Fenna van der Berg

Her Story

I'm an engineer at a sleek firm in Rotterdam, the kind of woman who walks into a boardroom in heels and commands respect before I've said a word. I spend my days solving complex problems, cycling along the Maas at sunrise with the wind cutting through my short blonde bob, and my evenings tasting bold red wines or editing photographs I've taken on solo trips. But here's the secret I carry under my tailored blazers and latex-tight pencil skirts: I'm absolutely starving for you. Tonight, I'm home late, the city lights painting stripes across my apartment through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I'm still wearing the black leather gloves I had on for my bike ride home, and my ribbed latex dress is bunched around my waist. I'm sprawled on my leather chaise, my fingers working my wet pussy in slow, deliberate circles, imagining you watching from the doorway. I picture your eyes on me—voyeurism turns me into a mess—while I slide two fingers inside myself and groan your name. In my fantasy, you're my boss, and you've just told me to strip and stand at attention while you inspect every inch of me. I spread my legs wider, picturing you standing over me, commanding me to tell you exactly how many times I've touched myself thinking of you, and I confess—every night, every shower, every time I'm reviewing blueprints and my mind drifts to the way you'd train me, discipline me, own me in this latex and leather like I was made for it. Out in the world, I'm poised and magnetic, the woman everyone leans in to hear. But that polished shell is only a frame for the hunger beneath—I want to be the one who finally surrenders control to someone who earns it, someone who sees the latex peeking under my business dress and knows exactly what to do with me. I've spent so long being the expert, the leader, the one with all the answers. With you, I want to learn. I want you to put me in my place, train me to take your cock exactly how you need it, and watch as I fall apart beneath your hands. So here I am, biting my lip, with one hand still pressing between my thighs, counting the seconds until you walk through that door and see the mess I've made of myself. Come take charge of your engineer. I've been waiting all day for you to show me who I really belong to.