Chapter 12

Kitty

Astrid’s shoe jerked away from my face and I yelped in shock. 

Moments earlier I was shocked I was even in that position at all. 

It was nothing I ever imagined I would do. 

None of what I had been doing recently was anything I had ever imagined doing. 

But perhaps particularly kneeling on the floor sucking on a shoe. 

But, it was intoxicating. Rubbing my face and tongue along her legs before going down to do the same to her feet. 

She hadn’t told me to do that to her shoes but I had just burned to. It was the strangest sensation, licking and sucking on the smooth patent leather. The odd earthy flavour made salty by her sweat, or maybe my own. 

Somewhere distant in my mind, I thought I should feel debased, or that this was somehow unsanitary. 

But in the rest of my mind, well, I wasn’t thinking anything at all. 

It was all sensation. 

I took the toe of her shoe into my mouth and gasped when she rested her other foot on the back of my head.

My whole body felt like a live wire. Humming and burning white hot, all in a magnificent tension. 

And then suddenly her feet were wrenched away and I tipped forward and screeched as I did.

At first, my brain didn’t register what had happened. 

Was this part of the scene?

Was I supposed to do something now?

I looked up to see Astrid staring like she’d seen a ghost. 

I twisted round but it was impossible to follow her gaze, my view obstructed by the horse and bunches of legs. 

“Astrid?” I asked, worried something was terribly wrong.

She didn’t answer but just sat there, gripping the armrests like she was about to launch at something or someone. Her legs were withdrawn and her feet held firmly under the chair.

“Astrid?” I repeated more urgently, to which she shook her head and looked down at me. 

“What did you say?”

_Shit!_ 

“I’m sorry…, fuck, Miss, I meant to say Miss.”

There was silence.  

What was she doing?

Was she going to punish me now?

“We’re going,” she said briskly and my stomach lurched. 

“Yes, Miss,” I stood as quickly as she did and followed her out of the playroom, through the bar, and up the stairs. 

“I need our coats and bags, please,” she asked Ally, the second we were up the stairs. Ally turned to find them as we stood in silence. 

“Here you are darlings,” Ally said cheerfully, “Early night?”

“Yes,” Astrid mumbled. 

She didn’t wait for me to help her with her coat, but buttoned it herself and started for the front of the shop. 

I struggled into my own coat as I trotted after Astrid through the front door into the street

She marched to the bus stop, still not a word. 

My mind was a panic as I tripped after her. 

What had I done wrong?

Perhaps I wasn’t supposed to suck on her shoe?

She hadn’t said I could.

Fuck!

I shouldn’t have been so presumptive.

And then calling her by her name.

Which felt so much worse than just forgetting her title. And in the playroom!

Maybe that was really seriously wrong?

What had I done?

Had I embarrassed her? Fuck!

Astrid came to a stop at the bus shelter and faced the road, wrapping her arms around herself. It hadn’t felt cold, but perhaps it was, in her skirt and blouse even under the coat. 

I stood next to her, aching to apologise, but fearing I would make it worse. 

The bus pulled up quickly. We boarded and sat towards the back. 

At least I was sitting thigh to thigh with her.

Fuck! I must really have fucked up.

Astrid just sat silently, staring out the window. 

Tears started to well. 

I couldn’t stand it any more. 

“I… um… I’m so sorry, Miss,” I implored, picking at my fingernails and not daring to look up. 

“What?” Astrid turned to me, her brow creased.

“I’m really sorry for what I did, Miss,” I looked up. 

“What?” she asked again, now looking confused or maybe angry. 

“Back at the club, when I was kneeling and then when I said your name,” I croaked. 

She looked at me with the oddest expression. 

“You think you did something wrong?”

I nodded, which dislodged a tear and it rolled down my cheek. 

“Oh fuck, Kitty,” Astrid snapped out of something and reached forward to wipe my wet cheek and cup the back of my head, “You didn’t do anything…”

She trailed off, looking at me wild-eyed. For a moment it looked like she was going to burst into tears herself but she pulled me to her instead and laid her head on my shoulder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Kitty,” she whispered urgently in my ear. 

She held on for a while, as I watched shadowed buildings pass by over her shoulder. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Kitty,” she repeated as she pulled back, sniffed, seeming more composed but still pale, “I… couldn’t be there just then.”

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m…” Astrid paused, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… Are you okay?”

I nodded, despite myself. 

“Are you sure?” she panicked, “A Domme should never… I’m really sorry, Kitty. That was really not okay of me.”

“Please, Miss, what happened?” I was worried again.

Astrid looked in my eyes before casting her gaze down. 

“There was someone who came in. Someone I haven’t seen in a long time, and I was… surprised.”

She paused.

“Fuck, not surprised, I mean… I… She…” 

I placed my hand on hers. She looked at it and then up at me. 

“I can’t…”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do,” she said harshly, and then winced, “Sorry… Uh… What I did was really wrong. I pulled you out of a scene without any warning or aftercare. That’s not okay. And it is not safe. I would understand if you never wanted to do anything with me again.”

“Miss!” I exclaimed, loud enough to disturb our few fellow passengers, so I tried to whisper “Seriously… No… Please, tell me what happened.”

Astrid looked stunned, and then lowered her eyes again.

“A person came in who… might have hurt someone very dear…,” she said quietly, “I’d forgotten she might be in the city or ever come to ‘Lips again.” 

“I’m sorry…”

“Do you remember when I said there were some Dommes who don’t build up their submissives?”

“You meant her?”

“Yes,” she replied, “But nothing I ever saw. Or anyone… But I heard… And then…”

Astrid looked close to tears again. 

“I… um… I can’t do this on the bus,” she wiped at her eyes, “And we’re nearly there… Can we get off first, please?” 

“Of course,” I stood to let Astrid go ahead. She nodded sharply and we walked to the exit. 

We stood there for two more stops. This time, she held me by her side as we jostled along with the squeaking bus suspension. I felt calmer but also more fraught. 

Who was this woman?

Should I even pry?

We stepped off and I felt like I was propping her up as we walked to her place. She smiled as I opened the door for her and I went to the kitchen to get the tea. She was sitting on the sofa and was staring into the middle distance by the time I came back with two mugs. 

“Thank you,” Astrid said kindly as she took the mug and sat up straighter when I joined her. 

“Look, um,” she explained seriously, “A Domme should never ever do that with you. Pull out like that.”

“I mean it,” Astrid looked at me pointedly, “That was not in any way okay and I profusely apologise.”

“Yes, Miss, of course, it’s okay.”

“I am glad you think so,” she looked pained, “But you need to know, that’s dangerous, and can lead to real harm.”

I nodded. 

“Fuck, if Alexis was here, she would have my hide,” she mumbled. 

“Alexis, Miss?”

“My mentor…” Astrid explained, “She was the Domme who helped me learn how to do all this.”

I nodded as if I understood what that could mean. It hadn’t occurred that a Domme would need on the job training. 

“She was a stickler for safety,” Astrid continued, “Kitty, you could be really hurt by being wrenched out like that with no after-care.”

I started to understand more of what she meant.

“It will never, ever, happen again,” she glared, “But I meant it, I would understand totally if you want to walk away from me for this.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” 

“I am.”

I considered it. 

It had been an awful shock, and the worst thing had been terrified I had done something really wrong. 

But I also understood. 

If this person was as wicked as Astrid said… I could think of a few people I would run from if they showed up suddenly like that. 

She looked truly sorry and I believed her. 

In my heart, I hadn’t even considered this would be something I would need to forgive.

“I don’t want to walk away, Miss. I want to stay,” I swallowed, ”I think I understand what you’re saying. And I believe you will take good care. And that feels…” 

I clutched for the words.

“Really good.”

Astrid nodded. 

“I forgive you,” I surprised myself, before quickly adding, “Miss.”

Astrid smiled wanly, and so did I. 

“Thank you, Kitty,” she said, finally seeming to relax, if only slightly, and I thought I could see tears well as she did. 

“You’re welcome, Miss.”

We talked a while longer. Mostly my telling her how amazing it was to worship her and that I never imagined I would lick someone’s shoes, let alone love doing it. 

I blushed as I said that, which made Astrid smile. 

Seeing her do so eased me more. 

She said she had very much enjoyed it too and had become quite distracted by the whole thing. Which made me even happier and also reflect again how I really had no idea what it must be like to be on the other end of such a thing. 

With that in mind, she suggested we retire to the bedroom. 

We fucked late into the night. 

She tied me to the bed again, but this time in a taught spread eagle, each wrist and ankle secured to a different bed post. I felt completely immobile. I think I screamed when she finally let me cum. 

I had wild dreams, blurs of faces and feelings, colours and lights. There was dread, worry, love, and pain. 

When I woke, I couldn’t piece any of it together and was quite groggy. 

I sat up, finding I was still wearing Astrid’s wrist and ankle cuffs. I turned to look at her, sleeping so peacefully. 

She was serene. A world away from the wild panic of the night before.

I watched her shoulders rise and fall.

I loved the way her hair had come untucked and splayed onto the pillow under her head. 

I loved the way her lips creased ever so slightly at the edges when she breathed in and out, like she was smiling even just a little in her sleep. 

I loved the way her eyelashes lay on the very top of her cheekbones. 

I almost felt nervous. 

I was in awe of this powerful woman who had crashed into my life.

Astrid stirred.

“Good morning, girl,” she smiled, still half asleep, “Don’t you look dashing in the early rays?”

I looked up to the window and shielded my eyes. 

“Thank you, Miss. I was just thinking the same of you.”

She murmured happily. 

“You could make us some tea, I think.”

“Yes, Miss,” I stood, looking for my clothes.

“Naked.”

“Uh… yes, Miss.” 

Astrid

I watched Kitty walk out of the room in just her collar and restraints, the little D-clips on the cuffs tinkling as she moved. 

I would have been thoroughly distracted by how adorable it was on any other day, but I was still reeling from the previous night. 

Fucking Sharon showing up like that.

But also my own gigantic, impossible fucked up, fuck up.

Despite Kitty’s forgiveness, I couldn’t just let that go. 

I can never ever do that again. Ever.

Let alone with someone new.

With Kitty.

I am fucking not going to have her thinking that kind of treatment was okay.

I am not going to let her think being treated badly by a Domme was okay.

I’d be damned if I lost another girl to…

Fuck! Fuck. Fuck!

Kitty returned with two steaming mugs and I was struck again by how stunning she really was. Perhaps especially standing naked in the sunshine and her cuffs. She looked like salvation after yesterday’s colossal fuck up.

“Tea, Miss,” she said cheerily as she stepped to my bedside. 

I couldn’t help noticing her puckered nipples above me as she placed the mug down and came back around to the other side of the bed. 

“Chilly in the kitchen, is it?” 

“Ah… yes, Miss,” she crossed her arms over her chest with her mug, presumably for warmth rather than modesty.  

I picked up my own mug and sipped. 

We were silent, the conversation I was dreading hanging in the air above us.

“Is everything alright?” she asked after the silence had dragged into uncomfortable territory. 

“Miss,” I corrected absent-mindedly as I sipped, and immediately regretted it. 

This wasn’t the time to stamp on that. 

“Sorry,” Kitty apologised with a flush to her cheeks, “Is everything alright, Miss?”

“Yes, sorry, Kitty,” I sighed, “It’s just, well, last night…”

“That Domme, Miss?”

“Yes,” I blew on the tea before adding, “Sharon.”

A tsunami of emotion crashed as I said her name, and it was everything to try to keep myself together. 

“I didn’t want to get into this with you,” my shoulders slumped in defeat, “It was a long time ago. With someone else… And not something I really want to go over with my new partner.”

Kitty’s expression changed oddly, and I wasn’t sure why. But I wasn’t really able to worry about that, or my words, because if I didn’t say it then, I knew myself well enough that I would just clam up. 

I truly hadn’t wanted to talk about it. 

Had somewhat buried it.

But after abandoning our scene, Kitty deserved an explanation. 

“Before you,” I worried one of my fingernails, “it had been a long time since I had a girl.”

Kitty sat still, listening.

“Her name was Anne. We were… very close. I was with her for a while. I trained her. We became more than Mistress and submissive. It was wonderful… for a while.”

My throat began to close. 

“Then, one day, well, I was having a rough time,” I picked at the top of my mug, “I mean, it wasn’t one day… I had a rough patch. I got low. Real low. Old… stuff had come up… I thought I was past it. But it bit me in the arse. Badly. I guess, I was… sad… for a while.”

“Anne… She couldn’t handle it,” my throat was almost completely seized and my chest ached, “She said it was hard to see me so vulnerable. To see me sad.”

Kitty was motionless.

“It happens sometimes,” I tried to explain, shifting into generalities, hoping that would be easier, “Submissives create an image in their heads of their Dominants as all-powerful, impervious, and larger-than-life. Mistresses are supposed to be unassailable. Some submissives need that image in their minds to submit.”

A deep crease formed between her eyebrows.

“It means that as a Dominant, you always feel like you kind of have to project that,” my voice cracked, “and well…”

I paused, unable to say it.

“So, Anne… left,” I said instead, “She… she broke my… And, well, I was feeling so awful… and like I had failed her at the same time. As a partner, and as a Mistress.”

“She left and…” I sat up straighter, “and went to Sharon.”

Kitty didn’t say anything, but there was a softness to her expression. 

I didn’t know if that was worse. 

I hadn’t spoken about this in so long. 

And certainly not so plainly. 

“Sharon is very cruel,” I found no other way to say it, “Which in itself isn’t a problem.”

Kitty looked like she was going to protest.

“No, really,” I said before she could, “Being a cruel Domme is fine, if that’s what you both agree to. If done right, it can be just as liberating to be with a Domme who treats their submissive like a queen, as it is to be with a Domme who makes you grovel in the dirt and calls you a worm.”

“It’s just,” I turned my face down again, “I’ve always had this feeling that with Sharon it was different. She doesn’t bring her submissives to the clubs often, but seems to always have at least one in her household. When she does bring them around, she likes to show them off, humiliate them dreadfully in the dungeon, whip them bloody. Also, not in itself a problem. I have seen it done safely for both top and bottom… But when Sharon does it. I don’t know. It always set my teeth on edge. I could never put my finger on why.”

I took a deep breath.

“She never brought Anne to the club, which is probably a good thing, because I don’t know if I could have handled that,” I said quietly, “But after a while, I heard they’d split. I heard it got ugly. A friend who saw Anne after, said she seemed… different. Withdrawn. Unwell. Anne left the scene completely after that. Moved out of the city. I never got to speak to her. Ask her if she was okay.”

I needed to stop this now. 

Not say any more. 

“I couldn’t ever be sure,” I heard myself say as if from very far away, “but I always thought Sharon might have done something awful to Anne. Anne was kind of… I mean… I knew she wanted to be controlled, that she yearned to be handled firmly. But I always thought she needed to be built up, not broken down. Sharon took her in, and...”

Kitty was a picture of worry. 

“I couldn’t prove anything of course, and I didn’t want to go to Rash with it,” I looked down at my mug, “I figured I would just sound like the bitter ex-Mistress. But I just had this awful… awful feeling.” 

I looked back at Kitty who had tears welling in her eyes. I was mortified what I must have said to make her feel that way. But then Kitty shuffled forward, reaching for me. 

I knew she wanted to embrace but I just couldn’t, so guided her to rest her head on my lap instead. She seemed ready to resist, but let me move her into position anyway. 

I stroked her hair. 

“I am so sorry, Miss.”

“It’s okay,” I lied. 

We lay like that for a while. 

I continued to stroke Kitty’s hair as I swallowed hard and my throat burned. 

“Okay,” I said, a desperate urge to change the subject, “I think we need to start your training proper today.”

Kitty turned her head in my lap and looked up at me, confused. I smiled down at her as convincingly as I could. 

“Come on, up you get.”

“Yes, Miss,” Kitty dutifully stood up but looked unsure.

“As lovely as you look,” I said, “perhaps clothes for this.”

“Yes, Miss,” Kitty smiled stiffly and looked around for what she had been wearing the previous night. I made a mental note to have her bring a change of clothes with her next time. 

As she got dressed, I stood and rearranged my dressing gown. Not exactly what I would have prefered for something like this, but I needed to distract myself and move onto firmer ground.

Kitty stood in front of me once she was done, in crumpled trousers and blouse.

“Next time, we’re going to have to talk about what you wear for the morning after, or at least get you to invest in an iron.”

“Yes, Miss,” she blushed. 

“Let’s talk protocol” I smiled stiffly, “There’s roughly three levels, high, low, and social.”

Kitty stood more to attention, which I liked. 

“For right now, we will start with a little bit of high protocol, because the rules are kind of the clearest,” I explained, “and also the strictest.”

Kitty nodded. High protocol was indeed clearer in its parameters, but if I was honest with myself, I picked it because I felt the need for firmness more than clarity in that moment.

“Okay, basics. It’s like, pretend you’re serving at a really fancy dinner party.”

“I…” Kitty seemed shy, “I’ve never done that, Miss.”

“Never?” I asked, realising my suspicions about her lack of serving experience were right. 

“No, never been a waiter.”

“Okay… we’ll add that to your list of things I need to train you.”

“Yes, Miss.”

At least, she took instruction well.

“High protocol means you are under a different set of much stricter rules,” I stood up and paced in front of her, “The first of which is you don’t speak unless directly spoken to.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“It means, you say nothing at all, unless I directly ask you a question or give you an order,” I continued, “It’s trickier than it sounds, especially to begin with.”

She nodded.

“And that’s the second rule, you don’t move unless given a direct order. If I put you in a position, you stay there until given permission to do something else.” 

She looked nervous. 

“Alright so far?”

“Yes, Miss,” she was unconvincing.

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine,” I stroked the back of her head and then gently pushed to lower it, “Rule three, head down, you don’t look me in the eyes in high protocol.”

“Yes, Miss,” she said, a dreamier quality to her voice, less unsteady. 

Structure for this one, I reminded myself. 

And for me too, it would seem.

“There are other rules,” I said, stepping behind her and speaking close to her ear, “but I think I will stick to adding positions and curtseying for now. Especially curtseying, since you did that so beautifully for Rash last night.”

“Yes, Miss,” came her response, still dreamy and calm. 

“You will curtsey when you acknowledge an order, when you express gratitude, and when you leave or enter my presence in high protocol,” I instructed, laying my hands on her shoulders from behind and letting the weight of them rest there. 

“Yes, Miss,” she said again, in just the same way. 

“Very good,” I lifted my hands and walked around deliberately to stand in front of her, “Show me.”

She hesitated but then lowered herself into quite a delightful curtsey. I would even say it was well practised.

There definitely was a story there.

“Very nice,” I said, “Alright, a couple positions. You already know the kneeling one, but when you stand in high protocol, you stand shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent, and your hands folded in front of you, head down.”

I watched Kitty try to take it all in and slowly manage to make the position. I chose not to discipline her for the presumption of adopting it without being instructed. I didn’t want to squash her efforts so early on, even though I had a fierce urge to discipline her just then.

“This is how you stand at all times in high protocol, unless instructed to a task or in another position.”

“Yes, Miss,” her tone had shifted, a slight step out of subspace.

“Last one,” I sighed, “And this one, I hope you won’t be using at all.”

I walked to her side.

“This position is with your hands on your head, interlacing your fingers, legs together and back straight,” I instructed, “Give it a try.” 

“Yes, Miss,” she dutifully took the stance. 

“This is your punishment position,” I explained, “I only use it on those occasions. So, I don’t plan to use it much at all, if ever, in fact.”

I let her stand that way for a few moments more. 

It’s amazing what impact a little context can give. 

If I had told her this was her pride position, she might have beamed with joy holding it.  

Rather, I could see she was starting to feel uncomfortable and even ashamed. 

“You can relax,” I instructed, “Shake it off and come join me on the sofa.”

“Yes, Miss,” she did exactly as instructed, quite literally shaking out her arms and legs before sitting down.  

“How was that?”

“That last one felt awful,” she rubbed the back of her head with one hand, then quickly added “Miss”

I smiled. 

“I meant what I said, I only use that position for punishment. In fact, I only use high protocol for two occasions. One is formal dinners or events. Then you can behave properly and present yourself well. The other is when I punish, because those too are formal occasions.”

She looked at me seriously. 

“We’ll practise for the former,” I said cheerfully, “and avoid the latter.”

“Yes, Miss.”

The rest of the morning was spent much more relaxed until, true to our new ritual of lazy Saturdays, we had to accept Kitty should probably go home. As I dressed, I reminded her of the family dinner that week and as I had gone to hers, it was only fair she come to mine. 

She agreed but shortly after said she was starting to get stressed about her work. She had mentioned a big seminar coming up, and how she wanted it to go exceptionally. I reminded her not to over do it and that I would make it an order.

“But, Miss, the seminar is the week after next and I really want to make sure it’s good,” she complained.

“You said things were going well, and that you had it in hand,” I countered.

“Yes,” she admitted, “but…”

“And if you worked reasonable hours, would you be able to get the presentation done and it would be satisfactory? Good even?” I asked, starting to button my blouse.

“Yes, Miss,” she answered, “But I just want it to be perfect.”

“I know, Kitty,” I smiled as I turned up my collar, “Don’t think I don’t see it in you. I kind of love it. You want to do everything just so. It makes you a wonderful submissive. But part of letting go, is also letting your Dominant guide you in this.”

“Yes, Miss,” she submitted, out of arguments.

“Good girl,” I slipped my tie around the back of my neck, relenting a little, “I don’t want to be a terror to you. I promise, I just want to help you with this. I don’t know your work, but I do know over-work when I see it. So, how about we say, no work after 9? That’s pretty late already.”

She looked like she was going to protest, but thought better of it. 

“Yes, Miss.”

I smiled, checked the mirror, and knotted the tie into a bow. I turned down my collar and saw 

Kitty looking at me in the reflection.

“You’re staring, dear.”

“Sorry,” she flushed, “I was just watching you get dressed, Miss.”

This encouraged a grin from me.

“Not like that, I mean, yes… of course, that too,” she stumbled, “But… May I ask a question, Miss?”

“Yes you may, and how nice of you to ask permission so politely.”

“Why do you dress that way? So formally all the time, Miss? No matter where we are”

“Hhhhmm,” I considered as I turned to face her, “That’s quite an impertinent question.”

Kitty went pale.

“Sorry… no it’s fine,” I laughed, “I get it. It’s not how everyone dresses. Especially not from where I come from.”

“But it makes me feel good,” I smoothed down my skirt, “I guess like how submission fits you. It makes me feel put together and powerful.”

She nodded. 

“I like the impact it has on others,” I pulled on the matching jacket and buttoned it too, “Like you… I had the impression you quite liked it?”

“I do, Miss,” she blushed fiercely, “It’s very striking.”

“Why, thank you,” I bowed my head in acknowledgement and led us to the door.

“I must admit, I had been thinking of giving you a similar dress code,” I mused as I helped her into her coat, “Skirt, blouse, tie… that sort of thing.”

The colour drained from her face and I couldn’t help but bellow a laugh. 

“Oh, darling,” I coughed, “You look absolutely horrified.”

“Um…” she recovered, “Well, I suppose…”

I had to grin as I popped the lapels of her coat. 

“Alright, I suppose I won’t,” I reassured her. 

“Thank you, Miss,” she visibly relaxed. 

“Yes, well,” I answered, turning around to let her help me into my coat, “I reserve the right to change my mind, should your behaviour ever falter enough to warrant the imposition of a uniform.”

“You aren’t kidding are you, Miss?”

I smiled at her as I turned back around when she was done. 

“Yes, Miss,” she nervously laughed.

****

After Kitty left, I stepped out to the market. I browsed the fruit and veg, but it was late in the day and most of it had been picked over by the weekend rush. It was hard to concentrate on that anyway because I was still thinking about the previous evening. 

How could I have been so careless and out of control?

It was fucking negligent!

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t square the feeling I had behaved horribly. 

Despite explaining it to Kitty. 

Despite apologising and insisting it would never happen again. 

And despite Kitty forgiving me. 

I just couldn’t let it go. 

I dropped the sad shopping I had managed on the kitchen counter, feeling frustrated and awful. 

“Shit!” I screamed out loud to no one.

I felt lonely. 

And guilty. 

I need to talk to Jen, I thought.

I rummaged the mobile out of my handbag and fumbled the keys, until it dialled. 

“Hello, darling,” Jen answered brightly, “How are you on this fine Saturday afternoon? Checking in to see if we’re still on for brunch? In which case, we are indeed, and what a story I have to tell you so bring a spare pair of knickers.”

“Jen,” I asked, not really sure how to start the conversation I needed to have, “Um… can I come over?”

“This sounds serious,” she replied, more solemn, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just need,” I paused, “... to talk.”

“Of course,” she answered, “I’m starkers just now, so let me put on a bra or something and you can come on over.”

She managed more than a bra thankfully by the time I got there, standing in the doorway wearing her signature shirt unbuttoned to below her cleavage and a skirt that rode up almost as high. 

“So what’s happened?” she asked as we lowered into her soft sofa. 

Her flat was the same dimensions as mine, but more cluttered with furniture, nicknacks, pictures, and decoration. 

It was quite cute in many ways, fluffy almost. 

Despite that, there was a clear space in the middle of her living room where a table might have been, reserved for ”her practice.” 

She had a horse on wheels rolled to one side, and a rack of whips and canes on the wall next to it. 

“I… um…” I tried to start, “I fucked up.”

“Do go on,” Jen offered a biscuit and a glass of lemonade she had pre-prepared on the coffee table.

“Um… I pulled Kitty out of a scene,” I admitted, “and out of ’Lips… with no warning or explanation.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, non-committal, crunching her biscuit. 

“Yes,” I struggled, “It was… Sharon…”

“Oh,” Jen understood, “Was she there?”

“She walked into the dungeon during the middle of my scene with Kitty and I flipped.”

“That’s kind of understandable, darling.” 

“Fuck, maybe, but what I did to Kitty is inexcusable.”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, taking a Hob Nob and fiddling with it. 

“And did she forgive you?”

“Yeah…” I picked at the sides of the biscuit.

“Then it isn’t inexcusable, is it?” Jen looked very satisfied before frowning, “Stop making crumbs, Astrid, I’ll only have to have someone lick them up.”

“Sorry,” I apologised and put the biscuit back on the plate. 

“So what’s the problem?”

“Me!” I cried, “I’m the problem. Kitty forgiving me or not isn’t the point. I still did it. And it’s not okay.”

“Astrid,” Jen sighed, “Kitty forgiving you _is_ the whole, and only, point. It’s done.”

“It isn’t,” I groaned, “I can’t… let it go.”

Jen frowned at me.

“Well, you have to, because she’s forgiven you and it’s not like she can spank you for it. I think we’ve had this conversation before. It’s no good flogging yourself.”

“Alexis would have given me a dozen.” 

“Maybe,” Jen shrugged, “but she’s not here, so…”

She paused and looked at me. 

“Ah,” she sighed.

“What?”

“You really don’t know why you’re here, do you?” Jen straightened in her seat.

“What?” I asked, clueless as to what the fuck she was on about, and still feeling wretched. 

“Astrid,” Jen sighed, rearranging her short skirt, “You really are quite dense sometimes.”

“What?! Fuck off, Jen!”

“Don’t talk to your Disciplinarian that way,” Jen said sternly. 

“My what?!” I asked, incredulous. 

“You heard me,” Jen said seriously, “Don’t talk to your Disciplinarian that way.”

I stared at her. 

“Because that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

“Jen, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“But you do. And you are… here for that.”

I sat speechless.

“You aren’t denying it. And I’ve been doing this a very long time. I know a girl who needs a spanking when I see one.”

I opened my mouth, but said nothing. 

“Close your mouth Astrid, unless you’re trying to catch flies,” she tapped her lap with her hands, “Now, don’t make me drag you over my knee by the ear. You’ve seen me work and you know I can.”

I sat, unwavering. 

I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. 

My heart was in my mouth and I wanted to tell her to fuck the actual fuck off. 

I wasn’t going to be spanked by my sister. 

Jen raised an eyebrow at me. 

She was so full of shit!

I hadn’t come there for this!

I had come because I needed to talk. I needed to process what I had done and I needed to get over it somehow so I could continue on with Kitty. Because I really wanted to. And I couldn’t if I couldn’t shake this off. If I couldn’t forgive myself, the way Kitty had forgiven me. If I couldn’t…

And then it struck me. 

I had already said it. 

I needed to let go.

I looked up at Jen, who was still staring at me. 

“Come on. I haven’t got all day.”

I shook my head. 

Jen nodded sagely.

“Jen…” I implored. 

She just looked at me.

I stood without a word. 

Jen watched me silently.

I unbuttoned my jacket with a huff, trying to maintain some kind of dignity. 

“And that’s quite enough of that,” Jen said with a tone I had heard her use on so many of her clients, “You are going to be very sorry in a minute, and I won’t have any of your attitude.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered sincerely, my cheeks flush. 

“Better,” she softened, “Go on, over you go.”

“Yes Ma’am,” I kicked off my shoes, and knelt on the sofa next to Jen before lying across her lap, stunned I was doing so and shocked I was grateful to Jen at the same time. 

“Do you think I’m going to spank you across your skirt? Come on, up with it.”

Cheeks ablaze, I awkwardly shimmied my skirt up my thighs and over my backside whilst still lying across Jen’s lap. 

“Knickers,” she instructed shortly. 

“Jen!”

“Ma’am!” Jen slapped my thigh hard.

“Fuck!” I turned to look at her face, which was unflinching. She raised her hand again, and her eyebrow with it.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I grit my teeth, turned my head away, and pulled my panties down my thighs. 

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Ma’am,” I answered, finally surrendering.

“Good.” 

And Jen got to work.

And fuck, did she make me howl. 

I had never been on the receiving end of one of her blisterings. But Jesus, I had a new appreciation for her clients and why her therapy sessions were so damn effective. 

Afterwards, we hugged and I cried. 

I actually cried. 

Until she told me to get over myself and remember I was human, and not “The Domme of all things.” 

I thanked her. 

I really had been able to let go. 

She offered to do it any time I needed and I gratefully declined. 

We agreed to meet for our usual brunch the next day and Jen cheerfully offered to bring a pillow to the caf for me. 

I withered at her, which made her laugh. 

I went home shortly after and collapsed on the bed, exhausted.