Kinktober | Wolfftober 🐺🔥 | day 4: Lessons in Control (Susie Wolff)
Kinktober/Wolfftober Masterlist | main masterlist
⤷ F/F, mommy kink, toy play
[18+] content
Susie Wolff x F1AcademyDriver!reader Summary: Overwhelmed by pressure and self-doubt, you break down in Susie’s office. But instead of words, she teaches you something else entirely: how it feels to let go, to be cared for, and to surrender every ounce of control to the woman who won’t let you forget who you are. Warnings: lesbian smut, mommy kink, oral sex, power play, praise kink, strap-on/double vibrator, office sex, dominance/submission dynamics Word count: 1k
The office feels too big for you. The trophies on the shelves, the clean lines of the desk, the framed photos of circuits you’ve only dreamed of racing on, all of it presses down on your chest until you can barely breathe.
You sink lower in the chair opposite her, your fingers twisted tight in your lap.
“I don’t belong here,” you murmur, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Everyone’s watching me, waiting for me to fail. I’m fast, but… it’s not enough. I’m not enough.”
Susie’s gaze fixes on you, steady and unreadable, the kind of look that makes you squirm. Then she rises from behind her desk, her heels clicking against the floor as she comes closer. She doesn’t sit. She leans against the desk in front of you, folding her arms, tilting her head.
“Look at me,” she says softly.
You do, even though your throat is tight, even though the sting of tears blurs your vision.
“You are here because you earned it,” she continues, her voice lower now, warm, unshakably sure. “You have more talent in your hands than most of them will in their entire careers. But you’re wound so tight you can’t breathe.”
Her hand touches your chin, tilting it upward. The tenderness in her eyes unravels you.
“What you need,” she murmurs, “is to let go. To let someone else take control for a while.”
Your lips part on a shaky breath. You don’t answer, but she sees the way your body leans into her touch, the way your eyes search hers for something solid to hold on to.
And then she kisses you.
It’s soft at first, testing, tasting, but when you don’t pull away, when you press back with a desperate little sound, she deepens it. Her fingers slip into your hair, tugging just enough to make your stomach twist with heat.
“Good girl,” she whispers against your mouth, the words sinking straight into your bones.
By the time she pulls you to your feet and turns you toward her desk, your knees are trembling. Her hands are everywhere, guiding, steadying, stripping away every layer of doubt along with your clothes.
You’re spread open for her in minutes, perched on the edge of her desk, trembling under the weight of her gaze.
But she doesn’t keep you there. With one hand firm on your wrist, she leads you across the office, toward the leather sofa against the wall. She pushes you gently but decisively until you’re lying back, your body bare and exposed under the dim light.
“Spread your legs for me,” she orders, her voice low and sharp. You obey instantly, heat rising in your chest at the way she looks at you, hungry, possessive, like you already belong to her.
She kneels between your thighs, her hands sliding up over your skin, parting you wider, her nails scratching lightly against your hips. For a moment she just watches, a slow smile curving her lips, making you squirm under her gaze.
Then she leans in, lips ghosting over your inner thigh before closing over your clit. The jolt rips a cry from your throat, and her muffled chuckle vibrates against you. She doesn’t hold back, her tongue is relentless, flicking, circling, sucking until your hips start to buck against her mouth.
Her hand clamps down on your stomach, pinning you flat.
“Stay still,” she warns, voice dark and smooth. “Let mummy take care of you.”
The words make your head spin, a whimper tearing from your throat. She slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right, her tongue still tormenting your clit until the pleasure coils too tight to hold back.
You shatter with a scream, your whole body trembling as waves of release crash through you. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t let you go, licking you through every twitch and spasm until you’re begging, broken, tears stinging your eyes.
Only then does she lift her head, her lips glistening, her smile wicked. She wipes her mouth with her thumb and tilts her head.
“Who’s your mummy?” she asks softly, almost teasing.
“You,” you gasp, the word falling out before you can think. “You are.”
Her grin sharpens, satisfaction flashing in her eyes. She leans down, kissing you hard, making you taste yourself on her tongue.
And then she stands, crossing to her desk, opening a drawer with calm deliberation. The gleam of silicone catches your eye, and your breath catches with it.
She holds up the sleek double vibrator, her brows arching in amusement at your wide-eyed stare.
“Ever used one of these?” she asks, turning it slowly in her hand.
You shake your head, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.
She smiles, wicked and tender all at once.
“Then let mummy show you.”
She slides the first end into you slowly, her hand gentle but firm, her voice low in your ear.
“Relax for me. That’s it.” The stretch makes you gasp, but her palm on your thigh, the press of her lips to your neck, keeps you grounded.
Then she fits the second end inside herself, and the sound she makes, low, throaty, utterly unrestrained, makes your whole body shiver.
Her hands grip your hips, drawing you closer until the toy locks you together, until every shift makes both of you moan. Her forehead presses to yours, and she smiles like she’s proud of you, like she owns every trembling breath spilling from your lips.
“That’s my girl,” she murmurs, rocking into you, slow and deliberate. “You feel that? We move together. You don’t have to think. You don’t have to fight. Just follow me.”
You cling to her shoulders, your nails biting into her shirt as the rhythm builds. Every thrust, every vibration pushes you closer until you’re whimpering into her mouth, pleading without words.
“Say it,” she commands softly. “Tell me who’s taking care of you.”
“You,” you gasp, broken. “You are.”
Her mouth crashes into yours as the world shatters around you, pleasure ripping through your body, your cry muffled against her lips while she holds you together, moving with you, chasing her own release until you feel her convulse against you.
And then there is only stillness. Only her hands stroking your hip, her lips brushing your temple, her voice a soft promise.
“You’ll be fine, sweetheart,” she whispers, wrapping you up in her arms. “You just need someone to remind you who you are.”
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