_ Self Control is the first novel of Knott Lynn Hardey. The story is of a young woman ,Trish, whose sexual desires get her into all kinds of dangerous, and titillating situations. Addicted to dangerous games of her own devising Trish unleashes her powerful sexuality on an unsuspecting world.

The beginning of the story finds Trish seducing a man into becoming her sexual Master for a weekend. Against his better judgment Matt accepts the challenge of her self-inflicted slavery with him holding the whip handle.

As the weekend progresses each of them learn more about their capacity for wild, uninhibited  sex, and about each other.

The reader slowly learns more about Trish, and the reasons she concocts these elaborate sexual games through her memories of other fascinating sexual exploits.

Always demanding, never boring, Trish takes us on a journey of passion, lust and self exploration.

The only rule she has is that she must maintain her self control. Is that even possible with her very body on the line in ever increasingly explosive encounters?

This novel is in the late editing stage as of January 2012.

 Here is an excerpt.

_
Self Control was the god that Trish Stark worshiped.

But Trish was beginning to wonder if she were losing her perspective on the difference between self-control and self-indulgence.

After a childhood filled with confusion and fear she had finally, firmly, taken the reins of her life in hand. Now she was an adult. Now she ran the show. She was driven. She forced herself to commit fully to every ambition, be it school, work or living.

During the trials of her young life she had used her self-discipline to transcend. It was she who was her sole source of comfort when her parents divorced, when her mother disappeared. She endured her step-father’s terrible moods and bizarre behavior. She maintained her grades and her sense of self worth in the vicious halls of boarding school. Later when she begged to go to public school she negotiated those strange and unruly halls as well.

All of this, and more, had been grist for the mill that she used to grind down her fears.

Fear was the enemy, pleasure the only escape. 

Trish was a beautiful. Five foot five, small boned and an almost delicate woman. Her heritage was a mixed bag of Northern European countries and her well-defined cheekbones, pale blue eyes and soft blonde hair could have allowed her access into the rarefied world of modeling, if she had been inclined, and a few inches taller.

The life of an athlete may also have been hers. The dedication she showed to fitness; working out with weights, running, stretching, and commitment to a strict diet all spoke of the iron will needed to be a true athlete. That was not the life for her.

As graceful as she was she could have been a dancer. Her mother had put her in ballet when she was three, and eventually she did dance, it just wasn’t the sort of dancing they had in mind.

For Trish the physical discipline she employed was for her pleasure. She needed to be in prime physical fitness to endure the kind of sex she preferred.  

Early on Trish had learned that losing control meant pain, and that maintaining control meant pleasure.  

The boundaries between those two states always needing pushing. Each risk always needed to be greater than the last in order to clearly define how much fear and pain she could tolerate while maintaining control. Keeping control meant gaining pleasure from frightening situations. And her research was always detailed and exciting. Research itself was a form of control.

But this new test was so far beyond anything she had done before she wondered if it weren’t a form of indulgence.

The fear coiled in her belly as she stood outside of a house on this secluded cul-de-sac told her that she was still in dark territory and that it wasn’t mere indulgence. 

This test was to place herself out of the public eye, and into a secret location. She had found a man who lived alone, who knew few people, and who was quiet and almost unknowable. After a few times flirting with him in various locations; at a bus stop, a café and a library, she’d come to his house, this house, an old building that sagged and creaked.

Steeling her nerve she strode along the walk and up the three steps to the front door.

Forcing calm over herself she arranged her features into a look of shy hopefulness, and knocked.

The man who answered, the man she had essentially been stalking, looked shocked and nervous. He stood around six feet tall, and was fairly fit for a man she guessed to be in his late thirties. He had a stubble beard a few days old, limp, dirty brown hair and eyes too tired for his unlined face.

“What do you want?” He asked looked everywhere but at her; down the block, at her feet, the neighbor’s yards.

“What do you want?” She countered. “You’ve been too shy, sir. I could belong to you, but you haven’t taken me. Do you find me attractive?”

Now he did look, but he was puzzled. “Yes… very?” He asked the last word sounding like he was worried admitting it might get him in trouble.

“Then invite me in.”

He considered for a moment and then with a begrudging look, as if he already knew he would regret it, he stepped out of the doorway into the hall beyond, giving her space to enter. As she passed him he glanced back out the door, searching for whatever danger she brought with her.

Moving past him Trish walked into a dingy, sparsely furnished living room.

As he followed her Trish turned to him and stated her purpose for being there. 

“Nobody knows I’m here. Nobody is looking for me. I’ve come to give you a gift for the weekend. Me.”

“What?”

“I am your slave for the weekend, from now until Monday morning at seven o’clock I belong to you totally. I will do whatever you ask me to do. Anything. Clean, cook, dance… Or have sex with you.” His eyes bulged even as his forehead furrowed with confusion. “I will fuck you, suck you, lick you, cum for you, and worship you. Anything you desire. For the next sixty hours. Then I will disappear and you will never see me again. How does that sound?”

“Like a scam. How old are you?”

Trish fished her license out of her purse, carefully she held it so that he could only see her age and face showing him that she was twenty years old.

“Why me? What do I owe you for this? You gonna try and blackmail me? I’ve got no money”

“It’s more like you just won the lottery. This was random luck on your part. I saw you, and followed you. I saw where and how you live. You are a good looking man, but scared, used up. You need to feel like a man again. Use me. Get back at the world through me. Slap me for all the men out there who never get women like me. Fuck me for all those girls who wouldn’t fuck you for all these years. Cum on me, humiliate me, defile me. Do it to make yourself feel better.”

Trish walked to the center of the room and began to remove her clothes. One piece at a time giving him a chance to see all of her body as it was revealed.

“Is there some movie star who you have always fantasized about? Do to me what you want to do to her.” Off came her coat.” Is there some woman at the factory who you could never bring yourself to ask out?  What did you want to do to her?” Off came her boots. “What about a waitress who never quite looks you in the eye, who never seems to remember your order, but still you wish you could talk to her?” She unbuttoned the blouse she wore and he moved to a well-used recliner in the corner, his face still showing uneasiness. “A woman on the bus who is riding the same way as you? Will she ever sit beside you so you can talk to her? No?” The shirt hit the floor, her skin glowing in the dim light from a lamp. Next her fingers worked at the zipper of her skirt. “A girl from high school who had a locker near yours, or a desk in some class. This was before the world had really beaten you. What would you have done to her if she had come to you like this?” Her skirt hit the floor leaving her in black push-up bra and thong. “Who is it that you could never have? Who was she? I’m here now to make up for all that lost time.” Her bra fell to the floor exposing her small, firm breasts to his now ravenous gaze. “Take me. Fuck me. Possess me for these few days.” Her panties hit the floor and she straightened up before him letting his eyes take in every part of her nudity. Her pussy, waxed smooth, nestled between her thighs beckoning to him, hungry for him.

Bending over and gathering up her clothes Trish piled them into his lap. She then went back to the middle of the room and waited.

The man stared at her, and back at the clothes. He seemed transfixed.

Suddenly he made his choice. He pushed the pile of clothes into a ball, tossed them on the couch and he took two strides over to Trish in the middle of the room, and looked right into her eyes.

“Anything I want?”

“Yes” she said barely audible, yet the sound seemed to echo through the room.  

The man went over to the window and pulled the curtains back letting the light from the streetlamp outside creep into the dim room. He then went over to the table next to the T.V. and turned a lamp on there. He fiddled with it until the light it shed landed on the space in front of the window.

“Stand there, in the window.” He said, daring her to do it. Trish walked to the spot and looked down at herself to find the brightest spot of light. When she was satisfied she looked back at him. He seemed excited now that he had gained the first of his demands. The energy flowing out of him made him seem a new man. Running, he burst out the front door and into the street. She could barely see him standing out on the sidewalk looking back at her. As he came back he rushed into the room slamming the door.  

He ran to another lamp and unplugged it. Then racing around the man took the second lamp over to the opposite side of the window and placed the lamp on top of bookshelf, then plugged it in as well. Then angling the lamp so that its light fell on Trish from the other side he made her the most lit object in the room. She was a bright spot of flesh glowing in the dark house, fully visible from the street, illuminated like a mannequin on display.

“The fuckers across the street always show off for me. She is a hot little hippy chick. I’ve always wanted to show them what I see. Now I can.” Trish just nodded.

A sigh escaped his lips. “Suck my cock.” It too was barely audible, but Trish knelt down in the middle of the window and opened her mouth to him. Unzipping, the man moved in beside her and pulled out his cock. Trish leaned in and took his engorged member into her mouth without using her hands.  She worked his cock like it was the last meal she would get. His tension spurred her on.

He grabbed handfuls of her hair and thrust into her mouth. Reaching up Trish grabbed onto his ass, both hands holding on so as not to fall over, and pulled him into her.  

Within moments his orgasm approached. As he came he cried out, and seemed to both sob and laugh at the same time. His cum was not much more than a trickle, but it filled her mouth with flavour. Holding her head close to him, the man kept himself inside her mouth. Trish swallowed his spunk, and massaged his shaft with her tongue, the tip of his manhood wedged against her throat.

With a sigh the man released her and staggered back to his chair, falling into it. Trish stayed right where she was, looking up at him from under lowered eyelids.