Cultivating Trust

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Control

Chelsea

It was Saturday, and we spent it in bed being lazy. I made breakfast for us, and we ate it talking and enjoying each other’s company. We hadn’t ‘played’ since I tied him up and true to his word he did not pressure me for it. He patiently waited for me to come to terms with it, and I was grateful. So much had changed over the past week it made me dizzy.

We talked about the upcoming tour. When it would start and where it would go first. We didn’t bring up the fact I wouldn’t be with him full time, convinced he would try and talk me out of staying back in California.

Instead, Brandt brought up another subject, “There is a music award show coming up, and I wish you would go with me.” An award show? He never mentioned it before. My hesitation kept him talking, “Everyone in the music business will be there, and Social Offender is up for an award. I want you on my arm to show you off.” The thought of paparazzi made me nervous.

“It sounds like a lot of media attention. That may not be wise.”

He nodded his head, “It is an awards show. Yes, it is televised but I want you there anyway.”

“But people will know we are dating.”

He didn’t seem deterred, “Yes. They will see we are there together. Everyone will bring a date.”

I tried to think this through. The more times we were pictured together, the more chance the media would think we were a couple. If we let one picture get out it didn’t necessarily make us a couple. They had photographed him with several other women over the past year. Still, we would need to be careful.

Did I want to go? It sounded exciting on the outside. Some big savvy affair with tuxes and gowns, but I went through something similar in Wisconsin, and the whole thing made me nervous. I was not evening gown material. Not even close to being polished and cultured.

It made me think of the past several house parties. Those people were far from cultured, and they would in all actuality be there too. The country girl from Wisconsin should be able to hold her own in the midst of that type of crowd, but I still didn’t know.

He waited patiently for my answer, but I didn’t know what to say.

“C’mon Chelsea. It’ll be fine. Sometimes I feel as though we have to be ashamed of our relationship. I can appreciate you wanting to keep out of the limelight. It is not all it’s cracked up to be. But for one night I don’t want to hide out in my house hoping no one finds out we are an item.” It seemed that way. I told Brandt he could go out tonight with the guys, but it was to another house party I supposed or clubbing, which he wouldn’t do without me. Instead, he squirreled away all his free time with me making me feel guilty. Why couldn’t things be easier for us?

I gave in, “I still need to find something to wear.”

He smiled, “I already have it covered.” He picked out an evening gown for me? What if I didn’t like it? Picking out my food at a restaurant was one thing but clothes?

Brandt left the room and returned with a beautiful shimmering gown in a deep crimson color, dazzling to look at as it changed hues depending on the lights and the twists and turns of the dress. I came closer and touched the fabric knowing it would feel so soft against my skin, and then noticed the size was even right. He had a knack for this. “I... I love it.”

He smiled down at me knowingly, “Then you will go?”

I would do anything for him. “Yes.” He leaned down and kissed my nose.

“Good. It’s next weekend and I already booked Louis.”

“You already booked Louis thinking I would go?”

He laughed as he went into the closet to put the dress away, “Chelsea, regardless if you said yes or no, I needed a limo.” Yes, of course. Don’t be so on edge.

We flopped back into bed, and I draped him with my body, sighing with the pleasure of just being with him. I felt so lazy today, and with our lives changing so rapidly, we never had time to just be.

Brandt had a look of satisfaction on his face. Did he always get what he wanted? “You weren’t going to stop until I said yes, were you?”

“What can I say. I like getting what I want, and I want you.”

“You are just lucky I want you too. I even enjoy giving in to you... sometimes. Good thing too, since you are always in control.”

He seemed guarded by his next remark, “I like control, yes. Does that bother you? I mean since meeting you, I have had the damnedest time staying in control.”

I challenged him. From the first time we met, to daily talks, to going on tour with the band. With the way I thought and my viewpoints on our lives together. I processed things others wouldn’t. I just assumed my way of thinking wasn’t the same as other people’s and it must have frustrated him. Sometimes I wondered why he put up with me? “What happens when you are not in control?”

Brandt’s face went dark, “I don’t know. I don’t want to find out.”

He feared the loss of self-restraint. It seemed to bother him, admitting it to me once but I tried to make light of it, “Well, I want to make you lose control then.” I grabbed his member through his lounge pants. Although currently soft, the way he watched me rub him made me think it would take little effort to get him hard.

I kissed his rippled stomach. Licking and sucking my way down. He pulled himself up to lean against the pillows stacked on the headboard, and his pants inched down with the motion. Sneaky Brandt. I helped his pants off the rest of the way. My mouth closed over the semi-erect penis, and I ran my tongue around the head. I was getting better at fellatio, realizing his pleasure really was derived from what I liked or wanted to do.

He tasted good. I wanted to lick it, suck it, and wrap my tongue around it, and he loved my ability to find pleasure in him. I played with the vein underneath with my tongue, trying to flatten it, and I knew it enhanced his sensation. Fully erect now, he tugged at my tank top, wanting me aroused as much as he was. I looked up at him and loved the feral expression on his face.

“Take your clothes off. I want you to ride me.” He didn’t want a blow job? I thought back to a couple of weeks ago and how he didn’t want a blow job either because he couldn’t ‘return the favor.’ It was my fault. My quirk. Would I ever be able to completely turn off my overthinking mind?

He didn’t look put out by it, and besides, he was commanding me again, willingly surrendering myself to him, so how bad could it be? Taking off the remainder of my clothes, I straddled him, ready to go down on his shaft. I waited. I waited for his direction, and he saw this and smirked. He liked this. The control.

Brandt brought his hand up behind my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. I only hesitated a second. I had just been sucking on his penis. Didn’t this bother him? Evidently, it didn’t as his kiss deepened and by the time he was done, I wanted him even more. When he put his finger in me, I knew why. He always made sure I was ready.

Satisfied at the current state of my arousal, he guided me over him, and I lowered myself down upon him. Oh, what a glorious feeling. I didn’t go all the way, giving us time to work at it slowly and prolong the sensation. I loved it slow even though he preferred the quick thrust. He usually let me win and gave me the heightened sensation.

We watched each other’s expressions as we made love. The phone vibrated on the nightstand interrupting our focus. Ron’s name popped up, the absolute last person I wanted to think of at this moment. I knew Brandt wouldn’t answer it and would let it go to voicemail, but it sparked an idea. I wanted to challenge him a little and grabbed it. He watched me with a quizzical expression on his face as I hit the talk button and put my finger over the speaker, “Show me how in control you can be.” He had the naughtiest smile on his face when he took the phone, already enjoying the challenge.

“Ron, it is Saturday. What do you want?” I worked my way up and down on him, plunging in deeper, the way he liked it. My mind thought about how I needed to crank this up, not knowing how long I had before they ended their talk. I would never think of doing this if it wasn’t Ron. Fuck him. He made it miserable for me to be around him to where I avoided going to the studio to watch Brandt and the band anymore. I realized he would be at the awards show, and it only lent to my displeasure although I would never let Brandt find out.

Spinning my finger in a gesture to tell him to keep him talking, I silently pleaded with him to stay on the phone. I wanted more time to have him lose control. He smirked at me, enjoying the game, and started talking about insignificant things concerning the album. To show me he was still in control, he took his other hand and brought it down to my clitoris, rubbing softly as I gyrated on top of him. My body heated instantly. Shit, he didn’t play fair, and I was now losing. He didn’t even seem bothered. Watching me do the work and not missing a beat in the conversation. Think Chelsea. What would make him lose it?

Letting my hair fall back, I thought of a genius idea. With a devious look on my face, I brought my hands up to my breasts. I never touched myself, and when Brandt realized I was doing it for his benefit, his smirk fell off his face. Checkmate. This should do it if I worked it right.

“Yeah, yeah. I am still here.” Did he falter? Yes, I realized he did. His jaw set as he watched me do to myself what he liked to do. I rolled my nipples and tugged at them. I couldn’t believe I didn’t even know my body as much as he did and worked at knowing how much pressure to put on them. Pinching and tugging, I kept up my ministrations all the while he glared at me like a piece of raw meat, becoming affected by me touching myself. He continued the onslaught on my clitoris, bringing my body to a pinnacle. The familiar heat rose faster now. We were set in a race to the finish, and I, again, felt myself losing. I wanted to orgasm, and I didn’t think I could hold off.

I noticed he wasn’t talking anymore, transfixed on what I was working to accomplish. His breathing escalated, and his jaw clenched so tight, it looked like concrete. My breathing amplified to match his, and now I decided to ride him faster, just thinking of my own end by this point. My head and neck leaned backward as I entered the no stopping phase of my climax. That was when I heard, “I’m going to need to call you back.”

The phone flew off the bed, and he grabbed me with both hands on my hips, raising and lowering me down on him, pounding into me with a fierceness I greatly enjoyed. Hearing his growl, I brought my head up to look at him, his expression intense. ”I put that look on your face.” He brought me down on his stiff shaft and sucked at my nipple hard. I exploded around him and screamed out, shattering in his strong embrace.

The orgasm mind-blowing, and even though I lost, I won. It didn’t surprise me I cried out when I came, sounding more and more like I starred in a porno and although I didn’t like it, at this point, I didn’t care. Brandt kept me down on him until the throbbing ended, and my inner workings finished. Once I was done, he lifted me up to work on him. I took his lead, knowing what had happened. I lost. He had control. I gave up. I couldn’t break him.

Or did I?

He worked me longer and then shoved me down hard once again. I swallowed as I felt him release inside of me. I loved that sensation and melted to him. He was breathing hard and leaned back against the headboard. We stayed in that position until our breathing returned to some regularity.

“Does anything make you lose control?”

The words seeped out of me in between gasps of breath. He didn’t answer at first, and I thought he may not have heard me when I heard him say, “Yes, Angel, you do.”

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