In Firm Control – Chapter 1

By Jonathan Quincy Graves

{ NOTE:  This is the first chapter of a novel describing the progression of an adult male from bachelorhood leading to a submissive life in a Wife Led Marriage (WLM). The entire series was first published in serial form on my website, jqgraves.com. It is now consolidated into book form and available for purchase here: jqgraves.com/ebooks. I hope you enjoy this first chapter. }

Megan and I attended grade school together, but I was never part of her clique. Not that she was a snob—she wasn’t—I just never felt comfortable rubbing elbows with the kids whose parents belonged to the country-club set. In high school, she dated Brad Dawson, the quarterback. I mostly didn’t date but worked flipping burgers to pay my way through school. After graduation, I went on to get a master’s degree in Mathematics and a teaching certificate from the local state college, while Megan left town to attend one of the Seven Sisters and from there to Georgetown Law school. We essentially lost contact after high school.

That all changed last summer when I attended a charity ball held at my alma mater. I couldn’t afford to donate much to charity, but I occasionally, as a lonely bachelor, forced myself to get out and be seen.

I stood in my usual position—on the sidelines, nursing a scotch, observing the couples out on the dance floor. Years ago, I made more of an effort to mingle, but it was always painful for all concerned. For me, because of my lack of self-confidence, and for others because…. Let’s face it, I have zero social skills. I’m okay in the classroom talking mathematics to a room full of kids, but put me one-on-one with their mothers, and I’m a wreck.

So, I stood there, waiting for sufficient time to pass so I could leave without drawing attention, when the most beautiful woman in the room walked up and said, “Would you like to dance?”

It was like a bad movie. I actually looked over my shoulder to see to whom she was speaking.

She laughed, took my drink from my hand, put it on a table, and, taking firm control, led me by the hand onto the dance floor. In low heels, she stood as tall as I. Before we started dancing and my awkwardness was revealed, we must have looked like an attractive couple.

“I’m not really much of a dancer,” I said, as she placed my right hand on her side just below her rib cage and raised my left hand to the proper position.

“I’m sure you’re much better than you think you are, Robert.”

I was surprised this woman knew my name—I knew few of the people around us. While moving with the music, I mostly tried to guess what moves she expected me to make and avoid at all costs stepping on her toes.

“I know you, don’t I?” I said.

She laughed again. Not a mocking laugh but an expression of simple delight that lit up our small portion of the room. “Yes, Bob, you know me. Does the name Megan Breen ring any bells? I’m back to using my maiden name. Adopting the Dawson surname was a huge mistake. I dropped it when I dropped Brad, the self-centered, chauvinistic asshole.” She said all that while maintaining the warmest smile for me. “Do you remember me now?”

“Of course. Sorry, I did not expect to see you here.”

“I don’t know why not. Our firm supports all the worthwhile local causes. But then, you and I have been out of touch for more than a few years. Are you familiar with the firm, Breen, Breen and McCarthy? We handle litigation of all types.”

“Oh, sure. I’ve seen your adds.”

We made it through that first dance, and while I may have bumped the side of her foot once or twice, I never actually stepped on her toes. When it was over, Megan took me by the hand and led the way to the pay as you go bar.

“You were drinking scotch, right?” she asked, and when I agreed, she ordered a scotch for me and a Manhattan for herself. I fumbled to pay, but she was quicker, so I stuffed a few bills in the tip glass.

We sought a quiet corner. I have a hard time talking to women. Hell, I have a hard time talking to people of all classifications. But once we got started, I found it very easy to talk to Megan and we brought each other up to date.

Megan married the quarterback—then a car salesman at the Volvo dealership—and gave birth to two daughters. When the girls were old enough, they went off to college, and Megan’s husband went off to… Well, they’re divorced, and the last she heard, he was working the oil rigs in the North Sea. [Apparently, he chose to get as far away from Megan as possible. Should I have taken that as a warning?] At present, she is living in a four-bedroom home on her own except when the girls come back for holidays.

My story is shorter and less filled with drama. I never found the right girl. To be fair, I’m not very good at looking. It has always been difficult for me to seek out and approach women. So, I lived in a two-bedroom apartment, using the spare as my study.

We danced and talked into the evening until Megan said she had to leave. She was involved in a deposition (or disposition, I get those two confused) early the next day. We exchanged phone numbers; she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and she was gone.

I got on the internet the next day and learned Megan controls the firm, Breen, Breen and McCarthy, the biggest law firm in town. That second Breen is Megan. The first one her father, deceased seven years ago. Her mother is still alive and apparently very active socially. There wasn’t much on McCarthy. Being the biggest law firm in town may not sound like much, since our town is not all that big, but her income has got to be several times mine as a high school math teacher. Well, let’s be honest, it’s surely over ten times as much as mine.

I thought about calling Megan the next day, Saturday, but did not want to seem pushy. Besides, I figured she probably used me at the dance to discourage the attentions of someone else in the room. Nothing personal.

Tuesday evening, I got a call. After the “Hello” and the other establishing-contact phrases were completed, Megan said, “I thought I’d hear from you by now. Are you committed to someone else?”

“No, I just didn’t…”

“And you’re not gay?”

“No!”

“It’s okay if you are. It would just mean this phone call was wasted. So, you seem reluctant, but my evening is open tomorrow. Would you like to have dinner? I’ll understand if you don’t.”

“No, I mean, yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Good. Since it’s mid-week, we’ll have to go a little early. Why don’t I pick you up at seven-thirty and we can go from there?”

That set the tone for our relationship, and we went from there. Megan no longer waited or expected me to make the first move. She took firm control, and the moves she made were great, as far as I was concerned.

We’d been seeing each other on a regular basis for about a month when she invited me into her home and, after a glass of wine, took me to bed. She giggled when she saw my equipment. Never having made a comparison, I always assumed I was about average size for a man.

“No, lover,” Megan said, “you’re well down the scale from average, but don’t let that bother you. I’ve had enough of big dicks for a while. All too many of them are connected to big assholes like my ex. Besides, as they say, ‘It’s not the tool but the craftsman that makes the difference.’”

You may have guessed, and I freely admit, I don’t have a lot of experience pleasing women. Megan greeted my feeble attempts and premature results with compassion and words of encouragement. I made my apologies and suffered the humiliation.

She kissed me that night before I left for home, but I did not expect to hear from her after that disaster. Three nights later, she took me to bed again.

“Let’s do things a little differently this time,” she said.

“Yes, please,” I said. “Last time did not work out so well.”

“No, it didn’t, but it’s not your fault. You’ve no experience with a woman like me. So, place yourself in my hands. Let me teach you a few things.”

That’s how my education began. Megan took firm control and taught me when, how, and where to touch her, how to ignite and fan her passion, and how to bring her to an earth-shattering orgasm. I always ended with my face between her thighs, using lips, tongue and teeth (gently) until she came. More times than not, she kept me there until she’d come three or more times. Like a teacher rewarding a clever student, Megan would then invite me to caress and nibble my way up her body and thrust deep (no giggles from the reader, please) within her. Of course, by this time, I was on the edge before I even entered, so I never lasted long. It didn’t seem to matter to Megan.

Not often, but now and then, my efforts did not impress the teacher, and she cuddled with me in front of her like a pair of spoons. Pre-cum dribbled across my thigh down onto the bed as my penis deflated, and I tried to fall asleep, unsatisfied.

We’d been seeing each other for about six months, and were snuggled on the couch one evening after sex watching a movie on her big screen. With no lead-in I was aware of, Megan asked me to propose marriage. That really caught me by surprise. Why would this good-looking, successful woman want to marry me? That question passed through my brain for about one second, then I dropped to one knee in front of her and asked her to marry me, quick before she changed her mind.

Megan’s response: “Gee, this is so sudden. I’ll have to think about it.” Then she laughed at my complete befuddlement and said, “Yes, I will marry you.

“I have a couple of conditions, though,” she added.

I was so delighted by the idea of marriage to this beautiful, wonderful woman, I could only say, “Yes, of course, what are they?”

“First, I want us to sign a pre-nuptial agreement. Nothing exotic, just the basic protections for us both.”

That seemed okay to me. She’s a lawyer with one failed marriage behind her. Of course, she’ll want a prenup, and it’s not as if I have anything to lose. I don’t own my apartment, have less than a grand in my savings at any one time, and drive a Toyota I bought used.

“Second, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to have a short engagement period. This won’t be like a first marriage between two kids where their mothers have a million things to arrange. Is one month okay with you?”

“One month sounds perfect for me. There really isn’t anyone I need to invite, other than my sister, and she’s local.”

“Good, that will work. You’ll be on summer break, and I’ll keep my calendar clear so we can take a short honeymoon trip.”

“Finally, and this condition will require commitment on both our parts, beginning tonight, I want us to remain chaste until after the wedding. Before you respond, let me explain. We will still hold each other, kiss each other, occasionally sleep together, and do all those physical things that strengthen our bond. We just will not engage in any penetrative sex for the next month. That will make the event of our marriage much more special. Can you live with that?”

“Um, yeah, sure, I guess.”

“I’m not sensing a firm commitment,” she said with a frown. “It’s only for a month.”

I’ve been living alone for most of my life and getting sexual release through the efforts of my good right hand whenever the mood struck me. Megan is not aware that for every time we have sex together, I have sex alone in my bedroom or in front of my computer at least once, twice or even three times. But no one could call that “penetrative” sex. So…

“No, you’re right,” I said. “That would make our wedding night special. So, yes, let’s do it.” There, I thought, that should be enthusiastic enough.

“Good,” she said, beaming. Megan pulled a small purple bag with gold drawstrings from between the cushions of the couch. “Take off your pants, and we’ll see if this fits.”

“What’s that?”

I’ve been cruising the web long enough to know exactly what she held. I never thought I would see one in real life, and certainly not being offered to me.

Megan laughed. “After nearly twenty years with Brad, I know all about the naughty things you boys can get up to. You and I agreed chastity before the wedding was a good idea. This chastity device will make it easier for you to keep your word.”

“That isn’t really necessary, is it?”

“Well, honey, you tell me. Without this aid, how hard will it be for you to remain my chaste fiancé? Properly contained, chastity will be a snap. No amount of temptation will cause you to break your promise to me.

“Let’s do this. Take off your pants and try on this device. If it fits, you can decide whether to wear it. Of course, if it doesn’t fit, you’ll need to take the more difficult, self-control approach. What do you say? Are you willing to give it a try?”

Her tone and expression were so reasonable, so reassuring, I couldn’t refuse outright. Besides, with luck, the cage she held wouldn’t come close to fitting. Her first husband, from what she tells me, had a dick several sizes bigger than mine. The cage she’s holding may be sized for him. If so, it would fall right off me.

“Okay,” I said and removed my pants. “I’ll try it.” I still wasn’t sold on the idea, but Megan’s manner was so considerate. It would be boorish of me not to play along until it became obvious to both of us it wouldn’t work.

She opened the drawstrings and, with a metallic clatter, dumped the contents on the coffee table. I’ve read about this brand, it’s stainless steel, with a tube on the short side, and, if I remember right, comes with several base rings of different sizes. This one only had one ring.

“Do you know how it works?” Megan said. “Would you like me to help?”

“I think I can manage,” I said with a smile.

I ran the ring down my penis and pushed my balls through one at a time. The ring was snug around my cock and behind my scrotum, but not too tight. It fit perfectly. My mood shifted toward apprehension. I picked up the tube, a mesh of steel bars with a distinct downward curve and examined it. Aware I was stalling, and not wanting Megan to get involved, I worked my penis inside. Still flaccid from our earlier romp, my member filled the tube comfortably. It was neither too long nor too short. The entire assembly fit, in Goldilocks terms, “just right.” It fit as if designed specifically for me.

The only part left on the coffee table was a small but sturdy looking padlock. Wearing a warm supportive smile, Megan picked it up and offered it to me.

I took a deep breath, plucked the lock from her hand, and snapped it in place. I can always claim mysterious pains in a day or two and take it off. The thought of being caged already made me feel a little randy, but I can last a couple days.

“My hero!” Megan said and enfolded me in her arms. “I wasn’t sure you would be sufficiently committed to our union, so I borrowed that lock from mother, rather than buying a new one. But I should never have doubted you. You’re my man. And mother agreed to hold the key until our wedding.”

“Your mother knows about this… this chastity thing?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, mother can be very discrete. Mostly. She’s just happy for us. I told her you were likely to pop the question tonight, and she was delighted. Brad was a macho chauvinist and never one of her favorites. She hasn’t met you yet, of course, but I’ve told her all about you and she thinks you are a much better fit for me.

“Tomorrow, let’s give notice to your landlord and move you in here with me,” she said. “There’s no sense you paying another month’s rent. Now,” she continued, in firm control, “let’s go back up to the bedroom and celebrate our engagement. You can demonstrate your proficiency at making me cum with your tongue.”

END of Chapter 1

I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter of In Firm Control.  The book continues with Robert struggling to adjust in his relationships with Megan, her daughters and her mother, leading up to the celebration of Robert and Megan’s Wife Led Marriage Ceremony. The complete edition is available on the eBook page of my website at  jqgraves.com/ebooks.

For the curious, here is the Table of Contents. Anything grab your attention?

Chapter   1   Firm Control

Chapter   2   A Legal Thing

Chapter   3   Punishment Paddling

Chapter   4   Saturday Chores

Chapter   5   Shower for Two

Chapter   6   Bolt Cutter

Chapter   7   Penetrative Sex

Chapter   8   Wedding Day

Chapter   9   Stepdaughters

Chapter 10   Soft as a Baby’s

Chapter 11   Alpha Male

Chapter 12   Panties

Chapter 13   In Red

Chapter 14   Evening’s Entertainment

Chapter 15   Naughty Girls

Chapter 16   In the Present

Chapter 17   Social Distancing

Chapter 18   Hen Party

Chapter 19   Surprise

Chapter 20   Wife Led Marriage

Copyright © 2023 by Jonathan Quincy Graves. All rights reserved.  Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.

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