Under Control: A BDSM Love Story

Author's Note: Thanks so much to taceo for the review! That's one of the nicest things someone has said about my writing n_n I will definitely continue the story as long as there is someone here to read it, and I sincerely appreciate feedback.
In response to CandyCaner, I'd like to assure you that further background on Delilah is coming soon :) I sometimes have this habit of developing a relationship between 2 characters before revealing their past, for the sake of it being more dramatic. I promise this leads somewhere, though. Don't lose hope! :3
Anyhow, on with the show!

After such an intense weekend, the dullness and safety of work was almost unbearable. Actually, it was extremely unbearable.

The ringing of the telephones had me completely on edge, and the endless typing of other keyboards in the cubicles surrounding me was practically driving me crazier. The fax machines, copy machines, staplers and stamps were all conspiring against me, coming together to form an orchestra of maddening sounds. I sat at my desk, unable to really do anything except wish the clock would hurry up.

“Ms. Jones,” came the voice of Mr. Clark, my boss, from behind me.

“Sir?” I said, turning in my chair to face him.

“I’d like to see you in my office. Now.”



I already had a feeling this was about something bad. My fears were confirmed as Mr. Clark closed the door behind himself and his whole demeanor changed. He was angry, that much was clear. What about, I wasn’t sure. I braced myself for the words I knew this would lead to.

“Sit down,” he commanded, and I complied, my heart pumping in anxiety. He took his own seat behind his desk, lacing his fingers together and staring lividly at me. After a bit, he said, “Do you know how accurate our OCR is?”

I cleared my throat. “Um… not very.”

“No, not very,” he repeated, and I could almost feel his eyes burning into me. “Which is why I hired you, Ms. Jones. So that you could make the corrections necessary to keep our financial numbers sound.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, becoming somewhat confused.

“Then why is it that I have found discrepancies in the Platt-Howards file?” he asked, his voice now reflecting his rage. “I personally had to correct it. Me.”

“I-- I don’t know, sir,” I stammered. “I wasn’t aware of any Platt-Howards claim.”

“This is a mistake that can cost the company thousands of dollars, Jones. Not tens, not hundreds. Thousands. This is not a mistake that can go unpunished. You’ve already cost us enough with your therapy and all your sick time.”

“Sir, I promise it will never happen again,” I blurted out, my face growing hot as tears threatened to come.

“I should fire you right now in order to guarantee it,” he said. “I need someone who will double-check everything until it’s perfect. You told me you could do that when I first interviewed you, but look at what’s happened.”

“Please, sir, don’t fire me,” I begged, knowing I was making a complete fool out of myself. “I really need this job. It’s all I have.”

Mr. Clark’s expression was still angry, but he seemed to consider my plea for a bit. “How do I know you won’t screw up again?”

“I’ll try harder,” I said, my voice resolute, if a bit shaky. “I’ll quadruple-check everything and keep records. I’ll… try harder.”

Mr. Clark leaned back in his chair, looking at me from under hooded eyelids. “My trust doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

I swallowed hard, not sure if we were thinking the same thing. “How much does it cost?”

Mr. Clark pushed back his chair and stood up, slowly making his way around the desk to me. He stood in front of me, uncomfortably close.

“How much are you willing to give?” he murmured, and in spite of myself my eyes fell to the slight bulge that was growing in front of my face. I had to struggle to keep myself from gagging.

I decided I had to bullshit him somehow. I wanted to get out of this situation, but I needed this job. I had to buy some time. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?” I said, attempting to do it in a sensual voice. Instead it came out all shaky and desperate.

Mr. Clark got a pleased grin on his face, and reached for his zipper. As the vomit in my stomach threatened to come up, I held up a finger.

“First I have to go to the ladies room,” I said, thankful I had worked up the nerve to stop him. “So I can… prepare.”

The grin on his face disappeared, and for a moment I was sure he would tell me no and try to get it over with. But his hands fell away from his zipper and he nodded. “Fine.” He made his way over to his chair again and sat down. “But hurry up. Daddy wants his wood polished.”

I gave him my best semblance of a playful grin before leaving his office, trying not to sprint all the way to the restroom.


As soon as I made it to the restroom, I wasted no time in getting to the toilets, making it just as the bile ran out of my mouth. I vomited until there was nothing left, and even then I continued having dry heaves for a minute. Every time I thought about what my boss said as I left his office, I felt sick. I briefly considered drowning myself in the toilet among the disease-causing germs and my own vomit. But I did my best to push that thought from my mind and instead I stood up and pulled my cell phone from my pocket. I dialed the number of the only person I knew could help in this matter.

“Hello?”

The moment I heard his voice, I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I began crying like a big baby. “Oh God, Hector,” I sobbed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, obviously taken by surprise. “What happened. You kill someone?”

I knew he was joking, but it did nothing to calm me down. “It’s… my boss,” I managed to say. “He-- he wants me to…. Oh, God, I can’t say it.” I started feeling sick to my stomach again, but I held it back.

He was silent on the other line for a moment before saying, “So. That guy really is the piece of shit I thought he was.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I keened, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. “I feel sick at the thought of him.”

“Don’t do it. Don’t even consider it.”

“But if I don’t, he’s gonna fire me,” I wailed, realizing the full weight of the situation. My whole life practically depended on this job. I couldn’t afford to lose it.

“It’s not worth losing your dignity over, Delilah”

“But what should I do?” I asked, swallowing back my tears. I didn’t want anyone to know I was crying in here, least of all my boss.

“Quit,” he said without hesitation.

“What?” I choked out. “I can’t just quit. Everything relies on my job: my apartment, my bills, and I still owe the hospital money from my accident.”

“So?” he said nonchalantly. “Come work for me.”

I was taken aback by the suggestion. “Work for you?”

“Sure. I need an assistant and you have the skills. It’s win-win.”

“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “I mean… the whole reason he wants to fire me in the first place is because I made a huge mistake on an important file.”

“What proof does he have of this?”

“What?” I said, my heart practically stopping in my chest.

“Did he show you exactly where you went wrong?”

“Well, no….”

“What about the person who caught the mistake? Did he have them point out where they found it?”

My jaw dropped. “No. He… said he was the one… who caught the mistake.”

Hector went silent, and everything became clear to me.

“He was lying to me,” I whispered.

“Now will you take my advice?” Hector asked.

“I’ll call you back,” I said, my tears gone, my voice unwavering. “And when I do, it will be as a free woman.”

“Good,” he said.

I now knew what I had to do.



“I’m back,” I said, closing the door behind myself.

“Well, it’s about goddamn time,” said Mr. Clark, standing up from his seat and walking over to me. “I was about ready to fire you just for making me wait so long.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, looking down sheepishly. “I just wanted to make myself look good for you.”

“I don’t pay you to look good, Jones.” His eyes took on a devious glimmer. “I think you should get on your knees and beg my forgiveness.”

Just as he reached out for my shoulder to push me down, I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

He looked confused. “Delilah--”

“Don’t use my name either, you sick fuck,” I barked. “I will never sacrifice my dignity to keep a job I hate. I will never stoop so low as to filthy my mouth in order to stay on your good side.”

“Since when?” he said with a sardonic laugh. “I know you don’t have the guts to leave. You’re just gonna go try to kill yourself again, and then who’ll pay for your hospital bills? Not your therapist, that’s for sure.”

I grinned and shook my head. “Maybe not. But he’s got my back.”

“You stupid little bitch,” he hissed, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to him so that I was pressed tightly against his chest. “You’re nothing but a fucking little dicktease.”

I struggled against him, trying to pull my arm away. “Stop it! You’re hurting me!”

He only held on tighter, and I could feel his fingernails digging into my skin. “You always go around the office, acting all shy and innocent, and then you stay in late. Don’t think I don’t notice that. You’re always the last one to leave. It’s like you’re begging to be fucked.”

“Get off of me!” I cried, bringing my knee swiftly to his groin.

He grunted loudly, but for a moment he didn’t react at all. Then he slowly released me and sank down to the floor in the fetal position, cradling the affected area. “You… you fucking bitch,” he groaned.

I squatted down beside him, looking him directly in the eye. “I wouldn’t have sex with you if you were the last man on earth. I would much sooner turn lesbian. I quit.” Then I stood up and made my way to the door. As I reached for the handle, I turned to look at him and said, “Oh, and by the way….” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, which had been recording the whole incident as a voice memo. “Smile. A lawsuit is heading your way.”



Even as I sat in a taxi on the way to Hector’s office, I felt shaky and afraid. My mind was a total blur, and I kept wondering, Did I really just do that? I knew there was a chance I could get in serious trouble, but at the same time, I was excited. Briefly I entertained the thought that perhaps I really was an adrenaline addict.

By the time I reached the office and paid the taxi, I had calmed down considerably, though I was still a bit tense. I knew I would have lots of talking to do. When I walked in, Hector was in the front room setting up a computer.

“Hello, Delilah,” he said, not taking his eyes off his work.

“Hey,” I said, watching him plug in the keyboard. “What’s this?”

As he finished with the keyboard, he looked up at me. “Your new work station.”

This was a surprise to me. He had told me I could work for him, but I had no idea he was serious. “I thought you were just saying that.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well… I thought you were just trying to encourage me to quit my job.” I walked over to the desk, running my hands along the oak as I came around to face the computer.

“You like it?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You can ask me how I like my coffee,” he joked, grinning slightly.

I turned to look at him, overwhelmed. “I know how you like it.” I shook my head and looked at my feet. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just do a good job and that will be thanks enough,” he said.

I looked at the computer once more. “This changes everything, doesn’t it?”

“A few things,” he admitted. “I am a professional after all. We will need to reflect that in the office.”

I nodded. “Of course, Mr. Davis.”

He stepped closer to me. “But after hours, you will not be Ms. Jones. You will be Delilah.”

I felt myself smile in spite of all that had happened, and I nodded once more. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said. “As of now there is no customer service work to be done, but there are quite a few boxes still left unpacked. If you would attend to those, I would be eternally grateful.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and he turned to leave.

“Oh,” he said, stopping in his tracks and turning to me once more. “And don’t forget. Your appointment is still at six.”

“But sir,” I said, “I can’t afford to pay for it now that I lost the insurance.”

His lips curled into a grin. “I know you’ll find a way to pay me back somehow.”

And before I could argue further, he left the room.

I looked at the stack of boxes piled against the far wall of the room and heaved a huge sigh. I really did have my work cut out for me.