Natasha Takes Control (Patreon)

The first time I saw Natasha, I thought she had to be a temp from some sort of professional wrestling league. There was no way someone like her—tall, broad, and absolutely bursting with muscle—was just another office hire. But as she strode through the office, her presence undeniable, her confident smile turning heads, it became clear she was here to stay. And from the way her eyes landed on me, I had a sinking feeling my life was about to change.

I wasn’t wrong.

Her desk was placed near mine, and every time she moved, I couldn’t help but stare. Her arms, thick and sculpted, seemed ready to crush anything in their path, yet her movements were smooth, graceful even. When she leaned over to reach for something, her muscles flexed in ways that made my throat dry. She knew I was watching, and I hated how obvious it was that I couldn’t help myself.

“See something you like?” she said one day, catching me mid-stare. Her voice was low, sultry, but carried an edge that sent a shiver down my spine.

“N-no, I mean… uh…” I stammered, trying to find a way to backpedal, but her smirk cut me off.

“It’s okay,” she said, leaning closer, her shadow swallowing me. “You’re not the first to notice.” She paused, her eyes locking with mine. “But I think you might be the most fun.”

From that moment, she had me. Natasha knew exactly how to use her size, her strength, her sheer presence to make me melt. She started asking me for favors—small things at first. “Can you grab me a coffee?” “Would you mind staying late to help me with this project?” But the way she asked, the way her voice dipped into a teasing tone, her biceps flexing just enough to distract me, made it impossible to say no.

One evening, as the office cleared out, she caught me lingering at my desk. “You’re such a good helper,” she said, her voice practically purring. “But I think you can do more for me.”

Before I could even process what she meant, she stood behind me, her hands resting on the back of my chair. The sheer size of her presence was overwhelming—her shadow engulfed me, and I could feel the heat radiating from her body. “You want to impress me, don’t you?” she murmured, leaning in close enough that her breath brushed my ear.

“I... I guess,” I managed, my voice cracking under the weight of her power.

“Good,” she said, her smile widening. “Because I have very high standards.”

From that point on, Natasha didn’t just ask for favors—she demanded them. And the worst part? I wanted to obey. Whether it was carrying her files, running her errands, or just standing there while she teased me about how small I looked next to her, I couldn’t resist. She had turned me into her personal assistant, her plaything, and every time I thought about pushing back, the memory of her towering over me erased the idea completely.

Natasha wasn’t just big; she was unstoppable. And I wasn’t just her coworker—I was hers.