Deep Control (Dark Dominance 2)

“I get it. That’s fine. Yes, let go of your pussy lips and send me a picture of your beautiful face, of how you’re feeling right now.”

The shot came across a moment later. Flushed cheeks, wet eyes, lips parted in gorgeous need. I saved it to my porn folder, it was that good. She looked tired, sad, horny. Obedient.

“You’re such a good girl,” I said, replete with satisfaction. “Such a fucking amazing girl. How’s your clit doing?”

“It’s still sensitive. Painfully sensitive.” She sighed. “I want to come so bad.”

“No.” I used my Dom voice, because I’m a sadist, and I wanted to keep her

hot. “But if you like, I’ll stay on the line with you until you feel calm enough to put your panties back on without messing them up.”

“Okay. That might take an hour or two.”

“Poor baby.”

I listened to her slow breaths, staring at the photo she’d sent me. Now and again, I’d hear quiet mutters, or a sigh. Maybe things were kind of complicated between us, as she would say, but it had been a long time since someone had turned me on this much.

Chapter Thirteen: Ella

Honest truth: I didn’t finish myself off that night. I really wanted to. Let’s be honest, I could have hung up the phone and jerked off ten times in a row, but in some strange way, I didn’t want to break the spell.

And I didn’t masturbate the next day either, or the next, and then Devin was back at work, and so was I. I was far behind in my reading, and I was expected in the lab by Wednesday at the latest. I decided to get there on Tuesday and start wading into the fray. I didn’t want to give Leo any possible reason to criticize or belittle me—the blackmail was enough.

I dressed in nice, professional clothes to meet my new co-workers. A white blouse and slacks, with a pale gray cardigan sweater. I did my hair and put on earrings, and made sure my glasses were clean. I was trying not to stand out, or perhaps trying not to look like the kind of woman who was late because she’d been fucked by a pilot in the Azores the entire last week.

There were nine of us around the conference table, and I was the only female—not unusual in my field. Unlike Leo, the rest of them seemed like nice guys. Once we said our hellos, they scattered to communal workspaces while Leo showed me around the office and caught me up on the team’s various projects.

I hadn’t seen Leo since I’d gone to Europe two years ago. He looked the same—black hair, compact body, freakishly long arms. I’d forgotten how overpowering he could be in person. He had the gall to act amiable and breezy, enthusing about my decision to “join the team.”

“It wasn’t my decision,” I reminded him. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

“I’m sorry, Ellie. I didn’t know how else to get you on a plane. We need you to do important work here. We need your expertise.”

I looked around the office he’d assigned me, with Dr. E. Novatny stenciled on the door. I’d had a nicer desk in Santo Stefano. “I was doing important work at the EGO facility,” I told him.

“Were you?” He scoffed. “Let me guess, your ludicrous time travel project? It was cute when you were an undergrad, but you’re a grown woman now.”

He was bold, bringing up my undergraduate years, when he’d exploited my naiveté to get me into his bondage bed. “I’m a theoretical scientist,” I said, refusing to accept his mockery. He’d used it to control me so many times, but I wasn’t putting up with it now. “Theoretical scientists are supposed to have unconventional ideas. That’s how discoveries are made. And I’m not the only one talking about time travel since the last neutron collision. We’re getting closer to quantifying the ripples in space-time—”

“Which can teach us about the nature of the universe, but there’s no evidence that man will ever be able to manipulate the direction of time.”

“The lack of evidence means nothing,” I argued. “These waves we’re measuring have been around for millennia, but when’s the first time we were able to perceive them?” I paused, pursing my lips. “Two years ago, right? So how can you be sure about anything?”

“You’ve always asked the wrong questions,” he said, with a critical tilt to his brow.

“You’re the one who wanted me here. Now you have me, and my various scientific interests, to include the plausibility of bending time.”

His eyes rested on me, an uncomfortably heavy stare. “I’ve missed you, Ellie.”

“Don’t call me that. I don’t go by Ellie anymore.”

“You’ll always be Ellie to me.”

This was classic Leo, the way he talked around my requests, and tried to intimidate me with his gaze. It had worked so well on me when I was young and stupid, but it wouldn’t work now. “You used compulsion to get me here,” I said in a quiet voice. “And I’m here to make the best of things with your team and see where we can take the science of gravitational waves, but that’s where it ends.”

“Is it? How can you be sure about anything?” he replied, tossing my words back in my face.

“I can be sure we aren’t going anywhere, because I’m…I’m seeing someone.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Devin wouldn’t mind if I used him to make my ex-lover back off.

“You’ve met someone?” he asked as I sat at my new desk. “Someone serious?”

“I’d rather not discuss my personal life with you.”

He laughed—a nasty, short laugh. “Not serious, then. More like what we had, a meeting of the minds and bodies.”

I glanced toward my open office door and hoped no one was listening to his suggestive, snide voice. “I’ll probably boot up my laptop and settle in, if you don’t mind.”

He nodded. “That’s one thing I always loved about you. Your focus and determination, whether in the lab or the dungeon.” He moved toward the door when I shot him a nasty glare. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I can’t just pretend we never ‘happened,’ especially when I haven’t seen you in so long. Maybe one of these evenings we can catch up over drinks, if your not-serious love interest doesn’t mind.”

“Or we could preserve a professional working relationship, especially considering what I gave up to come here.”

He waved a hand. “Trust me, this will end up being the best decision of your career. Those idiots in the EGO lab are mucking about with last year’s interferometer.”

“Idiots? They were my friends.”

He shook his head like he felt sorry for me. “Ellie, please. You’re old enough now to understand that friendship doesn’t matter as much as scientific progress. It can’t, not if you’re a professional. You have to keep pressing forward. We’re talking about the universe here.”

I opened my laptop and turned it on. “I can be professional and still value my friends. Not that you’d understand.” I stabbed a finger in his direction. “I’m talking to the man who turned out to be the worst friend in my life.” I put the word friend in air quotes. “But the rest of the guys here seem okay, so I’ll make the best of it.”

“They’re a pretty good group, aside from Tourmel. Watch out for that one.”

He can’t be worse than you. I missed my friends in Italy, and my nice office. At least I had Devin and his friends to hang out with here…and adventures at The Gallery, if I could work up the nerve. From what Devin described, it seemed especially intense. It was definitely more regimented than any BDSM club I’d attended to this point. There were actual papers to sign, and uniforms to be fitted for. I wondered what they looked like. Sexy, no doubt. Stripper couture? French maid?

When I got home from work on Friday, there was a package waiting at my apartment, a smooth, rectangular box from Devin Kincaid. I took it into the living room and sat on the couch, and cut away the seal holding it closed. I pulled back the cover to reveal deep blue tissue paper, along with a note in messy handwriting.

Dear Ella,

I’m back at work, and won’t return until Tuesday. Enclosed you’ll find some things to make you uncomfortable until I can put my hands on you again.

You’ll also find a paper detailing the rules of The Gallery. I want you to wear my “gifts” while reading over them, and if you’re sure you want to go, I’ll take you for your uniform fitting on Tuesday evening.

Have fun, you little pervert, and only come if you’re following our “rule.”

Dev

I flung aside the note, my stressful time at work forgotten, my pussy throbbing with sudden lust, but he hadn’t sent anything for my pussy. That would feel too good. There was a pair of black clover clamps—shudder—and a thick, black butt plug molded to the shape of a cock. I regarded the thing. It was made of metal, not the

more forgiving silicone. It was wider at the tip than most, and it barely tapered inward where it ended at the flanged base. It was a masochist’s butt plug, made for killing, not thrilling.

Along with the butt plug, he’d provided some anal-specific lube in a bottle that read “BACK DOOR” in large neon letters. I’d need to find a hiding place for that, but I appreciated that I didn’t have to go out and buy my own.

Beneath his “gifts” was a manila envelope with the Gallery rules, but I wasn’t supposed to read them until…

I took a deep breath, looking at the thick plug, not to mention the medium-weight nipple clamps. They weren’t going to feel good. You’re only allowed to come from now on when I’m hurting you. That’s our new rule.

I wondered where he was right now. Flying, maybe, thousands of feet off the ground. I wondered if he knew that right now, this moment, he was turning me on beyond bearing. I went to the bathroom and took a shower first, thinking about Devin and the time he’d fucked my mouth under the water, and shoved my face back under the shower head, so it felt like I might drown.

When I got out of the shower, I lubed my asshole, taking my time, being thorough. The lube was slick and smooth, and warmed my skin as I penetrated myself. I stretched my ass a little with my fingers, but nothing was going to prepare me for the thick, cock-shaped plug he’d chosen. It would hurt going in no matter what I did beforehand, but I wanted it to hurt. Devin wanted it to hurt.

I put a generous sheen of lube on the hard plug and bent at the waist, reaching back to position the toy at my asshole. I pretended Devin was doing it, so I wouldn’t be too gentle and tentative. I pressed it in, pushing it back and forth to work the hard crown past my sphincter. Ow. The pain arrived, the smarting stretch. I withdrew it a little and pressed it forward again, gritting my teeth against the increasing discomfort.

At last, I relaxed enough to push it in, and the lube eased the plug deeper, filling me up. The pain of the toy’s entry had my pussy dripping and my legs trembling, and I wished Devin was here to see me taking his huge, uncomfortable probe up the ass. I arched my back and shoved it the last few inches, slowly, slowly, letting out a breath when it was finally seated with the flange between my cheeks.