tagBDSMEthan's Grace - The Office Scene

Ethan's Grace - The Office Scene


Author's Note: This is the continuing story of Ethan and Grace. While it is not necessary to read any other story before reading this one, if you would like more background on these characters including how their love affair started, check out the "Amazing Grace" series, or any of the other "Ethan's Grace" stories posted in BDSM and Anal.

On a more personal note, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this scene. I hope you have as much fun reading how Ethan pushes Grace while struggling with his own feelings for her. I hope to write more play scenes with these characters in the future.

Ethan's Grace - The Office Scene

I wasn't looking forward to my regular appointment with my counselor. I didn't want anything to dampen this high I'd been riding since Grace moved in with me.

It'd been a real pain in the ass to make room at my place for all her stuff, and we ended up just renting storage space for most of it, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat just to have her there. Everything sort of changed when the place became ours instead of mine. It brought us closer together.

This was the third time I'd lived with a girl. I moved straight from my mom's house in with a gal going through a divorce. Renee. She needed to feel safe, and at nineteen, I needed to get laid. We got along great. It helped that we were into the same drugs at the time. Renee is really the one who got me hooked on BDSM. She wasn't in the lifestyle or anything, but she liked it rough.

I'd never heard of role playing, and I don't think she had either, but that's what we did. We'd get jacked up on coke and grow bored out of our wits in that one bedroom apartment. Renee had this look she would give me to indicate that she wanted to fuck. I watched for that look. Shit, I was nineteen, my dick was perpetually hard.

But when I would try to start something with her, she'd go cold. This hot/cold routine would escalate until my balls couldn't take it anymore and next thing I knew, I'd be holding her face to the carpet and ramming my dick in her cunt. At first I felt real guilty about it afterward. Especially since she'd have carpet burns, scrapes, and cuts on her face, neck, and arms the next day. It looked like I was abusing her. She never minded the marks, but I did. It would've been hard to explain to a judge.

It was how she got off, though. And after awhile, it was the only way I could get off, too. I'd spend hours figuring out how to tie quick knots that would hold so I could tie her down and minimize the cuts and bruises she'd get. When that got old, I started surfing sites for other methods of restraints. That's when I stumbled onto BDSM.

I didn't have the money to buy half the shit I wanted to buy. In truth, my money went mostly to drugs in those days. But it wasn't hard to start making the switch for me. I was getting more from my Dom-space high than I was from the drugs, so spending money on handcuffs rather than white powder was relatively easy to do. And because there was this whole world of terms, rituals, and kinks that I never even knew existed, I could surf sites for hours and never get bored. It kept my obsessive mind busy.

Renee wasn't into it, though. She said it was too fake for her. She had this rape fantasy thing working in her mind and didn't want to have anything to do with negotiating a scene, discussing limits, or using safewords. The more I read online, though, the more I saw myself doing jail time if I kept playing her game. Each session got rougher.

She'd spit in my face and then taunt me to slap her. I'd do it. One time, I'd just gotten a tat outline done and to goad me into getting rough with her, she pinched at the bandage and twisted it until I practically broke her wrist forcing her to the ground. It wasn't just she who was getting cuts and bruises anymore. I was walking around with marks, too.

Only the pain wasn't doing the same thing for me as it did for her. I didn't get off on it. In fact, just the opposite. It got so I avoided triggering any sort of sexual response in her because I was having some trouble getting it up for her sessions.

I tried using humiliating language on her to take the place of the physical force. Calling her a filthy whore worked somewhat to satisfy her without having to engage in full out WWE, but it didn't do much for me. My time with Renee was proving to be a self-awareness trip. I'd try something to see how it would work. Some kinks weren't my thing; some were.

When I finally figured out that the reason I didn't like her rough sessions was because she had most of the control over them, a whole world of possibilities opened up for me. But it was a world without Renee.

I lived back at home for awhile, and then on my own until Holly came along. There were women in between that stayed at my place regularly, but none that I would really classify as moving in all the way. They were subs that I'd hooked up with at the dungeon or through mutual acquaintances. Our affiliation was based on our symbiotic D/s needs and nothing more. It was a great way to learn the ropes, but after awhile it just grew stale. I'd find myself scanning the dungeon floor for my next possible play partner while in the middle of a scene on stage.

"Ethan, you can go in now."

The receptionist's voice snapped me back to present day. I attempted a smile at her as I pushed through Dr. Raven's office door.

Olivia Raven was the third doctor I'd seen since I was first labeled as a drug addict by my mother when I was 21 years old. It came out in an argument, and stung hard enough to spin me from using, straight into clinical depression. It was only the second time I'd stopped using since I was seventeen. The first two doctors insisted I go through the twelve step program which didn't work enough to keep me sober. Dr. Raven took a different tack.

Olivia looked up from her desk and tilted her head expectantly toward me.

"Two years, nine months, and six days." I was required to do the math before we could start a session. It was my own affirmation of my drug sobriety. I didn't quit drinking and smoking until a year later, but we didn't track that. Dr. Raven liked to focus on one thing only, and that was my drug habit. Doing this helped me to not dwell on every lousy failed attempt at gaining control over other aspects of my life.

"How do you rate your current confidence?"

"Nine, plus. Doesn't cross my mind." My mind is too occupied with Grace to think about doing drugs.

Dr. Raven recorded the number I'd just given her and then reviewed her notes for a moment. "Last month you invited Grace to join us. Was there anything from that session that you wanted to address today?"

"I mostly wanted to put her mind at ease. You know, about what I'm about."

"And did the session do that?"

"Yeah, I guess. She sort of made up her mind a couple days before the appointment. I brought her anyway. I wanted you to meet her."

"Why? You don't need my approval, Ethan."

"I know. I don't know at this point if it would matter much if you didn't approve of Grace. But ... I know myself, and what's going on in my mind right now, the constant focus ... it concerns me a little."

"Is it any different than what you did to get into the IT field? You poured over manuals and online tutorials to teach yourself the trade. What about BDSM and your study of control? Or your bullwhip training, for example? Are any of those pursuits different than this one in the way you pour yourself into it with a single-minded focus?"


"Have you felt your sense of self-control slipping?"

"At times, yeah. I get so obsessed with what Grace is doing when she's not with me that I have to fight this urge to drive to her work and camp out and wait for her."

"Do you actually do it?"


"What stops you?"

"I imagine her seeing me there and how freaked out she would get. You met her, so you know how jumpy she is."

"I met her, yes. I don't know if I observed the jumpiness you describe."

"It's subtle, but it's there."

"You're allowed to have absurd thoughts. I'd say that you are demonstrating an appropriate and fairly common response for an obsessive person in a committed relationship. As long as you continue to recognize the boundary between fantasy and reality, it'll be okay."

Her fantasy-reality statement reminded me of something. "We're starting to role-play a little. I devised a simple scene last weekend that worked out pretty well. I've been creating all these scenes in my mind now; really pouring some serious brain-effort into it."

"In a positive or negative way?"

"Positive. I was late to a meeting once, but other than that, it hasn't really affected work. I can't think about it as much there because of the physical effect it has on me."

It took Dr. Raven a moment to figure out that I was referring to the hard-on I get when I start visualizing scenes with Grace. I waited until I saw the recognition on her face to continue.

"Grace has some hang-ups with personal image that I want to work through, so some of the scenes I have in mind will be public. And she thinks of me as being a lot younger than her, even though there's only two years difference between us, so I want to create some roles where I'm an authority figurehead. There's a guy in our group that leases office spaces and he has a vacant office that he's offered up to me and a few other buddies. It's only for a short time. I've reserved the space for tomorrow and Wednesday night. I have a little office scene planned."

"Sounds like something fun."

I briefly wondered if there was any truth to her words. I would wager that she'd never so much as considered role-playing with a partner. Not in the way I had planned, anyway.

She was consistently supportive of my unconventional activities, though. She'd never batted an eye over it, from the first time I mentioned my SM proclivities. In fact, many times she applauded my lifestyle choice for the positive direction it shifted my focus.

"I think she's going to like what I have planned."

"And you?"

"Oh, yeah. I like everything I do with Grace. I'm crazy about her."

"I think this is the most enthusiastic you've been about a girl."

"It is. Definitely. I think this is the real deal. She's moved into my place now. We're getting her house ready to go on the market. She has a lot of junk to get rid of first, like her ex-husband's car. She finally has it on Craig's list."

"Have you made plans for the future?"

"Not yet. I think about it constantly. I've even picked out a ring."

"That's a big step for not having discussed it first."

"I didn't say I bought the ring. I realize how compulsive that would be. It's on hold for now."

"Why the hesitation? That's not like you."

"I'm waiting for her house to sell before I bring it up. I don't want to scare her."

"What does her house selling have to do with scaring her or not?"

"It doesn't. I just don't want her to run away before we talk through it. I'm afraid of losing her."

"So, you're waiting until she has no other options?"

I could feel my stomach acid start to burn my throat. It was exactly what I was doing.

"Being vulnerable is the hardest part of intimacy, Ethan. It's why some people avoid getting close to people."

"Yeah, it sucks. It makes me feel so ..." I knew the words, but I didn't want to say them.

"Out of control?"

I nodded.

"If you were entering into this relationship two years ago, I might caution you. At that point in your development, it would've caused me concern. But not now. Not with your current degree of confidence. I think you're ready for a committed relationship. You've developed some excellent coping mechanisms. In fact, I've been half expecting you to stop our sessions."

"I've thought about it. But it feels good to hear that I'm doing the right things."

"Then we should keep going. I'll leave it totally up to you for how long."

"There is this other thing that has cropped up lately. It's sort of weird, and may be totally unrelated but I think I should mention it. I'm sort of developing some kind of fetish around impregnation. It's starting to take over all my other fantasies."

"Are your fantasies focused on Grace, or on pregnant women in general?"

I thought about it for a second. "Only Grace. But, I mean, all my fantasies are about Grace right now."

"Have you been unable to perform without this fantasy being present?"

"Oh, no. I can pretty much get it up ..." I paused to reword my sentence. "I don't need any visualizations when I'm with Grace. This role playing and anything else we add is just an enhancement."

Dr. Raven smiled. "Then I don't think you have anything to worry about. It's perfectly normal to fantasize about the next phase of your life with the woman you love. I will, however, strongly suggest that you start talking to Grace about it."

"I've mentioned it once to her. That I fantasized about having totally unprotected sex with her."

"I meant, talk to her about your future. About marriage. Kids. The other part is optional."

Dr. Raven's expression was one of reproof. I was rapidly approaching the edge of her comfort zone. She preferred to stay in non-sexual territory. I wouldn't have brought up the fetish, except that I wanted to know if it had anything to do with my obsessive personality. Apparently not.


Grace and I had pretty ordinary sex that night. I pinned her wrists over her head as I fucked her missionary style. We were going to be playing the next two nights, so I didn't want to go all out. I liked just having sex sometimes. Hell, with Grace, it was all good.

I collapsed onto the mattress next to Grace and pulled her back to my chest to talk.

"Are you ready for our scene tomorrow night?"

Grace nodded. "I've picked out my outfits and everything. I even invented a whole background for my character to go along with the scene."

"When did you do that?"

"At work today, mostly."

"You should be focusing on work while at work. Dr. Raven would be disappointed."

"How was your session tonight?"

My heart tripped as I thought about what Dr. Raven had suggested I do. The thought of asking Grace to marry me just wracked me with fear.


I realized that I hadn't answered Grace. "It was fine. Nothing ground-breaking. She sort of suggested that I didn't have to see her, anymore."

"What do you think?"

"I probably don't, but it doesn't feel right to quit just yet. A little longer."

"I'm sure she just wants you to know you have options."

Grace's statement reminded me once again of what Dr. Raven had said about stripping Grace of options. It made me sick to think about it. It was one thing for Grace to give me control, and something entirely different to take it from her. I didn't want to be that guy.

But when I opened my mouth to bring up the subject of our future, I froze. Nothing came out.

"Are you alright? You seem miles away."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm here. Just tired, that's all."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too." I can say that a thousand times a day, but can't talk about commitment. What a fucking pussy I am.


I managed to put it out of my mind for most of the day. It helped that we had a play session planned. I had something to capture my focus. By the time 4:00 rolled around, I was ready to slip into my harassing director role.

I shaved all my facial hair and changed into a business suit once I got to the vacant office space. Tie and all. I had to do something to make myself look older in Grace's eyes.

The space was pretty much the way Robbie described. There was a reception area, three private offices, and a large open space with cubicles. For the scene I had planned, Grace was the administrative assistant who sat near the door, and I was the asshole boss who occupied the largest of the three offices at the end of the hall. It was performance review time.

Grace loved the scene because she had just gone through her performance review at work. This review was going to be a little different than the one she got at her real job, though.

I left papers on her desk, an assignment that she was to complete along with a note to come see me at 5:00pm. I knew she would be late.

When she appeared at the doorway of my office at 5:08pm, I was leaning back in my chair with a smug grin on my face, ignoring my open laptop.

"You're late."

Grace's eyes widened. She scanned my appearance from head to toe. Her stunned gaze flitted from my upper lip to my throat to my stomach and back again. "I, uh, I'm sorry, sir. I had to, uh..."

"Come in here and shut the door behind you. I'm not interested in your excuses, Miss Davis." We'd decided to stick with our real names so it would be easier to remember.

"It's Shaw now, sir. I've decided to switch back to my maiden name."

For real, or just for this scene? "Very well, Miss Shaw. Have a seat."

Grace swallowed hard and moved quickly to the seat opposite the desk from me. Her nervousness was making my dick stiffen. Not to mention the cute little white blouse and flowery skirt she had picked out for the occasion. She almost looked too young to be working in an office. Another scene flashed quickly before my eyes. I filed it away to explore another time.

"I've been reviewing what your peers have had to say about working with you, along with the notes your previous manager has left. It appears that you are unfocused at times, is that correct?"

Grace suppressed a smile. I'd just added that tidbit to my script the night before when she mentioned spending her time at work thinking about our scene. She cleared her throat before responding. "I don't know. I try hard to stay on task most of the time."

"And what about your tardiness? There was tonight, of course, but in your file I see this can be a problem."

"I apologize for tonight, sir. As for the other times ... I get detained sometimes at home in the morning. My, uh, brother hogs the shower."

"Oh, come now, Miss Shaw, I don't believe for a second that you live with your brother. Why would you lie to me like that?"

Grace scrambled to think of an excuse. "I, uh, I'm sorry, sir. It's my boyfriend who hogs the shower."

She tilted her head in an accusatory gesture. I'd made her late for work a couple of weeks earlier because I'd taken over her shower to fuck her in the morning. I then finished my own bathing before letting her continue. I'd never been very good at sharing the shower.

I liked how she followed my lead on incorporating real life events in our role playing. She was a natural at it.

"On the balance, you do produce your share of work." I paused and stood up from my chair as if pondering what to say next. I sauntered around the desk and then leaned back against it once I was standing directly in front of where she was sitting. "You're the last employee I have to review today. You know what I'm finding most annoying about these reviews, Miss Shaw?"

Grace shook her head as she blinked up at me.



"People doing only just what they have to to get by. In your file there is nothing to suggest that you are a problem employee. No real infractions. And yet, also nothing to suggest that you're trying very hard, either. I have a stack of reviews identical to yours sitting on my desk." I pointed to a stack of manila files staged next to my laptop. "I can't give everyone a raise. And my boss says I need to let two people go."

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest as I gazed down at Grace with a sad expression on my face.

"It saddens me. It really does. You're a very beautiful, bright young woman, Grace."

Grace fidgeted. Pink splotches appeared on her neck and cheeks. She was starting to lose herself in the scene. "Please, sir. I like my job."

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