The Truest Control Ch 04

It turned out that he didn't have to wait long. The next evening, after he got home from work, his doorbell rang. Roger rarely had visitors; he was more the type to stay alone at home, so he had a pretty good idea of who might be at the door, and he was right. Even though he'd seen her only last night, her beauty still took his breath away. She was still wearing a padded push-up bra, but her breasts were covered this time instead of being out on display like they had been last night, so all Roger saw was a huge swell protruding from her chest to remind him who was in charge. Underneath, she was wearing a loose skirt that went down to her mid-thighs, and black stockings were visible underneath that.

"Hiii!" she greeted him in such a bubbly, happy manner that she seemed like a different person. Their first few encounters had been awkward and halting, with her constantly saying something to put him on the spot or feel embarrassed, but now she seemed like a carefree young girl transformed by love's first blush. Was she in love with him? And was he in love with her? He felt strongly attracted to her, but was it just sexual, or was there something more to it?

After they embraced for a moment, Liz walked in like she owned the house. Roger had been about to invite her in, but there was no need for this, and after Liz walked inside, he had a feeling that if he

had

asked her to come in, she would have gotten upset with him for implying that she needed his permission. He was beginning to understand how she expected him to think and act. He was glad to see her happy, but he wondered just how long they could keep this up. Surely, when she saw what a shut-in he was, how he rarely got together with friends or did anything interesting at home, she would get tired of him and dismiss him as a loser. It seemed like such a sure thing that Roger was actively expecting it.

"Why are you just standing there staring at me, you lazy jerk? Take my shoes off!" she said, and Roger realized that she had extended one of her feet forward, but he had only been staring at her in response, lost in his thoughts. When she gave him this order, he quickly got down on his knees and began undoing the laces on her shoes. As he did this, she put a hand on top of his head and kept it there. He wasn't sure why she did this, so he tried to look up, but she pushed his head back down. "Nuh-uh, you don't get to look at me yet. You were bad and didn't start taking my shoes off when I indicated for you to do so, so now you can only look down until your task is finished." Roger obediently continued undoing her shoes while she kept her hand on his head.

She was wearing some kind of shoes with long laces and a lot of holes for the laces. He couldn't shake the feeling that she'd worn them deliberately to make extra work for him. He wanted to ask if she'd worn these shoes especially to make his task longer, but he didn't. Instead, he asked: "I suppose when you go back out, you're going to expect me to put your shoes on for you and lace them back up, right?"

"What a stupid question," she said with disgust. "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend if you ask stupid things like that."

This actually gave Roger pause for thought for a moment, because he'd never explicitly said that he didn't have a girlfriend. It was pretty apparent that he didn't, since he probably wouldn't have gone out to dinner with Liz if he'd had a girlfriend already, but he was curious enough to ask her: "How did you know I don't have a girlfriend?"

"Are you serious? It's so obvious, so absolutely obvious that your question is actually insulting." She gave the hair on his head a sharp tug to punish him. "If all you can say is such stupid things, then it would be better for you not to say anything at all. Keep your mouth shut and do what you're told."

Roger's scalp was now hurting a bit from the way she'd pulled his hair, and for a moment, anger flared up in him. He wanted to knock her hand away, to tell her that she was a guest in his house, not the other way around, and that he wouldn't tolerate her speaking to him that way. But the moment passed, because Roger was afraid of what she might do, and so he quietly finished taking off her shoes while her hand continued resting lightly on his head, not pushing it hard, just enough to remind him that it was there.

"It took you long enough," she said when he was finished. "I'm going to sit in the living room for a while. You will follow me." She turned and began walking toward a sofa that was visible in another room. Roger started to stand up, but she turned around swiftly and said "No. Stay on your hands and knees. You will follow me, but don't stand up."

This was getting ridiculous. They were in his own house, and she was treating him like someone whom she could just boss around and humiliate. Why did he obey, then? Why did he quietly do what she said instead of standing up for himself? He'd seen the way her eyes flashed in the past when she got angry with him, and it was true that he was afraid of her, but surely if he just stood up and asserted himself...

They reached the living room, and Liz sat down on the sofa. Roger had a nice house, much nicer than the one Liz rented, and she had already decided that she would be spending most of her free time here. She wasn't quite sure herself how things would end up; she didn't have a complete plan as of yet, but she knew that she'd found a good thing, and she wasn't going to let it go now. Liz was plased to note that when she sat down, Roger remained on his knees in front of her and looked at her expectantly, as if anticipating that she would give him further orders. She smiled at him, and Roger felt a moment of happiness; Liz was lovely when she smiled. It troubled him when he made her angry with his thoughtless and rude behavior, and he wanted to make her smile more often.

"What were you doing before I got here?" she asked.

"Um, I was just... Well..."

"When I ask you a question, you will answer me without hesitation," she said, kicking him in the face gently. It was more of a tap with her foot than a kick, but it was enough for Roger to register a look of shock. She giggled at his astonished expression, finding it so much to her liking that she kicked his face a second time, harder this time, and noted with satisfaction that he didn't try to dodge it or move away, but remained in place. He was beginning to learn.

"I will ask you once more. What were you doing before I arrived?" she asked, emphasizing the question slowly to make it clear that she was serious.

"I was just playing a computer game," Roger said.

She laughed, a beautiful, throaty, jeering laugh. "What a loser," she giggled. Roger had been afraid of precisely this reaction, which is why he'd been hesitant to answer. He hung his head in shame, perhaps not so much because she was laughing at him as because he wanted to show remorse for her so that she wouldn't feel like he wasn't properly chastised. "Since you're such a nerd," she said, "you must have a wireless Internet connection here, yes?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"What's the password?" she asked, pulling a smartphone out of her purse.

He told her the password, and after checking with her phone for a moment to make sure that she had a connection, she nodded. "Good. I'm connected. Now, kiss my foot while I get some work done online."

Roger hesitated for just a moment. "You're wearing stockings..." he noted.

"So? I don't care," she replied. "Kiss the stockings. That's all you get for now. You haven't earned the right to kiss my bare feet yet."

And so they continued this way for a few minutes, him kissing her stockinged foot repeatedly and her doing something on her smartphone. Presently, she suddenly asked: "I'm hungry. What do you have to eat?"

"Um, I have some frozen pizza in the freezer."

"That will be fine. Have you already had dinner?"

"No, not yet."

"Then you can make dinner for both of us, if you want to eat as well. Prepare the food and bring it here when you are done."

Roger came back a few minutes later with two plates of pizza, one for him and one for her. She accepted her plate graciously, with a winning smile, and he was once again glad that he had pleased her.

"Um..." he began uncertainly. "Where do I eat?"

"On the floor, of course, stupid," she said, laughing at him again.

"On the floor? But there's room on the sofa..."

She laughed even harder. "Do you really think a loser like you has any place sitting next to me on the same surface? We're not equals, and we never will be. Your furniture is mine now, and the floor is where you will sit and eat from now on. You should thank me for showing you your place in the world."

"So my place is... on the floor?"

"Your place is beneath me. Wherever we go and whatever we do, I will always be above you. And you will never forget that you are below and I am above."

Outrageous! He was filled with an urge to stand up and shout at her, to grab her and physically throw her out the door. Instead, he complied, beginning to eat his pizza on the floor while she lounged on the sofa and looked at her phone while eating.

"So, aren't you going to thank me?" she asked.

"For what?" he asked.

"For showing you your place, of course. You needed to be shown that you are always beneath me."

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For... for showing me my place."

"And where is your place?"

"Beneath you," he repeated.

"Say it in a full sentence. Thank me and tell me what you're thanking me for."

"Thank you for showing me that my place is beneath you," Roger recited helplessly.

"Good, but put my name on the end."

"Thank you for showing me that my place is beneath you, Liz."

"I don't think you deserve to call me by just my first name anymore. Since I'm above you, it's only proper that you address me with a fitting title."

"So I should call you... Mistress? Or Mistress Liz?"

Liz laughed. "What am I, some tacky dominatrix in a cheap BDSM porn movie? I'm not a dominatrix, I'm your owner, superior to you in every way, and our relationship isn't only sexual. You should call me your queen. Call me Queen Liz."

"All right... Thank you for showing me that my place is beneath you, Queen Liz."

"Good. Now eat," she ordered. Then, after another moment, she added: "No, wait, take off your clothes."

He stared at her in astonishment, but quickly realized that he was hesitating, which wouldn't make her happy, so without further protest, he began taking off his clothes.

"All of them?" he asked after removing his shirt.

"Absolutely. Take off everything. Dogs don't wear clothes, and with you there on the floor like that, you feel more like a dog to me than a human."

"Okay," he agreed meekly.

"Okay? It's just

okay

?" she asked, her eyes widening with anger.

"I mean, thank you for making me understand that I am more like a dog than a human, Queen Liz."

"Good doggie," she said, patting him on the head.

When he had finished stripping naked, she continued: "Don't just leave the clothes lying on the floor like a slob. Hang them up properly. Are you a civilized person or what?"

"I'm sorry, I'll go hang them up now," Roger said quickly. He got up and carried the clothes away. While he was gone, Liz reached into her purse and sprinkled another dose of the combined aphrodisiac, sedative, truth serum, and intelligence-reducing powder on the pizza on the floor.

When Roger returned, he resumed eating, and they finished their meal without further discussion. Roger felt embarrassed and ashamed to be kneeling naked in front of her like this, even though she had already seen his penis in the park, so it wasn't really as though she was seeing anything she hadn't seen before.

When they finished their meal, Liz put aside her plate and, without warning, reached down and squeezed Roger's testicles. Roger yelped in surprise, but knew better than to try and resist or question what she was doing. "Did you keep your promise?" Liz asked. "Did you keep yourself from orgasming last night?"

"Yes, Queen Liz," Roger answered promptly and truthfully.

"Ooohh, that's good, that means your balls must be all nice and full now," she purred, squeezing them again. "Did you like keeping all your hot cum inside for me instead of squirting it out?"

"Well, no, not really..." Roger began to answer, but was interrupted by Liz squeezing his testicles much harder this time.

"Wrong answer," she said. "Try again."

"Yes, Queen Liz, I liked keeping all my hot cum inside for you."

"Good," she said approvingly. "Remember that you will always like doing so for me. You will always love to avoid having an orgasm if it pleases me, and it does. It pleases me very much when you don't orgasm. That means it pleases you very much too."

"Yes, Queen Liz," Roger agreed.

"Do you know why it's important to me that you don't have an orgasm, Roger?" she asked then.

"No, Queen Liz."

"Because you're a man. The problem with men is that when they orgasm, they're done right away. They don't want to do anything sexual after that. Whereas a woman like me... Well, I'm sure that even with your limited experience with women, you know that a woman can just keep cumming and cumming and not stop."

"Yes, Queen Liz, I've heard about that."

"Then it makes sense that I, as the woman, should have several orgasms before you are allowed to orgasm, doesn't it, Roger?"

"Yes, Queen Liz, it makes perfect sense."

"I'm glad you agree. There is one thing I want you to remember: a woman is entitled to an orgasm whenever she wants one, and a man likewise should only orgasm when a woman wants him to. That means that you will help me to achieve as many orgasms as possible, but you will only have an orgasm yourself when I decide you will have one."

"Yes, Queen Liz," Roger replied. His head was spinning now with the implications of what she was saying, and it was difficult for him to really process this new information clearly, but he knew better than to say anything other than an agreement.

"Where do you usually masturbate, Roger? Here on the couch?"

"No, I do it upstairs, on my bed."

"Ooh, good choice. But you got something wrong, Roger: you don't have a bed anymore."

Roger knew the course of things by now well enough to know what this meant. "Of course, Queen Liz, I meant that I usually do it on what is now

your

bed."

"Good boy," she said with an approving smile and nod. "I think it's fitting, then, that we go to

my

bed, where you will give me a series of orgasms to celebrate the bed's new ownership. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Queen Liz," Roger answered immediately.

Roger was vaguely aware that having only known Liz for less than a week, it seemed like things were going a bit fast for them to be going to bed now, but he really wasn't in a position to start protesting at this point. He quietly followed her upstairs, and when she went into the bedroom, she flopped down on the bed, spread her legs open, and said "You can begin by fingering me. I love being fingered."

Roger was in no position to start asking questions at this point, and so he did the only thing he could imagine doing: he set to work, sliding his fingers inside her. She was wearing no underwear underneath her skirt, and her stockings, when ended at her upper thighs, allowed him free access to her crotch. His fingers quickly brought her to an orgasm, and then another one, her cries of ecstasy echoing off the walls, but after her second orgasm, she suddenly spoke: "Get your tongue in there. I expect at least another two orgasms from your mouth."

Roger tried to comply, but it didn't really seem to be working. After she'd already had a couple of orgasms, it was difficult to bring her to climax again, and after a few minutes of Roger ineffectually sliding his tongue around, clearly not quite sure what he was supposed to be doing, Liz suddenly sat up and said "This isn't working. Lie down on the bed."

The imbalance between the two of them was still palpable as Roger climbed onto the bed, for even though they were now on the same surface, she was still fully-clothed, and he was stark naked. He did as instructed, lying on his back on the bed, and she pounced on his head, pressing her crotch onto his face and grinding against it as though she were trying to wipe his face off. "

This

is how you bring a woman pleasure, you little bitch," she grunted as she rocked back and forth. "None of that tickling nonsense; you need to really stimulate her, although I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you don't know anything about that." It felt like she was pushing her entire body weight on his face-perhaps she was-and Roger finally found that any of his efforts to do anything were completely hopeless, so he simply gave up and allowed her to continue rubbing herself on his face. At some point, apparently she found his face no longer worth looking at, arching her back to face the ceiling, and at that point, Roger lost sight of her face for the mass of her heavy, jiggling breasts that covered much of his view. With the bra she was wearing, they still looked huge, and Roger realized, as he watched those huge breasts jiggling back and forth above him, that those breasts were much more powerful than he could ever hope to be. Those breasts had conquered him; they would continue to keep him under control, and he would do anything for the woman behind those powerful, commanding breasts. Why had he not noticed them before last night?

Although Roger might not have known what he was doing, Liz did: it took quite a bit longer than the first two, but finally a third and then a fourth orgasm rippled through her body, her legs squeezing Roger's head with such force that he couldn't have moved if it he'd tried.

It took her a few minutes to come down from her orgasmic high, and she made him wait patiently on the floor while she recovered. When her breathing had returned to normal levels and she'd pulled her skirt back into place, she spoke again: "That was good. You'll get better at satisfying me with time, but I can always take pleasure from you even if you're not able to give it to me. I think I'm done; do you want to get some pleasure as well?"

"Yes, please, Queen Liz," Roger said.

"Then get yourself cleaned up," she said. "I'm not going to touch any guy's dick that hasn't been washed. Take a shower, and make sure that you make your dick extra sparkling clean."

Roger being in the shower gave Liz plenty of time to plant the camera. She'd brought a webcam which was capable of streaming video over the Internet, and since she had Roger's wireless Internet password, she entered the password into the camera and hid it in a place where it could observe the bed but where Roger would be unlikely to notice it. This was one nice thing about Roger's house: it had a lot of nice furniture, and nice furniture usually has nooks and crannies where items can be hidden. She found a spot behind a dresser where the camera would have a full view of the bed, but where Roger would be unlikely to see it. And even if he did see it eventually, what was he going to do about it? She didn't really care if he found out about it eventually, but for now she preferred him not to know about it so she could observe him without him knowing that he was being watched. Once the camera was programmed with the wireless password and put into position, she would be able to watch his bed online in real-time whenever she wanted.

When Roger came back from the shower, Liz smiled at him sweetly and patted the bed next to her. "Lie down here, lover boy. I think you've earned your reward."

Roger complied and Liz promptly began to lick his penis, letting the tip of her tongue flick across the head and along the shaft. Roger, who hadn't had an orgasm in a while, promptly began to moan and shudder at her attentions, and it wasn't long before he could feel the cum swelling up and getting ready to spurt out. Yet after just a minute or so of this fellatio, Liz stopped, smiled at Roger, and said "Did you like that, lover boy?"