She gifted him a confused look but didn’t speak.

“Stop thinking,” he commanded. “I want you to just feel. I adore your intelligence, the way your mind works, but at this moment, I am forbidding you to think. All I am allowing you to do is feel.”

Declan released one of Charlotte’s thighs and unzipped his pants. He shifted them down until they gathered at his knees. Moving closer still, he touched the head of his cock against her slit, rubbing it up and down. He relished teasing every whimper, every moan, every response from Charlotte. Soon she bucked and spasmed as Declan teased her into submission.

***

Declan watched Charlotte as she lie sleeping in her bed, admiring her beauty. She looked so serene and tranquil. He adored her soft features and the little noises she made as she exhaled during slumber.

He thought of the night before and their game of imaginary bindings in front of the fireplace. He sifted through the images of Charlotte enraptured. The look of unadulterated bliss on her face, and the briefest of gasps at his shaft’s intrusion into her inner depths. Looking down at her while she climaxed, the small pearl of her clit contracting in and out excitedly. He loved the way she gave over everything to him last night. She gifted him with complete control. It was no longer an illusion for him.

For Declan, control had always been a fantasy. For him control came in many forms. In his daily life, the fantasy of control laid within organizational porn he consumed. It was in the day planners, the life hacks, the promise of a fresh Moleskin, and a brand new Waterman pen. The smell of the unused pages, the perfect weight of the pen in his hands all spoke to him. They seduced him with a promise of stopping the chaos. They whispered We are the tools you can use to transform the maelstrom into a beautiful ballet. Declan’s ideas about control fused into one thought—dance, don’t scramble. Dance required precision and control to appear effortless, as did control.

The fantasy took different shapes within his kink. It rested in the ability to lift a finger, give a slight nod, or have another respond instantly and correctly with the outcome he desired. Sometimes it took the form of a position, and the stimulus and outcome were like a finely tuned dance. Sometimes it was a pragmatic result, like a perfectly made espresso or lips wrapped around his cock. Sometimes it was as simple as it was last night; Charlotte’s face registered how much she shared the other side of the fantasy of control.

Declan realized that Charlotte was the only one that could ever bring him back to himself, to give him that fantasy of control. She alone allowed him the full freedom to shape the fantasy of control for both of them.

***

Declan’s words soothed her. “Don’t trust me because I tell you to do so. Trust me because you find me worthy of your trust.” The Friday after Thanksgiving, he held her hand, leading her to a room adjacent to his office. He flipped on the lights and closed the door behind them.

The room was odd. It looked like a massage therapist’s room had mated with a personal library. A lush massage table held court in the center of the room and the surrounding walls lined with filled bookshelves. There was a locked cabinet to the side of the massage table.

“Charlotte, remove your clothing,” Declan commanded, giving her no time to inspect the bookshelves or anything else for that matter.

“What?”

“Remove your clothing,” he repeated.

“What if I don’t want to?” Charlie asked.

“Regardless of whether or not you want to continue with what I am about to introduce you to, I still demand you to be naked.”

“Oh,” Charlie said, and in a moment of blondness added, “Are we going to have sex in here?”

“If you don’t wish to have sex with me, then feel free not to remove your clothing.”

Excitedly, Charlie stripped out of her clothes, laying them in a pile on the cushioned table. Declan admired her; Charlie blushed under his gaze. She didn’t mind being naked in front of him, but he was still fully clothed, so it seemed bit more uncomfortable. A good sort of uncomfortable though. Her stomach tightened, and her heartbeat raced as he took her in.

The silence between them heightened her anxiety further. “Are you going to remove your clothing too?” Charlie asked, her words penetrating the solitude.

“All in due time, Charlotte.” Declan walked around her, seemingly content to take in her bared curves for the moment. “Tonight’s lesson is about trust. This is why I had you disrobe while I remained fully clothed. I asked you to bare your flesh to me, rather than force you to go through physical aggression, ripping the clothing from your body,” Declan detailed. “Had I done so, you would have complied. You would have stood here, shaking and nervous, but you would have not pulled away.

“I didn’t want to use my hands though. I wanted you to offer me what is mine, what you have given to me, and yet continue to shy away from showing.” Declan moved Charlie’s clothing to the top of the cabinet. “You profess your trust in me, and I do not doubt your words. I want more though. I want you to use actions.” Declan strode to the iPod device on the wall and selected some music. “Lay on your back on the table, Ms. Flynn.”

“Yes, Master.” Sitting on the table, Charlie swung her legs up, then laid down, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly the space reminded her of a doctor’s office, and she felt relieved that Declan’s table didn’t have stirrups. “What song is this, Master?” Charlie questioned him in an effort to shake the medical fetish thoughts from her mind.

“Be still,” Declan answered as he moved toward a bookcase in the corner to retrieve something. “It’s a song by The Fray. Do you like it?”

“I do, Master. It’s quite relaxing.”

“What candle scent is your favorite, Charlotte?” he asked. “I have lemongrass sage, maple sugar, and sandalwood amber.”

“I think the maple sugar,” Charlie said.

“Feeling festive are we, Ms. Flynn?” Charlie could hear the amusement in his voice despite his formality.

“Yes, Master. I do like to get in the holiday spirit.” Charlie laughed.

Declan retrieved some candles. He arranged the four of them in a circle on the smaller table closest to Charlie. He quickly unscrewed the lids off each candle, proceeding to ignite each wick with his lighter.

The smell filled the room as the flames melted the scented wax. “How many candles do you have?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t really keep track. I like to keep a variety on hand to suit my tastes.”

“So far this is incredibly relaxing. I don’t quite understand how it is a lesson though.”

“Ah, well … ” Declan smiled and came up alongside Charlie, placing his hands on her stomach, kneading her skin lightly beneath his strong fingers. “I will explain that too as we proceed.”

Charlie wanted to speak, but she found herself only able to nod. Her stomach filled with fluttering, and with the addition of Declan’s hands on her body, she felt as though she would burst like a confetti-filled balloon, ready to release all her eagerness at any moment.

Declan slowly caressed her stomach, teasing at her belly button. One of his hands roamed upward near her bared breasts while the other wandered southward.

“I am going to start by covering your body in baby oil, Charlotte. Think of it as massage oil if you will.”

“If olive oil comes from olives, where does baby oil come from?”

“Really, Charlotte? Quoting George Carlin?” Declan couldn’t help but grin a bit.

“I’m sorry, Master. I’m a bit nervous. I thought it might be good to ease the tension a bit.”

“The oil is completely safe, although very slippery. Just think of it as a massage.”