Taking Control

by L. V. Lane

  “Why?”

  That got me a raised eyebrow. “It’s just the way investing works…You never read about it did you? Never took any of the lessons?”

  I shook my head.

  Chuckling, he fed me another mouthful. “That’s a shame,” he said. “But there’s no point in worrying about it now. It doesn’t necessarily help anyway. I have a feeling reading it would only have troubled you.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said, feeling churlish.

  “I do know, just like I know what your violet eyes mean.”

  I stilled. Did he? It made me uncomfortable to think that he might know what my violet eyes meant, and I liked less that he was probably right about the investing knowledge.

  The last of my hunger fled.

  The trip to our deployment was going to be long, filled with endless hours of torment, interspersed by uncomfortable conversations. I was desperate to get off his lap so I could read everything I could find about investing. This couldn’t all be part of it? The clothes? Feeding someone?

  He offered me another forkful. I shook my head. “I’m full.”

  “Okay. You can sit there until I’m done.”

  I felt suspicious of this amiable response. I sighed. It sounded excessively loud, and I wished I’d mastered self-control. I was expecting him to be more annoyed, to—.

  What exactly was I expecting here? “Then we’ll have a chat about why you’re acting out.”

  My stomach dropped, and a sweet, aching pleasure bloomed. My hand had pressed to my tummy before I could stop myself. He took another forkful of food, settled his fingers under mine, and began to rub little circles over my lower abdomen that did unwelcome things to my traitorous body. At least his hand wasn’t inside my-his shirt. My breathing turned choppy as he spread then tightened his fingers, bunching the fabric. Why was I like this? Why was I excited because he had told me he wanted to ‘chat’ about my behavior?

  It riled me that I must sit here, must be fed by his hands, but mostly that I turned into a breathless puddle because he had made vague threats of—discipline.

  I didn’t want him to spank me again. Yesterday’s example had been thoroughly unpleasant. “I want to feel like a person again,” I whispered. “This can’t be part of it.” I gestured at the plate.

  He put his fork down in a slow way that drew my attention. “I think you need regular maintenance spanking.”

  “I—” My mind whited out for several seconds until I gave up and shut my mouth.

  “Would you like to read about control?” he asked.

  I sent a surreptitious glance his way. There was nothing outwardly apparent to indicate that this might be a trap and yet it screamed trap. I attempted to read his underlying emotions, but the only impression I got was mild curiosity. “You’ll let me read about it now?” I asked, thinking that this might be an excellent way to get some time to myself, time to escape his suffocating control.

  “If you think it will help.”

  “Yes, I think it would.”

  “Okay. Please clear the table for me so we can have our talk first.”

  Clearing tables would not normally bring me joy, but it got me off his lap, so I was enthusiastic about it. I watched him scroll through an information tablet while I completed the task. Then I stood near the bedroom door and wondered if he had forgotten. Whether I could sneak off to the bedroom and hide there for a while.

  “You want to bend over the couch, my lap or the table?” he asked still focusing on the information tablet in his hand.

  “None.” I winced and gave serious thought to running into the bedroom and blocking the door with—something.

  Placing the information tablet on the floor, he relaxed back into the chair and settled his undivided attention on me.

  No, running was just going to piss him off.

  “Come here.”

  My pussy quivered. How could two little words make me wet?

  “You won’t like what happens if I have to ask you twice.”

  Taking him at his word, I approached. “I only said I was full.”

  Setting his hands on my hips, he drew me into the gap between his open thighs and the table. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

  Yes, I admitted that I had. “You’re very unbending,” I said tiredly. “It’s quite exhausting.”

  He laughed, and his whole face lit up. It pleased me that I had made him laugh—and that worried me. I had an end game, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Soon, he would not look at me with laughter, he would look at me and hate me.

  I turned away because I didn’t know how to handle this. I wanted to please him, deep down there was this near imperative need to please him, and I just wanted to embrace it. The diplomat’s research—the means to destroy the Copper virus or the means to lock it in—that was a worry for tomorrow. For now, I would pretend that this was a normal deployment.

  So, I did. I came back to the now, and the man sitting on the chair.

  Even sitting he dominated the space. The T-shirt he wore fitted perfectly, all that thick, corded muscle that I itched to pet. I’d seen him naked. I’d been in the shower with him, had my hands on him, and now I was a wreck of nerves just ogling him from the periphery.

  “It’s a lot.” I gestured between us as if this would explain the emotional minefield I was attempting to traverse. “It’s a lot at once.”

  “I know,” he said. “Turn around and bend over. Lift my shirt up so I can see your bottom. Then put your hands above your head.”

  The man was the master of pantie dampening statements—if only I were wearing some. He studied me for the longest time, rubbing restlessly at his jaw and then eye fucked me down then up.

  I turned around because I was close to doing something stupid…like falling at his feet and begging him to fuck me. Escaping that penetrating gaze was a relief, but the image of his dark, intense study remained emblazoned on my mind. The mixed blessing that was my singularity could also feel his implacable intent and predatory interest stirring to life.

  We were always going to be here, I realized. One way or another he would have found a way, fair or otherwise, to facilitate me bending over and presenting myself to him. How much of this was part of investing and how much belonged to any kind of control? My understanding of investment and control was painfully undernourished.

  The table felt cool as I lay against it, and smooth under my cheek when I rested my head down. He has already seen me, I reasoned. Already bent me over the couch yesterday and fucked me and put his hands and mouth on me. I wondered if this would ever be easy.

  I did not think it would.

  As I lifted the hem of my shirt, the chair creaked. Reluctantly, I let go of the material and raised my arms over my head.

  The chair creaked again. “Your eye colors. Tell me everything you know about it.”

  Seconds ticked while I scrambled to find the words.

  The crack of his palm connecting with my ass brought a squeal to my lips, and I bucked. The second crack followed straight on.

  Somewhere during this, he had stood and gathered up both my hands, pinning me against the table and landing two more sharp blows. “You need to answer the questions quicker, baby.”

  The sharp stinging smacks followed in relentless burning waves. I had forgotten how much this hurt. How quickly it broke into the raw components of my psyche. And how quickly it undid thoughts of defiance until I was ready to do and say anything to make it stop.

  By the time he did stop, I was sobbing. I felt opened; there was no corner in which I could hide.

  His fingers tested the wetness between my legs. I was so hot there. His dark lust hit me the second before I heard his belt buckle and my hips lifted in silent offering. I would feel better I knew if only he would ease this abominable burning inside.

  His fingers entered me, slowly, pressing, stretching and pumping until I was writhing and begging. “Somebody enjoys pain,” he said, voice gruff nex
t to my ear. He pressed the fat head of his cock to the weeping entrance, then buried to the hilt.

  My lips spewed nonsense, and I tried to impale myself deeper, but his hands tightened on my hips holding me in place.

  His dark chuckle infiltrated my haze, and I whined as he joggled me, pulling me back until he was sitting in the chair with me on his lap. His cock was inside me—some of it—he was holding me up. I was no more troubling than a doll against his greater strength and size, and he handled me easily. A hand clamped about my waist to keep me from moving further down, he positioned my legs outside of his, stretching me apart. “Are you ready to talk now?”

  Talk? I didn’t want to talk.

  He ground me down a little deeper, triggering an ache inside where that thick cock pulsed.

  “You can start talking, or I’ll spank your pussy until you do.”

  I squealed at the first spank and tried to grab his hand. He caught both wrists. “Start talking, Eloise.”

  He lifted his hand again.

  “They show my mood!”

  “There we go,” he said, smoothing my hair from my face. “You think I didn’t know that already? They gave me a report on you. All kinds of interesting details.”

  I felt—unsettled. I could not quickly assimilate that he had known this from the start. He’d even mentioned reading research into Singular Omegas the very first time we met. I’d assumed this was general research. It seemed a foolish assumption now, and I remembered all those occasions when I’d felt like he was reading me. My eyes were a window, and he had looked directly in.

  I was sitting on his lap, he was inside me—there could not have been a worse scenario in which to have this conversation. His cock throbbed inside, opening me. I had never felt so vulnerable.

  What else was in the report? “Why did you ask me then?”

  Drawing my hair to the side, he pressed gentle kisses against my throat. “Because I wanted you to tell me. To obey me. You’ve been very naughty, and you lied to me about it.”

  “It’s not just my mood,” I said softly.

  “I know. You feel what I feel don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He groaned and bit gently. A thread pulled from that point straight to my womb. I opened myself and my awareness and allowed his dark domination to flood in. His cock pulsed heavy and insistent inside me and each jerk cranked my own pleasure up a notch.

  Rolling his hips, he sawed his thick cock in and out, and my body shivered in pleasure. “Do you want to come?”

  He worked me slowly up and down, still not letting me get it all.

  “Please, yes please.”

  “Are you going to lie to me again?”

  “I—no.” Yes.

  He chuckled. “I don’t know if I believe you. But we’ll work on it.” Leaning forward, his hands skimmed up to my breasts, cupping them and testing the weight. “I’m going to fuck your tits before we’re done. Come all over them.”

  I moaned, then louder when he pinched and twisted my nipples.

  “Get yourself off, baby. You’re sitting on my cock, use it how you need to—but just the tip. If you try and take more, I won’t be happy and we’ll stop.”

  My eyes popped open. I squirmed. I wanted to come, but I wasn’t sure how to. And not like this.

  My legs dangled over his. I tried to lift up—to rock——to bounce—this wasn’t a good position. He had lifted his knees slightly, and I couldn’t get deeper even if I tried. “I can’t!”

  Lips trailed over my throat, biting gently while playing with my nipples. Sounding far too amused he said, “I’m sure you can work it out if you want it badly enough.”

  I did want this, and badly enough to try, however challenging that might be. My hands found his thighs. “Oh!” It was harder than I might have imagined. But I rocked my hips, tentatively at first, and then with greater confidence when I found a position that pressed inside just right. And then I didn’t care how I looked. He played with me while I bounced and rocked. Tugging on my nipples and telling me all the filthy things he was going to do to me.

  I liked the sound of all of them, either that or I was lust-drunk.

  By the time his fingers found my slick clit, I was on the edge and that quickly I tipped over.

  I didn’t get a chance to recover. He gripped my hips and slammed me up and down on his cock, savage thrusts that went much deeper. I felt him coming inside, and the accompanying spike of his pleasure engulfed me. I came again as that first splash of warmth bathed the entrance to my womb.

  I didn’t like it when he pulled me off, nor the sticky mess that spilled out. But he tucked me into his arms, and when he made that gentle rumbling sound, I buried my face against his chest.

  I was allowed to rest again after, and when I awoke the rooms were empty. After showering, I donned his shirt and settled on the couch with my information tablet. I tried not to think about the things he had done to me on this innocent piece of furniture.

  A report had arrived about the colony we were headed for. A diplomat was trapped, and a team sent to extract him had failed. Enemy troops had arrived in great numbers, and this drove the diplomat into ever deeper hiding.

  I was the last resort that they were hoping not to need. As I read further, I thought my redundancy chances were slim.

  War—our lives were consumed by the war. Generations had come and gone since it all began. Many questioned that there had been a before. I liked to believe that there had been peace once and that it might find us again.

  I had read the propaganda, both theirs and ours. They claimed they wanted to live in peace and that we had made the first strike. We claimed that they did.

  Two sides embattled and embittered.

  Two sides too long at war to know any other way.

  I had always thought myself too small a cog to have any hope of bringing change, but the nature of my assignment opened opportunities. The viral program—the means to destroy the Copper virus or the means to lock it in. The opportunity to retrieve this lost research—or to let it disappear—was within my hands.

  The door opened, while I was lost in these unpleasant musings, and Logan walked back in. And just his presence brought an instant elevation to my heart rate.

  He frowned. “What are you reading?”

  “A report on our deployment,” I said, looking down because I knew my eyes revealed far too much.

  “Yes,” he said. “Grim reading. They were always going to need you, but I dare say the overzealous general thought he could make a name for himself.”

  “Are they dead?” I asked. “The other team.”

  Sitting next to me, he pulled me onto his lap. I felt surrounded by his presence, and acutely aware of our physical disparity. Taking the information tablet from me, he placed it to one side.

  “Probably,” he said, fingers stroking through my hair. “We lost contact.”

  It was hard to assimilate that people had gone to do what we were about to do and had died. I would soon be there. Would my chances be any better? “Was it worth it?”

  “He has a data stack, and the information on it is vital,” he said, and tucking me closer against his body, he ran a hand over my shoulder and along my arm. “They selected a team without the right experience—it was a poor choice. The general responsible for the decision has been stood down.” His chest made that comforting rumble, and it settled me. “I’ll introduce you to our team tomorrow. I think you’ll feel better about it then.”

  He called them our team, and with those words, I was included and valued.

  One day soon, I would betray them, because if I didn’t people would die. “Are they—Alphas?” There had been pride associated with his mention of the team, and I was curious about what they would be like.

  “You looking up my replacement, baby?” The gentle rumble had ceased.

  “No. I’m just curious,” I said. “I’ve never met an Alpha before I met you.”

  I felt the volatile emotional spike bef
ore his fingers tightened on my hair. I yelped. His mood shifted back to amused, and the touch gentled. “Three Alphas and the rest are Betas.”

  “Are all Controllers the same?” I asked.

  His chuckle surprised me. “That’s like asking if all people are the same.”

  That wasn’t very forthcoming. I sighed. “They didn’t give me a report on you. Why didn’t I get a report on you? Hardly seems fair.”

  His laughter instilled a sense of warmth.

  It lasted right up until he swatted the side of my ass. “That sounded remarkably like sass…Do you know what a Venn diagram is?” I nodded. “If the outer rectangle is everyone, then there is a circle inside for all Alphas, and inside that another circle for Alphas who test positively as Controllers. The smaller the circle, the narrower the range of characteristics and the greater the commonality, but just like people, we are all different.”

  I nodded again, face down. “I’m worried about the deployment,” I said.

  His fingers stilled and then resumed the steady stroking through my hair. “I know you are, your eyes were gray when we spoke about it.”

  I was actually more worried about what would happen after.

  I’d been thinking about Lilly, the indomitable doctor. I’d checked her a few times since our meeting and had documented what I found. She was a calm person, and checking on her had the side-effect of calming me. Although there had been one time when I checked, and I had felt—pressure? Yes, pressure was the only way to describe it. Later, it was gone, and the calm once more in play. “Can I see Doctor Brach again?”

  “No, unfortunately not. She was redirected to Mendeen7, I believe.”

  My mind flushed at that news. I’d hoped to discuss her views on the virus again. It was clear she didn’t know about the secret research in the diplomat’s possession. Our last conversation had played over and over in my mind. I wanted to confide in someone. I thought that someone was Doctor Brach.

  I had her direct contact details, but this wasn’t the kind of conversation to have via monitored communication.

  “I’m worried about the final test,” I said trying to get my head back in the game.