The Truest Control Ch. 06

Roger's head was still spinning, and so he felt that to help him calm down, it would be useful to do something that partially took his mind off Liz, so he went to the kitchen and began to put together some dinner. After he finished, he took the food out to the living room and began to sat on the sofa, but somehow it felt wrong to be there. He'd much enjoyed it when Liz made him sit on the floor like her dog, so after taking a few bites of the food, he got down on the floor and continued eating there. The food tasted better when he was down there, and he got such an erection while eating on the floor and thinking about Liz towering above him on the sofa that he had to pull his pants and underwear down to free his rock-hard penis from its uncomfortable prison. He felt a bit silly eating on the floor with his penis sticking out awkwardly, but it didn't matter, because there was nobody to see him. Actually... Maybe it was unfortunate that there was nobody to see him, since it would have been nice if Liz had humiliated him for it. It would have been nice to have her film him and tell him about how many people would see the video if he didn't do everything she wanted.

A momentary wave of panic shot through Roger as he suddenly thought about the video which Liz already had, especially the one of his fucking himself against the dildo on the wall. Liz knew where he worked; it wouldn't be that hard for her to find the names and e-mail addresses of some of his co-workers and send the video to them. What if she did something like that? He'd be completely ruined. And yet... The idea of her doing so was also very exciting. Roger liked that idea so much that he had to begin touching himself. He started stroking his penis there on the living room floor while eating dinner, but it just wasn't the same. It was more exciting to have Liz manipulate and control and confuse and humiliate and hurt him than to receive actual sexual contact with his penis. Would he have begged her to send the video to all of his friends, family, and co-workers? He realized that he would have, just because that idea was so wonderful.

Then he took a deep breath and reminded himself that these were exactly the kinds of thoughts he needed to avoid now. Liz was gone; she had left his life, and he needed to deal with that. Things would go back to how they were before: he would go back to work and be able to continue his job without her influence, and at night he would come home and spend the night thinking about her handcuffing him... no, not about that, he would spend the night doing whatever it was he did at night before he'd met her.

What did he do at night before he'd met her?

A feeling of dread came over him as he realized that there wasn't anything. Before Roger met Liz, he'd spent his evenings basically doing nothing at all. There wasn't much for him to do. Sometimes he'd watch a movie or play a video game, but often he just did nothing, because he was that kind of person. Now there was nothing for him to do. Not just nothing to do tonight, but also nothing the next night, and the night after that...

A sick feeling began to well up in the pit of Roger's stomach as he began to understand. Liz must have known. She knew that this would happen, knew that he did basically nothing in his private life, knew that when she left, there would be nothing but a huge, empty expanse that was the rest of Roger's life, a life that he would now have to spend without her.

She'd snared him. He wanted nothing more than to feel her handcuff him again. He needed nothing more than to feel her push his head into the toilet again. The only yearning in his heart, the only thing he wanted to do with the rest of his evenings, was to have her turn him into her helplessly submissive slave who would beg to do anything she wanted just because she wanted it.

As Roger thought about this, someone knocked on the front door of the house.

He froze. He tried to remember the last time someone had knocked on the door. He never had visitors over, because he had no friends outside of the office where he worked. He certainly wasn't expecting anyone over tonight. And that meant that the best thing to do would be to ignore the knock and allow whoever was at the door to go away.

The person knocked a second time, more forcefully than the first time. A creeping fear began to sweep over Roger as he gained a sense that this was another battle that he was going to lose.

He waited for the third knocking, but instead of hearing a knock at the door, Roger heard his cell phone chirp, the sound that indicated someone had sent him a text message. Slowly getting up and going to check his phone, Roger had a sense he already knew what he would see. Sure enough, when he checked his text messages, there was a message from an unknown number reading simply: "Knock, knock."

She'd never given him her number, but he knew who it must have been. "Go away," he texted back. As soon as he sent this message, he chided himself for his stupidity. Why had he responded? Now she knew that he had gotten her message; he'd just confirmed it. If he had ignored the message, maybe she might have thought that he couldn't hear his phone, or that he'd given her a wrong number, or any number of other possibilities, but now she knew for sure that he'd read her text. He was trapped in a state where she knew that he was inside and that he knew it was her outside.

Then again, maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe he wanted her to trap him. The sexiest situation in the world would be one in which she trapped him in such a way that he would never be able to get out, would have to give up and stop resisting her because he had no hope of getting out of the trap she'd constructed. He wanted to be caught in such a trap more than anything.

The phone chirped again. He shook his head and tried to reassert himself. What was wrong with him? Why did he think these thoughts?

The new message read: "I'll go soon, but I just want to see you for a moment. Please let me in. I promise I'll just be in for a few minutes."

Roger wrote back: "No. You're not welcome here anymore. Go home and leave me out of your life."

He waited for her response and realized that he liked reading her texts. It felt nice when the phone buzzed and he was able to read her words on the screen.

"Please Roger," the next message said. "It's cold outside here and I want to warm myself by hugging you. I just want to say goodbye to you one last time. I want to show you that I appreciate all you did for me, all the moments that we shared, even if we've only known each other for a short time. Please don't let it end like this. Please, just let us have a proper goodbye moment."

Roger felt like crying, but he knew he had to be strong. Now she was the one begging, and this gave him the opportunity to take advantage of her weak moment and be forceful. "I've asked you to leave," he texted back. "If you don't, I'll call the police."

Roger felt terrible about writing this. Liz didn't deserve this cold-hearted rejection. But Roger knew that there was nothing else to be done. If he let her in, surely she would take advantage of him. She was that kind of a person. He missed that; he really liked her ruthless manipulation of him, the way she would always try to take something from him. And yet... Those days were over now.

The phone chirped. "I have a better idea. Let me in or I'll call the police for you. If you don't open the door within 60 seconds after I send this text, I'll call the police and tell them that you raped me, then threw me out here. I'm out here all alone in the cold, and there are still traces of your semen left inside me. They'll believe me. Let me in, or you'll be in the worst trouble of your life."

Far from being distressed, Roger was grateful for this checkmate. She'd backed him into a corner, and while he could have probably continued to be defiant, it no longer seemed worth it. She'd brought him exactly where he needed to be: into a trap. It felt wonderful to lose to Liz, to have her show that she was so much more crafty and determined than he was. He liked to be a weak-willed slave who just followed her orders.

...Wait a minute, no he didn't. What kind of thoughts were these? He wanted to be strong, to be...

Oh no, 60 seconds. How long had it been? Had it already been 60 seconds? Was she calling the police right now? Roger fled to the door and swung it open. There was Liz, her phone in her hands, her legs bared by a sexy short skirt that she was wearing despite the cold, and her face bearing an expression that said that she'd just won a game in a way that Roger would never recover from.

Roger had intended just to exchange words with Liz at the door, but she stepped forward and pushed him back into the house. When he tried to resist, Roger learned just how futile it was to try and fight Liz.

Never had Roger imagined that such a thin woman could be so physically strong. Liz was neither tall, muscular, nor solid in her physical frame, but still she seemed to bring a physical force against Roger that was several times what he could ever hope to counter with. Liz dragged him physically down to the floor such that he was lying on his back. Then she spread his arms out, turned to face Roger's feet, and squatted down so that her legs were resting on his splayed-out arms. Her entire weight was now pushing his arms against the floor, and he had no hope of moving them, which also meant that he had very little chance of resisting her.

It also meant, of course, that Roger had a faceful of butt. Liz didn't wait to see how Roger would react to being in this position, and she didn't seem interested in talking, because once she'd immobilized Roger, she didn't hesitate to push her lower body downward. Her butt, exposed by her skirt and the fact that, once again, she was wearing no underwear, settled directly on Roger's mouth. As someone who'd already fantasized endlessly about being in this position, Roger didn't even need to think about his reaction; he immediately put out his tongue and began licking her anus.

It vaguely occurred to Roger that he shouldn't be doing this, that licking her in this way might not have been the way toward the defiant freedom which he'd been trying to wrest from her, but on the other hand, he wanted nothing more than to be right here, right now, doing exactly what he was doing. Although Liz was not a naturally large-breasted woman, she was blessed with a wonderfully shaped butt. It was large without being comically so, and it was remarkably springy and soft, covering Roger's entire face as he continued to lick. His five senses were absolutely dominated by the experience: all Roger could see, hear, feel, smell, and taste was the enclosure formed by her butt cheeks and the soft bump of her anus in the center as his tongue flicked over it. Her crotch had become his world, all he knew and could know, and it was a world he wanted to lose himself in and remain within forever.

And then, suddenly, she stood up and pulled her skirt back down. Smiling down at him, she said "You know you won't be able to orgasm anymore without my butt covering your face like that, don't you?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked out the door.

Roger was so stunned that for a moment, he remained on the floor, savoring the smell of her butt as it lingered on his face. Then, alarmed with the realization that he needed her to stay, he ran to the door and looked outside. She had already disappeared from sight. "Liz!" he called out. There was no answer. "Liz!" he shrieked. "Come back! Please! I need you!"

Still no answer.

And then Roger burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as he came to terms with the idea that he would now have to spend a life without her.