Under Control: A BDSM Love Story

Author's Note: Hey everyone, sorry for the delay! I started this chapter like a week ago and wasn't sure how to write it. I finally finished writing it just today, and it was a bit rushed so I hope it doesn't suck too badly. Please let me know what you think! Thanks :D




“Hello?” I said groggily into the phone. I looked at the clock through bleary eyes. It was only three o’clock in the morning.

“Dee?” I heard on the other line, before an overwhelming burst of static forced me to pull the phone away. It was a rude awakening to be sure. When the loud noise had died down, I risked putting the phone back to my ear. “You there?” said the voice on the other line.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I mumbled, rubbing the area between my eyes.

“Oh my God, Dee! Guess where I am right now!” Charlotte squealed.

“Obviously in a part of the world where it’s a decent hour,” I said, trying to wake myself up.

“Oops, did I call too early again?”

“Forget about it,” I said, sitting up in bed. “What’s up?”

“Well,” she said excitedly, “I’m in Egypt with Frank!”

“Egypt, huh,” I repeated. “Sounds like things are really serious between you guys.”

“I know!” she said, and squealed again. I pulled the phone away once more until she was done. “I have a feeling that he might propose soon!”

“Really? That’s great,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic in spite of how tired I was.

“Try not to jump out of your seat now,” she joked.

“Sorry,” I said with a yawn, “it’s just that it’s three in the morning here.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” she said with a giggle. “I’ll try to remember to call you later next time around.”

“Right,” I grumbled. “So what makes you so sure he’s proposing soon?”

“Are you kidding me? Egypt is like the holy land to archeologists!”

“And?”

She scoffed. “Why else would he bring me here other than to declare his love for me?”

“Maybe because you’re his assistant?” I said, stretching my free arm.

“Oh, you’re ever so encouraging, Dee,” she said glumly.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he really will propose to you there.”

“I hope so,” she said, the happy tone back in her voice. “I can’t raise a kid on my own.”

My voice stopped dead in my throat, and suddenly I wasn’t so sleepy anymore. “Charlotte….” I began, narrowing my eyes. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Okay, I didn’t,” she said in a chipper voice.

“You did,” I hissed. “I can’t believe you! What would compel you to do something like that?”

“Look, Dee,” she reasoned, “I finally found someone I truly love. I’m sick of waiting for something to happen. All I did was help things along a little bit.”

“But… you poked holes--”

“Hold that thought.” I could hear a strange noise and then the sound of her muffled voice, followed by a much deeper muffled voice. I realized that she had covered the phone so I wouldn’t hear their conversation.

What have you gotten yourself into, Charlotte? I thought to myself as I waited for her to finish talking to the other person.

“Sorry,” she said as she uncovered the phone again, “that was Frank. He wanted to get an early start today.”

“Have you told him yet?”

“Well… not exactly.”

“Charlotte!”

“I was going to when the time is right!” she argued.

“And when will that be?” I pried.

“I hadn’t thought of that yet,” she admitted. Before I could say anything else, she added, “But it will be soon, I know that.”

“How far along are you?” I asked, dreading her answer.

“About a month. I was thinking of just waiting until I was showing but I guess that would be a little late in the game, right?”

I shook my head in astonishment. “I can’t believe you, Charlotte.”

“It really isn’t that big of a deal,” she said, brushing off my concern.

“Look, this is coming from someone who has tried killing herself,” I said with a low, even voice. “You’re getting into something you won’t know how to back out of. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Charlotte went silent for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if she was even still on the other end. Finally, she said, “Wow… you don’t sound like the Dee I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… you wouldn’t usually say something like that. I don’t know how to explain it. But you’re different.”

“I… didn’t think I was different,” I said, taken aback. What does she mean by that?

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “It’s like… you used to be scared to say what was on your mind and now… now you’re really….” She paused, groping for words. “You’re outspoken. Or, I don’t know… you just seem more sure of yourself. It’s weird.”

I mulled this over in my mind for a bit. I definitely felt different, though I wasn’t sure how. It was obvious Hector had something to do with it, but it also occurred to me that perhaps letting out the one secret that had haunted me for most of my life may have also inspired me to be more open.

“Well… what are you going to do about the baby?” I finally asked.

“Keep him, of course.”

“What makes you think it’s a boy?” I asked.

“Oh, something tells me it is,” she said quietly.

I sat there silently for a while, biting my lip anxiously. I couldn’t believe she would do something like that and yet here she was, telling me she was having her boss’s child. Of course she had always wanted children. Charlotte is a very nurturing person. But somehow it just seemed too soon for her to be pregnant, especially since the father didn’t even have a clue.

“So what’s new with you, lately?” she asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, not much,” I said with a sigh. “Just the usual.”

“How’s therapy been for you?” she suddenly added, which took me by surprise.

“What? How did you know I was going to therapy?”

“Anthony has his ways,” she said with a devious tone.

“And how did he find out?”

“From your mother of course!”

I shook my head. “Why didn’t he just call me?”

“Well he’s tried tons of times, but he said you never pick up.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion. It finally dawned on me that I had stopped using my cell phone over the past month, and so had neglected to charge the battery. “Oh,” is all I said.

“How’s therapy?” she asked again.


“It’s been alright,” I said, not knowing what else to add.

“Details?” she chirped, a few decibels too loud. “Are they a total head shrinker? Male or female? If it’s male, is he hot? If it’s female, is she a bitch?”

I tried to keep up with her as she shot off each question in rapid fire, and finally I answered, “It’s not so bad. He is a man, I wouldn’t be the one to ask what attractive is, and he has his bitchy moments, too.”

Charlotte giggled. “Well, I’m glad you’re taking initiative in… getting better.”

“He does say I’m making progress,” I offered.

“That’s great!” she enthused. “Now if only you’d get out there and date someone.”

My cheeks blushed furiously when she said that, and I fought to keep my mind on the conversation. Of course she had no idea about Mr. Davis, and I had absolutely no intention of telling her. “What are you, my mother?” I finally said.

“I may as well be,” she admonished. “You’re lucky I’ll be having my own kid soon, otherwise I’d be watching your every move.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

It went silent for a bit before Charlotte said, “Do you really think this is a mistake?”

I was taken aback by the question. And of course I thought it was a mistake, but Charlotte was finally living out her dream. She was with a good man and had a stable career -- something I couldn’t really say for myself. Not for sure, anyway. Who was I to judge her, even though she had gotten pregnant through shady means.

“I think it will be hard for you,” I said uncertainly. “Because you went about it in a… different way. But I think you made the right choice about who to have the kid with.”

“Really?” she said, her tone brightening.

“Mm hmm. And I think any guy would be crazy not to snatch you up and marry you.”

I could hear a quiet noise on the other line, and I could tell it was Charlotte getting emotional on me. “You’re such a good friend,” she gushed.

I felt a pang of guilt when she said that. Either I was a better liar than I thought or I had said exactly what she wanted to hear. “Well… just glad I could help,” I murmured.

I heard a muffled voice in the background, and Charlotte said, “Ooh, gotta go! We’re gonna be meeting up with some local archeologists. Frank says it will make our experience more ‘authentic’. Whatever that means.”

I tried to smile. “Okay. I’ll talk to you another time.”

“Okay,” she said. Then after a pause, “Dee?”

“Hmm?”

“I… can’t tell you how glad I am. To know you’re getting better.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling a knot in my stomach. “Me too.”



The phone conversation with Charlotte had left me feeling guilty. Why did I have to lie to her? I kept thinking to myself. It had dawned on me that I was now just as guilty for ruining her life as she was. I found myself hoping he would marry her, or I would be on the hot seat.

Even so, the phone call left me with the sufficient -- and blessed -- distraction to finally stop thinking about Mr. Davis. I still could not believe any of what happened the day before had really taken place. A big part of me was still convinced I had imagined every single thing. But deep down I knew that wasn’t true, and it scared me. This was way bigger than I could imagine, and far more than I could handle. And even though Mr. Davis explained what it was the day I had given myself over to him, it was more than I could ever understand. But something made me want it more than anything. I had a suspicion that it was desperation; a hidden drive to find somebody so I wouldn’t die alone. I wasn’t sure, though. I wasn’t sure about anything.

Part of me wondered if maybe he was just the missing piece to the puzzle of my life. Someone who would be the voice of certainty in my confusion. He had the capacity, and the complex, to be a god to me. To tell me what was right and wrong. Even before I agreed to let him control me, he had such a strong power over me. And even though he was telling me what to do, it didn’t feel as though he was forcing me. It was as if his will was my will from the very get-go. I was coming to realize that I did want this. It was what I needed in order to feel right again.

I sat on my bed, staring at my night table. The dim light of the lamp fell onto the small ring of leather, illuminating it, catching its luster. My breath quickened as I remembered how Mr. Davis had presented it to me. I thought about how hard my heart was pounding as he placed it around my throat, his gentle hands setting to work buckling it behind my neck. The feeling of his fingertips barely brushing my skin as he broke physical contact with me to make eye contact. I had never seen such a look of pride in my life. Coming from Mr. Davis, it was much more drastic. It’s funny, the details we remember sometimes.

And slowly, I found myself reaching for the leather, taking it into my hands delicately as if it were the holy grail. Just staring at it sent a wave of excitement through me, and just behind that, deep understanding. This is who I am now, I thought. I am his. I belong. I finally belong to someone. This filled me with such a feeling of relief that it brought tears to my eyes. At last I knew who I was, and it was the most beautiful thing ever.

I brought the leather up to my neck, buckling it with slow and deliberate movement. In this moment, I was becoming what I was meant to be. I was giving myself over to him completely, and erasing all doubt of it from my mind. I am his, I thought again as I finished, lowering my hands down to my sides.

My collar was on.

I was ready for work.



“Ah, Ms. Jones,” he said with a casual tone. I saw his gaze barely flicker to my neck before he continued. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine, sir, thank you for asking. And you?”

“I’m doing well,” he said.

“Good,” I said, giving him a big smile.

He went silent for a moment. Then he said, “Would you step into my office please, Ms. Jones?”

“Of course,” I said, following him into the back room.

As soon as I stepped foot inside, he whirled around and pressed me against the wall, placing his arms on either side so that I was blocked in. He was nearly face-to-face with me, and although it startled me, I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me.

His breath was heavy, and his lips were almost against mine. He stayed like that for a while, as though trying to gain some composure. Then, slowly, he slid one of his hands from the wall, down to my shoulder, my neck, my breast. My heart raced out of control as it trailed down to my waist, grazing past my crotch to my inner thigh. I looked into his eyes and they seemed to be smoldering. He moved his hand once more over my body until it touched my wrist, which he grabbed in his hand and brought against the wall above my head. He followed suit with the other so that now both my arms were raised above my head, and I was trapped by him completely.

He said nothing to me. Instead he lowered his head down until his lips were touching my neck where the collar did not cover my skin. I gasped in surprise, and even though he remained silent, I could see what it meant. He knew I had finally accepted him fully as my master.

“Mr. Davis,” I whispered, closing my eyes as he left a trail of kisses from my neck, to my jaw line, to my chin, to my lips, where his finally rested for a while.

When he pulled away, I could see the intense look in his eyes. I knew what he wanted and it scared me. I wasn’t ready for it. But it seemed as though he could sense that, because after a moment he slowly released me from his grip.

It took a while before we both caught our breath. At last, he cleared his throat and said, “I… need you to… send out a few e-mails, Ms. Jones.”

I swallowed before saying, “Of course, sir.”

He studied me for a second, his eyes burning into me, before going to his chair behind his desk. Then he sat down and straightened his tie. “Today will probably be a very short day.”

I nodded. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No,” he murmured.

Hesitantly, I left the room, closing the door quietly behind myself.



Even though I was usually very efficient, my work was slow that day. After each few sentences I couldn’t help letting my hand wander to the collar around my neck. I knew this would take some getting used to, especially with how Mr. Davis reacted. It was obvious he hadn’t been sure about whether or not I would ever truly accept him as my master, though it was also clear he was extremely pleased about it. Which meant I was already doing my duty, since all I wanted was to please him. I bit my lip to stifle a satisfied grin.

Still, I could tell he was holding back when it came to what he commanded me to do. During the pauses in between my typing, I could hear him quietly masturbating in his office. My cheeks went warm and I couldn’t help imagining being back there, my mouth in place of his hand. More than likely he just wanted me to finish my work first. Work before play, I thought to myself.

When I had finished sending e-mails to all the addresses listed on Mr. Davis’s sticky notes, I stood up and went to his office door, giving it a cautious knock.

“Come in,” he said.

I opened the door and walked in, stopping in the spot in front of his desk. He was looking through some files, of past clients I supposed. After a minute he looked up at me.

“Are you done?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes sir.”

He closed the file he was looking at and set it in a pile on his desk. “Come here,” he murmured.

I complied, walking slowly over to him without breaking our eye contact. He turned in his chair so that when I stopped in front of him, the toes of my shoes were touching his.

“Remove your panties,” he said evenly.

Although my cheeks flushed heavily, I did as I was told. I pulled my skirt up, then strung my thumbs through the waist of my thong and pulled it down to my ankles.

He gazed down at my exposed crotch, which made me even more embarrassed. Without further contemplation he said, “Give it to me.”

I lifted one leg at a time, taking the undergarment off over my shoes. Timidly I offered it to him, holding it out in front of me between two fingers. He took it, studying it carefully for a moment. To my utter humiliation, he took a brief sniff of it before setting it on his desk.

“Get on your knees,” he said.

I sank down onto my knees, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. He kept eye contact with me for a bit, then turned to his desk. He opened a drawer and reached in, pulling out a long rope. When I looked more closely, I realized it was a leash. He turned to me once more and leaned toward me, lifting my chin with one hand and clipping the leash to the collar with his other.

He sat back in his chair once more. “Now, lean forward and put your face in my lap.”

I hesitated a moment, unsure of whether or not he meant it figuratively or literally. A firm tug on the leash made it clear to me. I leaned forward, placing my chin on his lap and looking up at him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, stroking my hair with his hand. “You’re like a puppy, aren’t you?”

I almost felt like a little kid playing pretend again. It was beyond humiliating. But I nodded, feeling my cheeks growing warm in embarrassment.

“And what do little puppies do?” he said, looking down at me with hooded eyelids.

“I-- I don’t know, sir,” I said quietly, looking away in shame.

He tugged on the leash again. “What sound do puppies make, Ms. Jones?”

I could feel knots in my stomach, but somehow it wasn’t a negative feeling. In fact, it began to dawn on me that I was actually… enjoying this. I couldn’t believe it. No normal person would like being treated this way.

But of course, I’m not normal.

“Ms. Jones,” he raised his voice, tugging on the leash once more.

I made my eyes even bigger and began whimpering, just like a little dog.

“Good girl,” he said, a sly grin crossing his face as he pet my head again. “You’re such a good girl, I think I’ll let you lick my shoe.”

I furrowed my brow uncertainly. Did he really want me to do that? I looked at him for confirmation, to which he just wrapped the leash around his hand several times to make a point that he was in charge. I raised my head up from his lap enough to get a glance at his shoe. It seemed clean enough, which made me wonder if he was the type of person who obsessively shines their shoes. Slowly I leaned down once more until my face was about an inch from his shoe. I could feel his eyes on me, and I knew my bare bottom was sticking in the air for him to see since I had neglected to pull my skirt back down. I let my lips make contact with the shiny leather business shoe. And then, without further thought, I let my tongue slither out and take a quick swipe at it. It wasn’t too bad, but not my idea of fun. I looked up from my place on the floor and Mr. Davis seemed pleased, so I did it again, this time making a long trail with my tongue.

“That’s good,” he murmured, and I could see a bulge growing in his pants when I looked up once more.

I heard the creak of his chair as he leaned forward, and then I gasped in surprise as I felt his hand caress my behind and give each cheek a rough smack. I groaned in pain and pleasure, continuing to run my tongue over the top of his shoe. I felt his hand leave my bottom, and a few moments later I looked up at him and saw him stroking his large erection.

“Continue,” he murmured, watching intently.

This time I licked again while looking up into his eyes. I trailed my tongue around the tip of the shoe, slowly and passionately, making it perfectly clear what I was capable of when it comes to my mouth.

“You like that, don’t you?” he growled. I gave him a sensual grin, without stopping my task. “You like being my little bitch.”

I whimpered again, wiggling my bottom back and forth as though I were a dog wagging its tail. I am having way too much fun with this, I thought to myself. But of course I had no intention of stopping.

“Sit,” he commanded, and hesitantly I halted my task, sitting straight once more. Still holding the leash in his hand, Mr. Davis stood up so that his huge erection was eye level to me. I looked up at him, silently begging him to let me have it. With a devious grin, he pulled on the leash, and that was all the signal I needed. Immediately I wrapped my lips around his member, taking in all the length I could until his head touched the back of my mouth. I made a quiet hum of contentment, and I could feel his member twitch in reaction. I could tell he was trying to contain his moans; I knew he was trying to make me earn his approval. Again I made a hum in my throat, and this time he bit his lip and closed his eyes, struggling to contain himself. I sucked gently for a moment before moving my head back, letting him slide out of my lips until just the head was in my mouth. Using my tongue, I played with the tip, swirling it all around a few times before taking his whole length into my mouth once more. I swallowed a few times, massaging his shaft with my tongue and throat. I was dimly aware of his grip tightening on the leash, pulling me closer to him, pushing his member further down my throat. He kept me that way for a few moments, and I could feel my eyes watering as my body begged for air. At last he gave the leash some slack, and I eased away, breathing in as much air as I could get. It wasn’t long before I went back at it, bobbing my head up and down fervently, gently sucking all the while.

“Oh, fuck,” Mr. Davis whispered, and my eyes met his triumphantly. I had earned his approval. I quickened my pace, sticking my tongue out past my lips to cover more surface. Saliva dripped down my chin and neck. I didn’t care; all I wanted was to make my master feel good… to feel his manhood filling my mouth… to taste his thick, sweet come all over my lips. I felt a shiver course through me as I became wet between my thighs. I let out another hum, this time from excitement at my own fantasies.

“You want to taste my come, don’t you, little bitch?” he said, and I met his eyes in response.

Yes, please, I thought, deep-throating him for all I was worth. He bucked into my mouth a few times, and with a violent twitch of his member, I could finally feel the warm liquid streaming out over my tongue and down my throat. Mr. Davis took my head in his hands, holding me in place as he continued to gush into me. It was all I could do to keep it all in my mouth, there was so much of it. I swallowed it with some effort, giving a gentle suck every now and then as I greedily milked him for more. He groaned loudly, twining his hands through my hair as he emptied into my mouth. After a long time like this, he finally pulled out, breathing heavily. As he released my head from his grip, I gasped for air, licking my lips for remnants of his come. I looked up at him, and he seemed almost ready to collapse. He continued to stand, however, directing his fiery gaze to me once more. He clutched the leash in his hand, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

“Fuck,” he whispered again after he had caught his breath a bit.

I gave him a sheepish smile, lowering my head a bit and gazing up at him from under my eyelashes. He looked at me a moment, then patted my head gently. He sat down gingerly, without even tucking his member back into his pants. I remained on my knees, awaiting further instruction.

He stared at me for a long time, and I almost began thinking he wouldn’t say anything at all. At last, he said, “Good girl….” His voice was very quiet, and he looked completely drained of energy. Among other things, I thought.

I licked my lips once more before saying, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

His eyes took on an amused look, and he leaned back in his chair. “No, Ms. Jones. That will be all for now.”

However, I did not get up from my spot on the floor, nor did he release his grip on the leash. If he had not just had such a strong orgasm, I knew he would be asking me for more. As it was, I was content simply sitting next to him as he held me on a leash.

Anything to be close to you, I thought, looking into his eyes. I knew he could read me like a book. He slid the hand loop firmly down his arm, so that I was restrained.

“You will stay there, until further notice, Ms. Jones. You may make yourself comfortable.

I suppressed a smile when he said that. He turned in his chair so that his legs were once more under his desk, and he discreetly adjusted himself and zipped his pants up so that he was presentable. I looked at him from my place on the floor and, hoping he would not become angry with me, I sat down on my behind and leaned against his legs. Then slowly I wrapped my arms around one of them, holding it tightly. He gazed at me; no anger on his face, no annoyance in his eyes. Just tolerance, and perhaps even a hint of satisfaction.

I really was his.