Control 2057

Author's note: although this is now the first in a series of five, it was originally a rushed one-shot stroker. As the subsequent chapters took on a new life, I became increasingly disappointed with the quality of the early instalments. Additionally, while I originally wrote American characters who lived in DC, retconning them to be British made certain later plot beats work better. I have edited the piece below to be closer to the quality of my later work and better maintain continuity. As the characters are British now, I have also switched to British English. Finally, I initially chose the most generic names I could think of, and now I want to give them slightly (but only slightly!) more evocative names. I hope you enjoy.

The only reason Ella chose to go into that particular pub --

The Winford Arms

-- was because it seemed to be the only pub in the City of London without a crowd of people stood outside it, pint glasses in hand. Every bar in the City, and the rest of Central London for that matter, seemed to be almost constantly overcrowded with a swarm of undiscerning patrons. The thought of squeezing through a thick knot of people in order to get to the bar, and even then having to wait ten minutes to be served, well, it wasn't how Ella wanted to let her hair down after a whirlwind day at work.

Like most London pubs,

The Winford Arms

was unpretentious. The wallpaper was peeling and probably hadn't been changed since the 80s. Any chartered surveyor or occupational health inspector would have noticed the crumbling brickwork and loose, sticky carpets and concluded it was in desperate need of a renovation, but the landlord, like every other landlord for miles around, realised that a renovation would have no positive impact upon the bottom line. Ella made a beeline straight for the bar, where her order was taken almost immediately by a bored-looking barmaid. As Ella waited for her glass of white wine, she scanned the room, hoping to lock eyes with a handsome stranger. That, rather than the alcohol, was what she was really there for.

Then she saw him.

Was it definitely him? When they'd been at Cambridge together, he'd had long, flowing hair. It had been one of the things that had first attracted her to him. Now his hair was still thick, but cut much more presentably. But then Ella caught a glimpse of his intense blue eyes, and all doubt evaporated.

She tapped her card on the reader and picked up her glass, strutting to the table in the corner where three men her age sat, laughing in tailored suits over pints of beer.

"Tim? Tim Bradshaw?" Ella said.

All three men turned and looked at her -- and the one on the right didn't bother hiding that he was visibly casting his eyes over her body, dwelling on the hem of her pencil skirt. Ella ignored him, focusing instead on Tim, who was sat nearest to her on the left. He had high, sharp cheekbones, and a well-defined jaw.

"Ella Pucovski?" Tim said. "Blimey, what are you doing here?"

"I just got a job at Eddings & Hill," Ella said, namedropping the prestigious advertising firm that specialised in corporate service clients.

"Wow, congrats! Hey, do you mind if I join you?"

"Oh, I don't want to interrupt..." Ella said, heart pounding. She told herself to relax. Tim was probably just being friendly. Last she'd heard, he was still with Clarissa, who Ella had been disappointed to learn he was dating when she first met him eight years earlier. A perfectly nice girl, and she wished them nothing but happiness, but damn, Ella envied her.

"Don't worry," Tim said, standing up. "See you around, lads."

The man next to Tim gave him a firm slap on the back. There was a spare table with a couple of tall stools on the other side of the bar. Ella sat down opposite Tim, smoothing down her skirt and putting her shoulder bag on her lap.

"So, you finished your PhD, then?" Tim said, smiling.

Ella tried not to wince. Her unfinished research into Neolithic gender roles still nagged at her. "No, I dropped out, I'm afraid. I couldn't stand another year of it. So now I'm here. How are things with you?"

"Not too bad, thanks. Work's going well. I'm a fund manager at one of the more progressive firms -- pay's not as good as at Goldman but the working conditions are much better." He lowered his voice and leaned in towards her. "I'm very glad to see you. You rescued me from those arseholes."

"You're welcome," Ella said, flashing a smile. It was time to broach the subject she was worried about. "Are you still with Clarissa?"

"Oh, no. We broke up... early last year? It just wasn't working any more. Enjoying being single to be honest, less to worry about. How about you?"

"Yeah, I'm single," Ella said. "My last boyfriend wanted to move to Hartlepool, so I let him go."

"Fair enough. He must be crazy to choose Hartlepool over you."

Ella laughed, feeling blood rush to her face. "Stop it."

"I'm serious, Ella. I always thought you were really sweet. And hot."

This was going better than Ella could have imagined. "Yeah, well, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad you're single."

Tim leaned in even closer now. Ella could feel his breath on her face. "Why did you come to this bar on your own, Ella?" he asked her.

"Well, not for the dancing," she said dryly.

"My flat is two stops away on the DLR," Tim said. He had always been direct, but this was so refreshing all the same. "It's a much better place to drink than this. You could come back with me, if you'd like."

"Let's go."

"Hold on," Tim said. "You need to know -- my flat is my kingdom. If you're there, you play by my rules. You can leave at any point, but... I am the one in control. Is that OK?"

"Sure," Ella said, not sure if she had misunderstood the question. "Your flat, your rules. I'll be on my best behaviour."

Tim lifted his hand and stroked Ella's chin. She tilted her head slightly to the right, and he kissed her gently on the lips. He grabbed her hand and led her out of the bar, wine glass half-full and forgotten.

Tim's flat was in a chrome tower across the road from Westferry station. Ella thought the décor was a little cold, almost like a showroom in its sterility. There was no real sign that the apartment had been properly lived-in, although on the positive side, it wasn't an uncared-for bachelor pad, with crumbs everywhere. Tim obviously took care of the place without taking pride in it. It didn't feel like a home.

"I'd ask what you'd like to drink," Tim said, "but to be honest, I'm not opening a bottle of champagne, so the option is red or white."

"What vintages?" Ella asked. She wasn't a connoisseur, by any means, but she was beginning to develop her own taste. She didn't really know enough to distinguish one vintage from another, but in her experience, asking about vintage was the quickest way to find out the grape variety and origin.

Tim opened the fridge and pulled out the bottle of white wine, sealed with a stopper, and examined the label. "This is a Chardonnay from Argentina. Vintage, vintage... ah, 2019. Is that a good one?"

Ella got no real information from the vintage, but she enjoyed Chardonnay and had nothing against Argentinian wine. "That will do, thanks."

Tim poured them each a glass and they sat down on his velvet sofa. Ella was pleased that it wasn't leather, which seemed to be the default in young men's flats. She remembered that Tim was a vegetarian, who had once sheepishly told her that he thought killing animals to eat them was wrong, but he'd seemed almost too embarassed to join in with the animal rights protests that often sprung up in Cambridge.

"So," Tim said. "The rules. They're mostly bedroom rules, if I'm honest."

Ella raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to make me sign a contract?"

He laughed at that. "God, no. But, look, I have a particular appetite. You can always say no, but if we're going to fuck, I'm going to be the one in control. We'll proceed at my pace. You'll wear handcuffs. And before we fuck, I'll need to give you a spanking."

At that moment in time, Ella would have gone with almost anything he said. Handcuffs were fine by her -- one of her previous boyfriends had asked her to wear them once and she'd been fine with it, if unaroused. She'd never been spanked in bed before, but it was not the worst thing she could imagine a guy asking for, and she

really

wanted to finally fuck Tim. Out of all the men she'd ever met, he was the one she'd fantasised about the most. If she wasn't thinking about Chase Crawford, she was probably thinking about him. She wasn't sure to what extent that was simply because he was pretty much the only man who had ever spurned her advances, but he wasn't spurning them now, and she hadn't lost her desire for him. And she trusted him not to go overboard -- a little bit of impact play was harmless enough. Tim didn't just make her feel excited, but also... safe. Comfortable. In the perfect mood to experiment.

"That sounds like fun," Ella said. She took a big sip of her drink, then leaned to the coffee table and put the glass down on a cork coaster. She stared into Tim's eyes, getting lost in those sapphires, as he stared back into hers with a look of deep lust and desire. Ella seized the moment. She grabbed at Tim's shirt and pulled him into a passionate kiss. He put his arms around her and kissed back, but only for a few seconds, before breaking things off.

"My pace," he reminded her. He took her hand and led her through into his bedroom. This had a bit more personality. The double bed had a black steel frame and a tall headboard. The wall had one poster of the Arctic Monkeys and another of Troy Deeney, celebrating a goal for Watford. A burgundy corduroy chair sat in one corner. The windows were tall, with deep-set sills, with the window nearest the bed having lavendar and geraniums growing in trays on the sill. The wardrobe doors were open, Tim's jackets and shirts visible; he obviously hadn't anticipated having company. Ella could just about make out a few boxes of sex toys on the bottom of his wardrobe. Tim ignored her stare into the open closet and instead kissed her passionately again, his right hand groping her breast without any of the hesitancy that her lovers usually showed. She felt herself melt.

Tim's hands went to the collar of Ella's blouse. She knew what he was going to do before he did it, and made no effort to stop him. He pulled her blouse open. She heard a button land on the oak floorboards. That was going to mean some time sewing on Sunday afternoon, but she wasn't annoyed -- it was a small price to pay for this tryst. Tim made her too hot and bothered to care.

Ella shrugged off her open blouse. Tim steered her towards the chair. "Bend over and lift your skirt," he said. She did, heart pounding in her chest. She glanced back over her shoulder at him. Her eyes met his, and she could see the desire in them. He lowered her pink cotton panties, baring her exquisite derrière. Then, he brought his hand down, producing a stinging, burning sensation on her bare skin. Ella gasped. It hurt a little, but there was more to it than that -- an unexpected rush of arousal, and just a little delightful pleasure, flooded through her body.

Tim smiled and continued to deliver smacks, each one landing with a satisfying crack. Ella moaned softly and leaned into the chair, enjoying the sensations coursing through her.

Tim paused and leaned in close to her, running his fingers along her flushed cheek. "Are you enjoying this, Ella?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Ella nodded, unable to find words to express how much she was enjoying it. She had never felt so alive, so raw and exposed. Every spank sent shockwaves through her body, making her breath catch in her throat. But it wasn't just the pain that made her feel this way, it was the sense of power that came with it. The sense that she was giving herself over to Tim, trusting him completely, and in turn, feeling completely trusted by him. It was a heady combination, and Ella found herself getting lost in it.

Tim leaned in close, studying her face. "You're glowing, Ella," he whispered. "You look absolutely radiant."

His words made her heart swell with happiness. She

was

glowing, inside and out. She felt like she could fly, like she was in a dream. Tim's voice was like honey, sweet and smooth, and his touch was electric. She couldn't get enough of him, and she knew she never would.

He leaned in and kissed her deeply again, his tongue dancing with hers. Ella twisted herself around and pressed her body close to him, feeling his strong arms around her, his hands exploring her body, caressing her curves and stroking her skin. His lips moved against hers in a sensual dance. His hands roamed over her body, caressing her curves and stroking her skin. He pulled away to gaze into her eyes, his own heavy-lidded with desire.

"Are you ready for me?" he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Ella nodded eagerly, her heart racing as she anticipated what was to come. She wanted him to touch her, to enter her, to make her feel all the things she had only ever dreamed of experiencing with him. She wanted to be consumed by him, to lose herself in the depths of his powerful embrace.

Tim stood up, slipping out of his jeans before kneeling in front of her. He pulled her skirt down to her ankles and she kicked it off.

Ella gasped as he took her in his mouth, his tongue flicking against her sensitive nub. She wrapped her hands in his hair, letting out an audible moan as he continued to pleasure her.

As he sucked and licked, he caressed her legs, her thighs, and her lower back, eliciting shivers of pleasure throughout her body. She could feel herself growing wetter, hotter, closer to the edge of pleasure.

Tim finally pulled away, leaving her aching for more.

He moved up behind her and slipped a finger inside her, feeling her walls clamp down on his digit. "You're so wet already," he purred, kissing her neck. He added another finger, stretching her further, while Ella groaned in pleasure. Her body felt alive with each passing moment, and she was on the brink of orgasm.

Tim leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Ella nodded frantically, her need for him overwhelming. She was practically silenced by desire, the blood that usually fuelled her brain instead rushing to her core. She wanted him inside of her, she wanted to feel him pushing into her, filling her up. She wanted to be able to touch him freely, to kiss him and hold him close without any hesitation or self-consciousness. She wanted to make love to him, to lose herself in his embrace and feel completely at peace in his arms. Her heart raced. She had never felt such a strong attraction to someone before, and it scared her a little bit. She didn't want to get hurt, but at the same time, she couldn't imagine losing this opportunity.

As he stood there looking at her, she realized that she couldn't hide from her feelings any more.

Deep inside her, Ella had always been in love with Tim, and rather than leaving her fulfilled, his touch was only strengthening that feeling. It was terrifying but also exhilarating; she had never felt anything quite like it before. She knew that if she let herself go fully, she would be taking a risk that could end in devastating heartbreak. But Ella also knew deep down that she wasn't ready to settle for mere friendship any longer. There was no hope for love without risk.

The room suddenly seemed brighter and clearer.

Tim put his hand between Ella's shoulder blades and pushed, gently but firmly. Taking the hint, she bent over the bed. He gave her bubble butt another open-handed spank, causing her to cry out in unmistakeable pleasure. She couldn't help looking back at him, taking in the stern expression on his chiselled face as he struck her perfect backside. Ella felt frustration boiling inside her -- why wouldn't he just fuck her? She needed to feel his cock inside her.

It was all she could think about as he continued to spank her. Her insides were aching for him -- yearning for him like an addict needing a fix. But she had to admit... the better part of her was enjoying this.

Tim enjoyed Ella's reactions as he delivered each blow to her bottom. Her eyes were wide with surprise and excitement, her lips parted in anticipation. He could see how much she was enjoying it, how much she wanted more. He was firmly but controlled. Warmth spread across his palm. His cock was hardening with every stroke, especially with Ella's gasps clearly becoming unmistakeable moans of sexual pleasure. She seemed so small beneath him, like a delicate flower trembling in the wind.

As he held her down, Tim realized how much he wanted her. There were hundreds of women like her in London, gorgeous, flirtatious, bubbly and bright, but her shining eyes and contagious smile made him feel seen and alive in a way that nobody else ever had, certainly not Clarissa.

His hand was too sore, which probably meant Ella would be reaching her limit. He could see her eyes scanning his body nervously as she wondered what would come next. It made him happy knowing that she trusted him enough to let herself be vulnerable around him. It was an honour he didn't take lightly; it meant more to him than anything else in the world could ever possibly mean. He felt like he needed to prove himself worthy of her trust -- show her just how deep his love ran for her.

"Are you OK, Ella?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm" was all she could manage. He'd never known Ella to be lost for words before. Tim waited a few seconds, savouring the view of Ella's delicious backside presented willingly to him. He was aroused by how vulnerable she allowed herself to be in his presence.

"You've been a bad girl, Ella," Tim said, his voice carrying a dominant edge that Ella found hugely seductive. He reached into a bedside drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, securing one cuff to the reinforced bedframe and the other to Ella's right wrist. "Do you think you need some more punishment?"

Ella felt the blood flow to her crotch. She was deeply aroused at the thought of Tim punishing her. She could barely find the words.

Twenty-four hours ago, she'd have been shocked to hear herself asking for a man to punish her. But then again, she had been experiencing unusual urges lately -- dark desires that threatened to consume her whole being. Not only had it been far too long since she had a good fuck, but she was dealing with the self-recrimination from her withdrawal from the PhD and the turmoil of moving to London. Maybe it was because Tim made her feel safe; even back in university, he seemed to understand her like nobody else did. Or maybe it was just an extension of her own curiosity, her desire to explore new fronts. Whatever the reason, Ella was willing to go to great lengths to sate this insatiable thirst within her.

Ella bit her lip before nodding in agreement. She hoped Tim could tell how much this meant to her -- she wanted him more than anything else right now. Tim reached into his wardrobe and pulled out an ebony rod, slowly walking over to where Ella lay bound on the bed.

Ella couldn't believe what was happening; it felt like all her fantasies were finally coming true. She had always dreamed with a strong man who would respect her and keep her safe, but wouldn't be afraid to treat her a little bit roughly -- and here he was, standing right before her, ready to make those desires come true. It made her wet just thinking about it. Maybe she hadn't quite thought she'd be spanked or caned, but she was still excited at the prospect. It was clear he cared deeply for her -- just like she did him. Adding sex to their long-standing friendship allowed them to short-circuit the dance that new lovers had to go through as they build up trust and comfort. They already trusted each other and were happily intimate. Ella surrendered herself completely to him.