Is it your fantasy to play with a vibrating egg? To hand over the remote control and put yourself at the mercy of another? Then this story is perfect for you.
Erotic Story – In Control
The day that would change everything began relatively normally. The forecast was rain. Marianne had a dress in each hand, which she held alternately between her and the mirror in her bedroom. The red one was bold and a tad garish. The black one was restrained, yet sexy, and so it became the black one. Her phone gave a short bleep, indicating she had an appointment in an hour. Arriving fashionably late was not something Marianne did. She had picked the location herself. Her rule was that a date should take place in a public place, where there would be an average amount of traffic – so she could easily call for help – but not so crowded that they could not understand each other.
This morning she had already refueled, so she would not experience any further delay. Of course, she could have taken the train, but she didn’t want to risk a delay. And although she assumed Martin would pay the bill, she had made sure she had enough balance. Her purse may have been small, but it contained a full survival kit. The lipstick and mascara, were accompanied by a vial of lubricant, three condoms and a can of pepper spray (her Plan B).
Marianne’s friends always joked that she worked out every decision – big or small – in a flow chart and mind map first, so she could weigh all the variables thoughtfully. No, you couldn’t accuse Marianne of whimsy. She was the type of woman who made her bed while she was still lying in it herself, and she had a list that included all the lists she kept. It was going too far for Marianne to call herself a control freak. That the clothes in her closet were hung by color was only to make them easier to find. And that that somewhat frightened some people secretly gave Marianne a strange sense of well-being.
Someone who was strong enough to contradict her and who could occasionally tie the knot for her. Marianne didn’t necessarily agree. And so they had given her a present.
“Mar,” they had said, “if you think – really think – that you are not a control freak, prove it.”
She was well on time, as she backed her car into the parking space and applied the handbrake. From her friends’ pack, Marianne took out a little thing that most resembled a Barbapappa. It felt soft and pleasant to the touch. Her cheeks glowed as she realized what she had received from her friends. For a moment she hesitated, but it was beyond her honor to back down now. With a little lube from her bag (“you see” was her motto), the ball-shaped thing slid easily into place, as if it were a tampon. Inside herself, Marianne giggled. The disc that came with it was a remote control, responding to movement. If she held it crookedly it began to vibrate and if she shook it she activated a pattern, which caused an unsuppressible little squeal.
In other circumstances, his smile might have reassured her. But there was no turning back now. And so Marianne walked briskly and with outstretched arm toward Martin. Decidedly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him to greet her with three kisses on the cheek. Only when she released his hand did Martin notice to his surprise that she had left the small round disc in it. With some surprise, he turned the thing on its axis, looked at it from all sides and shook it inquisitively. It took only a moment before he began to fathom the connection between his movements and his date’s gurgling.
Marianne bit her lip. For the first time in her life, she had literally relinquished control. And the predicted rain was not going to be the only cause of wetness this evening.