Chapter 43
Sarah
London
Sarah’s hands were slightly unsteady as she unlocked the front door. Amy was right behind her, crowding her in a way that she’d have bridled at with anyone else but with Amy, with the woman who had a hold over her that nobody had ever had before. The charge between them was now almost unbearable.
They stepped inside and Sarah closed the door behind them. Amy stood in the short hallway, looking around as if reacquainting herself with the space.
“Before we… there’s something I want to show you,” Sarah said. “In the bedroom.” She caught herself just in time. “Amy. If you’ll let me.” God, I’m asking her permission to show her something in my own home, and I’m loving it.
Amy raised an eyebrow but nodded and followed her through the living room to the bedroom.
Sarah switched on the bedside lamps and watched Amy take in what she’d prepared in anticipation: the leather cuffs, the spreader bars, the blindfold, the riding crop, all laid out on the chest of drawers facing the bed.
She saw a smile twitch across Amy’s mouth, but what Sarah wanted to show her wasn’t those, it was above.
“Look up.”
Amy looked. “What am I looking for?”
“You see the bolt?” Sarah reached up and pointed at a strong metal bolt running through a wooden ceiling beam that ran the width of the room, one of several that were left from the building’s previous life as a warehouse.
To anyone who didn’t know, it was just part of the architecture.
But Sarah fetched one of the spreader bars and, using a chair as a footstool, attached it to the eye hook at one end.
“I installed it a few weeks ago,” Sarah said. “Nobody could guess its purpose unless they’ve used it.” She paused. “I’ve never been attached to it myself.”
Amy looked at the bar, then at the cuffs on the chest of drawers, then at Sarah. Her expression made Sarah’s knees feel unreliable.
“I’ve been hoping,” Sarah continued, her voice barely above a whisper, “that you might want to change that.”
Amy held her gaze for a long moment, then simply said, “Go back to the living room. Wait for me there on your knees. And…” Amy shook her head and grinned. “You forgot to say Amy.”
Sarah obeyed, her heart hammering, and knelt in the middle of her living room, listening to the sounds of Amy moving around the bedroom.
After a couple of minutes Amy appeared in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame, looking utterly relaxed and in charge, with an expression that made Sarah feel like she was already naked.
“Rules,” Amy said quietly. “You call me Amy. You know that. You do what I tell you. If I ask you a question, you answer honestly. If you want me to stop, you say stop and I will. Clear?”
“Yes, Amy.”
Amy walked across and reached out to trace a finger along Sarah’s collarbone, just above the neckline of her dress. Sarah shivered. “That dress looks amazing on you. But you can’t wear it. Stand and take off the dress.”
Sarah stood and reached behind herself for the zip, pulled it down, and let the dress fall to the floor. She stood there in her lingerie and watched Amy’s eyes travel over her.
“Very nice,” Amy said, and Sarah felt herself blush at the compliment. “You chose the lingerie for me?”
“Yes, Amy.”
“I thought so.” Amy stepped closer again, close enough that to Sarah that they were almost touching. “Now take it all off. Slowly.”
Sarah unclasped her bra and let it fall, then slid her underwear down and stepped out of it. She stood naked in her own living room, in front of a fully clothed Amy, and thrilled at how vulnerable and exposed she felt.
Amy stepped back and looked at her for a long time. Not rushing, not touching, just looking. Amy was taking every part of her in: the body, yes, but also the surrender, the trust, and her willingness to stand there exposed and wait obediently.
“On your knees,” Amy said.
Sarah knelt. The wooden living room floor was hard beneath her knees but she barely noticed. She looked up at Amy standing over her, and made herself maintain eye contact even as every instinct shouted at her to look down in the presence of her superior.
“Tell me what you want,” Amy said, meeting her gaze.
“I want to be yours tonight. However you want me. Whatever you want to do. I’m yours, Amy.”
“You are.” Amy reached down and tilted Sarah’s chin up.
Amy’s eyes were bright, her cheeks slightly flushed, and Sarah recognised the pleasure that Amy was taking in this as a pleasure she’d felt so many times with others, Amy included when they’d first started out.
She wasn’t performing a duty for Sarah’s benefit, this was desire.
Amy leaned down to kiss her, and while it started gentle it deepened fast, Amy’s hand moving to Sarah’s hair and gripping, using her hold to tilt Sarah’s head back. Sarah gasped into the kiss and she heard a chuckle come from deep inside Amy.
“I need a few minutes,” Amy said, standing straight again.
She paused, looking down at Sarah with an expression that was pure command.
“You’re going to crawl to the bedroom on all fours.
When you get there, you wait at the foot of the bed, on your knees, facing away from the bathroom door. Don’t turn around until I tell you.”
“Yes, Amy.”
She saw Amy smile. Then Amy stepped past her towards the bedroom and Sarah, naked, started to crawl across her own living room floor.
***
She waited at the foot of the bed, kneeling, facing towards the headboard, listening to the sounds of Amy in the bathroom.
Running water, the click of heels on tile.
The anticipation was exquisite, not knowing what Amy would do with everything Sarah had laid out, just kneeling there with her heart hammering and her body already responding to nothing more than the wait.
When she heard the bathroom door open, she kept her eyes forward despite the temptation to look. Amy’s footsteps, still in her heels, clicked across the bedroom floor until she stopped behind Sarah.
“Don’t turn around.”
“No, Amy.”
Amy’s hand went to her shoulder, just a light touch, trailing slowly down her bare back. Sarah shivered again. She felt the brush of silk against her skin, and reckoned that Amy was wearing Sarah’s dressing gown.
“You didn’t say Amy earlier,” Amy said. “You know what that means.”
“Yes, Amy.”
“We’re going to start with that.” Sarah felt something smooth and stiff trail across her shoulder blade. The riding crop. “I remember you using this on me. You remember?”
“Yes, Amy.”
“Do you use this on anyone else?”
“Yes, Amy.”
“Interesting.” The crop slipped down Sarah’s back, feather-light. “Do you like using it? Being the one with the power?”
“Yes, Amy.”
“And now it’s you on your knees.” A gentle tap of the crop against her outer thigh. “How does that feel?”
“Like exactly what I need, Amy. For you to remind me.”
She heard Amy laugh quietly. “On all fours. You may not look at me yet.”
Sarah complied, of course she did… she couldn’t have said no at that point, she was desperate. She felt the crop rest on her ass, teasingly, and then draw back. SMACK. She couldn’t help crying out as the glorious sting spread from where it had landed.
“What’s my name?”
“Amy.”
“Say it, each time.”
She felt the crop draw back again and this time when it landed she cried out, “Amy.”
“Good. You’re so good for me.”
The crop drew back again and Sarah was ready when it landed. “Amy.”
Ten more times it landed, ten more times she cried out Amy’s name, and the sensation was incredible… she would never have guessed how much she loved being on the receiving end of this.
Sarah heard Amy move round to stand in front of her. “You may kneel again and look.”
Sarah returned to kneeling and looked up.
Amy was wearing Sarah’s silk dressing gown, tied loosely, the hem sitting mid-thigh and then a beautiful expanse of leg down to her heels.
So far as Sarah could see there was nothing underneath.
She was holding the riding crop in one hand, the other hand resting on her hip, and she looked utterly, devastatingly in command.
“Stand up,” Amy said, and Sarah stood. Amy looked her up and down. “I’d like to try the bar. Get the restraints and the blindfold.”
Sarah went to the chest of drawers and retrieved the leather cuffs, the other spreader bar, and the blindfold. She put them on the bed and stood waiting.
Amy picked up the wrist cuffs, turning them over in her hands. “You put this bar in the ceiling, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Amy.”
“Who was it for?”
Sarah paused. The honest answer was complicated. “For my mentees, Amy.”
“And did you ever think about someone putting you up there?”
“I…” Sarah hesitated, then chose honesty as the best policy. “Maybe, Amy.”
Amy smiled. “Good. Arms up.”
Sarah raised her arms and Amy fastened the cuffs around her wrists, clipping them to the bar above. Then she knelt and fastened the spreader bar between her ankles, adjusting it so that Sarah’s legs were parted, her feet shoulder-width apart.
Sarah stood there, arms above her head, legs spread, naked and restrained in her own bedroom, in equipment she’d only used on others, and felt a disorienting, thrilling inversion of everything she normally knew. Even the few times she’d submitted to Amy before were nothing like this.
Amy stood up and looked at her. “One more thing.” She picked up the blindfold and held it up. “Trust me?”
“Completely, Amy.”
The blindfold went over her eyes and the world went dark.
“Now,” Amy said, and Sarah heard the quiet swish of the riding crop cutting through the air a moment before it landed on her rear. Not too hard, but sharp enough to make her gasp, landing where it still stung from a few minutes before. “Let’s have some fun.”
***
Amy circled her, slowly and deliberately, the click of the heels the only marker for Sarah of where she was.
The crop landed unpredictably, anywhere and everywhere, not hard enough to truly hurt but always enough to sting.
Between strikes Amy’s fingers would go to where the crop had landed, soothing and teasing at the same time, and the contrast between the two was staggering.
“Tell me what you’d do to me,” Amy said, trailing the crop down Sarah’s inner thigh, “if our positions were reversed.”
Sarah’s breath was ragged. The blindfold made everything more intense, every touch a surprise, every silence loaded with anticipation. “I’d strip you naked, Amy,” she said. “Completely.”
A tap of the crop, light and encouraging. “Go on.”
“And Amy, all my mentees would watch. All of them I’ve ever had.”
Sarah felt Amy pause, and for a moment she was terrified that she’d gone too far, that the fantasy was too dark, too much. But then Amy’s voice returned and sounded interested: “Would they now?”
“Yes, Amy. They’d watch while I tied you up.
While I…” She hesitated, thinking that this went against their dynamic, that Amy was the one in charge and Sarah was the one who submitted.
But Amy’s silence was expectant and Sarah realised that Amy wanted to hear it.
“While I had them take turns. On you. While you were restrained and helpless. All of ours, our plaything, to do what we want with.”
“That’s quite some fantasy.” Amy’s voice was closer now, right next to her ear, and Sarah felt Amy’s fingers slide down her stomach, down between her legs, touching her for the first time that evening, feeling how desperately aroused she was.
Sarah cried out, a desperate sound, pleasure and relief crashing together.
“It’s not what’s happening tonight though, is it?” Amy whispered, her fingers moving with agonising slowness.
“No, Amy.”
“No. Tonight you’re mine.” The crop landed on her rear at the same time that Amy’s fingers pushed deeper, and Sarah’s knees nearly buckled at the dual sensation.
Amy kept her there, suspended between the crop and her fingers, building Sarah higher and higher, and Sarah could feel it, it felt so good, and started babbling, pleas that formed and dissolved before they could become words.
Amy was reading her perfectly as she always did, knowing exactly when to push and when to pause, when to let the crop speak and when to use her hands, and Sarah understood that Amy was enjoying it, savouring every moment of Sarah’s surrender, revelling in the power of having this woman who dominated everyone else trembling and helpless and begging.
The climax when Amy eventually let it come was incredible.
Amy kissed her deeply as the orgasm crashed through her, her lips on Sarah’s, then on her face, her neck, her shoulders, and Sarah’s body tensed against the restraints, her legs giving way so that the cuffs on her wrists took her weight, her screams muffled by Amy’s mouth.
It went on and on, wave after wave, and Amy held her through it, her body against Sarah’s, supporting her.
“You’re mine,” Amy whispered.
When it finally passed, Amy reached up and unclipped the wrist cuffs, catching Sarah as she sagged, helping her gently to the floor, then kneeling beside her and taking off the blindfold and removing the spreader bar.
Sarah blinked in the sudden light and saw Amy’s face, close to hers, flushed and bright-eyed and looking at her with an expression that was new and that she would never forget as long as she lived.
“You ok?” Amy asked, her fingertips on Sarah’s cheek.
Sarah nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.
Amy kissed her forehead. She helped Sarah to the bed and lay her down, pulling the covers over her and climbing in herself, letting Sarah rest her head on Amy’s shoulder while Amy stroked her hair and whispered wonderful, magical words of reassurance.