Maing You Mine

Author's note: This story may appear to contain non-consent and blackmail elements in the beginning but is essentially a tale of a Rubenesque dominant woman drawing a closeted submissive man out of his shell and helping him embrace this side of his sexuality through her love.

* * *

You stand from the chair with a tired moan and stretch your rigid muscles after a long day spent at the desk. I watch your eyes as they blink away the sleepy spell that had threatened to overcome you mere minutes ago. But I know you better than that. I know you are not the person to leave your task at hand unfinished, such a perfectionist you are.

Look at that tightly bound tie! It is Friday night, a long holiday weekend ahead of us. There is barely anyone left at the office and you still observe the dress code, why? Would it be such a sin to loosen that knot, just a little bit. Or is it perhaps that you enjoy the feel of the silk around your neck, keeping you in check, a constant reminder of where you are, what you are?

I have been wondering for a long time now, lurking around you, gathering all the small signs and I am still not sure. Are you growing aware of your needs, of the amazing potential of your heart? Or still only indulging in what you believe to be a world of forbidden fantasy, a dream of guilty pleasures bought in sleazy motel rooms by people you equally despise, envy and admire?

I am not sure yet. I doubt if you know. But by the end of this weekend we shall both see, my love.

* * *

You chat with Janice from accounting while the elevator descends into the parking lot. Your eyes that looked so very tired a few minutes ago sparkle with interest, shifting to the curve of her cleavage from her flirting smile. Her engagement ring barely shows as she throws back her hair, twirling a golden lock around her finger with each giggle. She is the type of woman you go after. The type of woman that keeps hurting you over and over again.

My cell goes off as the elevator stops at the bottom of the office building. Max keeps it short and sweet, as always.

"Set. Enjoy your weekend." he hangs up before I have a chance to thank him. Good old Max, he knows I won't be ungrateful anyway.

I walk to my car and catch a glimpse of his red pick up driving off; make another phone call, the girls will survive a Friday night without me. I take my time, never quite letting you out of the corner of my eye, watch you reluctantly say good night to the cool blond. Her fiancé is there to pick her up. I can almost hear your heart dropping from the other end of the parking lot, standing there on your own, quietly praying for the moment to pass while they share an intimate welcome kiss. His passion is possessive, a blatant show for the Friday night office guy with the dark tie. Watch the assault of her lips closely, don't turn away, don't squirm in discomfort, he puts it on just for you. For you and everyone else to see that Janice is taken. The dazed expression on her face, the silent whisper that is only for his ears to hear confirms that even to you. Taken. Happily.

"Let's get out of here babe." Even you must hear the triumphant rumble in his voice.

I get in my car and watch in the mirror as you do the same. I listen intently as you try to start the engine, once, twice. It dies every time. You get out of the silver Ford with a frustrated frown on your handsome face, open the hood and look inside. I admire your bottom as it sways back and forth in the dark suit pants. You look so conservative, so orderly, even from behind. Five minutes pass before you start searching for your cell phone.

It is in my pocket, dear. Old habits rise easily in crowded elevators. I hope you don't mind.

I allow you one more round of crawling into your car and searching again under the seats before pulling up next to you in the almost empty parking lot.

"Hello. Is there a problem?" I ask with a friendly smile.

You get out of the car, studying my face with an odd expression. Somewhat familiar, isn't it? But you can't quite place the chubby girl with the wire framed glasses in her blue little Fiat.

"I guess, my car broke down and I can't find my cell phone." you admit finally with a tired sigh. It has been a long week, you had been working hard, it has softened your reserve somewhat. I had chosen wisely.

"Well, I don't know much about cars, but you are welcome to borrow my cell."

I fumble with my purse, giving you time to mumble how it is not necessary, how you really don't mean to impose and finally to thank me as I hand it over to you through the window.

The little "Goodbye" sign appears as soon as you push the first button to dial. It is my spare one. I had to keep it from recharging for over four days to get it this close to complete dying. Judging by the devastated and guilty expression on your face it was well worth the patience.

"I'm sorry, seems everything I touch today breaks down."

I smile. You are so adorable when embarrassed. Too bad you are so damn good at your job, always on guard, always up to date, rarely late for a meeting. I would have enjoyed to see a lot more of that slight blush gracing your cheeks over the last year.

"Oh, don't worry. It was already beeping its last breath when I got the call in the elevator before. I guess the most I can offer to help you out is a ride. Where are you headed?"

It takes surprisingly little convincing to get you into my car. What is a favor among colleagues after all? That much you have worked out already, I can see it in your eyes.

The small talk flows easily while we drive south east. No plans for Friday night? You truly deserve a break. I watch you rub your face and cover a yawn with your hands quite unsuccessfully.

"Not an everyday compliment." I counter with a teasing smile.

You mumble sorry again, some excuse about a long week with a tired smile.

We aren't even in my world yet but I can feel the power already shifting. Do you notice the handsome and successful lawyer turning suddenly shy? It is not you at the wheel, is it? Not you in control of the car, the situation.

I know you long for this feeling, I have read your confessions so many times. In every dirty story you placed online. Each of them tells of your desire, your need to give up control, to feel owned and drawn under a magnificent woman's spell. To be bent to her will without question, be her servant, her stud, her fucktoy to take whenever it pleases her, however it pleases her. Just to please her. To make her smile. To feel the peace only giving yourself completely can provide, only her praise and satisfaction can nurture.

I know of your desire and also of the fear. The powerful fear and guilt eating you alive. It robs your sleep, your energy, your peace of mind. I know it won't be easy but I can't let you suffer any longer, my love. Not without my heart breaking for your pain. The time has come to learn to let go of the pain, to shed the guilt and face the fear. I will help you, don't worry, I will be right here with you, all along by your side.

Does it bother you that you still can't place me? Still so very proud, so proper, so reluctant to simply ask. You will learn to ask soon though, my handsome pet, to ask nicely and to beg. To beg as if your life depended on it. Soon, very soon, my love.

"Are you sure this was the right exit?"

"Of course. I just need to stop by and deliver a package to help out a dear friend. It is right on the way and won't take long."

Can you doubt the words of a smiling woman? No matter how mousy she may seem. Can soft brown eyes like mine lie, hiding from the world yet barely concealed by those wire framed glasses.

I can feel my heart pounding as we turn into my street. A few more moments and the deed is complete. Last moment to back out, last chance to escape consequences that might follow. Sexual assault, harassment, abduction, headlines of the obsessed computer geek kidnapping and raping her male colleague, prison sentence ... they all run through my mind as I pull into the drive way.

"The package is on the backseat. Could you get it for me, please?" I ask sweetly.

There is no time to reconsider, you lean into the back. It is now or never.

"I can't see it. Are you sure ... what ... I ..."

The smell of chloroform in the car makes me dizzy, your shoulder rests as a limp burden against mine. I pull down the window, my pulse racing, my mind floating in the heady cloud of success. I take a deep breath to clear my head, now is not the time to celebrate, not yet.

I tie the soaked rag securely to your face. Finally some good use for that ugly tie.

The garage door opens then closes automatically behind us and we disappear from the eyes of the world. A different reality awaits us. Three blissful days of adventure and discovery. A three-day odyssey for you to accept and start to embrace who you truly are.

Three short days for me to make you mine.

* * *

I watch you quietly from a dark corner while the effect of the drug starts to wear off. You stir with a moan on the bed, the chain attached to your leather cuffs rustling with a melody of its own as you struggle for orientation. Stripping you while unconscious had been a challenge and I almost regret not removing more of your clothes when your tight nipples become outlined against the soft cotton wife-beater. The chilly air of the basement taunts them with a teasing caress as you struggle to return to me again.

Licking my lips in anticipation I take in your squirming form. Your thighs barely hidden by those dark boxers look so inviting, muscular poles of flesh coated by dark hair so soft to the touch. The memory of caressing your suit pants off of them makes me bite my bottom lip. Recalling the sensual feel and salty taste of your skin ignites a longing desire in my loins.

I have been a bad girl. So intent not to take advantage of you, at least not until you are fully aware. So very determined to make you offer the gift of your body and heart to me out of your own free will and yet I couldn't resist. Not quite. My fingers trembled when I unbuckled your belt, the smell of the leather a heady aphrodisiac to my senses, the sound of your zipper sliding down, the heat radiating from the core of your limp body all called out to me, begging to be taken, to be tasted, teased and touched.

Your body already speaks the language you yet need to be taught. The words of desire for lust, submission and love, all spoken without a sound never the less understood clearly by the perceptive woman you so very much long to hold and please.

Your eyes flutter open and a low moan escapes your lips. The dim light that casts surreal shadows unto the wall still makes you squint for a moment. Long, sensual lashes part finally and I watch fascinated as you try to take in your surroundings for the first time.

The chain rustles mockingly at the meek attempt of pulling your arms and legs free of its confine. I watch the initial confusion fade from your hazel eyes to be replaced by panic until your vision becomes adjusted to the semi-darkness enough to make out my form, quietly sitting in the far end of the room.

"Where am I?" Your panic turns into anger instantly now that there is someone you can direct it at.

Your voice is but a hoarse shadow of the booming soft melody I want to hear when waking in the mornings, the sensual cursing that will erupt from your lips in the tores of your wildest passions, of the sensual whisper to caress my ears before falling asleep in your arms.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?"

Your struggle grows vehement as I rise from the chair and walk over to the head of the bed. I watch your pretty eyes grow wide when I place the plastic cup to your lips. Your head turns away from the offered refreshment instantly, and so our sensual dance for control begins before I had spoken as much as a word.

You can feel the mattress shifting as I sit down next to you. My eyes are intent upon your face, caress your angry frown and the creases of stubborn determination forming on your forehead. They travel across the planes of the five o'clock shadow starting to show on your chin raised so high and finally come to rest on your lips. I have always found your lips fascinating, the luscious red of them standing in such a sharp contrast to your dark hair and pale complexion. How many times I had imagined licking the juices of my feverish arousal form them I couldn't even recall but wanted to taste and bite into those puffy cherries more than ever at that moment.

Instead my hand comes to rest against your cheek in a gentle caress. My fingertips follow the trail my longing gaze had left behind, a soothing promise of tenderness that slowly melts away the tightness of your muscles along with the stubborn look on your handsome face.

"No harm will come to you, I promise you that. I know all this must be terribly confusing and all I want to do is to make it better, not worse for you. Whatever happens during our time together, I need you to remember that."

I keep my voice quiet, whisper the words close to your ear, watch closely for the slightest twitch of your features and every breath.

You finally start to relax under my gentle touch and soothing words and I lift the cup to my lips, my left hand never ceasing its slow caress.

"Please look at me."

I can hear you swallow and wait patiently while your mind races on overdrive. Could you trust to do the bidding of a lunatic? A crazy woman who had drugged and kidnapped you? Disrobed and tied you down helpless in a place unknown and now probably tries to pump you full with even more drugs?

The momentary peace that had settled over you is soon replaced by worry and anger again. Your heaving chest didn't quite prepare me though for the hateful look in your soft hazel eyes when you finally turn your head and pierce me with your gaze.

I smile at you and tip the cup gently. The cool water runs down my throat in an icy caress. I can feel goose bumps forming on my arms and wonder how much my tightening nipples show through the sheer dark lace of my corset.

When I lift the cup again to your lips you don't refuse me but drink the liquor eagerly, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment and opening again to my most brilliant smile.

It is the first step. There still lays a long and bumpy road ahead of us but with this sip of water our journey of discovery has begun.

* * *

"The pain was intense. Much more intense than he had imagined it would be in the world of his forbidden fantasies. The burning caress of the leather left his ass stinging form the pain and his cock twitching for more delicious sensations.

His reality under the tight blindfold became centered around the feelings she chose to inflict upon his body. Gentle flicks of her tongue licking the dribbling droplets of sweat off his heated skin, the pressure of her teeth, persistent to the point of almost breaking the tender skin of his thighs. The tightly bound leather of the riding crop tormenting the welts on the backs of his thighs with every new blow.

The darkness covered him like a cloak of safety, heightening the sensations and at the same time adding a surreal touch to the reality around him, the desire, the pain, the pressure of the tightly buckled leather collar around his neck. A welcome escape from the reality he desired but was not able to face, not without the safe guidance and gentle force of the woman who had overcome his every excuse and futile resistance. The woman who had broken down all the walls, pushed his limits and made him confess his most hidden desires amidst sweet sexual torments he couldn't even imagine before. The woman whom he had given his heart and wished to worship until the day he died."

The last paragraph of the story was one that never failed to touch me anew. Listening to you as you read it out loud is a treat I had been looking forward to since the day I had discovered that it was truly you behind the pen name I adored.

"Thank you." I whispered, the tightness of my throat still all too evident in my voice.

I removed the knife from your throat and placed it unto the nightstand along with the story I had printed out in the morning and the dictaphone.

"I am sorry it had to go this way. But I needed you to understand, to fully comprehend the possible consequences of this delicate situation."

The knife had earned me your co-operation but judging by the expression on your face not your trust.

"So blackmail?" You spit the words at me in a disgust that makes it difficult keep my calm. "This is all about a fucking blackmail? You are completely crazy! You could have just given me an envelope or sent an email ... How much do you want?"

The words are not spoken by my handsome pet but the cool and calculating lawyer trying to take the upper hand. We can't let that happen though, can we?

I place one stocking clad foot onto your abdomen and press down hard enough to make you groan and shut up for a moment.

"How much is not the right question, dear." I smile and adjust the hook of the suspender at the top of my thigh.

"Stop playing ... " the interruption dies on your lips from a little extra pressure as I steady my balance and hook my thumbs in the waistband of the black lace panties.

"Quiet now or I will consider it an invitation for some more knife play."

I doubt it to be my threatening tone or the mention of the weapon that leaves you speechless. I roll down the panties over my hips and thighs and step out of them slowly as you watch, a hint of desire sparkling in your eyes, fear and anger forgotten for a moment as I straddle your hips and press my Rubenesque thighs into your sides tightly.

I can imagine the view you have now in front of you. Freshly shaved petals parting for your gaze to enjoy, red puffy lips glistening with my arousal. I want you to look closely, to understand just what you are getting yourself soon into, my love. Of course, I also want much more than that. I want to feel your lips kissing mine, to feel them dive into my most secret treasures, to assault my pussy with the needy passions of a hungry man, to feel you inhale my aroma and worship the essence of my femininity with every breath I grant you.

Even the mere thought of my bucking hips pressing down on your face drives me wild with desire and I can't help but start to grind against the soft cotton covering your abdomen. Can you feel the material growing damp with my mounting need? Where are your words of protest now? Has the smart lawyer given up on the idea of negotiation?

"Money, my handsome pet, is not what I want." I breath out in an aroused whisper and feel the muscles of your abdomen flex under my oozing petals. I press down harder and rub against you with even more determination in return.

"Rape is neither what I had in mind."

The groan that erupts from your lips encourages me further. I grip the bound wrists above your head tightly, towering over your impressive frame pressed into the soft mattress with a triumphant gleam in my eyes.

"What do you want then?" Your voice is hoarse and tight with your own arousal.

I slide my ass back onto your hips for confirmation. The evidence presses with undeniable urgency against the generous curve of my ass cheeks.

I lock my eyes with yours and drop my mask. I want you to see it all, the desire, the need, the hunger for your heart and flesh, even the vulnerability I keep under a tight lock of my own most of the time.

"I want you. Like this, bound and helpless, struggling with me as much as with your own need and desires. I want to feel you fight it, fight me until you are ready to surrender and embrace this wonderfully giving and sensual side of you without denial. I want you to see how beautiful and precious that gift makes you, to take pride in every spanking, every orgasm you give me, every order you follow and see joy in your eyes when you kneel before me and kiss my feet."