Relinquishing Control Pt. 01

It was only a short walk from the tube station, and she had checked the route many times over the last few days. It was important that she wasn't late, but also that she didn't arrive too early. Consequently she had spent twenty minutes in a coffee shop by the station - killing time. A half empty cup of cappuccino and an untouched croissant sat on the table in front of her. The nerves were beginning to get the better of her, and the butterflies in her stomach had made her slightly nauseous. However there was also another ache that she needed to address. Perhaps this weekend would put those feeling to rest. She checked her phone for messages. Even when she was on holiday there were often things that required her attention at work. She had never been good at delegating, or for that matter trusting people. She assumed that was why her personal relationships had never worked out. The men she attracted tended to be needy, and as such they were never capable of addressing her needs.

She felt conspicuous in her long black coat on such a warm day, but needs must. Even though she knew no one in this leafy part of North London, she wasn't prepared to take it off just yet. For a moment she wondered how the clientele of the café would respond if she did, she smiled to herself, and checked her watch once again. After paying the bill she left the café and walked the short distance to his house.

Although she hadn't been here before, she had looked it up on Google Maps and had often wondered what would lay behind the heavy black door. She pulled out her phone and took a photograph of the front door, and then sent it together with a short message to her friend, as they had agreed. You could never be too careful, she thought. Then she paused and looked at the three stone steps that led up to the door. Should she turn and walk back to the station, pretend this had never happened? It had taken three months to get to this moment, and deep down she knew that whatever happened in the next few hours she would always regret it if she ran away. She checked her watch, one minute to go, it was important that she was on time. Although she tried to remain clam, she couldn't resist checking her watch every few seconds.

She didn't feel her normal self today, not the usual composed and self-assured person her colleagues thought they knew so well. She felt like a nervous teenager again. A quick glance at her watch told her there were fifteen seconds left. This was so far outside her comfort zone. Not just what she was about to do, but what she was wearing beneath her long black coat. She took a deep breath and stepped up the three step and placing her small overnight bag on the top step, wrapped her fingers around the brass door knocker, and knocked three times.

There was a pause that felt like hours, but was probably only a few seconds. The butterflies in her stomach were getting worse, and she was about to turn and walk away. Perhaps this wasn't his house, and it had been all been an elaborate joke?

She thought back to the beginning when they'd met on a specialist chat site and had begun discussing fantasies. What did she really know about him? He was called Richard, and he was a lawyer, but that was probably untrue, after all he thought she was called, Chloe, and that she worked in IT. However those details were unimportant, he knew more about the real her than anyone else. They had talked openly about her fantasies without her feeling that he was shocked or disappointed in her. After all they were only fantasies. That was before he suggested that she might want to act them out for real.

The lock clicked and she snapped out of her daydream. The heavy black door swung open and he was standing there, staring at her. He looked younger in real life, and was dressed in a conservative suit. Fleeting she wondered if he was a lawyer after all. He studied her dispassionately for a while, but remained silent. She knew he was playing the role they had agreed, but the longer he waited the more she felt uncomfortable and subservient to him. It was new experience for her, she was used to being the one in control. After what seemed like an eternity he stepped slightly to one side, and she was forced to squeeze passed him into the entrance hall. Without saying a word he took the overnight bag from her hand and placed it at the foot of the stairs. Then he placed his hand in the middle of her back and gently pushed her towards a half open door to the left of the stairs.

The room she entered appeared to be a study, the curtains were closed and the only illumination came from a lamp on the heavy mahogany desk against the far wall. He stood behind her and took off her coat. As the heavy coat slipped from her shoulders she shivered, partially due to the temperature of the room, but mainly due to her partially nudity. He hung the coat over the desk chair and took a seat in a large armchair directly in front of her. She felt self-conscious and wanted to cover her body with her hands, but she knew that would not be allowed, and she didn't want to incur any punishments this early.

He sat, leaned back in the armchair and stared at her. She was wearing what he had requested, a half cup bra that left her hard nipples exposed, and a tiny thong that only just covered her sex, black stockings and high heels completed the outfit. For some reason wearing these slutty clothes made her feel more exposed than if she'd been completely naked. She was aware that the hardness of her nipples were not entirely due to the temperature of the room, and that the tiny thong was soaking wet. It had been a week since he had last given her permission to masturbate and for the last seven days she had found it difficult to concentrate at work. She could smell her own arousal, and assumed he must be well aware of it too. Her hand twitched and she just managed to stop it from flying to sex. They made eye contact and she blushed, he looked stern, and disappointed with her. Then she noticed the slight flicker of a smile, and she relaxed slightly. They had discussed this scenario many times before and they both knew their roles and what happened next.

He pointed at a patch of carpet in front of him, and she stepped forward and stood on the spot. Her hands at her sides and her head slightly bowed.

'Why are you here?' He asked.

'To be trained, Richard.'

He raised an eyebrow.

'Sir.' She corrected herself. He smiled.

'I'm glad you've obeyed my orders and dressed accordingly. You do make a pretty little slut.'

Normally she'd have been outraged to be called a slut, but here and now she took it as a complement, and blushed.

'Thank you..Sir.'

'Have you also obeyed my other order?'

'Yes.' She blushed again. 'I haven't touched myself for a whole week.'

'A whole week.' He laughed, 'I'm sure that's been torture for you my little slut.'

It was her turn to smile.

He stood up and walked slowly around her, as though he was appraising livestock. He reached out and gently stroked the curve of her spine, until his hand touched her buttocks. He squeezed the flesh, then without warning he slapped her hard making her yelp. He laughed and moved in front of her, put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up until they made eye contact. Gently he used his thumb to open her mouth, then pushed his thumb inside and pressed on her tongue.

'Suck.'

She began to suck his thumb as he traced his other hand down the swell of her breast, and pinched her painfully erect nipple between his finger and thumb. He twisted her nipple, heard her groan and felt her knees buckle slightly. He let go of her nipple and taking his thumb from her mouth placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her to her knees. He returned to the armchair. She sat back on her knees and kept her eyes on the floor in front of her.

'Trained to do what?' He asked.

'Serve you..Sir.'

'Crawl over to me then.'

She crawled slowly across the thick carpet, keeping her head down so that he couldn't see her smile. She didn't feel frightened any longer, she knew she was in safe hands. For a few days she could relinquish the cares of the world and be owned by someone. She wanted to be used like a slut and made to explore all those dark dangerous thoughts that kept her awake at night.

She reached a spot directly between his legs, and stopped.

'I think you know what to do now?'

She nodded and leaning forward slowly unzipped his trousers and extracted his penis. She was pleased to see that she hadn't disappointed him, as it was partially erect. It was a nice size and as she wrapped her hand around it she could feel it begin to grow even more. She looked up and seeing that he was studying her intently, smiled. Then when he scowled she went back into her submissive role and avoiding eye contact, concentrated on his penis. It had been some time since she had played with an uncircumcised penis, and she enjoyed the sight of his glans appearing and disappearing as she masturbated him. The shiny purple head made her bite her lip, and her sex throbbed. Her other hand slid down her body and she was about touch herself when he grabbed her hair and tugged her head back.

'Not yet. You can touch yourself if I give you permission... Do you understand, slut?'

She grimaced and nodded. He kept hold of her hair and pulled her head towards his penis. Obediently opening her mouth she gently teased the head of his penis with her tongue. She could taste the bitter tang of his precum and it made her moan. She began to worship his penis, licking around the head and teasing the slit with the tip of her tongue, while her hand pumped his shaft. His penis was now fully erect, and she imagined feeling it deep inside her, and involuntarily she felt her vaginal muscles contract. She was so close to an orgasm even without touching herself, but she didn't want to disappoint him. She had now been edging herself for a week and she knew from experience that her eventual orgasm would be worth the wait.

He broke her trance by pulling her head off his penis, he took hold of his shaft and pulled it back, offering her his testicles to her waiting mouth. She submissively licked and sucked them. Taking them one at a time in her mouth and feeling them throb. Imagining the semen inside waiting for release. He pulled her head up once again, but this time thrust his penis between her lips.

Remembering how they had both fantasised about this moment, she submissively crossed her arms behind her back and let him use her mouth. She kept perfectly still and he slowly pushed his penis inch by each down her throat. She tried to control her gag reflex, and tears began to well up in her eyes. She could feel them beginning to run down her cheeks and she now knew why he had insisted she wear non-waterproof mascara. The dark lines on her cheeks would be a sign of her submission, and her loss of control. No longer the perfectly made-up businesswoman in the power suit, just a slut of her knees being throat-fucked by a stranger. That image was so strong it nearly made her orgasm, but she tensed her pelvic floor and held off the impending orgasm for a little longer. She always strived for perfection in everything she did, and at this moment she wanted to be the best submissive slut a man could own.

He continued to thrust his penis in and out of her mouth, just enough so that she gagged a little without making her sick. She stared up at him thorough the tears, but he could tell she was enjoying the experience. He body was relaxed and her arms were crossed behind her back. He held her head by her hair, controlling the depth of his thrusts. Eventually he decided to see how much she could take and he slowly pushed down her throat until his testicles rested on her chin. She had relaxed so much by then that she didn't object, just wriggled slightly to adjust the angle of his penis. He looked into her eyes and could swear he could see a sense of achievement. He held his penis as deep as it would go. He could tell she couldn't breathe, but she appeared not to be distressed, or perhaps that was just she was loath to disappoint him. He pulled out of her mouth and she gasped for air, then she opened her mouth wide without any complaint. He took this as a sign of her submission, and he accepted the invitation to continue using her mouth. He could feel his testicles twitching and wondered if she knew how close he was to ejaculating.

He pulled his penis free of her mouth and held it a few inches from her lips.

'Open wide.'

She gasped for breath and a long strand of saliva ran from her lips and dripped onto her breasts. Tilting her head back she opened wide and stuck out her tongue. He wrapped his hand around the shaft of his penis and masturbated inches in front of her face.

The first spurt caught her by surprise, hitting her cheek before she had time to duck forward and catch the next two in her mouth. The next fell short and hit her neck, slowly trickling down into her cleavage. He slumped in his chair for a moment, while she knelt submissively before him. When he had composed himself he was pleased to see that she still had her mouth open and that his semen was pooled on her tongue. They had often repeated this scene on-line and this was always how it ended. He smiled at her, and her eyes crinkled up as though she was trying to smile, while still keeping in character.

'Swallow.'

She swallowed, and licked her lips. He scrapped the semen off her flesh with his finger and feed it to her.

'Well done, slut,' he said. 'I think you should be rewarded.'

They both smiled.

'You don't deserve to be fucked yet. But you do deserve an orgasm.'

He crossed his legs. One of his shiny black brogues was about a foot off the floor.

'It would amuse me to watch your masturbate on my shoe.'

She felt a wave of humiliation that nearly triggered an orgasm on its own. In their on-line fantasies this scene had always ending with sex. It was now obvious he intended to make her work harder in real life.

She shuffled forward and dutifully spread her legs so that the tip of his shoe pressed against the crotch of her tiny thong. She reached down to touch her clitoris, but he chided her.

'No! Keep your hands behind your back at all time.'

She groaned but obeyed, flexing her thighs she rubbed her vulva over the polished leather. The material of the tiny thong slid to one side and the patterned leather of the brogue teased her labia. She pumped her hips backwards and forwards, desperate for release. Just as she was about to cum he withdrew his foot. She gasped and looked imploringly at him.

'Beg.'

'Please let me cum.'

'What are you?'

'A..a slut, sir.'

'What am I?'

'My master, sir.'

He pushed his shoe roughly between her legs

'You have my permission to cum, slut.'

She pushed down hard and frantically rubbed herself. She could feel her orgasm getting closer. She was sweating and panting, her face was burning and her juices were running down her thighs. Her labia made a squelching sound on the wet leather and her clit rubbed on the laces. Then it hit her like a train, she cried out, her body jerked twice and she fell forward. He caught her as her legs gave way, and let her gently down onto the thick carpet.

It took a few minutes for her to compose herself. The release she had felt had been like nothing she had experienced before. She felt drained, but elated.

She heard a 'pop' and he handed her a glass of champagne. She looked up at him and he smiled. Remembering all the other scenes they had acted out on-line, she felt a flicker of another tiny aftershock pulse through her body. And as she sipped the ice-cold champagne she smiled to herself and wondered what other surprises he had in store for her this weekend.

(To be continued.)