3. Atlas
Atlas
My thoughts are dominated by Dr. Rosy Black all week long.
By the time our next session arrives, both my mind and cock are ready to explode.
I spent the last seven days in a state of possession that borders on madness.
I smell her scent on my handkerchief, the one I used to clean her, every night before I fall asleep, making myself come to her moans.
I’ve replayed that scene in her office so many times that it has calcified in my brain, permanent and obsessive, like a song I can’t stop humming.
The way her back arched. The way her nipples dragged against that glass desk.
The way she bled for me, her virgin blood painting my cock while she whimpered Daddy into the rag stuffed between those plush, trembling lips.
I should be ashamed. I’m not.
What I am is consumed.
I have never been so obsessed with a woman as I am with Rosy Black. The others were a convenient outlet for my sexual urges, but with Rosy, I want to know her mind and heart too.
I’ve spent the week doing what I do best—research.
Deep, invasive, thorough research. I pulled every public record I could find on Rosy Black, PhD—her Columbia transcripts, her published papers, her conference presentations, her LinkedIn endorsements.
I cross-referenced her social media, which is sparse and carefully curated, the digital footprint of a woman who has spent her entire adult life working hard.
No Instagram. No TikTok. A Facebook page with three photos, all of them from academic events, her standing stiffly beside colleagues in blazers that swallow her frame.
A Twitter account she hasn’t updated in two years.
But there were breadcrumbs. A Reddit account under a pseudonym I cracked in under an hour—a throwaway username she clearly thought was anonymous, posting in r/BDSMcommunity three years ago under the title “Is it normal to fantasize about being dominated by an older man?” The post was deleted within hours, but the internet never forgets.
I read every word she wrote. Every hesitant confession.
Every question dripping with shame and hunger.
I’ve never been with anyone. I’m twenty-six, and I’ve never even kissed someone because the thought of casual dating makes me anxious.
But when I’m alone at night, I think about someone taking control.
Someone older. Someone who would tell me what to do and make me feel safe enough to let go. Is that wrong?
No, babygirl. It’s not wrong. It’s exactly who you are.
I read that post at two in the morning with my cock in my hand, stroking myself to the image of her typing those words in the dark, her thighs pressed together, her pulse hammering at her throat just like it did in my office.
I came so hard my vision went white, and I still wasn’t satisfied.
Nothing short of being inside her again will satisfy me.
Because that’s the thing she doesn’t understand yet. This isn’t a one-time lapse in judgment. This isn’t a mistake she can file away and forget. I took her virginity on that desk, and in doing so, I claimed something fundamental—her desires, her needs, her body, and soul.
She’s mine.
The thought sits in my chest like a coal, burning steady and hot, and it fuels me through board meetings and investor calls. When I finally arrive at her office that evening, I am ready for more. I want to make her reveal more pieces of her, until I can possess all of her.
I knock twice and push the door open before she can call me in.
She’s standing behind her desk, one hand braced against the polished glass like she needs it to hold herself upright.
Her chestnut hair is pulled back in a low knot, and she’s wearing another one of those structured blouses, cream-colored this time, buttoned all the way to her throat.
The pencil skirt is black, and it hugs her hips the way I remember, the way I’ve been dreaming about for seven straight nights.
“Good evening, Rosy.” No more Dr. Black. Not after I’ve been inside her pussy.
“Atlas.” Her voice comes out thin. Strained. She crosses over, but doesn’t sit. “We need to talk about what happened last time.”
I close the door behind me. The lock clicks, and I watch her flinch at the sound. Good. She should be nervous. She should feel the weight of what’s about to happen pressing down on her chest the same way I’ve been feeling it all week.
“We do,” I agree, moving deeper into the room. I don’t sit either. I stand across from her, close enough that I can smell the lavender and iris on her skin, and I let the silence build between us like a wall. “But first, I want to be clear about something.”
She swallows. I watch the movement travel down that slender throat, and my cock hardens behind my zipper.
“I’m not going to stop,” I tell her. My voice is low, even, the same tone I use when I’m closing a deal that’s already mine. “What happened on that desk wasn’t a mistake, Rosy. It was a culmination of both our desires.”
She swallows, nodding, unable to lie entirely. “But Atlas, that was my office. What if someone had walked in? What if someone finds out?”
She is panicking. “No one will find out. I promise I won’t let this ruin your career.”
“You can’t promise that,” she says. “You’re a billionaire; you can buy whatever you want. I…It’s not like that for me.” She raises those vulnerable eyes to me. “If we’re going to keep doing this, let’s at least stop working together.”
“No.” My words are definitive. “I like working with you. Besides, I think this is the only place you feel safe, Rosy.” She looks at me, curious.
“Your work means everything to you. It’s a huge part of your identity.
Isn’t that why you never had sex before?
Because you never felt safe with anyone else.
You like me knowing that you are the accomplished Dr. Rosy Black, like having the little amount of control this space gives you.
So, until you’re ready to move on from that, we’ll be working together. ”
She blinks. “I…I didn’t realize you…wow, when did you figure that out?”
I smile. “When it comes to you, I’m always watching.
” It’s true, the need I have to decode her, to know her, to meet all her needs.
I realize this has already gone beyond sex, but I’m not ready to turn back now.
“Here’s what I’m proposing,” I say, moving closer until I’m standing directly in front of her, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off her body.
“Let’s strike a mutually beneficial agreement.
I’ll get stress relief by fucking my shrink, and you get your fantasies fulfilled, but letting me dominate you. It’s a win-win situation.”
“Do you have any idea how unprofessional this sounds?” she asks, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. My cock reacts, an image of those juicy lips wrapped around my cock forming in my head.
“I thought we were beyond professionalism now. What do you say, Rosy? Why don’t you let yourself have what you want for once?”
She nods slightly. “If I lose my job, I have only myself to blame.”
“Don’t worry, I locked the door today.” I take a step back, looking down at her, ready to dominate. “Get on your knees.”
“What?” She blinks, realizing I’m using my dom voice.
Then, she sinks onto her knees, padded by the rug, her innocent face looking up at me. I reach forward and undo her bun, letting her dark hair tumble loose over her shoulders. “Much better.” Her brown eyes are wide and trusting.
I unbuckle my belt with deliberate slowness, the leather sliding through the loops with a soft hiss that fills the quiet office.
Her eyes track the movement, those wide brown irises darkening as I pop the button of my trousers and drag the zipper down.
My cock springs free, already fully hard, the head flushed dark and glistening with a bead of precum.
I wrap my fingers around the base and give myself one slow stroke, watching her lips part.
“Open your mouth, babygirl.”
She hesitates. I can see the war playing out behind those expressive eyes, the clinical psychologist wrestling with the submissive woman who’s been starving for this her entire life. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip, and the sight of that pink tip nearly undoes me.
“Rosy.” My voice drops to that register I know she can’t resist. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
She opens her mouth. Those plush, trembling lips part, and I guide my cock forward, pressing the swollen head against her lower lip.
She flinches at the contact, her eyes going wide, and for a moment I think she might pull back.
But then something shifts in her expression.
Something surrenders. Her lips close around me, warm and wet and impossibly soft, and the sound I make is barely human.
“Fuck.”
The heat of her mouth is exquisite. She’s tentative at first, her tongue flat and uncertain, her lips barely moving. I thread my fingers through her chestnut hair, gathering a fistful at the crown of her head, and hold her steady.
“That’s it. Just like that. Use your tongue. Take me inside.”
She obeys, her tongue swirling experimentally around the head, and the sensation sends a bolt of pleasure straight to the base of my spine. I tighten my grip in her hair, not pulling, just holding, and she moans around my cock. The vibration travels through me like electricity.
“Good girl. Such a good girl for Daddy.”
Her moan deepens, and I feel her relax into it, her jaw loosening, her lips forming a tighter seal.
She takes me deeper, inch by inch, her inexperience giving way to something instinctive and eager.
Her tongue works the underside of my shaft as she bobs her head, swallowing me down.
Her wet mouth envelops me like a pussy, and when I bottom out against the back of her throat, she gags.