The Cho Meme
The email was waiting for her when she logged in. She immediately recognised the sender, but was surprised by the terse and confusing message contained within.
“You, secretly, love being given commands”.
It went straight to the trash bin, but she couldn’t shift that residual discomfort. Of course it was rubbish, and actually more than a little offensive. But why send it? Was it some sort of spam?
Every time she tried to push the thought aside, it returned with renewed force. The idea chased itself round and around inside her head. She found herself arguing; playing devil’s advocate. But nothing seemed to help. Eventually, driven almost to distraction, she gave up on work and decided to grab a coffee.
But, that only served to make matters worse. The relatively short journey was nothing short of an ordeal. Everywhere she looked, there were signs and messages. Each one filled with instructions and commands: “Buy this, this is forbidden, walk, don’t walk …”
She obeyed them all, did what she was told. In fact, she had never before given them a second thought. After all, didn’t everyone live their life according to a series of rules? But of course, that wasn’t what the message had meant. It had meant something far deeper, hadn’t it?
The coffee house was worse somehow. Even the suggestion to “make it your own coffee” felt like a command, and one that brooked no disobedience. Her barista’s final, throwaway comment, to “have a nice day”, hit her with an almost physical force. She wanted to tell him that she had made other plans, but instead she just accepted meekly.
She was in a bad way by the time she returned to the office. The coffee only sharpened her focus; it did nothing to quell her doubts. Logically she knew that she didn’t love being commanded. But somehow logic didn’t seem to come into it. Growing more desperate, she tried to think of an example with which she could disprove the message.
Well, she wouldn’t do something that she didn’t want to, would she? Not even if someone told her to. Except, maybe, under some circumstances … her thoughts trailed off. No, that wasn’t helping. She might like the idea of being ordered to do something, against her will, knowing that she was powerless to resist but …
Her thoughts were going round in circles, but each time they came back to the same premise. Okay, but even if she accepted that under special circumstances, she might quite like to be ordered around, that still didn’t amount to what the message had said. She could maintain her dignity while still admitting to certain proclivities, couldn’t she?
Of course, it was hard to ignore the fact that even ruminating on these ideas was making her incredibly aroused. When she allowed her thoughts to run free, she could picture all sorts of situations, where she could enjoy the sensation of being controlled. The impulse to retire to the lady’s room and just think for a long while was hard to resist. Now, what would happen if somebody ordered her to do just that?
It was too much. Her imagination seemed to have taken on a life of its own. She felt like a passenger in her own body, sitting back and watching, while her thoughts led her where they wished. She found herself drawn, pulled out of the room and into the corridor. By the time she had reached the toilets, she was already pulling at her knickers in a desperate attempt to relieve the growing tension.
She thrust her hand deeply between her legs, even before the cubical door had swung completely shut. The scent of her own helpless lust seemed to stab through the roof of her mouth, nailing her brain with its musky heat. Her thighs clamped around her wrist, and she began to rock her pelvis. Deft fingers rubbed vigorously, focussing their attention on her tender, swollen nub. She screwed her eyes closed, despite everything, still not wanting to believe.
Some time later, she managed to drag herself back to the relative safety of her office. She couldn’t understand what was happening. Was it something about the email, or was she doing it to herself? It seemed that the more strident she became in her denials, the more her thoughts would try to refute them.
It came down to that one sentence. Did she secretly love being given commands? Well, if it was a secret, perhaps she was keeping it from herself. But how would she know? The fact that just thinking about it seemed to get her so hot and bothered, suggested that there was at least an element of truth. She felt herself warming again, getting wet before she had even started to fantasise.
She had to get herself under control. Thinking with her head or even her heart might be okay. But, at the moment, although she wasn’t sure exactly which organ was taking the lead, it certainly resided somewhere below her navel. Of course, control was precisely the wrong thing to beginning thinking about at this point, and once again she found her thoughts drifting.
She fantasised that she was told to kneel, to serve, to please, to obey and even to surrender. That last thought seemed to burrow more firmly into her brain, making her groan, as once again she felt herself being pushed to satisfy her needs. She couldn’t wait; the feeling was too raw, too immediate. Ignoring her own feeble protests, not caring if anyone saw, she thrust her hand through the waistband of her skirt.
Her questing fingers slipped over moist, sticky skin. They touched her lips, and she could feel them quiver at that gentle contact. She sucked in a surprised gasp of air, as her pussy opened beneath her hand. She dipped inside, feeling the fiery heat of her now uncontrollable need. Her body arched, and she could only moan as she pumped her hips, humping her fingers in wild abandon.
A dreamy-eyed and dishevelled woman staggered out of the elevator. She paid no attention to the glances she was drawing, lost as she was in her own world. She was in no fit state to drive and her journey home could only be described as “eventful”. The first “stop” sign she encountered forcing her to pull over while the aftershocks settled.
Her entire world seemed to consist of imperatives and demands. Everything seeking to compel her, and she felt both helpless and invigorated now that she had realised the simple truth.
She was not surprised that she had a visitor when she finally got home. She had so many questions, so much that she needed to know. But her friend silenced her when she tried to speak.
“You don’t need to say anything,” Eris said, “It is enough to know that you read my mail”.
Her protests faded, leaving her mute and confused.
“You did read it didn’t you?” Eris asked quietly, “And you’ve been thinking about all day. I can tell … how lovely”.
Confusion and fear battled within, seeing which would become dominant. Eris seemed to notice the distress and she tried to help.
“Please, don’t be scared,” she pleaded, “You must know that I would never do anything to hurt you”
It was true, deep down, despite everything; she knew that for a fact. It didn’t completely sooth away her concerns, but at least it helped to make them bearable.
“You are the one who is in control,” Eris assured her,” I only have as much power as you are prepared to give”.
She blinked, surprised. That didn’t sound too bad. When put like that she struggled to find any objection. A tiny shudder ran over her, as she found herself wondering what it would feel like were she to give everything.
“Now,” her friend continued, “Think about that for a moment, about how much power you are willingly giving and while you do that, pass me your panties”.
She was halfway through the movement before she realised what she was doing. She froze abruptly, shocked but also a little aroused. How far gone was she, if she would undress automatically just because someone asked her?
“Don’t stop,” Eris urged, “I promise that it will feel wonderful, that I will make you feel so wonderful, if you just do as I ask”.
God help her, but she trusted. She passed her panties, still damp and warm, her face flushing in embarrassment. Eris took them, inhaling their scent, before carefully placing them on the ground. Then she crouched, placing one arm outstretched on the tiles, palm raised.
“Kneel for me, Cho,” she commanded.
Cho paused for just a moment, before she saw how her friend’s eyes flashed. Very gently she lowered herself onto that hand, jumping slightly as the fingers brushed against her lips.
“Now,” Eris told her, “You must keep still. I don’t want you to help or hinder me at all”.
It began quietly at first, as Eris’ fingers gently spread her. The woman’s thumb rubbed softly against her, circling in long slow strokes. Cho fought to stay still, wondering all the while if she obeyed because it was what she wanted, or because she had no choice.
“You must be quiet as well,” Eris gently chided, “Just let yourself concentrate”.
With that she brought the rest of her fingers to bear. Light, almost tickling touches that tested the limits of Cho’s endurance. It was wonderful and terrible at the same time, the mixture of sensations were so intense that she could hardly stand them.
“You do secretly love to be given commands, don’t you Cho?” Eris asked, almost casually.
She nodded slightly, not trusting herself to speak. How could she deny it? Here she was, doing exactly as she had been told and loving every moment.
In response, Eris increased the pressure slightly, rubbing more firmly. Her thumb sought out Cho’s clitoris, while she vigorously massaged with the heel of her hand. Watching how she responded, Eris lifted her friend up in stages. When she had been reduced to a panting, sweat-drenched, trembling mass, Eris whispered her final instruction.
“Let go now,” she commanded, “Surrender everything to me, give me that control and I will grant you unimaginable pleasure”.
The dam splintered, cracked and finally shattered. Cho rode the tidal wave down, into the totality of her surrender.