All Under Control Ch. 07
Oca 23, 2023 // By:analsex // No Comment
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Recap: Mina has asked Cam to put her into denial. Initially reticent, he has warmed to the idea. When Mina introduced the idea of hypnosis as a way to control her responses, they decided to see how far they could go in teasing and denying her. Through hypnosis, Bree, her sassy, sexy alter ego has emerged, leading to new possibilities.
This is where this story crosses over with What We Say In The Dark Ch 06, with Cam working on a job for Cynthia]
Mina made a face, but I shrugged.
“It is what it is,” I told her.
“That’s not helping,” she replied.
I felt my mouth set in a line, watching her displeased expression.
“Or we can go back to the same old, same old. Your call,” I finished.
“Is it? Do you really mean that?”
“Yes. I’m not doing this if it’s going to make you unhappy. But,” I warned her, “You weren’t happy before, either.”
Mina huffed, weighing up her options. “Fine,” she said at last, “It’s just, I feel like I never see you.”
“You do. Every night in bed.”
“When you’re too tired.”
“It’s not forever.”
“It’s not forever,” I continued, “And it means we could maybe finally get what we both want.”
“If your boss finds out though, it’s gonna be straight out the door, you know that, right?”
I put my hands on my girlfriend’s shoulders. “He won’t find out. Davis is going to just get a letter one day, and I’m outta there.”
Mina looked up at me, unhappily.
“In the long run,” I concluded, “Without Davis breathing down my neck every day, I’m going to be a lot happier. Plus, more flexible, so more time to spend with you.”
“Yeah,” Mina conceded, “I know all that. It’s just hard right now. You work all day for him, then you work on the evenings and weekends for yourself.”
“Look, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be there at six,” I said, “Two hours. Then maybe we can have a night out. Would you like that? You can meet me there.”
Mina nodded, mollified. “Sure,” she replied, “But….”
“We’ll have fun tonight. I promise.”
“If you’re not too tired.”
“Mina,” I replied, wrapping my arms around her, “I’m never too tired.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I love you.”
We kissed and then parted ways, Mina to go home while I took a cab to my side job. In truth, I was already tired, but I could see her point. It had been weeks since we had been for a proper night out. I owed her that. I’d started to tail off at work, once the decision was made to see whether I could start up on my own. I just needed to recognise that I was also tailing off at home, as I devoted my energy to the extra hours. Making Davis Scott unhappy was something I could live with. Having my beautiful girlfriend unhappy was not.
Cynthia was standing in the doorway as I arrived, in the alleyway off the main street. The front door to the club wasn’t open yet, so she was letting me in through the back entrance. She smiled as I approached, at exactly six o’clock, as arranged. She was a stickler, and I wanted to make a good impression.
“Cameron, how are you?”
“Good. Did they drop off the supplies?”
“Yes, all here. I went through and itemised, though I’m afraid I haven’t moved it.”
“That’s fine. That’s my job.”
Cynthia simply smiled, as if to say that yes, it was. She opened the door for me and gestured for me to enter. As I stepped past her, I got that same feeling as the first time we’d met, when she had put an ad out for someone to fit out a room at her club; the feeling of a woman who knew a lot more than she was telling. The enigmatic smile; the pale-blue eyes almost like Mina’s; the poised posture; the long, blonde hair in a neatly-brushed ponytail gathered back from the elegant features of a woman in her late forties or early fifties. She was a woman who was used to standing out in a crowd, and given the nature of her business, I suspected that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Inside the door, stacked up neatly against the wall, I could see the timber and sheeting I had ordered. I turned back to the owner of the club.
“I just need to change,” I said, indicating my buttoned-up shirt.
“Of course, I’ll leave you to it. Change in a room upstairs, if you like, or just under the stairs,” Cynthia replied, “You wouldn’t be the first man to strip off in this stairwell.”
There was a hint of a smile, and then she turned, ascending the stairs to her office. I found myself watching her climb the stairs, her bottom wiggling in her black pants with every step. Something told me she was very aware of how she looked as she went upstairs. I dropped my bag on the floor and pulled out an old t-shirt and battered jeans. I had two hours; I needed to be done and dusted before Mina arrived.
Cynthia had been very explicit in her instructions, making it clear that she ran a very particular sort of venue and the room she wanted fitting out was a little outside of my usual line of work. She ran bursa escort a club dedicated to a more non-conformist crowd, with a main area downstairs and a number of more private spaces above, divided up into her office and then a set of playrooms with different themes.
I began to lug the supplies up the stairs and into the third room along the corridor. It was heavy work, but I had to admit to myself that it felt good after spending all day organising other people to do the same sort of thing on a much larger scale for my boss. There was something simple and satisfying about getting back on the tools myself, too, and the enticing notion that a steady stream of jobs like these would keep Mina’s and my life afloat without the steady pressure of Davis breathing down my neck.
This work was also a lot more interesting. When Cynthia had laid out her requirements, she had been matter-of-fact, reeling off not only what she needed, but why. Standing now in the middle of the half-finished room, seeing how it was all beginning to take shape, I had to admit to a little glow of excitement myself. This was definitely more what I wanted to do for a living.
Cynthia had wanted to redesign a sex room. She had taken me upstairs and showed me each playroom in turn, explaining the purpose of each and the kind of things that people did in them. This room was for bondage play, she’d told me, and required anchor points on the floor, walls and ceiling. She also wanted to be able to suspend a cage from a chain in the corner. The anchor point needed to be strong enough to hold the weight of two people, one inside and one outside, just in case the person doing the caging wanted to climb up to be serviced.
I had watched her face as she told me all this, noted the way her hands moved as she described the position and the size of the various components of the room. She was speaking about fantastical things, but without a trace of embarrassment or self-consciousness, and I soon found myself in discussions about how thick a ceiling beam would need to be to support a large man dangling hogtied from it, as if I was discussing the colouring of the concrete for a driveway.
I set to work, but my thoughts kept straying to Mina and our current situation. Ever since we had returned from the spa break, her attitude had been different, as if the chastity device had changed her somehow. We had talked about it after a few days, more just to clear the air than anything. In the end I had offered to unlock her, but she had surprised me which the firmness of her refusal. She told me that she was adjusting, and asked me to give her time. In retrospect, moonlighting in Cynthia’s club at the same time hadn’t been my smartest move. Launching a career change at the same time as stepping into what was becoming a twenty-four by seven dominance relationship was a bold move.
It took me an hour to get the beam in place, by which time my arms ached and I was covered in sawdust. I heard a noise behind me and turned.
“I was wondering, do you want a cup of tea?” Cynthia asked, her pale eyes on me.
“Yeah, that’d be good. Thank you.”
She nodded. “It’s coming on,” she noted, “You clearly know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, it’s how I started, straight out of school. Doing the designing came later, moving on to bigger projects.”
I shrugged, “Depends what you call interesting. This,” I said, gesturing at the beam, “This is interesting.”
Cynthia laughed, and it seemed to light up the room with its unexpectedness. “Oh Cameron, you have no idea. The things that people will do in this room. The things they have done in this room. But, you were saying…?”
I found myself looking at her again, the play of emotions across her elegant face. There was a rich history in this room for her, I could see.
“Uh, well. I was involved in the fitout when Starling moved into their new offices. I did an accountancy firm a while back, just office stuff really, but pretty major projects. Then there was Sanctuary Point.”
Her posture changed slightly. “The spa?” she mused, “That’s Davis Scott isn’t it?”
“You work for him?”
“Yeah, do you know him?”
“Oh,” Cynthia waved a hand, “Of him. His father and my husband knew each other. Property is a small world, especially in this city.”
She paused, watching me.
“I suppose you’re not telling him you’re working here.”
I felt uncomfortable, as if I had been found out. “No,” I replied.
She smiled, “Good. Let’s keep it that way. No need for everyone to know our little secrets. Now, milk? Sugar?”
“Uh, just milk,” I replied, glad of the change of tone.
“Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but I arranged for my girlfriend to meet me here at eight.”
Cynthia laughed again. “You are a brave soul, aren’t you? Moonlighting your day job and bringing your girlfriend to a kink club. Living life on the edge.”
She turned before I could reply, bursa escort bayan and was gone.
After I was done for the night I got cleaned up in the Wet Room, trying not to think about the usual antics that went on in the shower, then changed hastily back into my shirt and trousers before scurrying back to the stairs. Cynthia called out, stopping me, and I turned towards the first door in the corridor. I ducked inside, into her office.
The area was spacious, with a robust desk in a dark wood occupying one side of the room, and an elegant chaise lounge against the other wall. Cynthia was seated in a leather chair, peering at me over the top of a screen.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said, “It’s all coming together nicely.”
“Glad you’re happy with it.”
“Yes. Very. And with your discretion, also. Now, tell me, are you interested in more work?”
Cynthia was regarding me carefully now. The offer was enticing.
“Sure,” I replied, “Whatever you need. What do you have in mind?”
“Oh, I have plenty in mind. Cost is always the limiting factor, ambition is not.”
She smiled wryly.
“Happy to help,” I said, “Though I’m not sure about designing.”
“I suppose you haven’t seen many sex rooms?”
“No, just here,” I replied, then paused, remembering Sanctuary Point, “And the one at the spa.”
“Davis has one? Really?”
“Look, I think. It was decked out like one of your playrooms, but bigger. I didn’t do the designs for that part.”
There was the merest flicker in her eyes, then she continued, “Now, tell me, would you like to show your girlfriend your handiwork? I imagine she’d be curious. You have told her about the nature of this establishment, haven’t you?”
I felt a twinge of guilt. Mina knew, but saying something to her across the dinner table was very different to showing her. Cynthia rose from her chair and made her way towards me.
“Ah,” she murmured, “I see. Well, then perhaps she should have the tour. We don’t open for an hour, so you can have the run of the place.”
She was teasing me now, I had no doubt, but the idea of taking Mina through the rooms began to take hold in my imagination. There was a whole world beyond what we were doing. Maybe Cynthia had sensed this. I had the distinct impression that Mina’s inclinations wouldn’t be unknown to the sophisticated woman in front of me. I shrugged, as if to convince her that I was only mildly interested. In truth, I admitted to myself, she had hit the mark.
“Maybe. I’ll ask.”
“Okay,” she replied and resumed her place behind the desk. “Could you please close the door on the way out? I need to make a phone call.”
I left her tapping away on her keyboard, seemingly engrossed in her work, and found myself standing outside in the corridor, looking at the closed door. I wanted to show Mina what I had been working on, but there was more to it than that. Cynthia had said we had the run of the place for an hour and I understood what she meant. My phone beeped and I looked at the message: Mina was standing outside in the alleyway waiting to be let in. I took a deep breath and then descended the stairs.
When I opened the sturdy metal door, my girlfriend was standing there in the little alcove. She had dressed herself in a leather jacket over a black dress that came down to her knees and then low heels. I still wasn’t used to her being blonde, the way her hair cascaded over the black leather.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?” she asked.
“Uh, oh,” I stammered, prodded into action, “Sorry, yes.”
I moved to one side and she stepped past me, brushing close like Bree would do, a strange mingling of her alter-ego, the person she could become in trance.
“You dressed up,” I blurted, “You look amazing.”
The door closed behind me with a thud, and then there was silence. Mina stood in front of me, smiling enigmatically.
“So, this is the place, huh?”
Mina’s lips twisted with amusement. “My boyfriend works in a sex club.”
“Uh, no. I don’t….”
“Sure you do.”
“But I’m not a… uh.”
Mina leaned in for a kiss. Her lips touched mine and I felt a tingling sensation as she pressed her body against me. She was aroused, even more so than usual after weeks of denial. There was something special about tonight. She looked at me, her grey-blue eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Sure you are,” she murmured, “And I believe my booking was for eight o’clock.”
Mina walked over to the stairs. “Shall we?” she asked, and without waiting for my answer, she began to climb.
For a moment, I was mesmerised by the sight of my sexy girlfriend slinking up the stairs in her black dress, showing off her toned, bare legs in her heels. She cast me a look over her shoulder that left me with no doubt as to the game she had in mind. I hurried to catch up with her.
On the landing, we stood together in the corridor, Mina watching my face carefully as she opened her lovely escort bursa lips to speak.
“So this is your chance to show what your customers can expect,” she told me.
Mina reached out, stroking my cheek.
“And remember the golden rule,” she continued, “The customer is always right. Now, what would you recommend?”
“That depends on what you’d like, uh….”
She smiled at me playfully. “What?”
“Um, what should I call you? Mina? Bree?”
In reply, she wrapped her arms around my waist. “A little from column A, a little from column B. Maybe just call me Miss, tonight. I am the customer after all.”
“Okay, Miss. Let’s show you what we have on offer, then you can make your mind up.”
I took my girlfriend’s hand and led her down the corridor to the door next to Cynthia’s office.
“This is the Wet Room,” I announced, opening the door so that she could see.
Mina stepped inside, heels clicking on the tiles, making a show of examining the shower area, the stainless-steel rails and rings embedded into the walls. I knew that tonight was going to be a new experience, that Mina had put some thought into it, just as when she had gone unexpectedly blonde and introduced me to Bree, her flip-side. Submissive Mina was not here tonight, but neither was brash, nymphomaniac Bree, and all I could do was wait to see what she had planned.
“No. Not this. What else do you have?”
I led her down the corridor to the next door and opened it. Mina swept past me into the room.
“Looks a little unfinished,” she observed, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes, we’re renovating,” I replied, “I just moved the workmen out. They were fitting the beam.”
Mina looked up at the ceiling, her eyes taking in the metal rings. “Would that really hold a person?” she asked.
“Two,” I replied.
To my surprise, she turned to me and said, “No. Not tonight, but maybe another time.”
Again, she brushed past me, her body rubbing against mine, as she stepped back out into the corridor. The next door opened onto a bare room with a pommel horse in the corner and a St. Andrews cross mounted against the far wall, next to the door into the ensuite. There were shelves containing rows of toys and implements. I watched as Mina picked up a set of nipple clamps. She opened the jaws, experimentally, before replacing the item on the shelf.
“Do people enjoy this sort of stuff?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss. You’d be amazed.”
Again, Mina surprised me. “Would you enjoy any of this?” she asked.
I found myself looking around the room, surveying it with new eyes, the context now changed by my girlfriend’s question.
“To give or receive?” I asked.
She was studying me closely now. “Either.”
“I don’t know about receiving,” I answered carefully, “And giving would be a matter for the person I was with.”
Mina looked over towards the pommel horse, deep in thought for a moment. I waited.
“Nah, not for me. What else do you have?”
I felt relief, inexplicably. As she walked out of the room, I was still thinking about it, though. I had been doing research, and was aware of how this fitted into the lifestyle that we were easing ourselves into, how important it was to ask the questions and establish the boundaries. But, what we had was also atypical, a deeper though also more subtle level of control through trance and suggestion. I had the intuition that mixing in these other elements could be too much.
The final door opened into a richly-decorated bedroom with a sturdy wooden four-poster bed set in the middle. There was a built-in wardrobe spanning the far wall, and Mina wandered over to it, her fingers trailing over the bedsheets on the way. She opened the wardrobe doors, and strip lights illuminated a set of shelves with folded sheets, pillows, and a set of toys and implements. The back of each door had hooks from which dangled a set of collars, leashes and manacles. Mina picked up a leash and ran the soft leather across her skin. She turned to me.
“I like this room better,” she announced, smiling flirtatiously.
Mina hung the leash back on the door and picked up a set of thick leather wrist cuffs, turning them over in her hands. She came over to me, opening one up as she walked. Her smile faded as she held it up in front of her. We shared a look, and I could see it in her face: a strange nervous energy. With infinite care, she reached out to grasp my wrist, pulling my arm up in front of her. Mina slid the leather strap around my wrist, her attention fixed on the buckle as she fed the tongue through and secured the cuff to me. Once that was done she let go, her eyes flicking nervously up to my face, watching me in silence. So, this was the game; Mina wanted to reverse our roles and was now awaiting my judgement. In answer, I held up my other arm. Mina began to thread the other cuff around my wrist.
“At the risk of topping from the bottom, Miss,” I said, “I might suggest you could be a little tighter.”
Mina’s face lit up, and the awkward uncertainty lifted. “You don’t mind?” she asked.
I gave her a soft smile. “The customer is always right,” I replied, “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
At that, Mina’s mouth turned up into an impish grin, her eyes flashing mirth.
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