The Art of Control

I sat in my dimly lit living room, a glass of red wine cradled in my hand, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. At fifty, I’d lived a life full of stories, but one chapter always seemed to creep back into my thoughts, especially on quiet nights like this. It was a time when I was young, broke, and desperate to pay my way through college. That’s when I found myself working at The Velvet Room, a seedy strip joint on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills, and I was good at it. Damn good.

My name is Madeline, and back then, I was a sight to behold. Brown hair that fell in waves down my back, green eyes that could lure a man in with just one glance, and a body that turned heads. C cup breasts, a shapely figure, and a pretty face—I knew how to use what I had. But it wasn’t just about looks. It was about the art of seduction, the dance, the way I could make a man feel like he was the only one in the room. And the lap dances? Well, let’s just say I had a talent for making them cum in their pants without ever taking off my clothes.

I took a sip of wine, the rich flavor lingering on my tongue as I let my mind drift back to those nights. The Velvet Room was a place of desperation and desire, a haven for men who wanted to forget their troubles for a little while. The air was thick with the scent of cheap cologne, cigarette smoke, and the faint tang of sweat. The stage was small, lit by neon lights that cast an eerie glow over the dancers. But it was the private rooms, tucked away in the back, where the real money was made.

I remember one particular night like it was yesterday. It was a Thursday, slow by most standards, but I’d already made a decent amount from the stage. My heels clicked against the floor as I made my way to the bar, my tight black dress hugging every curve. The bartender, a grizzled man named Carl, nodded at me as he poured my usual—a whiskey sour, heavy on the whiskey. “You’re killing it tonight, Mads,” he said, sliding the drink my way. I smiled, taking a sip. “Just doing my job, Carl.”

That’s when I spotted him. Sitting in the corner, alone, was a man who looked like he didn’t belong in a place like this. Mid-thirties, maybe, with sharp features and a suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his eyes—god, his eyes were intense, like they could see right through you. He wasn’t like the other men who came here. He wasn’t drunk or leering. He was just… watching. And for some reason, that made me want him in my private room more than anything.

I finished my drink and made my way over, my hips swaying with purpose. “Hi,” I purred, leaning against the table so my dress dipped low, giving him a glimpse of cleavage. “I’m Madeline. You look like you could use some company.”

He smirked, his eyes flicking up and down my body before meeting mine. “I’m not here for the usual,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

“Well, I’m not your usual dancer,” I replied, running a finger along the rim of his glass. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you what I mean?”

He hesitated for a moment before standing, towering over me in his expensive shoes. “Lead the way.”

The private room was small, with a plush chair in the center and dim lighting that cast long shadows on the walls. I closed the door behind us, the click echoing in the silence. “Have a seat,” I said, my voice low and inviting. He did, his eyes never leaving mine as I moved to stand in front of him.

“What’s your name?” I asked, running my hands slowly up my thighs, the fabric of my dress gliding over my skin.

“Daniel,” he replied, his gaze intense.

“Daniel,” I repeated, letting his name roll off my tongue. “You’re not like the other men who come here. What brings you to a place like this?”

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs. “Curiosity, I suppose. I’ve heard stories about you, Madeline. About how you can make a man lose control without ever taking off your clothes.”

I smirked, stepping closer until I was standing between his legs. “Stories, huh? Well, Daniel, I don’t just tell stories. I make them come to life.”

I began to move, my hips swaying to a rhythm only I could hear. The dress clung to my body as I ran my hands up my sides, teasing the neckline to reveal just a hint of my breasts. Daniel’s eyes darkened, his breath quickening as he watched me. I could feel his desire like a tangible thing, and it fueled me.

“You like what you see?” I whispered, leaning down until my lips were inches from his ear. He didn’t respond, but his hands twitched, like he wanted to reach out and touch me. I pulled back, my fingers trailing down my neck, over my collarbone, and down to the edge of my dress. “You want more, don’t you?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Maybe.”

I laughed, a low, sultry sound that seemed to vibrate through the room. “Maybe? Daniel, you’re in my private room. You paid for this. So, yes, you want more.”

I stepped back, giving him a full view of my body before turning slowly, letting the dress ride up my thighs. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, and it made me smile. I was in control here, and I loved it. I moved closer again, this time straddling his lap, my knees on either side of his thighs. His hands rested on my hips, like he was afraid to touch me, but I could feel the heat of his palms through the fabric of my dress.

“Relax,” I murmured, running my hands through his hair, pulling his face close to mine. “Just feel.”

I began to grind against him, slow and deliberate, my hips moving in a rhythm that was both teasing and torturous. His cock was hard beneath me, pressing against my ass, and I could feel his heartbeat racing beneath my hands. “You like that, don’t you?” I whispered, my lips brushing his ear. “Feeling me against you like this?”

He groaned, his hands tightening on my hips, but he didn’t say anything. I smiled, leaning back slightly so I could see his face. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched, and I knew I had him right where I wanted him.

I moved faster, my hips rolling against his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my own body. I was turned on, too, but this wasn’t about me. This was about him, about pushing him to the edge and keeping him there. I leaned forward, my breasts pressing against his chest, my breath hot against his neck. “You’re close, aren’t you?” I whispered. “You want to cum for me, Daniel. You want to feel it, don’t you?”

He nodded, his hands moving to my waist, like he was trying to pull me closer. “Please,” he rasped.

“Not yet,” I said, my voice firm but teasing. “Not until I say so.”

I slowed my movements, torturously slow, my hips barely moving against his. His groans turned into frustrated grunts, and I could feel his cock twitching against me, desperate for release. “You’re so close,” I murmured, my lips brushing his jawline. “But you’re not allowed to cum yet. Not until I give you permission.”

His hands gripped my waist harder, his nails digging into my skin, but he didn’t say anything. He was completely under my control, and it was exhilarating. I sped up again, my hips moving in sharp, quick motions that had him gasping for breath. “That’s it,” I whispered. “Feel it. Feel how close you are.”

His head fell back against the chair, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought for control. I could feel his cock throbbing against me, and I knew he was right on the edge. “Now,” I said, my voice sharp and commanding. “Cum for me, Daniel. Cum in your pants like a good boy.”

His body tensed, his hands gripping my waist so hard I knew I’d have bruises in the morning. Then, with a hoarse cry, he came, his cock pulsing against me as he spilled into his expensive suit. I kept moving, riding out his orgasm, my own body buzzing with satisfaction.

When it was over, he slumped back in the chair, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. I leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his jawline. “That was impressive,” I said, my voice soft. “Most men can’t hold out that long.”

He opened his eyes, looking up at me with a dazed expression. “You’re… you’re something else, Madeline.”

I smiled, standing up and smoothing my dress. “I know.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a thick stack of bills. “This is for you,” he said, holding it out. “It’s not enough, but… thank you.”

I took the money, tucking it into my bra with a wink. “Anytime, Daniel. Anytime.”

As I left the room, I could hear him cursing under his breath as he tried to clean himself up. I laughed softly, making my way back to the bar. Carl raised an eyebrow as I approached. “Another satisfied customer?”

“You could say that,” I replied, signaling for another drink.

That night was just one of many, but it stood out in my memory. Daniel was different from the other men who came to The Velvet Room. He was refined, intelligent, and yet, he’d lost control just like the rest of them. It was a reminder of the power I held, the ability to make a man forget everything but the feel of my body against his.

I took another sip of wine, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. Those days were long behind me now, but they’d shaped me into the woman I was today. I’d learned how to read people, how to push their buttons, and how to get what I wanted. And as I sat there, alone in my quiet house, I couldn’t help but smile. Those lap dances had paid my tuition, but they’d also taught me something far more valuable: the art of control. And that, my dear, is a lesson I’ll never forget.

Non-Penetrative Pleasure

I lay on my back, the soft sheets cool against my skin, my heart pounding with anticipation. Tom’s obsession with non-penetrative sex had always intrigued me, but tonight, I was determined to explore it fully, to give him the pleasure he craved and, in turn, discover new depths of my own desire. The room was dimly lit, the glow of a single candle casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, a heady mix that stirred my senses. Tom lay beside me, his body relaxed yet taut with anticipation, his dark hair tousled, his deep brown eyes locked onto mine.

“You ready for this?” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His hand brushed my cheek, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. I nodded, my breath catching in my throat. At 48, I felt more alive than ever, my shorter blonde hair framing my face, my green eyes sparkling with mischief. My lean build and small breasts had always been a source of confidence, and tonight, I felt like a goddess, ready to give and receive pleasure in ways I’d only begun to explore.

“I’m ready,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the storm of desire raging inside me. Tom smiled, that slow, wicked grin that always made my knees weak. He propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze roaming over my body, lingering on the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts. I felt his hunger, his need, and it fueled my own.

“Straddle me,” he commanded, his voice firm yet laced with desire. My heart raced as I shifted, positioning myself above him. His hands slid down my sides, his fingers tracing the contours of my body, his touch both gentle and insistent. I hovered above him, my knees on either side of his hips, my pussy achingly close to his rigid cock. He lay there, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths, his cock thick and hard against his stomach, the head glistening with pre-cum.

I lowered myself slowly, my breath hitching as I felt the heat of his body beneath mine. His cock pressed against my pussy, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I began to move, grinding my hips in slow, deliberate circles, my clit rubbing against the underside of his shaft. The sensation was electric, a building tension that coiled low in my belly. Tom’s hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements, his touch firm yet tender.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Ride me. Feel how hard you make me.”

I moaned, my head falling back as I increased the pace, my body moving in rhythm with his breath. The room was filled with the sound of our skin slapping together, the wetness of our combined juices creating a slick, frictionless glide. My clit throbbed, the pressure building with each pass over his cock. I could feel his desire, his need for me, and it only fueled my own.

“Fuck, Kate,” he muttered, his hands sliding up to cup my small breasts. His thumbs brushed my nipples, already hard and aching for attention. I gasped, my movements faltering for a moment as pleasure spiked through me. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

His words sent a rush of heat through me, and I leaned forward, pressing my breasts against his chest. His hands moved to my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he urged me closer. I continued to grind, my clit rubbing against his cock, the sensation intensifying with each movement. My breath came in short, ragged gasps, my body on the brink of something explosive.

“Tom,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m close.”

“Let go, baby,” he urged, his voice hoarse. “Cum for me. I want to feel you shake.”

His words were my undoing. I cried out, my body arching as my orgasm ripped through me, waves of pleasure crashing over me like a tidal wave. My pussy clenched, my juices flowing freely, drenching his cock. I rode out the climax, my movements slowing as the aftershocks rippled through me. Tom’s hands held me steady, his eyes never leaving mine, his expression one of pure, unadulterated lust.

As my breathing slowed, I collapsed onto his chest, my heart still racing, my body slick with sweat. Tom’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my hair. “Fuck, that was incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, my cheeks flushed, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of my orgasm. “Your turn,” I teased, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

Tom chuckled, his hands sliding down to grip my ass. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, Kate. Not by a long shot.”

He rolled us over, his body pinning me to the bed, his weight both comforting and exhilarating. His lips found mine, his kiss hungry and demanding, his tongue dueling with mine. I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His cock pressed against my thigh, thick and heavy, a constant reminder of his need.

“I want to taste you,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear. His hands slid down my body, his fingers tracing the curve of my hips, the swell of my ass. I shivered as his lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, sending sparks of pleasure through me.

“Tom,” I gasped, my body arching into his touch. His hands moved to my thighs, spreading them wide, exposing me to his gaze. I felt vulnerable yet empowered, my desire for him overwhelming.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. His lips brushed my inner thigh, his breath ghosting over my pussy, making me squirm. “So wet. So ready for me.”

I moaned, my hands gripping the sheets as he leaned in, his tongue flicking over my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. His mouth closed around me, his lips sucking gently, his tongue swirling and probing, driving me wild. I cried out, my hips bucking against his mouth, my body on the edge once more.

“Fuck, Tom,” I panted, my voice hoarse. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He chuckled, the vibrations sending shivers through me. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby. You taste too good.”

His tongue delved deeper, his fingers sliding into my wetness, stretching me, filling me. I was lost in a sea of pleasure, my body responding to his every touch, my moans filling the room. My orgasm built, a slow burn that threatened to consume me.

“Tom,” I whimpered, my body tense, on the brink. “I’m—”

His mouth closed over my clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking relentlessly. I screamed, my body convulsing as my orgasm exploded, my pussy squirting, drenching his face. He drank me in, his hands holding me open, his mouth devouring me, his groans of pleasure mingling with my cries.

As my orgasm subsided, I lay panting, my body limp, my mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened. Tom lifted his head, his lips swollen, his face glistening with my juices. He smiled, that wicked grin that always made my heart race.

“Your turn to pleasure me,” he said, his voice low and seductive. He shifted, positioning himself between my legs, his cock thick and throbbing, the head glistening with pre-cum. I reached out, my fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking him slowly, my touch gentle yet firm.

“Not like that, baby,” he murmured, his hands gripping my wrists. “I want a titty fuck. I want to feel your soft tits wrapped around my cock.”

My heart raced at the thought, my body responding to his words. I nodded, my breath catching in my throat as I leaned forward, pressing my breasts together, creating a tight, warm tunnel for his cock. Tom groaned, his hips bucking as he slid into the softness of my cleavage, his cock enveloped by the warmth of my skin.

“Fuck, Kate,” he muttered, his voice thick with need. “That feels so good.”

I began to move, my breasts gliding up and down his shaft, my nipples brushing against his sensitive skin. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he thrust into me, his cock sliding between my tits, the friction sending waves of pleasure through us both.

“Harder, baby,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. “Squeeze me. Milk my cock with those perfect tits.”

I tightened my grip, my breasts pressing firmly against his shaft, my nipples aching with pleasure. His cock throbbed, his balls tight and heavy, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. I could feel his desire, his need to cum, and it only fueled my own. A few more strokes of my tits on his shaft and I soon had a chest covered in cum. He breathed heavily and fell back. A wonderful time was had by all.