by Alyssa Clark
I wasn’t irritated or angry. It felt like I was making a statement on just how precarious her control was.
7
Angela
I normally didn’t get shaken by much. I had prided myself on not being affected by a lot when it came to bringing men into my office. But, Mr. Clarke had managed to affect me in a way that had me avoiding my usual routine after he left.
I think part of the problem was because he was right.
I wasn’t in control.
Was I ever?
I spent days fuming over it. Days trying to figure out just what I was getting out of all of this. Aside from money.
If anything, I was invoking other people’s fantasies. It stopped being about me a long time ago, I was well aware of this. While the sexual frustration had been something I had managed before Mr. Clarke, it was suddenly getting out of my control.
The fact that he kissed me, and I had let him get away with it, didn’t help. Maybe the fact that I saw him as a challenge didn’t help either. I was still hung up on both. The musk of him still clung to me, and no matter how often I bathed or what perfume I tried, I still smelled him.
There was no shaking it.
My work phone came to life, and like a prepubescent girl, I dove for it. It ended in disappointment. It was Mr. Franklin. Like clockwork.
I took a breath and slowly released it before I answered, “Mr. Franklin.” I had to sound cool and collected even if I wasn’t.
“Angela, darling,” he sounded relieved. He really shouldn’t. Not if he knew the kind of mess I was in. “Thank you for taking my call,” he began. “I hope you are well.”
“Mr. Franklin, I would usually entertain your little conversations, but you have caught me while I’m in a particularly foul mood,” there was no reason to beat around the bush with him. I found it was always important to be direct and clear about how I felt with my clients. The only one that had me questioning that thus far was Mr. Clarke. “Can you please get to the point?”
“Yes, darling, of course,” I never bothered to correct him with his pet name for me. It never really fazed me, but now I felt myself on edge. It was like I couldn’t trust anything men told me now. “I noticed the charge that you took out on my account and I assumed that Matthew had paid you a visit.”
“Despite the gift that you gave him,” I was stewing with this man. “I am not at liberty to speak about what was involved, and you of all people are aware of that.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” he said evenly. He was careful with his words now, I could hear it with the way he breathed into the phone. “I was going to ask if this would affect that punishment you currently have me on and if I would be able to have the pleasure of being in your company anytime in the near future.”
Because that was just what he was after. Every bit of conversation with Mr. Franklin always revolved back to when he would be able to garner a moment. At least Mr. Middleton was strict with his schedule. Franklin only wanted more and more.
“When would you like to meet?” I asked because I was tired of talking to him now.
I heard his breath catch, he hadn’t expected my answer, “As soon as you would allow it. I can rearrange my schedule just to have even an hour of your time.”
I didn’t even refrain from making a noise of disgust. He sounded so desperate. Had I made him into this or was he this way before our arrangement began? “I will give you an hour to make arrangements so that you may come to my office. I will not wait for you to book a hotel room. If you haven’t gotten back to me within the hour then you will have to wait until your regularly scheduled day,” there was a bit of cruelty that I felt I needed to dole out. “I do not wait on you,” I reminded him before I ended the call.
I would have to use the hour I gave him as a means to find a center, to let go of my frustrations towards him. It was never a good idea to see a sub while angry, it could put them in a dangerous position. Plus it could put a precarious strain on the trust that you had built with them. That wasn’t something I liked to do. I shouldn’t agree to meet him today, if he could manage it. I should make him wait.
It wasn’t even ten minutes after his call that I got a text message from him. It informed me that he would be available in thirty minutes and could be at my disposal for two hours.
Instead of doing the right thing, I prepared myself for work. Only I made myself up in a manner that pleased me, going with a smoky look around my eyes and a brilliant red for my lips. I even elected to wear a more comfortable bustier over a corset with boy shorts instead of a thong.
This wasn’t going to be about pleasing him.
That’s where the mistake began.
As soon as I was prepared physically, I made my way to my office. I didn’t take the time to prepare myself mentally. All I did was focus on the chore that this would be. That should have given me pause. This wasn’t supposed to be a chore. But I didn’t let my better judgment lead me.
I unlocked my office door and went in, knowing the older man was just behind me. With the front door locked just after him, I led him back into my playroom and waited at the door. “Undress yourself,” I instructed while I considered just where I wanted him. I wasn’t sure just what I wanted to do to this man, I just knew I wanted him to hurt. “Then come get into position at my feet.”
He did it without question, without hesitation. He had himself stripped and kneeling at my feet in less than ten minutes. Something that would warrant a reward, some praise at the very least. But I offered him neither. I looked down at him with contempt.
As far as Mr. Franklin was concerned, all that I felt up to this point was his fault. He was the reason Mr. Clarke knocked me out of my comfort zone. He was the reason I was questioning myself.
I looked up, and the first thing I saw was the unfinished table that acted as my ‘rack.’ I could use it. “Go to the table and bend over it,” I commanded. I didn’t have all the toys I wanted, but I could make due with what I had.
He stood and deftly walked to it. Was I angry enough to make him crawl? I paused, his left knee was bad, that would be too much. I followed him closely, not bothering to display any sort of decorum that I normally would with him. I sneered and glared, I thought perhaps my obvious distaste would affect him negatively, but then I took note of his erection.
Men could be too predictable.
I wasn’t gentle about securing him to the table, I made him stretch his arms up above his head until he was on his toes. The discomfort was obvious, but he didn’t say a word. That erection didn’t wane in the least bit either. Despite the fact that he had no clue what I intended he was still excited about it. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the unknown or if it was because it was me.
I decided then I would test him. I went to the closet where I kept my paddles, floggers, and whips. I couldn’t decide which would send the right message. Until I saw the bullwhip. I had only ever used it once, on Kurt of all people. He had said that the pain was too sharp and that there was no way he couldn’t get off on it.
I was considering that when I decided to use it.
I didn’t let him get a good look at me when I approached. Instead, I dimmed the lights and came at him from behind. I struck without warning and didn’t give him any further insight as to how his punishment would play out. He took in a sharp breath after the first hit, as soon as he released it I hit him again. I didn’t try to restrain myself at all. I wasn’t taking his well being into account like I should be.
I let my anger rule me.
“Fitzgerald!” He nearly screamed it, but I struck him again before I registered what he had said. “Fitzgerald,” He panted now, and it was clear that I had gone too far.
I dropped the whip and came up behind him, his back and ass were stripped red from where I had hit him. “Are you okay?” I tried to summon up the caring dominant I was supposed to be. I didn’t touch his back, I felt for his pulse in his throat. I was always afraid things would get too much for him, so I fel
t I had to check. Here I was being too rough.
“I have limits,” he grunted. “My tolerance for pain is not what I thought it was,” I felt him swallow. “Is my punishment done?”
The compassionate thing to do would be to let it go. Even if I went overboard, I didn’t want to let all of it go. “For today,” I came around the table to free his hands. “I will make sure it will be more within your limits at our next meeting,” I carefully helped him secure his footing. “You have made some poor decisions recently. First, using me as a means to regulate your employees,” I directed him to the wrought iron bed that was close by. “Second, instead of taking your punishment as you should, you called me in a way that would prevent you from truly accepting it.”
He pulled us both to a halt, “I didn’t think.” His distress was obvious as he spoke, “All I could think about was not being able to see you.”
He was too attached, he always had been. It had been awhile since he last tried to sway me for something more. Maybe I had entertained him for too long, I should have ended it when he first started getting amorous. But the money was too good to give up.
Now I was in this situation.
I didn’t have it in me to consider options or alternatives now. I needed space, I needed to get my frustrations out in a way that wouldn’t harm anyone. “Let’s get you cleaned up and on your way,” It seemed like the easiest way to handle it. “This way you will understand the severity of your transgressions,” he whimpered but didn’t argue as I sat him down to treat the red marks on his back. There would be bruising, I could see that already. I should consider myself lucky that I didn’t break the skin.
“When will my next appointment be?” He sounded afraid when he asked.
“We can go back to your usual schedule,” I helped him up so he could dress. “I have to warn you,” it took little effort to harden myself for what I was about to say. My anger flared to life in a way that I wasn’t prepared for, but I didn’t bother to restrain myself with again. “If there’s ever a time where you cannot accept a proper punishment, and you violate it as you have with this one, then we will need to end this arrangement. If today isn’t an example of my current feelings, then let me spell it out for you simply.” I had his linen shirt over his shoulders and I stood close as I spoke in a low hiss, “You used me in a way that is not at all becoming or called for. You betrayed my trust in you. I am angry, and the last thing I want is to see or hear from is you. So, if you make any further calls to me or make any other attempt to reach me after today, I will not entertain this anymore. So you understand?”
His eyes were huge, and his features went ashen. Was he surprised? Did he forget who was in control here? “Yes, my mistress,” he said it with a reverence that I didn’t like. “I will be proper from now on. I don’t want to disappoint you,” he went into action to finish dressing himself. By the time he was fully clothed again he dropped to his knees to press kisses against the toe of my Manolo’s. “I am not worthy of you.”
“Go home, Allen,” I used his first name because I suddenly felt exhausted from everything. “Worship your wife instead of worshipping me.”
He nodded and stood, he followed me out of the back room and further out of my office. He looked cowed, upset. I could only hope it was real.
The bad part of being “self-taught” in this situation is that I had no mentor to go. I could question the forums, but I knew what the real problem was. Submission usually occurred between two people in a close relationship. It wasn’t uncommon for a sub to fall for their dom. My only hope was what Mr. Franklin felt was merely lust.
Hopefully, it was a lust that could be directed where it belonged.
I needed to get back to the chore this had been. There wasn’t enough to clean up that would help clear my thoughts. So, I did a little more housekeeping than was necessary. I dusted, I disinfected, I swept. And my irritation only built up to the point that I ended up throwing the broom across the room.
This wasn’t going to work for me.
I went to my purse and without thinking I thumbed my way to that number I hadn’t bothered to program into it, yet.
‘What are you doing?’ I texted.
This was a horrible idea. This was breaking the rules on so many levels. But it wouldn’t matter if this text didn’t get answered.
‘I am finishing up at work, going through some depositions. Did you need something?’ He answered.
Nerves flared to life somewhere in me, and it felt so uncharacteristic. I was used to saying what I wanted and getting it, or punishment would be handed out.
I knew what I wanted from him. I shook off the trappings of insecurity and quickly did a check of my accounts. I had enough money to do this. Another quick search and I had a room booked without delay for the night.
‘Meet me at The Brass Renaissance on Main,’ it was a demand. Something he could say no to if he wanted, but I knew the way he looked at me that there was little chance that he would.
‘I’ll need an hour, but I’ll be there.’
I released a breath I didn’t know I had been holding, I had things to do if I was going to go through with this. I went into the bathroom to freshen up. I didn’t have enough time to shower and do anything that might have been a far cry to the life I had before all of this. All I could do was fix my hair, fix the smudged lipstick and the slight run of mascara. There was nothing to change into, I just had to put on the skirt and blouse I arrived in.
I had time to kill, but I needed to check into the hotel first. So, I would kill time there. Make sure I had appropriate provisions and find something to calm my nerves. I decided to get to the hotel as quickly as I could. Maybe a drink would help. So, after checking in and getting the key, I went to the bar.
The Brass Renaissance was an upscale hotel that had all the amenities you would expect with their price tag. Fortunately, during the offseason, I was able to score a deal for just one night.
Why get a hotel? Why not take him home?
Taking him home would give him some form of power, he’d know where I lived. If things went badly after this, I couldn’t run that risk. None of my clients got to know where I lived. They got to know very little about me. It was safer that way, at least that’s what I told myself ... often.
It was far too dangerous to let them get too close. Mr. Franklin was proving that. Mr. Clarke was also proving that. The problem that I was having was I wasn’t attracted to Mr. Franklin. But Mr. Clarke seemed to hit something in me that I just couldn’t wrap my mind around. I just hoped it was because it had been far too long since I last had sex.
If he showed up that was, the longer I waited, the more I doubted that he would. Maybe the last time we were together was enough of a reason for him to not want to meet me. I might have pushed him a little too far out of his comfort zone.
I had been sitting here for about thirty minutes, staring at a Cosmopolitan I had ordered on a whim. I hadn’t touched it. Normally, I didn’t drink. There was something unnerving about how alcohol inhibited the amount of control I had over a situation. But I had hopes that the light pink liquid with its little lime garnish was going to offer me courage. I just hadn’t tried to drink it.
“I don’t know what to expect with this message,” he didn’t hesitate to sit beside me. I didn’t let it phase me, and he flagged down the bartender and once he was settled in. He ordered a beer then looked at me with open curiosity. I didn’t see any sort of fear or nervousness in the way he sat on the bar stool. “Are you going to elaborate why you contacted me? I thought the arrangement involved me contacting you.”
I picked up my glass and took a delicate sip. The flavor of the vodka was a bit too strong, and I placed the glass back on the bar top, deciding not to drink the rest of it. How did I answer his question? I considered the pretty way the drink before me was displayed, an imprint of my lipstick now on the side. “I have a room here,” I spoke lowly, wanting him to be the only one that heard me. I didn’t look at him, I did
n’t want to see any sort of judgment in his expression. “I would like for you to join me in it.”
I waited for his reaction, my heart beating hard in my chest. I was anticipating rejection, I’m not sure why. Maybe it had something to do with how long it had been since I last dated someone. I hadn’t been a traditional relationship for so long that I wasn’t prepared for rejection … or acceptance.
“Now?” I hazarded a glance at him. He looked surprised, but not at all displeased. He took a long pull of his beer then cleared his throat. “Lead the way.”
I took a breath, and I carefully stood, not bothering with the rest of my drink. It wasn’t going to offer me any sort of relief like I’d hoped. I didn’t wait for him. I left the bar for the main lobby and found the elevators. I pressed the appropriate button and stepped onto the lift as soon as the doors open. That’s when I saw that he had followed. I tapped the button for the third floor, I didn’t make any attempt to throw myself at him when the doors closed. Even with the way he was eyeing me, I didn’t want to give in where we might run a risk of anyone seeing.