Manipulated Into Submission

At Stella's arrival the infamous nervous twitch overtook her secretaries left eye. His peach eyelid snapped and contorted, making a mockery of his boyish face. His rapid typing ceased, and fumbling out of his chair, he picked up a pile of pink slips and feverishly began shuffling through them as he _ raced in front of Stella, his eye twitching and face blushing.

"Um...um" he stammered. "You have a call from Burk and he sounded...pissed"

Stella snatched the pink slip out of Mike's unsteady hands "Anymore calls while I was out?" She liked the way that sounded, very professional. She looked around the office, an office full of her minions working diligently. Frumpy women sitting at their desks yammering on the phone, young men in cheap suits absorbed in endless paperwork, the gossip group of cat-like women standing near the coffee pot positioning themselves in a manner that best displayed their assets. Marisole, the mentor of the group flashed a sly smile at Stella, which had a daunting effect causing her to grow cold. Stella wasn't used to having many friends and she wouldn't classify Marisole as a friend by any means, but she had been the only woman at the office who had welcomed Stella without malice. Staring at Marisole's figured tightly wrapped in a lightweight suit, Stella felt a prickle of uneasiness ripple up her spine. She was still dismayed by the fact that she had accepted Marisole's offer to get to know each other over a few drinks and even further dismayed that she had confided in a woman as sexually vulgar as a prostitute. Stella had acted on impulse. She considered acting on impulse to be a weakness, but there was a spark of excitement in the pit of her stomach she tried to deny. Pushing back the nightmarish flashbacks of drunken gossip that had taken place between her and Marisole in a dimly lit piano bar frequented by cheesy businessmen in their expensive business suits trying to appear more gentlemen-like to the elite population of desperate women in their 40's who had been driven to panic by the sound of their biological clock ticking away.

Fixing her gaze back on Mike she caught his eyes statically glued to her chest. "Mike," she soothed as he snapped his head back up eyes blinking. He started rambling on about some AD campaign advisor leaving a message along with her mother. She wasn't listening, she was musing the sexual effect she had on the young secretary with a twig frame, gangly limbs, fire colored hair and blotchy skin. She liked to toy with pathetic men such as Mike. He was so easily distracted by her sexuality, which she had noted the second he came staggering in for an interview. His resume had been impeccable, with admirable references, reliable work history and the ability to use a coffee pot. The clincher was that she was younger then Mike, and that had sealed the deal. She hired Mike on the spot. At the age of 24, Stella had more drive, passion and control than most of the imbeciles she worked with, including her nervous secretary who at the age of 25 still gawked at her tits and ass as if they were in high school. She smiled to herself and swung her ass right into her office. Looking back over her shoulder, blue eyes gleaming, she thanked Mike and shut the door. Once inside she surrendered to the cold of her leather chair.

----

Marisole slid off the bed and rubbed her wrists. "So I have a new prospect for you." I kept my eye on her red ass hailing the ceiling as she gracefully bent over to collect her clothes that were strewn about the floor "She's the new vice president, only a year out of a college; she's a bitch, not to mention a fucking uptight cock-tease. One of those goddamn control freaks, you should see her struts into work with her perfectly pressed conservative suit, her brief case, and sophisticated ponytail. She's completely uptight. The type with a noticeable stick wedged up her ass."

"I'm not positive I follow the parallel you have drawn between a sophisticated pony tail equating to an uptight cock-tease." Silence. "Correction, uptight cock-tease with a stick wedged up her ass"

"Anyways... It's obvious she's a bore in the bedroom."

"Perhaps a sophisticated ponytail equates her to being physically tight. Now if that is the case it would be safe to say I enjoy a sophisticated ponytail," I said, looking at Marisole's wild, teased, curled mane of black hair while flashing her a wicked smile.

"Clever, but not cute"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, you of all people should know that best."

She rolled her large brown eyes at me "Point is no one can stand the bitch. She's the type of girl you just want to bend over and rape with a dildo to teach her a lesson about being high and mighty. She would learn quickly with an ass trouncing that she isn't as in control as she believes. "

"Knock her off her pedestal," I mused.

"Exactly."

I admired how quickly Marisole could switch from submissive to dominant. How quickly her meek "Yes sirs" dissipated back into her daily explicit and lewd vocabulary. She was now moving swiftly wiggling up her lace panties over her silky legs to her curvatious hips, and then over her round abused ass. Her tits bouncing as she sauntered over to her purse and dug around until she pulled out and lit her cigarette.

"So being a bit curious about this little twat, I invited her for drinks after work. Of course she obliged my friendly offer because who could refuse me?" A click of her lighter sounded. "She accompanied me to a night of drinking and gossip. I got her to loosen up after a few drinks. Next thing you know she's shit-faced and confiding in me how she worked her ass off in college, has no social life, no friends, and hasn't been fucked since her sophomore year in college."

"It amazes me the information you can get out of an uptight bitch by getting her to suck down a few drinks. Too bad she wasn't here to suck my cock last night; it was most definitely a lonely night here."

Marisole made a disapproving sound followed by a drag from her pungent cigarette. "Well, naturally, I pushed her a bit further after she willingly mentioned her sex life. Get this she only fucked 2 guys in college. For Christ's sake, I fucked more than 2 guys my first week in college which brought us to a discussion about my sexual endeavors, which she found intriguing." Smoke was now billowing up and swirling around her blackened hair.

"Intoxicated girls are easily intrigued." Truth was Marisole's sexual endeavors would most likely intrigue anyone, so I could hardly fathom the impact they would have on some uptight bitch that hadn't been laid for years. The thought of a young attractive girl perched at her desk surrounded by four suffocating dorm walls drifted into my thoughts. This girl probably came from money and a pristine taste in clothes. She was daddy's little girl, driven by fear of failure rather than by a passion to succeed. Sitting in her dorm studying night after night while the rest of the young drunks partied and fucked like rabbits. My guess was that nothing had changed from her college years except those four suffocating dorm walls were now replaced by four office walls plastered with degrees and pictures that falsely pointed to happiness.

"So I told her about you and the services you provide for women."

"Services?" Of course she was accurate with the term services; indeed I provided women with specialized services. Stripping them of control. As a young child I was taught to respect women, but through the years I had learned it was rare that a women returned that respect or even truly appreciated the respect men handed out pathetically. My first love had crushed my heart into oblivion. Of course I should have seen it coming; I had warranted the breakup with my detested romanticized ideals of women. It had been the summer of my Junior year, when I sat in my room pining over Claire Demson, the fucking bitch who used me up and spit me out, that I had discovered the truth about women.

I had been flipping through a Playboy, looking at trashy women sprawling out their pussies for every man to see and fantasize over when it occurred to me that with the blessing of female anatomy also came control. Women were relishing in control simply because they had a fuck hole and tits. I flipped the page in a sting of anger. There on page 32, a blonde with huge fake breasts and a creamy center oozing nothing but sex was staring up at me from the glossy page. The bitch was trying to control my thoughts even from a goddamn magazine. The center of every man's fantasy was the center of every woman's being: her pussy. However, that left me with the question of what was the center of every man's being? Women could use their pussies to easily hook men but how often could a man hook a woman simply with his cock? But how often could a man hook a woman with his masculinity, aggressiveness and power? Power that was not derived from his cock, but power that was derived from the beginning of time, a power that was imbedded within a man's every vessel, a power that went beyond his sex. It all went back to caveman basics. Women didn't want a gentleman. They wanted a man with demeaning aggression and raw power, the center of every man's being. The trick was learning to tap into that power and to metaphorically shut a woman's legs and diminish her control. She was nothing with her legs closed, her power depleted. The problem was that men used their cocks to think and by doing so they willingly surrendered into woman's wide-open legs.

That had been the defining day of manhood. I took on a new perspective of women. No longer did I wallow in self-pity about the complicated aspects of pleasing a women mentally and physically, instead I looked at every women as nothing more than a fuck toy waiting to cum in the presence of my power. Waiting to give into their deepest secrets and hand over every ounce of their control to revel and bask in the glory of their fantasy, my power. No longer was I in awe of women, but I was amused by their antics. Amused by the way they strutted around knowing every man was fantasizing about getting a piece of their hot tail and how they would use those sexual fantasies against every man as a lethal weapon to get their way. So I sat back, observed women from afar and began to cultivate ideas and theories that in my college years I would put to the test.

College had been a blur of drinking, fucking, manipulating and photography. I had been an art major; the love of photography had captured my interest at a young age. I played the expected role of an Art major: sweet, sensitive, caring and the women loved it. Of course, playing a typical sensitive pansyass did not work in my favor on a sexual level but it allowed me inside access to the mind of women. I could clearly pinpoint their weaknesses, and knowing their weakness was a vital part in manipulating the little bitches to play right into my hand.

Lisa Carter had been my first prey. She had been in a majority of my art history classes and her prize-winning smile and big tits gave her the title of "hottie" among the male population on campus. She showed off long shapely legs daily with short skirts. Tits she showed off by neglecting to wear a bra. Slender waist she showed off by wearing shirts that displayed her tanned midriff. With my innocent charm I had managed to befriend her. I gained her trust through the simplicities of friendship. I didn't pamper her or dote on her; I treated her like a platonic friend. Of course I wanted to fuck her, but even more than that, I wanted to strip her of her pathetic control. I was sickened by every male who allowed himself to be swallowed whole by deluded fantasies of her spread legs and willing hole that was ready to take hard cock. It was their fatal mistake; they were feeding women control and vanquishing every ounce of power they encompassed as men.

I set my plan in motion one evening at the typical barbaric showcase called a college party. Lisa was oozing sex appeal in the corner with some guy who was flashing his pearly whites and smooth talking his way into her pants. I was conversing with some pale freckle faced girl with a turned-up nose and the holiest bubble ass I had ever laid eyes on. She smiled when a song with an upbeat rhythm blared through the speakers. "I LOVE this song!" I piped with enthusiasm. Sure enough, she grabbed my hand and began drunkenly spinning around as the music thumped. My hands seductively but teasingly traced the contours of her body, and soon she was grinding that bubble ass all over my hard-on. Lisa peered over and smiled at me but I paid no attention to her, I only paid attention to the ass that shaking shamelessly for me. The seed had been planted. In that fleeting moment Lisa realized I was the only male she didn't have sexual control over. With her new disappointing revelation she eased off Mr. Pearly Whites and passively glared at me as she pushed her way through the romping crowd.

I took to avoiding Lisa. She would call and I would happen to neglect calling her back for four or five days. When I got around to returning her call, I had kept the conversations brisk and distant. This brutally reminded her she had no sexual power over me. It was an autosuggestion tactic and she played right into the next time we saw each other face to face.

"I haven't seen you in an eternity," Lisa spoke in a disconcerted voice. "You have been impossible to get a hold of the last few months."

I noticed the extra application of gloss she had smeared over her lips but kept myself from staring at those glistening lips for too long. "Yeah I know, it's just that girl I met at the party, Felicia. We have been hanging out a lot. You know how it is." I had stretched the truth into an obliterating white lie. Truth be told I hadn't even got the bubble ass girl's name, let alone spend quality fuck time with her. "In fact, I should hurry up. I'm meeting her later tonight." Forcing a shrug of my shoulders I reached for another piece of pizza.

"She's lucky. You're not like any other guys out there." She purred into my ear as she simultaneously shifted closer to me in the tattered red booth. "I'm so sick of asshole guys, and I forgot how much I miss hanging out with you."

Nonchalantly, I ripped off the pizza crust "Yeah I've missed hanging out with you too." I rammed the oversized bite of crust in my mouth and chomped loudly making it clear she had no control over me, that I was more interested in the pizza then her. She leaned in closer and the sent of her perfume permeated my nostrils, overpowering even the scent of melted cheese and greasy pepperoni.

"I really want to show you something..." Her hand slid up my thigh. I peered down at her cheeky red fingernails clawing at the denim. Ah, she had made her move to regain a sense of control by appealing to my cock. A cheap trick. She was desperate.

She stood in my dorm room 20 minutes later with her top off and her smooth tanned breasts slightly jiggled as altered her weight to showcase her womanly hips. Her dots grew hard and perked up in my direction making the moment rather endearing. "You like?" She moved closer. I said nothing. She tried harder to gain control. Pulling her skirt off and running her fingers over the delicate fabric of her sheer pink panties, she looked deep into my eyes, awaiting my reaction. I remained silent and still. An annoyance panged over her face and she moved to the bed and flopped back. Silence. Her finger slipped beneath the waistband of her panties. Her legs spread wide open. It was then I acted. Moving swiftly to her I reached out and pulled off her panties not with your typical male eagerness, but with a silent powerful force. She blankly stared back at me; her face had a hint of mild concern. I flipped her over on her stomach. She hesitated, body tense under my grasp, only she didn't struggle until my hands neared her tight little exit.

"Hey!" she cooed as she began to squirm.

"What's the problem I thought you wanted to fuck?" I slid her down to the end of the bed by yanking her small ankles. Her legs stumbled around until she met the ground with the soles of her feet, her pussy within my reach. My hands then found the center of her being and viciously began to explore. She struggled for a moment, but she was loosing the battle of control. Her body was giving in, showering me with her succulent liquid of pleasure that I smeared around her hole. Within an instant I undid my pants and rammed my hard throbbing cock into her ass without mercy.

"Owwwww" she choked out, but instinctively she thrust up onto my stiffness as her fists gripped the wadded up blanket on my bed.

I kept drilling in her deeper and deeper.

Lisa Carter had been the first woman I had extended my services to. She came hard that night as I pounded her ass feverishly. She willingly gave up her control to her former 'sensitive, platonic, art major' friend. Lisa, the proud cock-tease, came back to me the next night ready to abandon all of her female control and drown in nothing more than my power.

----

"Yes. Fulfilling a woman's darkest fantasies." Marisole's rich eyes flickered with vice from behind the thick curtain of her dark lashes. "Turns out the little controlling bitch has a deep seeded desire to be dominated, but she can never bring herself to give up her control and take the plunge. I listened as she whined on about how she was raised with 'morals' and all that bullshit. She cant bring herself to explore the darker side of sex and pleasure...she's scared to abandon her control and put her morals at risk...and I am quoting her, divinely pathetic isn't it?"

"So if this bitch is not willing to give up control, why are you bringing this up with me, Marisole? I'm not going to coerce some uptight bitch. That is not my style, in fact, that would go against the grain of my moral fibers."

She strode over to me and slipped one arm around my neck and toyed with my hair. "I wasn't aware you had any morals."

"Neither was I, but I felt it was only proper of me to object this crude and demeaning idea of coercing some bitch to drop her panties and let me spank her until she creams."

"So now the paramour feels the need to be proper?" Her shapely brow arched up in question.

"And the adulterer feels the need to smoke in my home?" I plucked the cigarette from her hand and chucked it in a glass of flat Champagne that occupied the side table.

Marisole tossed back her head with a snort of laughter. "This is where it gets good. I thought she was talking in a drunken stupor, but this morning she came into my office and asked me if last night's conversation was 'serious,' as in she wanted more information on you..." A moment of silence fell upon us as I mulled the situation over. "She wants to set up a 'blind date.' I have taken the liberty to set up this so-called innocent blind date. She's defiant, she has that whole inner struggle going on of control verses being controlled, and she will be a very easy target if you play your cards right. You could have some fun knocking her off her pedestal"

"All women are the same; they all have that inner submissive slut in them."

She stood up, stretched her lean body out in a cat like manner and dutifully threw on the remainder of her rumbled up clothes "Fuck, I have to pick Danny up from soccer practice."

----

I knew it was her from the moment she entered the bar, with her tight black skirt hugging her round ass. Her hips swayed in a precise rhythmic dance as she strode to the bar and ordered. There was a confident poise about her that seemed to make every cock rise with her arrival. Of course she was aware of this. Effortlessly, she sat down, placed her drink on the small circular coaster, and promptly wiped off the remnants of slopped over beer from some drunken frat boys who had previously occupied the table. Once satisfied with the clean table she dug a book out of her purse and with one quick sweep of the room she momentary made eye contact with me before she opened it book and began to read. She made it clear I was supposed to bend to her female control and approach her. I smiled. She was the type of woman men feared mentally, but lusted after physically, knowing she had an alluring, lethal effect on men's libidos: the type of alluring effect that would drive a man half mad simply to feel his cock buried deep within her warm walls of womanhood. Sluggishly, I sipped my drink as I watched her immerse herself in the paperback book, drowning out all the frat boys' loud testimonials of their "kinky threesome" which was suppose to impress all the surrounding drunk males in the bar. Taking one last burning sip, I took her bait.