with my name and bring it to me. That is all.”

I couldn’t believe it. He was asking me to bring him my panties. For what purpose, I couldn’t imagine. I don’t understand this, I thought, biting my lip. But the drive to please Mr. Davis was stronger than my confusion. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I wrote “Hector Davis, Ph.D.” on the envelope and stood up, then made my way to his door. I took a breath before knocking.

“Come in,” he responded.

I entered, timidly making my way across the room until I was a foot away from his desk. He made eye contact with me, his hands folded on top of his desk, his face like stone. When he did not say anything to me, I held out my hand with the envelope in it and gently placed it on top of his desk. His gaze fell to the fattened manila envelope.

“I trust you did everything as per the instructions,” he murmured.

I nodded, my pulse racing.

He leaned back in his chair, an expression of satisfaction on his face. He reached over and took the envelope, looking at the label on the outside.

“Ah,” he said, a hint of a grin crossing his lips. “You added the title and everything.” He gave me a significant look. “You are thorough, aren’t you.”

I said nothing, as I didn’t feel able to speak. I was too nervous. However, this didn’t seem to bother him. He slowly tore the envelope open and turned it over so that its contents fell out onto his desk. My panties, a black spandex thong, stared back at him, and I could feel my cheeks grow warm in embarrassment. To my mounting shock, he reached for them and picked them up, holding them in front of his face as though studying them. They dangled between his thumb and index finger, taunting me. And here I thought there was no way to humiliate me further.

“Hmm,” he said, taking the undergarment in both hands and stretching it wide. “I must admit, I never thought you were a thong person.”

I looked away in shame, unable to find a voice to respond with. This is fucked up, I thought to myself.

After a while, he lowered the item back down, and I could hear as he indiscreetly placed it in one of his desk drawers. He leaned back in his chair once more, looking at me from under hooded eyelids.

“You followed instructions well, Ms. Jones,” he mused quietly. “I trust you did the same for me last night?”

I shifted nervously under his gaze, biting my lip. “Well, sir, about that….”

His tranquil expression changed as my statement went unfinished. “Yes, about that.” His voice had become harsh.

I blinked a few times, willing myself to stay calm. No need to go crying already, I thought to myself. Just get it over with. Just tell him.

“Well… it’s just that… I did everything you told me to but….” I took a deep breath before continuing. “I started feeling bad about… touching myself.”

“Do you mean to tell me you did not complete your task?” he said, pushing himself up from his chair angrily.

“I- I’m sorry, sir,” I whimpered. “I tried, I really did, but I kept thinking of… him.”

Mr. Davis came around his desk, approaching me with slow, measured steps. I was genuinely afraid now. What if he fires me? I thought, my stomach filled with dread. He stopped when he was only a few inches away from me, and even though he wasn’t very much taller, he seemed to tower over me. I shrank beneath his stare, wishing I could sink into the earth. “I didn’t ask you why the task wasn’t completed. I asked you if it wasn’t completed.”

I hung my head sadly, dreading unemployment. “I… I’m sorry.”

“When I tell you to do something,” he said, his voice low and threatening, “that is the only thing that is important. Not your past. Not your future. The task. Now bend over my desk, Ms. Jones.”

“But, sir,” I began to protest.

“Now,” he growled, his eyes burning into me. “I will not ask you again.”

Slowly, hesitantly, I leaned forward from my spot near the desk so that I was bent over. I did not know what he was going to do, nor did I care. The shame I felt and the anger Mr. Davis was showing toward me was punishment already. I wanted to weep right then and there.

He stood there for a while; I could tell because I did not hear him move. Then, just when I was beginning to think he had changed his mind, he walked around his desk and opened one of the drawers. My heart nearly stopped when I saw him pull out the riding crop.

“Sir, please,” I begged, my eyes brimming with tears, “please don’t use that thing on me! I promise I won’t ever disobey you again. Please.”

He gave me a sidelong glance as he brandished the thin rod in his hands. “Ms. Jones, are you afraid of this little thing?”

I nodded emphatically, having lost all my pride at that point. “Please, I’ll do anything!”

He stopped a moment, letting a smirk cross his face. “Anything.”

I nodded again. “Yes, anything you want. Just please, don’t hit me with that.”

“Is that a promise?” he pressed.

“Y- yes,” I stammered, more uncertainly.

Slowly he placed the riding crop down on the desk, then came around to stand behind me. I could feel him leering at me, and I grew even more nervous under his stare. Finally, he said, “Pull your skirt up.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Sir?”

“Do it,” he said firmly.

I had no choice. Not only was I afraid for my job, but I had also given him my word. There was no backing out now. I reached down to the hem of my skirt, lifting it up slowly until my entire bare bottom was showing. The fact that I had no underwear on to offer some means of concealment made me feel even more vulnerable. I could hear his breath quicken to match mine, but otherwise he remained silent for a moment.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Sir,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Now, Ms. Jones.”

I shut my eyes as tears began to stream out, and though I hated myself for it, I complied. My body, my secret spots, were now open to him, and I had given him permission to do whatever he wanted to me. Idiot! I thought, cursing myself for saying that to him.

“Ms. Jones,” he said, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of my own pulse in my hears. “I want you to masturbate until you climax. And this time I will know if you finish, because I will be watching you.”

“I can’t,” I whimpered, and this was met with a rough smack on my bottom. I gasped as I felt the contact, a dull stinging warming the area.

“Do not talk back to me,” he hissed.

“I’m sorry,” I cried, my head hanging in resignation.

He stood there silently for a moment until I had quieted down a bit. “Now,” he said evenly, “reach between your thighs.”

I didn’t want to do it. The very thought filled me with dread. But more than that, I didn’t want Mr. Davis to be angry with me anymore. I wanted to please him, and I knew that if I did as he told me, things would be good again. Gingerly, I reached between my thighs, cupping my hand around my tender area.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and I could hear his breath quicken. He stepped closer to me, and I gasped as I felt him gently caress the area on my behind that he had just assaulted. A fierce blush rose in my cheeks, and I bit my lip as he softly stroked the spot, causing my skin to break out into goosebumps. After a while, his hand slipped away, bit I could still feel the tingle from the contact. I could feel a heat growing between my thighs, and though I wanted to deny it, I knew I was getting some stimulation from his touch.

“I want to see you finger yourself,” he growled sensually.

I resisted the urge to talk back to him, knowing I would just receive further punishment. There was no way around this. But even through my nervousness, I still felt the need to please him in any way possible. It’s now or never, I thought. I took a big breath and plunged ahead.

It felt strange at first; not bad, but not pleasant either. Of course, knowing that Mr. Davis was behind me watching did not help things along. I didn’t really know what to do… I didn’t have experience with masturbating, and my own anxiety was preventing me from really getting into it.

“I think you can try harder than that, Ms. Jones,” he said sardonically.

I bit my lip, trying to put in more effort, but the more I tried, the less I wanted to do it. Maybe if I just do it for a while I can pretend to orgasm, I thought.

“What is your problem?” he hissed in my ear, startling me. He was leaning over me, and as I looked over my shoulder at him, his furious eyes locked onto mine.

“My problem?” I repeated, confused.

“Yes, your problem.” His lips were almost on my ear now, and it sent shivers through me. “Do it right or you will be punished.” He reached under me, lifting up my shirt. Before I could even think to object, he unhooked my bra, exposing my breasts and causing me to cry out.

“Y- yes, sir,” I breathed, putting in more effort as he began gently tugging on my nipple.

“Use two fingers,” he commanded, and I let out a soft moan as I did what I was told. “Good girl,” he said, leaning over me and cupping my breasts in his hands. “You’re my good girl.”

As much as I wanted to deny it, the feeling of him playing with my breasts and hearing him say that I was his, that I belonged to him, was extremely arousing. I felt myself grow wetter around my fingers, and I let out a quiet gasp when I felt his lips touch my shoulder in a long kiss. I couldn’t help imagining that he was the one fucking me from behind, and it wasn’t long before I had fully slipped into my fantasies. I started fingering myself hard, moaning freely, and as I felt my boss move one of his hands from my breast to my clit, I groaned out, “Oh, Mr. Davis… fuck me….”

I was so distracted with myself that I hadn’t noticed that he had unzipped his pants until I realized his hands weren’t on me anymore. I looked over my shoulder and saw him behind me, slowly stroking his long, thick manhood. I bit my lip and looked into his eyes, which were gleaming almost feverishly.

“Keep going,” he ordered, and I complied. I continued watching him, and he picked up his pace to match my own. I could hear his breath quicken, and every now and then a quiet moan. It was hard to believe this was actually happening; that my own boss was watching my masturbate on his desk. The fact that he was so turned on by it he had to follow suit practically sent me over the edge. I faced forward once more, getting into it for all I was worth. Within the next minute I was trembling all over, and as a warmth spread through me, I finally felt it -- my climax. With a loud cry, I bucked my hips against my fingers one last time and came. The force of it was so strong I nearly collapsed. I sank down onto his desk, breathing heavily and shaking. Mr. Davis was still behind me, and from the sounds of it he was still busy catching up to me. I looked over my shoulder at him, but he was gazing down between my spread legs. He seemed extremely close to his own climax now, and before I realized what I was doing, I knelt down in front of him. This was unexpected to him, but he wasn’t fazed. Within the next few seconds he let out a groan, and as Mr. Davis placed his hand behind my head to pull me closer, I opened my mouth wide and took him in. Stream after stream of his warm, thick cum shot to the back of my throat, and I made a hum of satisfaction as he held my head against him. There was so much of it that my mouth was practically overflowing.

“Swallow it,” Mr. Davis ordered, and I did so the best I could. I felt him shudder as I gently sucked on his member, and after a moment he pulled out of my mouth and gingerly tucked himself back into his pants before zipping them up again.

He stood there for a moment, looking down at me and catching his breath. I stared up at him from my place on the floor, and I couldn’t help closing my eyes when he raised his hand to touch my cheek.

“Good girl,” he murmured before making his way back to his chair, where he sat down. He picked up the riding crop and slipped it into his drawer again, then cleared his throat and leaned forward, folding his hands together on top of his desk. After a moment, he said, “Please have a seat, Ms. Jones.”

Awkwardly, I stood up, pulling my blouse down over my bare chest and my skirt over my bare bottom. I briefly considered putting my strapless bra back on, but after brief consideration decided to leave it lying on the floor. I pulled the chair that was lying over to the side so that it was facing his desk, then plopped down into it, my mind in a daze.

Mr. Davis stared at me silently for a while, before saying, “You followed orders well, Ms. Jones.”

I nodded, unable to say anything in reply.

He paused, studying me carefully. “You want to make me happy, don’t you.”

His question took me by surprise. “I- I do, sir,” I stammered, my mind a whirling mass of confusion.

“And I want the same for you,” he said, pursing his lips in thought. “I want you to be mine, always.”

I looked into his eyes, and something about them seemed… sad, almost lonely… though nothing else about him reflected it. I figured it was my imagination though, and brushed the thought from my mind. I wanted to be his, I knew that for certain. All my life I had been cast aside and rejected, but not by him. He wanted me, was asking me to be with him. How could I say no to that? “Okay,” I whispered tremulously, my heart still racing from all that had happened.

Mr. Davis stared at me a moment longer before reaching down to pull open one of his desk drawers. When he lifted his hand again, he was holding up a small, thin circle of leather, and for an instant I thought it was a belt. But after closer inspection, I realized it was a collar. He stood up from his chair and came around the desk until he was standing in front of me. I looked up at him, anticipation gripping me.

“When you wear this, you are mine,” he murmured, holding the collar up before me. “It means you will recognize me as the only one who has control over you. You may put it on whenever you wish, but only I have the authority to take it off.”

I looked at the collar nervously. It didn’t look too foreboding, but I had the looming thought that I was once again way in over my head. I swallowed the lump in my throat before nodding my understanding.

“So,” he said fixing me with a sturdy gaze, “my question to you is: do you want this?” Then he quickly added, “Once you decide, there is no turning back.”

I considered this for a while. I knew I cared for him more than anyone. I wasn’t sure if it was love; after all, I didn’t believe in love anymore. But I knew I didn’t want anyone else, and I also knew I wanted to be the only one giving him pleasure as well. Was it a good idea to accept the collar?

“I… want it,” I said at last.

Mr. Davis released the breath he had been holding while he was waiting for the answer, sighing in relief. He unhooked the buckle on the collar, opening it and gesturing toward me. I slowly reached back and lifted up my hair dutifully, and he placed the collar around my neck, gently buckling it so that it was taut but loose enough to be comfortable. When he finished, he stood back, and I let my hair fall down around my shoulders once more.

“Servant,” he murmured, his eyes locked with mine.

“Master,” I whispered in return.