Under Her Control

The restaurant candles, resting on the centre of each table, flickered against wine glasses and poisoned cutlery. The room was filled with quiet conversation, the low murmur of voices punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional clock or cutlery against plate or of a toast. It was a place that oozed indulgence–deep red velvet seating, smooth jazz playing just loud enough to sink into the atmosphere. Ellie and Shane were sat in what felt like near privacy in the far corner. Their attention on each other was unbreakable.

Ellie leaned carefully back in her chair, one delicate ankle crossed over the other, absently twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. She wasn’t even drinking it–just letting it swirl.

Across from her, Shane watched her with an intensity that made her lips curve in amusement. She Always know exactly how to capture all of Shane, and the red velvet bodycon dress was definitely working tonight. It sat tight against the curves of herbody, wrapping her elegantly, but teasing just enough to put Shane’s imagination to work.

“You’re staring, pet,” Ellie teased.. She lifted her green eyes to his, knowing full well the effect it would have. Even seated, she still had to look up at him–a fact that pleased her immensely.

It made her feel powerful. Not in the way a crown made a

queen powerful, but in the way gravity made the earth obey. He was much taller, broader, stronger. But she was the one who held him in orbit.

She smiled–just a hint, just enough to remind him that she knew exactly what she was doing.

“I like it,” she admitted. “That you can’t help yourself.”

His breathing changed, barely perceptible, but she caught it. She caught everything.

Because that was the part she loved the most–not just his surrender, but the fact that he gave it so willingly. No force. No struggle. Just quiet, aching devotion wrapped in the body of a man who could break her in half, yet never would.

And that? That was intotoxicating.

“I can’t help myself, Goddess Ellie,” The title fell from his lips with the quiet reverence of worship as he confirmed her words.

Then, as if remembering himself, he dropped his gaze, the moment of boldness giving way to something soft, steering in devotion.

Ellie watched him with that knowing stare, the one that made his stomach tighten and his breath come just a little shallower. She said nothing, studying him as if deciding

whether or not he was worth indulging tonight.

He could feel the warmth of her even from the opposite side of the table, the cent of her perfume wrapping his senses–something floral but with a bite, something that made him think of petals crushed beneath the heel of a siletto.

Ellie lifted a single manicured finger, tilting his chin Just enough to bring his eyes back to hers. “And why is that?”

Shane’s gaze lowered her lips before meeting her eyes again. His mind flickered through all the things he loved about her–the way she laughed in the middle of kissing him, the way her fingers curled possessessively in his hair when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way she owned every room she walked into, the way that she owned him without ever having to say the words aloud.

“Just everything about you,” he said finally, voice low. “You grip me like nothing else ever has.”

Ellie huffed a soft laugh, but her hand was already moving, slipping over his where it rested on the table. Her fingers were warm, delicate but firm, and when she pressed her palm flat against his skin, it was grounding, claiming.

“Well, aren’t you just a little charmer,” she replied, playful and indulgent. She took a sip of her wine at last, the deep red coating her tongue, rich and slow.

Shane leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the linen-draped table, the candlelight catching the sharp angles of his face. “Am I?”

The excitement in his voice, like a puppy, sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She arched a browser, feigning nonchalance as she set her glass down with deliberate care.

“Sometimes.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I know you, Ellie. If I wasn’t charming, you wouldn’t waste your time with me.”

Ellie smiled. He was wrong. She adored every fibre of his being, every inch of his too-tall frame that folded so beautifully under her touch. And he knew that, of course he did. But she had to play. Had to tease. Had to let him think, for just a moment, that he had any control over this game.

The server arrived, setting down their plates with quiet efficiency–a medium-rare steak for Shane, the juices pooling against the porcelain, and for Ellie, a perfectly seared salmon, the skin crisp, the scent of butter and fresh herbs under her nose.

A fleeting moment of quiet. The tension didn’t break.

Shane picked up his knife, slicing into his steak with slow precision. “You know,” he mused, almost absentmindedly, “I was good today.”

Ellie paused, fork hovering just above her plate. She lowered it, tilting her head slightly, studying him. “Were you?”

Shane nodded, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “Very good, actually.”

Ellie shifted, resting her elbow on the table, chin against her palm. “Go on, then. Impress me.”

A deliberate pause. Then:

“I spent the whole day thinking about you and didn’t touch once.”

Ellie laughed, shaking her head. “What Self-control that must have taken.” She rolled her eyes. “You do deserve a medical.”

Shane shrugged, maddeningly smug. “Thought you might say that. And since I was so good…” He let his voice dip. “I thought maybe I could have a reward.”

Ellie exhausted slowly, tracing the rim of her wine glass with one fingertip. A game. Always a game.

“You assume too much.”

Shane tilted his head, eyes dark with amusement. “Do I?”

She let the silence stretch, let him wait. She loved the waiting. Loved the way his fingers twitched slightly against

the linen tablecloth, his jaw tightening just a fraction, the way his chest rose just a little deeper with every breath.

Slyly, skillfully, she let her foot slip free of its heel, the cool air kissing the arch of her foot before she stretched it out. The first touch was light, a brush against the fabric of his tailored trousers, just enough for him to feel it.

Shane stiffened–just slightly, but she felt it.

Then, another touch. More pressure. A slow, careful drag of her foot along his thigh, stopping just before the place she knew he wanted her the most.

He was hardening beneath her touch, and she didn’t need to see it to know. She felt the heat through the layers of fabric, the tension threading through his muscles, the sheer willpower it took for him to keep his hands where they were instead of reaching for her.

Finally, she leaned in, just enough for her voice to drop into something lower, silkier.

“You’ll have to earn it, love.”

Shane’s grip on his knife tightened just slightly. He exhausted through his nose, controlled. Barely.

“Of course,” he murmured, voice rougher now. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ellie smiled. This was going to be fun.

————————————————————————————————–

The city was alive with distant laughter and the low purr of traffic. Neon lights shimmered in puddles from the evening rain, smearing reds and blues across the pavement. The night air pressed against their skin, thick with the kind of heat that turned every breath slow and heavy.

Ellie walked beside Shane, unhurried. His presence was steady at her side, his body held in careful restraint. Close enough to feel, not quite close enough to touch. Not yet.

She felt it before she saw it–the hesitation in his fingers when they ghosted against hers, a fleeting brush of skin that sent a slow ache curling in her stomach. It was intentional, that almost-touch. A tease, a plea. He wanted her permission. He wanted her.

Ellie made him wait.

“You’re quiet,” she said, her voice soft.

Shane dragged a hand through his black hair. “Thinking.”

“About?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, his

fingertips grazing the inside of her wrist, tracing the delicate skin there. Just the barest touch.

“You.”

Her pulse stuttered. Not because his words surprised her–Shane had never been anything but direct. But because of the way he said them. No hesitation. No question. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if she was the most natural thing in the world to him.

Ellie let the silence stretch, watching him from beneath her lashes. His face was composed, but she knew better. His jaw was tight, his hands restless. Waiting.

She let him wait a moment longer before giving a small, knowing hum. “Good.”

Theyreached her building, the warm glow of the lobby lights pooling onto the pavement. Ellie stopped just short of the entrance and turned to face him fully.

Shane watched her. She knew exactly what he was waiting for.

She stepped closer, drinking in the details of him–the tension in his broad shoulders, the controlled rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted slightly, betraying the depth of his need.

Ellie lifted a single finger and traced it down his chest, following the slow exhaust he let out.

“You were good today, weren’t you?”

Shane swallowed. His breath was warm, unsteady. “Yes, Goddess Ellie.”

Ellie tilted her head, considering him, enjoying the way his body leaned ever so slightly into hers, like a man drawn to gravity.

She reached into her pursuit, pulling out her keys with an ageing slowness, then turned away towards the door.

“Come on, then,” she said over her shoulder, her voice a quiet command. “Let’s see if you can stay that way.”

She didn’t need to look back to know he followed.

Tonight, he would earn her.

————————————————————————————————–

Shane knelt before Ellie, his hazel eyes overflowing with adoration and a hunger that made her feel like both a goddess and a devil all at once. She leaned back in her burgundy armchair, her body Draped in a sheer black robe that did more to tantalize than conceal. The lamps in the room painted her in soft golden hues, leaving shadows

clinging to the dips and curves of her figure. Her blonde hair, streaked with rebellious brunette roots, spilled over her shoulders, framing a face light with a mischievous dominance. She smiled, her green eyes glittering, her septum piercing glinting as she tilted her head, studying him like a curious cat deciding whether to pounce. Her power was a slow burn, seductive and inescapable, and she wielded it with the ease of someone who knew exactly how much they could ruin you– and how much you’d beg for it.

“Look at me,” she ordered, her Mancunian accent slicing

through the silence, sharp but impossible soft in its allure.

Shane’s head rose, a surrender. Those dark eyes of his, usually so defiant, met hers and falsered, their fire reduced to a smoulder. He was six-foot-three of unyielding strength, a fortune of a man, but right now, in this moment, he felt bare. Vulnerable. Exposed.

“Yes, Goddess Ellie,” he replied, his London drawl low, thick, and dripping with something close to reverence.

She leaned forward just slightly, the stem of the wine glass balanced democratically between her fingers, her nails a poisoned contrast against the crystal. The deep red within shimmered under the soft lighting. Her lips curved into a devilish smile, her voice a velvety care. “You’ve been such a good boy for me lately,” she murmured, her tone thick with honeyed condescension. “But I hope you didn’t expect that I’d let you

off that easily, did you?”

His head divided, submission lacened in the low gravel of his voice. “No, Goddess Ellie.”

“I’m glad,” she said, her voice evolved into something darker, something that promised both pleasure and punishment. “Because tonight, you’ll earn it–every touch, every kiss, every shred of mercy I might allow.”

Ellie rose from the chair, the silk of her robe floating against her skin as she moved closer to him. Though barely 5’3″, she

owned the room with an authority that made her seem taller, larger, unstoppable. Setting her wine glass down on the side cabinet with deliberate grace, she stood before him, tight against him, her green eyes sharp as they pierced his. He could feel her body against his, drawing from deep inside himself anything that would keep his excitement hidden. Her fingertips grazed his jaw. She tilted his chin upward, forcing his gaze to stay locked on hers.

Ellie leaned over and let her lips brush teasingly against his earliest, a whisper hot and full of possession. “You belong to me,” she murmured, her words a semiconductor promise.

Shane’s heart pounded in his chest as he met her gaze, voice rough with surrender. “You,” he said, each syllable thick with desire and pride. He loved belonging to Ellie.

Her fingers danced over the buttons of his shirt, each one a delicate undoing as she worked They are free. The fabric parted, exposing the sculpted lines of his chest beneath. Ellie let out a breath that was almost a purr. “So strong,” she murmured, her touch lingering over the firm contours of him. “And yet, at my command, you melt…”

Each touch from Ellie was measured, each careful brush of her fingers, coaxing the heat between them to rise just a fraction more. She drew back, her eyes gliding over him, her head tilting ever so slightly, as if to say, I know what I want.

“Stand up,” she commanded, her voice low.

Shane obeyed, rising to his full height,His body an imposing tower before her. Ellie met him with a hungry, powerful gaze. She didn’t hesitate. “Take off the rest.”

He paused for a breath, before his large hands grazed the waistband of his black trousers. Slowly, he removed them, the fabric falling to the floor. His eyes remained locked on hers, never breaking the connection or the tension between them. Ellie’s gaze was a unreadable, but that did nothing to quell the heat rising in him. If anything, the mystery only lured him in more.

“Good boy,” she whispered, the words coated in honey, but the subtle cruelty in her voice was unmistakable. She closed the space between them once again, her fingers curling

against his chest with a claim, trailing down, until they rested at his waist. “Now… knee.”

Shane obediently dropped to his knees, the softened thud of his knees meeting the floor almost lost beneath the pulse of his own breath. Ellie’s fingers wound through his short black hair, pulling his headback. Her lips grazed his ear, her breath warm and intimate.

“You’ll make me proud, won’t you?” she asked, her voice low, teasing, yet demanding.

Shane didn’t hesitate, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desire. “Yes, Goddess Ellie.”

She stepped back just a little, her fingers still tangled in his hair, forcing his head up to meet her eyes. The sharpness in her gaze was cold and unforgiving, but there was something more beneath–something dangerously tender.

“Good,” she pursued, her voice a velvet command, low and smooth. “Because if you fail me, I won’t hesitate to make you regret it.”

Those words sliced ​​through the air, leaving a memory of previous punishments on Shane’s skin. His body responded instantly, tension cooling at the harsh promise in her voice. Ellie’s lips curved into a smile, before her hand loosened from his hair.

“Now,” she murmured, the softness of her tone at odds with the steel beneath it. “Stay. Don’t even think about moving.”

Shane didn’t look away even slightly as Ellie stepped back, his gaze pinned to hers like a desperate man. Entranced. Craving. She could feel it–feel his observation. Feel the shift in the air as the space between them stretched. She moved back towards the side cabinet, retrieved the wine glass, and took a seductive sip. Her eyes stayed locked on his, watching with a light chuckle as he fight to keep his composition.

“You’re so well trained,” she pursued, each sylable coated in authority. “But I think there’s still a little more work to do.”

She placed the glass back down with an elegant precision. Then, she slowly walked back to him, each step purposeful, her presence a magnetic force pulling him deeper under her control. The soft, inviting way of her hips teasing Shane. All he could do for now was watch. Her fingers grazed his cheek. She tilted his head up, just enough to look into his eyes–just enough to make him feel her power.

“Tell me exactly what you want, pet,” she commanded.

Shane’s breath failed him, the words trembling on his lips as if she were pulling them out of him, one fragile thread at a time. “I want you… I want to serve you, Goddess Ellie.”

Her lips, full and dark pink, became a smile that was equal

parts approval and amusement. “Of course you do, pet,” she pursued. “Good answer.”

Her hands found the loose knot of her robe, teasing it free with an infuriating slowness. The fabric slide from her shoulders like water, down her body in what felt to Shane like slow motion, pooling finally at her feet. Ellie stood there, her petite frame a contradiction of softness and strength, curves sculpted to tempt and torque in equal measure.

Her eyes ablaze with quiet authority as she spoke, her voice a low, smokey murmur. “Now,” she said, each following word a deliberate provocation, “show me just how much you crave to serve me.”

Her fingers glided along the sharp line of his beared jaw, a touch as soft as it was uncompromising. “Worship me, Shane,” she commanded, her mancunian accent soft but firm. “Start with my feet.”

Ellie reclined, letting her body fall back into the chair with a languid, almost cruel carelessness. One foot lifted, barely an inch, enough to draw attention to the elegant curve of her arch. She flexed her toes lazily, her eyes fixed on his, daring him.

Shane dropped to his hands and knees, the stretch of his broad shoulders taut with submission. He crawled forward. Ellie’s gaze sharpened. When he reached her, his hands Shook ever so slightly as they cupped her foot, rough palms

cradling her soft skin like something sacred.

Her feet were a study in elegance, the curve of her arch smooth as satin beneath his rough fingertips. Shane raised her foot slowly a little higher, until his lips brushed the tender skin. His tongue followed, tracing a slow, deliberate path along the arch, savouring her like the first taste of something forbidden. She tasted of warmth and salt, a sweetness that clung to his senses.

A low hum of approval escaped between Ellie’s lips. She sank back a little further, her head tilting just enough to expose the elegant arch of her neck, a queen savouring the devotion of her subject. “Mmm, that’s it,” she purred.

Shane’s tongue moved with precision, slow and through, as though mapping every curve and hollow of her foot. He lingered at the arch, then glided along the delicate ridge of her toes, the touch of his tongue coating soft, involuntary sights from her. Ellie’s eyes gleamed as she watched his devotion unfold.

“Good boy,” she moaned, her voice syrupy sweet, the edge of mockery sharpening it just enough to sting. Her fingers ruffled through his hair, a fleeting reward, before she leaned forward slightly. “But I Know you can do better than that.”

Shane’s cheats flared with a rosy heat, humiliation burning just beneath his skin, but he didn’t false. If anything, the weight of her stare drive him further, his tongue tracing

glistening paths over the arch of her foot. Each motion was desperate, punctuated by the laboured cadence of his breathing.

When she finally pulled her foot away, the absence was as sharp as her gaze. She considered him, eyes dark with mischief. “Not bad,” she murmured. “But I’m far from finished with you.”