"Bound by Control: A Lesson in Surrender"

The next day, while Michael was at work and Carol was gently rubbing her reawakened pussy as she looked through fetish catalogues on her iPad, with Michael in mind, Chris received a phone call from head office. 

The phone rang, its shrill tone cutting through the quiet of Chrissie's office. She picked up the receiver, her voice steady and professional. "Chrissie speaking."

"Chrissie, it's Head Office. We're calling about the Michael Johnson case. We want to extend it," the voice on the other end said, its tone authoritative and efficient.

Chrissie leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowing slightly. "Extend it? In what way?"

“We have a client who is interested in applying a similar methodology to a female subject. We think Valerie might be a good candidate for this," the voice explained, a hint of excitement creeping into their tone. "And we also suggested that her mother, Carol, provide a different perspective. What do you think?"

Chrissie considered this for a moment, her mind racing with the implications. "The parameters would be the same as with Michael?" she asked, her voice neutral.

"Precisely. We want to explore the same level of control and compliance, but with the added dimension of gender dynamics. It could provide valuable insights," the voice replied, their enthusiasm palpable.

Chrissie nodded, even though the person on the other end couldn't see her. "I see. Well, I'll investigate the possibilities. Valerie and Carol are both viable candidates, and I think they could bring some interesting dynamics to the table. I'll get back to you with my findings."

"Excellent. We're looking forward to your report. Keep us updated," the voice said, before the line went dead.

Chrissie replaced the receiver, her mind already whirring with the potential of this new development. She leaned forward, her fingers tapping on the desk as she considered the best approach to take. This was an opportunity to expand their research, to delve deeper into the complexities of human psychology and control. And she was just the person to make it happen.

Chrissie sat at her desk, her eyes fixed on the footage playing on her computer screen. The explicit scenes of Olivia and Jonathan dominating Michael unfurled before her, each frame a testament to the power and control she so coveted. As she watched, her hand reached up to pull her lab coat undone, revealing the black lace bra and panties beneath, paired with pure silk stockings that accentuated her legs.^1^

Her other hand slowly trailed down her body, her fingers gently encircling her pussy, a soft moan escaping her lips as she imagined herself in the scene, riding Olivia's cock with wild abandon. Her eyes fluttered closed, lost in the fantasy, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.^1^

With a sudden jolt, she reached for her phone, her fingers pressing the intercom button. "Yes, Miss Chrissie," came her secretary's voice, prompt and attentive.

"Bring it in, Jenny," Chrissie commanded.

"Yes, Miss Chrissie," Jenny replied, a smile playing on her lips as she stood up and made her way to the cage in the corner of the room. She clipped open the door and gave it a firm kick. "Out," she ordered.

Inside the cage, Chrissie's husband, now known only as "it," moved from his resting position onto his knees. Blindfolded by a rubber, half-hood that covered his freshly shaved scalp, he couldn't see, but he could feel the firm fingers on the back of his head as the gag was removed, followed by the click of a leash being attached to his heavy collar.

Jenny pulled on the leash, leading "it" into Chrissie's office on its hands and knees, around the desk, and depositing it between her legs.

Jenny turned to leave, but Chrissie stopped her, holding out her hand. Jenny knew exactly what her boss wanted and stepped behind her.

Chrissie tapped "it's" head, a signal for him to begin the service for which he had been so meticulously trained. His tongue extended, his mouth widening as he started to perform, every movement evidence of his conditioning and her control.

Chrissie put her head back, a soft moan escaping her lips as she surrendered to the sensation, her body responding to the skilled touch of her husband's tongue. Jenny, not one to be left out, bent over the chair from behind and kissed Chrissie full on the lips, her hands sliding to Chrissie's tits, eliciting a deeper, more primal moan from her boss.

Jenny’s hands pulled her boss's tit from within her bra and flicked at the nipples with her thumbs. Chrissie put her hand up and pulled Jenny’s head as they kissed. It was doing what it was trained for, the only thing of value that Chrissie hadn’t stripped from his miserable life. 

Chrissie leaned back in her chair, her body tensing and releasing in waves. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, each exhale building the intensity of her arousal. Her fingers dug into the arms of her chair, knuckles white with the force of her grip, as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her body.

Jenny, l standing behind her, continued to tease and tantalize, her hands roaming over Chrissie's body, tracing the curves and contours with a practiced touch. Her lips were a constant, hungry presence, kissing and nipping at Chrissie's neck, her ear, her shoulder, each touch a spark that ignited a wildfire of desire.

Chrissie's moans grew louder, more insistent, a crescendo of pleasure that built to a fever pitch. Her hips bucked beneath the desk, meeting the rhythm of "it's" tongue, her body seeking more, always more.

And then, with a final, shuddering cry, Chrissie reached her climax, her body convulsing with the force of her release. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, each one more intense than the last, leaving her breathless and trembling in its wake.

She collapsed back into her chair, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. "It" continued to service her, its tongue gentle and soothing now, coaxing her down from the heights of ecstasy with a tenderness that belied its condition.

Jenny, sensing the shift in Chrissie's energy, slowed her touch, her kisses softening, more reverent. She knew the afterglow, the delicate balance between satisfaction and the lingering edge of desire.

Chrissie took a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes fluttering open to meet Jenny's gaze. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips, a secret shared between them, a moment of intimate connection in the aftermath of pleasure.

But the affection in Chrissie's eyes was fleeting. As she looked up at Jenny, the warmth faded, replaced by a cold, commanding stare. "Take it back, set it on its perch, in punishment position, then return," she ordered, her voice sharp.

"Yes, Miss Chrissie," Jenny replied, her tone deferential and obedient. She grabbed the leash, the metal links clinking softly as she led "it" out of the room.

Before returning "it" to its cage, Jenny reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a large dildo. It was a formidable sight, its length and girth designed for maximum impact, with a threaded screw protruding from the base. The score matched a hole on the bottom of the cage.

Jenny lifted the lid of the cage, the hinges creaking softly as she revealed the interior. With swift, practiced movements, she screwed the dildo into place, the threads biting into the metal with a satisfying click.

She then turned her attention back to "it," her expression a mix of detachment and anticipation. She dragged "it" to the cage, her grip firm on the leash, and made it crouch over, its body trembling with fear.

"Lower yourself onto it," Jenny commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. "It" complied, its body slowly descending onto the dildo, a grunt escaping its lips as the invasive object slid deep inside, filling it completely. The position was uncomfortable, humiliating, and designed to maximize both physical and psychological discomfort.

There was enough elasticity in the dildo for "it" to bend forward slightly, its body contorting to accommodate the intrusion. Jenny pulled on the leash, forcing "it's" head down and forward, the leash clicking into place as she hooked it onto the front of the cage.

She then took a chain and wrapped it around one ankle, pulling as hard as she could to force "it" down a little more, the metal biting into the skin. She clipped the chain to the side of the cage, securing "it" in place. She repeated the process on the other side, ensuring that "it" was stretched and immobilized, its body a taut, trembling mass of submission.

Jenny's movements were efficient and precise. She took "it's" right arm, pulling it back towards the left corner of the cage, and secured it with a chain. She did the same with the left arm, pulling it towards the right corner, the chains pulling tight, almost painfully so, ensuring that "it" was spread and vulnerable.

With "it" securely restrained, Jenny replaced the gag, muffling any sounds of protest or discomfort. She then closed the cage lid, pushing a little to force the top down over "it's" back, the metal edges biting into the skin. Finally, she closed and locked the cage door, the click of the lock echoing in the room, a final, ominous seal on "it's" imprisonment.

Jenny stepped back, her eyes lingering on the cage for a moment. She took a deep breath and turned to make her way back to Chrissie's office, her steps purposeful and efficient, leaving "it" to its punishment,  silent and suffering in the corner of the room.

Jenny returned to Chrissie's office, her steps silent and measured, a testament to her training and discipline. As she entered the room, she immediately fell to her knees, her body forming a perfect, submissive arch. Her head touched the ground, her hands resting palms up on her thighs, a picture of utter surrender and readiness.

Chrissie, still seated at her desk, looked up from her papers, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and authority. She took a moment to appreciate the sight of Jenny, her loyal and devoted assistant, before speaking.

"Jenny," Chrissie began, her voice steady and commanding, "Head Office has given us some new instructions. They want to extend the Michael Johnson case and apply a similar methodology to a female subject. They suggested Valerie and her mother, Carol, as potential candidates. What are your thoughts on this?

Jenny knelt up and replied without hesitation, her voice clear and respectful. "Miss Chrissie, I believe both Valerie and Carol would be perfect subjects. Valerie, with her personal connection to Michael, could offer a unique dynamic of control and submission. Carol, on the other hand, brings a different set of experiences and expectations, which could enrich our understanding of the subject."

Chrissie nodded, a small, approving smile playing on her lips. "I agree. Their involvement could indeed deepen our research. Head Office also mentioned a prototype chastity control device for women. They're sending us two units to test and provide feedback on. I want your input on how to implement the wearing of these devices."

Jenny's eyes flicked up briefly, a spark of interest and anticipation in her gaze. "Miss Chrissie, I suggest we mirror Michael's training regimen. We can implement strict rules and use shocks for punishments. No gradual introduction; we start them off with the full intensity to break them quickly and ensure compliance.

Chrissie leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping on the desk as she considered Jenny's proposal. "That's a bold approach. But I want Valerie and Carol to be fully compliant by the end of this week. How do you suggest we achieve that?"

Jenny thought for a moment before responding, her voice filled with a darker, more threatening tone. "We can start by enforcing a strict routine from the get-go. They will be required to wear the chastity devices at all times, except when permitted otherwise. Any violation of the rules will result in immediate shocks, intensifying with each infraction. We can also implement sensory deprivation techniques during their 'rest periods' to heighten their sensitivity and responsiveness to the devices."

Chrissie nodded, a look of approval and a hint of cruelty in her eyes. "I like your approach, Jenny. You have a knack for understanding the nuances of human psychology. Prepare a detailed plan outlining the implementation strategy.

Jenny bowed her head slightly, a sign of acknowledgment and respect. "I will have the plan ready by the end of the day, Miss Chrissie. Is there anything else you require?

Chrissie, seated at her desk, beckoned Jenny to her side with a commanding gesture. Jenny, ever obedient, approached and stood before her, her hands clasped behind her back and her legs spread apart, a stance of submission and readiness.

Chrissie's eyes gleamed with dominance as she reached out, her fingers deftly exploring Jenny's pussy. She took her time, tracing the delicate folds with a practiced touch, eliciting soft gasps and shivers from Jenny. Her fingers delved deeper, probing and teasing, bringing Jenny to the brink of ecstasy.

Just as Jenny's body tensed, on the precipice of orgasm, Chrissie pulled away, her fingers glistening with Jenny's arousal. She held them up, a cruel smile playing on her lips, and commanded, "Lick them clean, Jenny.

Jenny complied without hesitation, her tongue darting out to lick Chrissie's fingers, tasting herself. She cleaned each finger meticulously, her eyes never leaving Chrissie's, a silent acknowledgment of her devotion.

Once Jenny had finished, Chrissie nodded, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. "You may go, Jenny," she dismissed, her voice laced with a mix of authority and satisfaction.

Jenny bowed her head slightly, a sign of respect and acknowledgment, before turning and leaving the office. Chrissie watched her go, a sense of power and control filling her, ready to face the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead.

Chrissie sat back in her chair, her mind racing with the possibilities that lay before her. The uncharted territory of applying their methodologies to female subjects, Valerie and Carol, was both thrilling and daunting. She knew the stakes were high; Head Office did not take failure lightly, and the consequences could be severe.

As she pondered the risks and rewards, her hand absently rubbed her backside, a subconscious reminder of the last time she had been summoned to Head Office. The memory was still fresh, a sting of humiliation and a lesson learned the hard way. She had been called in for a minor infraction, but the punishment had been anything but minor.

The room had been cold and sterile, the air thick with an underlying current of power and control. She had been made to stand before the panel, her body trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. The questions had been sharp, the expectations clear: perfection was the only acceptable outcome.

Chrissie's hand tightened on her chair, the memory of the cane's bite still vivid. She had been bent over, her skirt hiked up, and the first strike had taken her breath away. Each subsequent blow had been a lesson in obedience and the consequences of failure.

But despite the pain and humiliation, Chrissie had emerged from that experience with a renewed sense of purpose. She understood the game, the rules, and the price of failure. It was a lesson she carried with her, a constant reminder of the high stakes and the need for absolute perfection.

As she sat there, her mind flitted back to the present, to the challenges and opportunities that awaited her. Valerie and Carol represented a new frontier, a chance to expand their research and solidify her position. But she also knew the risks; one misstep could lead to another summons, another lesson in the harsh realities of their world.

Chrissie took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead. She would need to be ruthless, precise, and unyielding. The success of this endeavor depended on it, and she was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.

Two hours later, there was a tap on the door. "Come in," Chrissie called, her voice steady and authoritative.

Jenny walked in, her steps measured and silent, a picture of discipline and obedience. She took her position in the middle of the floor, kneeling with her head touching the ground, her hands resting palms up on her thighs.^1^

"Sorry to disturb you, Miss Chrissie, I think I have a sound idea on how to proceed," Jenny said, her voice clear and respectful.

"You may stand, and tell me about it," Chrissie commanded, her eyes gleaming with interest.

Jenny rose gracefully, her movements fluid and efficient. A small, confident smile played on her lips as she spoke. "Miss Olivia may be the solution, Miss Chrissie. Have you watched the footage of Michael? It seems her new concoction works wonders."

Chrissie leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping on the desk as she considered Jenny's proposal. "I was thinking the same thing; we just need a reason to put them all together," she replied, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Jenny's smile widened, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "Maybe a party, Miss Chrissie. A celebration of the progress we've all had with Michael. It would provide the perfect cover to introduce Valerie and Carol to our methods, and with Michael present, we can observe their interactions and adapt our strategies accordingly."

Chrissie nodded, a look of approval and a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Mmm, that might work," she said with a mischievous smile. "Maybe we can involve Michael somehow in their downfall; that might be fun to work on and produce some interesting data. I’ll reach out to Olivia. Good girl, Jenny."

Jenny bowed her head slightly, a sign of acknowledgment and respect. "Thank you, Miss Chrissie," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude and devotion.

"Dismissed," Chrissie said, picking up the phone to dial her good friend Olivia. As Jenny left the office, Chrissie watched her go, a sense of satisfaction and a dark thrill filling her.