Quiet Time

"Did you shave down there?" asked Thomas. The last time she left, he had mentioned to Kirsten that he wanted to see her pussy looking smooth and clean for him. She didn't know what he would do if she didn't follow his commands, but she didn't want to find out the hard way. Today had been four meetings, two presentations to the CEO, and four hours of overtime working on spaghetti code that stubbornly refused to compile. She needed this.

"Yes sir," she replied meekly, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her slacks and pulling them down. The 'sir' had become instinctive now, as automatic and unthinking as the beat of her heart. It was one of the first conditions he had put on their sessions together, back when she first bumped into him online in a forum devoted to stress relief and found out that he was local to the area. Not that he ever actually called them conditions.

'It will help to keep you in the proper frame of mind for our time together,' he'd said, in that same even tone he used for everything from asking her if she wanted a glass of water to telling her to bend over and present herself for fucking. 'I think you'll find that it helps you achieve the state of mind that you're looking for.' She had agreed with a cheer that was almost desperate, relieved beyond her ability to express-not just that it had worked the way that he'd promised, but that he was going to let her come back a second time. Now it was second nature to her.

Her panties followed a moment later, exposing her clean-shaven mound to him. She didn't even blink at taking off her clothes for Thomas anymore. It felt almost natural to be nude when she was with him, just another way of getting into the proper frame of mind for the sessions that she craved so badly. She knew what he was doing to her, of course. She wasn't stupid. But it was an exchange she was willing to make.

"Very nice," Thomas purred, running his fingers over the soft surface of her vulva as she unbuttoned her blouse. His hand felt good, but Kirsten couldn't really concentrate on the sensation. When Thomas touched her, all she could think about was how long it had been since she'd had a serious relationship, which led her back to Devon and that break-up, and then the three month long 'crunch time' that had torpedoed their relationship came back to her like a shambling zombie memory that refused to die.

And of course they had laid off half the staff after the project was complete, so now she was having to bring a whole new generation of coders up to speed on version 4.8 while coding 5.0. And there wasn't even documentation for most of version 1.5 and earlier, so she was practically writing her own manuals for most of the things she did, and senior management was coming to her with new feature requests faster than they could implement them, and the deadline for 5.0 was looming up at her like a brick wall in the fog and-

"Please, sir," Kirsten whimpered, the words escaping her lips before she was even aware of them. She didn't know if Thomas thought she was excited by his touch, or if he understood just how badly she needed to make everything go away for a bit, and she didn't care. She needed him. Now. She'd tried meditation, relaxation tapes, therapists and sedatives-none of it worked the way this did.

He looked up at her, and he must have seen the exhaustion in her eyes because his expression was one of concern. "Did you really think I wouldn't?" he asked her. He didn't sound like he was teasing this time. Sometimes he did tease her, his eyes twinkling and his smile crooked as he dropped just the slightest hint that maybe this time she wasn't quite respectful enough to deserve a session with him. He never teased for long, though. He didn't need to.

"N-no, sir," she said, unable to raise her voice above a respectful murmur in his presence. The last thing she wanted was to offend him, even by accident. She had nightmares about it, tangled dreams of the door to his apartment slamming in her face and leaving her standing naked in the hallway. She sometimes wondered if addicts dreamed about their pushers the same way. "I just...everything's so loud in my head, sir. Can we please begin? Sir?"

Thomas must have noticed the stress radiating off of her in waves, because he said, "Of course we can. You've been a very good girl, Kirsten, and you deserve a little Quiet Time."

The second she heard the words, Kirsten's shoulders slumped. Her eyes went unfocused, losing their hunted look and becoming soft and vacant. Her body became loose, not quite limp enough to stumble or fall but easily relaxed enough to be pliable. And her mind, her blessed mind...

Thoughts of the project went away. The presentations to uncaring, unthinking managers faded into blissful silence. Stress and frustration melted into soft, pink, sticky pleasure that coated her mind and left her deliriously blank. Deadlines faded to the back of her head, banished like angry poltergeists. Kirsten lost track of them all as the slow blanket of peace and quiet settled over her lazy brain and she remembered just how easy it was to let go for Thomas.

"I am a quiet girl, sir," she responded, luxuriating in the dull monotone she heard herself using. "I await your instructions, sir." She felt her hands drifting, without any conscious effort at all, to lace themselves behind her head in the pose she knew Thomas liked best. It was so delicious, knowing that for once all she had to do was listen and respond-and that response was easier, more automatic each time. No confusion, no doubt, no conflicting priorities, just the one goal. Making Thomas happy. And he always let her know how to do that.

Sure enough, Thomas was already undoing his fly. He pulled his dick out of his boxer shorts, already stiff enough that it took a little maneuvering to get it free of the layers of cloth, and scooped his balls free with only a little more maneuvering. "Come and sit on my cock, Kirsten," he husked out in a voice thick with arousal, "and tell me how good it feels to be quiet."

Without taking her hands away from the back of her neck, Kirsten climbed up onto the couch and straddled his hips. She sank slowly down onto his lap with a murmur of ecstasy, finally able to concentrate on the hot tingling in her clit as it rubbed up against his pulsing cock on its way into her. "Ohhhh," she gasped out. "Thank you, sir. I, I feel so happy when I stop thinking."

"That's right, good girl." Thomas reached up and flicked her nipples with his thumbs, bringing them to full attention within moments. "It feels so good to stop thinking. You feel so happy whenever your mind goes still and smooth and quiet for me." His voice roughened a bit as his hips slowly rolled in a steady rhythm in time with her own, but he never lost that smooth, even tone of command. "A quiet girl is a happy girl."

"A quiet girl is a h-happy girl, sir," Kirsten purred, her own voice dissolving into a slight squeak as his hands rubbed and tweaked her nipples. A sleepy smile spread across her face as she repeated his words back to him. It was really the only way she could respond when she was like this. Her own thoughts were so still and smooth and quiet that his words were the only things left in her brain. That felt utterly perfect to her.

"A quiet girl is an obedient girl, Kirsten." His eyes never left hers, looking unblinkingly into her vacant gaze as though he was pouring his will directly into her mind. She instantly and implicitly believed his words; the part of her that could think about whether they were true or right or safe had surrendered willingly to his power. She didn't want to think. She didn't care who did the thinking anymore, so long as it wasn't her for a while.

"A quiet girl is an obedient girl, sir." The thoughts became her own; and then, because she wasn't thinking right now, they slipped to the back of her head and she forgot them. She would remember the sex, the way that she shuddered as his hand drifted down to rub her clit and she responded by mindlessly bouncing up and down on his cock, and she would even remember that he had given her instructions while they fucked. But the words drifted away to somewhere deep in her mind. She didn't want to think anymore. She only wanted to obey.

"A quiet girl...is a submissive girl." She could hear it in his voice now, a subtle urgency that told her his balls were already aching with the need for release. Kirsten felt proud that she could bring him to climax so quickly-she'd never thought of herself as a talented lover, but he could never hold back for long when she was deep and blank like this. She increased her pace, riding his cock with a frantic speed as she struggled to hold back her own orgasm.

She knew what he needed, what they both needed, and she wanted nothing more than to give it to him. "A quiet girl is, is a submissive g-girl, sir!" she cried out, the words enfolding her in their own bliss, and she saw it on his face that her response was enough to tip him over the edge into climax. He strained up into her, she ground down onto him, and the pulse of his cock reached a crescendo as they came.

She heard herself squealing in pleasure, a guttural moan of animalistic desire that escaped as her orgasm hit and kept hitting. He was diddling her clit, holding her in that endless instant of climax far longer than her waking self would have imagined possible, whispering things into her ears that she didn't remember because she didn't think and she didn't think because she didn't want to think and she didn't want to think because it felt so good to be blank and obedient and blank and horny and blank and blank and blank and blank and blank and blank and blank and

.

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.

.

"Time to come back, Kirsten," and it was over. She looked at the clock-it was almost midnight. She had to get home, she had to get to sleep, she had to be up early for another round of meetings and projects and presentations and reports. But none of it touched her the way it had just a few short hours ago. For a little while, at least, the quiet echoed in her mind as loud as any sound.

"Thank you sir," she whispered, almost awed. She could feel the bubble of stillness even now, that pleasant and timeless dream of lying with her head in his lap as he stroked her hair and allowed her to drift in mindless bliss. She remembered the scent of him, the taste of him, the sound of his voice as he took her to a point beyond thought. She remembered not thinking, and it was wonderful.

"You're very welcome, Kirsten," he said, helping her back to her feet. She pulled on her clothes, squirming just a little as her panties soaked up their mingled fluids. Not for the first time, she was grateful that he'd started her on birth control. The last thing she needed was to try to do her job while pregnant. "I look forward to seeing you again soon."

She was halfway to the door before he spoke again. "Oh, Kirsten?" he said, his voice deceptively casual. "Next time you visit, there will be a collar hanging next to the door. It would make me very happy if you put it on when you came in." He didn't say what would happen if she refused. Kirsten never had any intention of finding out.

She knew what he was doing to her. She wasn't stupid. But if it meant that she could feel this good, she didn't care.

THE END