Control Freak

Thanks for all the love with my stories. This is the first in a new series. This story is pure fiction. Any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental and enviable. This could have been assigned to a few different categories. If you are not a fan of submission, there is no need to read further or comment. I welcome constructive feedback and even ideas for where you might like to see it go. That is part of the collaborative fun of Literotica. Enjoy!

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I'm a control freak. There it is. I said it. I have an insatiable need to control everything around me. Even worse, I have a pathological need to control everyone around me -- especially those who matter most to me. Just ask them.

There was no one better to call me out on it than my best friend Stacie. Stacie and I met at the architectural firm we both starting working at three years ago, after graduating from college. I work in the structural division. She works with interior design. We became fast friends. Whenever I wasn't with my boyfriend Brandon, I was usually hanging out with her. Women can't be brothers from another mother, but Stacie was my sister from another mister. She is closer to me than family.

That's why she was shocked when I called her just after 9:00 on that Friday evening. She didn't expect to hear from me at all. She knew I had a dinner date with Brandon after work that was sure to last the rest of the weekend. It was our two-year dating anniversary. I was going to make it a weekend neither of us would ever forget. I bought new sexy short red dress with matching siren-red five-inch heels and lingerie. The dress was made of red leather that looked more like straps wrapped around my body, barely covering the most important places. The hem of the dress just covered my ass. I got my nails done to match. I was waxed, shaved and oiled. I had been sexting him all week, teasing him mercilessly. At the same time, I kept edging myself, making my pussy soaked and desperate to be fucked. Stacie knew all of that. The last thing she expected from me was a phone call, especially one so early Friday evening with me bawling.

"Oh Candace, what's wrong?" she asked the moment she heard my voice over the phone.

Words struggled to escape through my sobs. "Can (huh huh) I (huh) come (huh huh) over?" I asked.

"Yes, of course," Stacie answered, as I knew she would.

I approached the door to her condo and it opened. Stacie stood there wearing a light blue small tank top that hugged her large firm unconstrained tits beneath and small grey pajama shorts. Her long blond hair cascaded over her tan shoulders. She was barefoot and comfortable, already settling in for the night. I looked into her wide compassionate blue eyes and burst into tears again. Stacie grabbed my arm and pulled me in, closing the door behind us. She held me with a long hug. The lights in the condo were down low; the music was playing softly.

"Come sit down," she said, moving me to the couch in her living room. Two martinis were already poured and waiting for us. "What's the matter?"

"Brandon dumped me," I said.

"No. What happened?" Stacie asked with a caring tone in her voice, but a look on her face like she already knew. "He's not cheating on you, is he?"

"No. He's too perfect for that," I lamented.

"He does seem pretty perfect Candace. What happened?"

"When we sat down for dinner I could tell something was wrong. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he felt so badly, but couldn't do it anymore. He even had tears in his eyes."

"Couldn't do what?"

"He couldn't keep putting up with me."

"What about you?"

"Me being anal."

"I thought guys liked that," she toyed in a weak attempt at levity.

"That's not what he meant, Stacie," I corrected through my tears. "He said I get too bossy; too controlling."

"Oh Candace. I'm so sorry."

I tried to catch my breath.

"It's not like that's new, is it?" she asked daringly, as only a best friend can.

"Ouch, Stacie," I said through my continuing tears.

Stacie didn't rescue me from the sting of her question. She just waited for me to answer. I shrugged my shoulders with a wordless response.

"Did you see this coming?"

"Does it look like I saw this coming?" I asked, looking down at my dress that left little to the imagination.

"Do you think there's some truth to it?" she asked. "At least for him?"

I took a sip of the martini. "There must be," I confessed. "That's just me though. You know how I am Stacie. I don't mean to control everything, I just..."

"Try to control everything?"

"Yeah. And it fucks up all my relationships."

"Is it over with him?" she asked.

"He said he didn't want it to be. I begged him to give me another chance. I told him I'd work on it. I promised I'd be better. It was pathetic." I took another sip of the drink.

"What did he say?"

"He said I've said that before. He thought it was just too hard for me not to be so controlling. He said it's not right for him to try to change me, but that he needs something different."

"Damn."

"He said he thought I would be happier if I didn't feel the need to control everything too, but that would be up to me. He genuinely seemed as more concerned for my happiness than his own."

"Sounds like him," Stacie said. "Is he going to wait?"

"Fuck, I don't know," I answered as the hydrant of my tears started again. "He said he knew nothing would change if we stayed together. He's pretty torn up. I doubt he's going to jump into something new right away, but girls are going to start hitting on him as soon as they find out he's single."

"Damn."

"He said he knew it wasn't all me. He realized he needed to work on some things too."

"That's hopeful."

"I think he was just being his sweet self. He didn't want me to feel like it was all on me -- that I singlehandedly blew up our relationship because of my control issues."

"He is pretty perfect," she repeated.

"He's the best thing that ever happened to me Stacie. I've got to figure this out. I'd do anything to get him back."

"Would you?" she asked with genuine curiosity. "Anything?"

Stacie's question caught me off-guard. I pondered a moment. "I have to," I answered. "If not to get Brandon back, to at least stop fucking up every good relationship that comes my way."

"If you're serious, I can help you," she said with a friendly firmness to her voice, "but you have to trust me."

"With what?" I asked.

"With anything and everything I ask you to do." She paused and corrected herself. "You have to trust me with anything and everything I TELL you to do. It will require your full cooperation, no questions asked. No hesitation."

I took another drink. "So, like what? What will you tell me to do?"

"It doesn't matter," she said. "The important thing is that you give up complete control."

"I don't know," I answered. "You want me to promise I'll do anything you say, no matter what?"

"Yep. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course, I trust you Stacie," I shot back as if it was obvious. "I just..."

"Don't really trust me," she interrupted, finishing my sentence. "You don't trust anyone Candace. That's why you're such a control freak."

"I trust you," I countered.

"Then say yes. No conditions; no questions; no limits; no hesitation."

"That's crazy," I shot back.

"It might be crazy," she said. "But from where I'm sitting, it's crazier not to."

Something deep in me knew she was right, but everything else in me fought against the idea of surrendering control.

"Let's start small then," Stacie pushed. "Agree to do whatever I say for the next hour."

I pondered her offer. It seemed like a small step. What could happen in one hour? Yet I knew Stacie enough to know the better question was 'what couldn't happen in one hour?' I looked up into her eyes. I saw her sincerity looking back at me.

"One hour of giving up control Candace," she repeated. "One hour of letting someone else be in charge. Just try it. Let go. Here's the deal though. At the end of the hour, I'll ask again if you want to continue. Your answer will either be yes or no. No negotiating. You'll either continue to do anything I tell you or not. Deal?"

I could feel the tears slowing and my normal breaths starting to recover. My cheeks were damp. I felt deflated and defeated, at my own hand. My life was imploding. The weekend I planned to be the best ever was now the worst. I was sitting in my best friend's living room, licking my wounds, drinking a martini. I was a wreck. At least she cared. I wasn't alone. She was trying to help. Would I allow my control issues to selfishly sabotage that too? What more could I lose? The night certainly couldn't get worse.

"Okay," I said.

"Good," she said. She looked up at the clock on the wall. 10:00. "Now take five deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth."

I looked at her strangely.

"Do it," she said with a calm but stern tone.

I dutifully responded, each breath becoming deeper than the next. I felt my body begin to recover from the initial trauma of the last few hours.

"Good," she said. "How was that?"

"Good," I answered truthfully. "I think I see what you're doing here."

"So, you are trusting me?"

"Yes, I think," I answered.

"Good. Now take those heels off."

I took them off. Truthfully, if felt good. I kicked them to the side.

"Now get up and go make us each another Cosmo. Make them doubles."

"What?"

"Cosmos. Doubles," she repeated.

"Okay," I said. I felt a little self-conscious walking across the room toward her bar. I mixed the drinks, making them both doubles. They were a little more than doubles. I could sense the subtle difference between making the drinks because I chose to and making them because she told me to. I brought them back over to the couch and sat down.

"Did I say to sit down?"

"Um, no," I said surprised. "I just assumed that..."

"Assuming is a function of control," she interrupted. "If we are going to root it out of you, then it must be complete."

"Wow, you're serious," I said.

"Very, for your own good. That's what sisters do for each other, right?"

I felt strangely cared for by her taking charge.

"Yes," I said, still uncertain.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Yes, ma'am," I answered.

"Instead of sitting on the couch, I want you to sit here in front of me on the floor and rub my feet. I need a good foot massage."

"What?" I asked. "Are you serious? Me give you a foot massage? I'm the one that got dumped tonight. Shouldn't you be pampering me?"

"In a world where you're in control, yes. But where has that gotten you? Sit."

I slid off the couch and onto the floor. I tried to adjust my legs so my tiny thong wouldn't show from under my short dress, but it was hopeless. I looked up at her realizing she had a straight view down my exposed cleavage.

She handed me a bottle of baby oil. "You can use this. Show me how good you are."

I took the bottle of oil and picked up one of Stacie's petite feet in my hands. I began to rub it as she laid back into the plush couch. Looking up at her I could see she didn't have any panties on under her small cotton pajama shorts. I added some oil in my hand and continued to move slowly up and down her foot. I could feel the tension in her foot begin to melt to softness. Stacie moaned with pleasure.

"Mmmm, yes. Work that section down the middle," she said.

My fingers began to press into the tenderness of the bottom of her foot, working the oil in.

"God that feels good," she affirmed.

I couldn't help thinking how different the night had become from what I imagined. I had carefully planned to tease Brandon mercilessly throughout dinner and then maybe hit a club for some dancing and drinks. I was going to pour on the seduction with each passing song, bringing him to a point of desperation. At just the right time, I would lure him to my apartment where the weekend would be filled with nonstop sex. I had it all planned out, with him defenseless to my constant seduction.

But instead, all of my plans had vaporized into thin air. I was sitting on the floor of my best friend's condo, in my short sexy dress, massaging her feet. I had no idea what was going to happen for the rest of the hour, let alone the whole weekend. I was beginning to realize what a mirage control is.

"Perfect. Now the other foot please," Stacie said.

Without saying anything, I released the first foot and took the second foot in my hands. There was something beautifully intimate about rubbing her feet. I could feel her whole body responding to my touch. My hands glided easily over the skin of her foot with the help of the oil. I looked up to see her long legs becoming relaxed as her knees fell open. It caused a gap in the large leg opening of her shorts, completely exposing her pussy to me. She was unaffected and comfortable. Her eyes were closed. The corners of her mouth inched up toward a small smile from the pleasure of my touch.

All week I had planned with meticulous detail how I would pleasure Brandon, gladly putting the weight of the weekend's success on my petite shoulders. I knew how to plan for the kind of romance many only dream of. The pleasure I planned for him would have been mutual. The massage I was giving Stacie was different, in more ways than the obvious. Stacie's pleasure wasn't planned by either of us. The spontaneity of it strangely added beauty and intimacy. I was simply doing what I was told, feeling for her foot's response to my massage.

I glanced up her body and could see her continuing pleasure. She was relaxed. One arm lay across her chest, putting her petite hand over her ample breast. The other hand moved slowly up and down her bare abs, with her fingers moving in and out from under the waistband of her small shorts. She was unaffected by my presence.

I felt warmed seeing her so relaxed, allowing me to give her pleasure. I looked up at the clock and was surprised to see 35 minutes had already passed. Her foot felt pliable like soft putty in my hands.

Stacie opened her eyes and looked down at me with a smile. "Thank you, Candace," she said with soft intimacy. "Now I want you to stand up for me."

I released her foot and stood up. It felt a little awkward to be standing in front of her. She was still laying back into the sofa, relaxed and comfortable. She smiled back at me. "Take your dress off for me," she said. "Do it slowly."

"Take my dress off?" I asked, surprised.

"Take your dress off," she repeated. "Slowly."

"But,..."

"No buts," she said softly, "except for the one I will see when you take your dress off. I still have 25 minutes, and you promised."

I couldn't argue. Without words, I began to peal the dress off. As thin as I am, my 34C bust was too large to be able to slide my tight tiny dress down my body. I pulled the dress up over my small round ass and then the rest of my body gradually, almost like a striptease.

"Slowly," she repeated.

I couldn't help but wonder why she was having me strip in front of her. With each inch of the dress moving up and off my body, my red "fuck me" thong was exposed. Finally, my dress was in my hands with my arms completely above me.

"Toss it to me," she said.

I lowered my arms and tossed my dress to her, feeling even more exposed and vulnerable. I shyly had one arm over my tits and the other across my abs with my hand over my pussy.

"Hold your hair up with both hands and turn around for me," she said. "Slowly."

"Stacie," I protested. "It just feels..."

"Awkward? Out of control?" she interrupted. Her index finger moved in a circle in front of her face. "I still have 20 minutes Candace. Now turn. Slowly."

I conceded without words. I reached up to take my long brunette hair in my hands and held it on top of my head with my elbows out. I began to turn. I could feel her eyes taking in my nearly naked body. My ample firm tits were fully exposed. My tiny red thong barely covered my pussy in front, and did nothing to conceal my ass.

"Very good, she said.

"You told me you've been waiting all week to get fucked tonight, right?"

"Yes," I said, recounting the many conversations she and I had anticipating the weekend.

"You've been edging yourself multiple times a day, waiting to be fucked."

"Yes."

"You made yourself desperate to cum, right?"

"Yes," I said, feeling more awkward. It felt fine talking about it with her throughout the week in anticipation of the plans I made with Brandon. Talking about it now with her, standing naked, with only my slutty thong in the middle of her living room felt different.

"Show me."

"Show you what?" I asked.

"Show me how you bring yourself to an edge, but don't cum yet."

"What??" I asked.

"You can use the baby oil if you want," she added, ignoring my protest.

"Right here, in front of you?"

"Right here, right now, in front of me," she said. "No holding back. I want you on the very edge of climax."

As much as Stacie and I had talked about sex before, I had never touched myself in front of another girl, even in a slumber party or college sleepovers. Part of me knew there was nothing I needed more than a good climax. Stacie knew that too. But to edge myself in front of her was embarrassing.

Stacie could feel my discomfort. She pulled her tank top over her head and let it drop next to her on the couch. Her hands reached down and pulled her shorts down her long-tanned legs. She leaned forward and picked up the bottle of oil from the table before drizzling it across her own body. She looked beautiful. Her hands began to glide across her body.

"Do it," she said, looking up into my eyes. "Let's do this together. No cumming yet."

"Yet?" I thought to myself. Does that mean she is going to have me cum in front of her? With her?

I leaned forward and picked up the baby oil from where she put it down. I poured a little in my right hand and set the bottle back down. I stood in front of her as my oil-filled hand moved down my abs toward my womanhood. I closed my eyes as my middle finger moved below my thong, across my clit and down the length of my soft folds. My other hand moved to cup my left tit, taking hold of my already-erect nipple between my fingers. I slowly began to touch myself, beginning by circling my button.

The attention I had given it all week had readied and tenderized it for this evening and weekend. It quickly responded and came to life. I opened my eyes to see my best friend laid back on her couch bringing herself toward arousal. Her nipples were dark and large, standing an inch tall. Her long arms pushed her tits together as her hands reached down between her legs. Both hands were massaging her own pussy perfectly. The fingers of one hand circled her clit quickly, while her middle and ring fingers of the other hand pushed fucked her hole.

"Oh fuck!" she yelled, as much out of her own arousal as to encourage me in my mission.

My body took no time at all to respond fully to my own knowing touch. My moans started soft, but gradually increased in volume as the giant climax approached. My pace of my breathing intensified. "Oh shit!" I yelled as the climax grew like a wave ready to crash over me.

"Stop," Stacie ordered with a softness in her voice.

My hand kept moving, bringing the wave higher.

"Stop Candace," she ordered with more firmness in her voice.

Nothing in me wanted to stop. This was my climax, damn it. I had waited for the last two weeks to cum. I deserved this! I looked at her pleadingly.

"Stop!"

"Oh god Stacie. I want to cum. I'm so close."

"Stop," she repeated. "It doesn't matter what you want. Catch your breath."

My whole body vibrated in desire.

"Take your panties off," she said.

I looked at her in surprise. There was the consolation that she was already laying naked in front of me. Her body was oiled. She looked amazing.