Emily was in her bedroom that wasn’t her bedroom because it had mirrors on all the walls and the floor and even the ceiling and there was a bed in the center of the floor that definitely wasn’t hers but she really, really adored those satin sheets, burgundy like Demesne Sirine and—

—Jake came into the room through a door that wasn’t there with a tuxedo and a bouquet of red roses and approached her with confidence.  She was dressed in a gown she didn’t own and it was satin like the bedsheets and it had a slit to her hip that she would never dare to wear but that didn’t matter because she was wearing it anyway and—

—Jake strode up behind her (she saw him in the mirrors) and presented her with the flowers.  She turned toward him and closed her eyes to inhale the perfume of the blooms and when she opened them again there were white spirals superimposed on them, whirling insanely fast, pulsing with her heartbeat and—

—Jake stared into them and his jaw went slack and so did his hand holding the roses and so did he, to his knees now, and she was saying something to him, something that came out as silence but he understood every word and he kissed her from ankle to calf to thigh and it was a good thing that slit was there because oh my God he was going to—

She woke with a start at her alarm; the shower was running already, and Jake was within; she could see his silhouette against the frosted glass of the door.  She slapped the button on her phone to reimpose silence on the room, if not on her mind.  She was slick with arousal and she had no right to be; she should be spent from last night’s activities.  She’d taken enough pleasure in him to satisfy her and send her deep into slumber, but that dream had been disturbingly arousing, even if it hadn’t made much sense.  She half-expected to see mirrors on the ceiling, or feel satin against her skin as she slid her legs apart and imagined herself as that woman, that temptress, that her.  Fingers teased her clitoris, still sensitive from being tormented delightfully last night, and when she used the other hand to slide two more fingers inside her, pressed herself open and wanton, she pictured him on his knees and under control and she came, came hard, muffling her moan into the pillow as he obliviously finished rinsing shampoo from his hair.  She watched him through an afterglow haze as he soaped, scrubbed, washed.  He was so good to her, all the time, but so much better lately when he was—

commanded

—giving her pleasure, release.  She wiped her hands on his pillow with a grin, leaving her musk behind.  He’ll enjoy that and not even know why, she reasoned.  God knows the bed is saturated with me already.

She stumbled to her feet and shuffled to the commode to do her morning business, then handed him his towel from her vantage near the rack as the water flow ceased.

“Morning, love,” he called out as he accepted her offering.  “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did.  Some weird dreams, though.”

“Oh?  Were they fun, porny dreams?”

Yes.  “I... don’t remember.”  She didn’t even know why she was lying.  “But...maybe.  You bring that out in me, baby.”

He leaned down to kiss her; he smelled fresh and clean and like all things good.  “That is just one of the many services I offer.”

“I would like to subscribe to your service.”

“You’ve already got a lifetime membership.”

“I’m not only the president of the Orgasm Club for Women, I’m also a client?”

He was in the walk-in closet now, picking out a work outfit.  “You are a five-star member, dear.  With soooooooo many frequent flyer miles.”

“I think I cashed them all in last night.”

“Nah,” he said, pulling on his trousers.  “You keep earning more with your purchases.”

“Oh?”  She watched as he pulled the dress shirt over his broad shoulders and started buttoning it.  “What exactly did I purchase?”

They trailed off there, the badinage tank having come up empty, but she meditated silently on what she had “bought” recently with her activities.  The price had been anything but too high.

She headed into the shower herself as he grabbed a pair of socks and wandered back to the bedroom for further assembly, and she watched his ass as he left.  She giggled to herself as she recalled Jocelyn’s “shower nozzle” time and reflected on her lack of need for that today... if ever.  She’d had years of boyfriends who were not anywhere near as attentive to her needs as Jake, and while some might have been handsomer and more wealthy, none were him.  By any stretch of the imagination.  Their love just kept getting better and better, she thought. And if she appended a teensy little “especially recently” to that internal statement... well, that was hers to cherish and nurture.

He opened the shower door in the midst of her thoughtstream.  “Gotta go, baby.  Early meeting.”  He kissed her.

“Okay.  Remember, we have that thing tonight.”

“What thing?”

“The financial advisor.”

“Oh, crap.  That’s tonight?”

“Yes.  It’s been on the calendar for like a month.”

“Shit.  I have an all-hands meeting until seven.  We might have to cancel.”

“Honey... that’s not cool.  Do you know how much of a pain it was to set up time with her?”

“Shit,” he repeated.  “I can’t back down on the meeting. I’m presenting.”

“Jake!”

“I’ll... we’ll figure something out.  I’ll call you later.”  He walked briskly away, leaving her to try very hard not to slam the glass door.

“Dammit!”  This wasn’t the first time he’d done this to her.  There was her cousin’s birthday a month or so ago, and the weekend in Monterey they’d had to abandon because of one of his conferences.  “Fuck,” she hissed, and the decadent heat of the shower lost some of its appeal in her ire.

She skipped hair today, soaped and rinsed, and then headed into the closet for yoga pants and a blouse; waist up was all her video meetings required.  She couldn’t help but stomp even though there was no one there to hear her, and she fired off an angry text rant to Jocelyn while she waited for her coffee to cool to non-lethal levels.

Goddammit.  Jake scheduled a meeting over something we had planned AGAIN.

Uh oh.

Yeah.  Financial planner it took MONTHS to get into.  All gone because he’s presenting tonight.  “Ooopsie!”  I am sooooooo pissed.

You know, there is a solution to your problem, and it involves making sure his tongue is too busy to argue while instructing him to skip his work meeting.  Whether he wants to or not.  ;)

Emily blinked.  Jocelyn wasn’t wrong, and the idea had its appeal, but anything involving Jake right now was about as arousing as old nuns or dead kittens.

Ugh.  I am so NOT in the mood for any kind of sexual escapades with him right now, even if it would get me what I want.

Poor baby.  Your man won’t do what you tell him to unless he’s eaten your pussy first.  Wives of the world send their thoughts and prayers.  Gonna start a GoFundMe?

Fuck.  Off.

<3

She threw her phone across the room at that point and took her coffee to the home office to sulk.

She immersed herself in her work all morning, to the point where she forgot to contact Susan’s administrative girl to cancel tonight, and it wasn’t until around three she recalled that she needed to.  Right as she was about to call, she got a chat message from Jake.

Postponed my presentation to next week.  Sorry I scared you this morning.

Scared is the wrong word.

Infuriated, then.  Is it still on?

6 p.m.  Fucking sharp.

Got it.  Will be home in time.

And that was the end of it.  She relaxed and breathed deep.  She was still annoyed, but there remained nothing to be actively pissed about.  Except it was a near miss, and it could have turned out differently.  What if she’d already canceled?  She forced herself to de-escalate and to get back to the work problems.  She wasn’t being unreasonable.  She wasn’t.

***

Jake brought flowers home, and it helped.  A little.  The fact that they were roses made her think of—

burgundy satin sheets and mirrors

—nicer things, and she had already calmed down in the last few hours.  She had dressed up to match him, with nice, professional-but-sexy pencil skirt and a white blouse, and he whistled at her as she emerged from the bedroom.

“Wow.  Is this the financial advisor we’re meeting with, or the wedding planner for our vow renewal ceremony?”

She flushed a bit, and maybe dimpled a little. “It’s a marriage counsellor, for those times when forgetfulness almost generates grounds for divorce.”

“Ow.”

“It’s just—you know what, never mind.  It’s not worth arguing about.  It’s over, and no real harm done.  Except to my sanity.”

“How could we tell?”

“Watch it, bub.  Watch it.”

He mimed a key locking his mouth shut and then raised her fist to his newly restrained lips to kiss the back of her hand.  She softened despite herself.  “Come here.”  She kissed him on the lips and then the forehead.  “We need to get out of here.  The office is twenty minutes away.”

“Not the way I drive.”

“Showoff.”

They were not late, and the meeting went well; they were on track to meet their goals, despite Jake’s insistence they discount Social Security payments in their planning as he was certain, despite all evidence to the contrary, that it would be bankrupt before they retired. He called it financial conservatism, but she called it paranoia.  They compromised with a portfolio not quite as aggressive as he wanted, but which still allowed them some hard cash for vacations.  The advisor quietly waited for their disagreements to settle before writing anything down, then took them out to a lovely Italian place afterwards and ordered them dinner and drinks (which were almost certainly business-expensed off the fees they paid her).  She presented them with their updated plan in a fancy folder, then begged off at around eight, after paying the tab and indicating the night’s drinks were on her for as long as they wanted to stay.  They spent the rest of the time alone in a nicer restaurant than they would have chosen for themselves and caught up on the day.

“So how did you get out of the presentation?”

“I told Gail that I had a prior family commitment.”

“She bought that?”

“Not... really.  But their agenda was running long anyway and no one really cares about the financials in a department which isn’t slated to be profitable for at least two quarters and—”

“Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking me seriously enough to fix—” Your fuck-up.  “—the error.”

“Oh...”  He looked mildly embarrassed.  “I mean, sure.  It was on me, up to me to fix it.”

“I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”  He finished his cocktail and looked around.  “This place looks about to get crowded and they’re setting up for a band.  Mind if we skedaddle?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”  She allowed him to take her hand, put her coat on, and escort her to the car.  

The drive home was uneventful, though she might, maybe, have slid the hemline of her skirt up a few inches to reveal more leg at the slit.  She wasn’t feeling amorous yet, perhaps, but she was leaving the door open to it if he wanted to take the bait.  She was not averse to make-up sex.

He was certainly not immune, and definitely predictable in his response, and he laid one hand on her knee while he drove with the other.  She successfully deterred him from sliding it up higher, for now, and commented almost absently, “Patience...”

“I don’t think I know that word.  Can you use it in a sentence?”

“I think you can figure it out.”

“But...”

“We’re only five minutes away.  You can wait.”

He did, and even went through the effort to put both of their coats away when they got home, along with his wallet and keys.  If she didn’t know any better she would have thought he was turning the “patience” lever back on her.  She feigned disinterest and sniffed the flowers in the vase she’d put them in, and she heard his dress shoes clomping across the kitchen tile as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist with something that felt like ownership.  She could feel his hardness against her through the fabric of their clothes, and she sighed into his embrace as he bent to kiss her neck.

“Waiting is done,” he said, meaningfully.

“Is it?”

“It is,” he said, and lifted her onto the kitchen table, her legs dangling off the edge.  He roped a chair around with one foot and sat down in it, pushing her back on her elbows as he kissed his way down her blouse, simultaneously sliding the zipper on her slit up and up and...

“This skirt is too tight.”

“I’ll manage.”

And he did, somehow, like only he could.  The fabric moved aside like magic for him, revealing her silkies, and he kissed her through them while she moaned lightly in anticipation.  She assisted him in their removal once he grew tired of teasing, and he got to work where he really wanted to be.  Where she wanted him to be, too.

As... instructed... he fell into a worshipful state as he proceeded, but unlike the last couple of times, this time he was losing that spark of conscious thought animating his expression.  She knew this was another night of obsessive pussylicking, of trance, of... whatever this was, and her arousal grew from the tentative satiety of the last few weeks into a wildfire.  He loves this.  He loves eating my pussy.  He loves my taste and my smell.  He loves making me come. He loves to worship me.

And it was certain he loved all of these things, and that he was rapidly losing volition as he tongued her deep.  She unbuttoned her blouse while he devoured her, drew her bra down from her breasts, and began to stimulate her nipples while she watched his awareness fade to blankness.  This was so hot, especially now that she knew it for what it was.  Vulnerability to... to control.  To my control.  Without planning, she spoke.

“Look in my eyes while you lick me,  lover.  Deep into my eyes.”  The magic of his mouth was getting her riled, and she flashed back to the hazy dream she'd awoken from this morning.  “You... can you see inside them?  There are... there are spirals in my eyes, aren't there?”

“Mmmmm...?”

”There are...”   She was back in that mirrored room, now, describing it as best she could remember.  “White... see-through spirals, spinning... swirling... making you want me.  Want to...” Oh, God. “...obey me.   And... you can't look away. You want to look at the spirals... in my eyes.”  Her hips were moving involuntarily now.

“In fact...” She'd been dancing on this line in her mind for days and now she was crossing it.  “In fact, any time,  day or night,  I tell you to look into my eyes, you’ll... you’ll see these same spirals. Spinning, spinning endlessly.” God his tongue felt good,  and with the eye contact... it was hard to focus on what she was saying.  It all came out a mess.  “You... you won't be able to look away from my eyes... the spirals in them.   They will draw you in, they will make you... dreamy and... and good... like you are right now.   It will just feel right. Do you... do you understand,  love?”

He raised his mouth slick, from cheeks down, with her,  and said,  “I understand.”

She stroked herself while he was idle, her hands drenched.  “You will stare into the spirals in my eyes.  Won't you?”

“I will stare into the spirals in your eyes.”

“You won't be able to look away.   In fact, you won't want to.”

“I won't want to look away.”

“Looking into my spiral eyes... it will be like when you... when you worship me.   It will be like another way... to show your devotion...”  She gulped, her fingers hitching for an instant before she resumed playing with herself.   “You will be... hypnotized by me.”  

God, she’d said it.  She’d said it aloud.  

Her voice cracked on the next question.  “What will you do?”  She knew this was entirely unwarranted, probably unfair, and definitely not right, but her pussy was telling her otherwise, and it was winning the argument.

“I will be hypnotized by you.”

“Again.”

“I will be hypnotized by you.”  She stroked herself more vigorously as he said it.

“Again, and again.   And again.”

“I will be hypnotized by you.   I will be hypnotized by you.   I will be hypnoti—”

Omigod.  “Stop.  That's enough.   I... I need you to make me come.”  She moved her tainted fingers to the back of his head and pulled his face back to where it belonged.  “Make me fucking come!”

I will be hypnotized by you.  

She nearly drowned him in her ecstasy.

***

She woke the next morning with a kiss on the cheek and an, “Are you even going to get up for work, Sleeping Beauty?”  She pried one eye open and saw him, fully dressed, jacket on, ready to leave.

“Ugnrh...?” she replied, though she tried hard to say something more coherent.

“I gotta go.  Talk to you later, love!”  And before she could respond again, he was gone.  She heard the garage door closing a moment later and only then looked at the clock.  “Eight oh—fuck!”  She was supposed to have a morning meeting in twenty-odd minutes and hadn’t even consummated her affair with coffee yet.  She rolled out of the bed, tripping only slightly on her way to the toilet.  She did her business urgently, then hopped into the shower stall for a quick one.  He should have woken me, she thought, but realized she was being uncharitable.  She was a grown-ass woman and could set her own grown-ass alarm.  He had doubtless thought he was being generous, letting her sleep in.  His generosity is going to prove my undoing.  Morally at least.

Last night had been... intense.  For so many, many reasons, but foremost among them: how all of the day’s frustrations and anger with him had melted into something sharper and hotter when she had him—

under her power

—on the kitchen table.  When she’d... she’d planted... She shuddered in recollection of what she’d thought, what she’d done.  She’d regretted it the moment she’d climaxed... or maybe it was after the third or fourth... things got a little fuzzy for her there, but she knew she’d had regrets.  They’d been at war with her lust, with her imagination of where this could lead, with the fucked up dream she’d had yesterday morning before it all spun out of control—

spiraled out of control

—(shut up!) spun out of control and she’d done... what she’d done.  Every time she’d come down from those orgasmic heights last night, when she was aching because she’d abused her body sexually for a couple weeks straight and she didn’t care, when she had slid off the table onto his cock as he sat in that chair and—

ordered

—told him not to come until she said so, until she had ridden him like she owned him... every time she remembered his words, she’d been renewed and wanted more.  She’d had him repeat it to her while she came, before she came, after... while he came, too, she’d had him yell it.  I will be hypnotized by you.  She shivered despite the heat of the shower spray and was tempted to turn it cold, just to keep from heating up again at the memory.  She had way too many things to do today to be distracted by more deviant sexual imaginings.  Instead she merely shut off the water, dried off, and got into something appropriate for work.

She was proud of herself for maintaining an almost ascetic thought process all day long.  She immersed herself in the world of data, of connections and servers, the mundane things that made her brain work overtime, and she didn’t dare contact Jocelyn for fear of what those probing questions might unleash. She typed a couple responses to Jake when he pinged her during the day, common enough requests to see how she was doing, the messages of love and care, and she answered them cheerfully enough and pointedly didn’t think about—

I will be hypnotized by you.

—anything that was not pure, courtly love.  She was downright saintly; her room at the convent was reserved.  Her downtime was minimal, and she even skipped lunch.

But when she heard the garage door open again as the sky grew dark out her office window, an excitement and dread grew in the pit of her stomach:

What have I fucking done?

Her thighs pressed together involuntarily.  She hated that they did.  Because she knew there was no way, no way on God’s green earth, that she was going to be able to resist testing it out.  Would it work, would it not work?

And she was honestly not sure which terrified her more.

“Oh, so you did wake up,” he said as he came in and kissed her on the forehead.  She was in a meeting, but had muted and shut off her camera momentarily.

“Eventually.”

“I knew you could do it.”

“I didn’t have time to make anything for dinner.  I was swamped all day.”

“That’s okay.  I will order a pizza.  Vipers okay with you?”  He said it casually, as if everything were normal, as if she hadn’t come on his face and cock last night over and over while he repeated a new mantra she’d—

programmed him with

—suggested to him.  Like he didn’t know. Couldn’t know.  Because I didn’t let him.

She had unmuted and returned to the meeting, so she merely nodded and waved at him.  He took his cue and ran off and she tried hard to forget again while a customer complained dully about the high cost of backups.

It was forty-five minutes before she got past that meeting, and the pizza guy had come and gone.  The box was open on the kitchen table, the smell of garlic and pepperoni wafting through the space where she’d—

controlled him utterly

—had her way with him last night.  She grabbed one of the plates he’d laid out, a slice of pie, and followed the sounds of television into the living room, where he sat on the couch watching something she couldn’t see from her angle.  From the sounds, cars and crashes were involved.

“Hey,” he said as she came over to sit down.  He made room for her food on the coffee table.  “Finally done?”

“Yeah,” she replied, sliding into place beside him.  “Stupid customers.”

“Who needs those, anyway? I ask you.”

“Right?”

“I got into it with a client today.  He wanted to know why our competitor charges a thousand dollars for something we price at ten thousand.  Wouldn’t believe me when I told him those guys were bullshitting him.  I said if he could get it for that price he should.”

“So you lost them?”

“He’ll be back.  Their work is crap.  I wouldn’t pay fifty cents for it.  He’ll see how good he has it with us.  I won’t even charge him extra for leaving.”

“Liar.”

“Well, I mean there are new contract fees that will need reimbursement.  But totes just a formality.  Not vengeance in any way.”

“Totes.”

“We can change the channel, if you want.”  He gestured at the TV set.  “I am not caught up in the street racing, much as it does stimulate me intellectually.”

“I mean, ‘OFF’ is a channel, right?”

“I guess it is.  He grabbed the remote off his leg and smashed a button, and the systems started turning off one by one until quiet reigned.  “Now what?  Do you want to—?”

“Darling, can you do me a favor and look into my eyes right now?”

“Okay, I w—?”  He turned toward her, animated, wondering what was up, and immediately on meeting her gaze, his features slackened.  “What... is...?”  He trailed off and she felt heat across the whole of her body.  Omigod it worked.  It worked and it’s real and I’m...

“Love, what do you see?”

“The... your eyes, there are... spinning...”

“That’s right, darling.  The spirals are spinning in my eyes, aren’t they?”

“Uh... uh huh...”  His voice was small, his eyelids half-drooping, and it had been less than a minute.

“I want you to keep looking, dear.  Keep looking into the spirals.”  She put her hand on his cheek.  “Keep looking, and... and tell me what they’re doing.”

“Spinning... and spinning.  They’re... hypnotizing me...”

And just like that she was wet as a sponge, despite having had more orgasms in the last week... hell, the last two nights... than she could count.  Something was wrong with her.  

Or something was right.

“They are... the spirals are taking you... you’re ... you’re going... following them deeper and deeper, aren’t you?  Into... into a trance... into...”  Worship?  Service?  Thrall?

“I will be hypnotized.  By you.”

“By me.”  And she saw from his face that it was true, that the expression was peaceful and serene and perhaps lustful but definitely open, and blank, and devoted.  

Something twisted within her. Something that felt like guilt, or perhaps shame.  “Jake, my darling... I...”  

Then the heat between her thighs drowned it out.  

She hated how easily it died.  She loved how easily it died.

There was silence as they both stared... him unseeing, her viewing everything in stark colors, through a haze that blurred the details but kept bold what was important.

“Kneel for me, my love,” she finally whispered.  “It’s time for you to eat again.”

And as his mouth found her, she threw her head back.  Her eyes scanned the ceiling; there were no mirrors, she wasn’t dressed in the clothes—the uniform—of the temptress.  She had hoped to see her reflection, expected to see the spirals meet her gaze.  But she didn’t.

She knew they were there, however. They were there for him.

And that made them real for her, too.