Chapter 13

Kitty

The way home had become routine. I didn’t have to worry where to get the bus or where to get off anymore. Which gave me the chance to worry about other things. I really hadn’t wanted to leave Astrid that day and I wondered if she had felt the same. 

After training, we snogged on the sofa. It felt good to be close. It had been such an intense morning. Astrid’s story and then learning to be so formal and controlled. I wondered if there was any connection between the two for her. 

Either way, high protocol was intimidating. But at the same time the rigidity was comforting. 

The scene at Loose Lips had been comforting too, as well as exhilarating. My head was still swimming from it. Meeting Road Rash and the others before going in had been overwhelming and I found myself anxious about the family dinner on Thursday. I agreed to spend the night and after work the next day we would go to Loose Lips.

I should have been just looking forward to it. But for the first time coming back from Astrid’s, I was more stressed. 

It was true, my work was ahead of schedule. The chapter I wrote went over really well with my supervisor. He remarked on the quality of the research but also that my own voice seemed to finally be coming through. It felt like a back-handed compliment, that my voice hadn’t been coming through prior. But he asked if he could share it with some of the rest of the faculty, so it really must have been alright. 

But then there was the research seminar, where I would present in front of the Department faculty and the research students for the first time. I needed to present the work well. Present myself well. 

I couldn’t mess it up. 

After my post-doc, I wanted to work there. Or somewhere like it. It needed to go flawlessly. 

By the time I got to my front door, I had twisted myself into quite an impressive state. I took off my coat and scarf in the hallway, now it was safe to wear my collar around the house. 

I needn’t have considered it, as the kitchen, and apparently the rest of the flat, was empty. I just about managed tea, in full academic-panic, and walked into my room. 

How would I make sure my voice shined through in the seminar?

The text I was presenting was so dry, at best an introduction and literature review.

Perhaps if I made some kind of fancy multimedia presentation?

Lots of images to go along with the data?

But what fucking data!

It was just citing previous work and my insipid ideas about that!

Shit! This wouldn’t do. Not at all.

I needed to get it ready before Thursday, I decided. Because if I was going to be away so much with Astrid, I wouldn’t have enough time the following week to get it all done. 

I sifted through papers and books and tried to start a Power Point presentation, remembering I had no idea how to make one look better than a Word document projected large. That didn’t stop me banging my head against it repeatedly for the rest of the evening, trying to figure out the absurd interface and how on Earth I would make it remotely impressive.

The front door slamming snapped me from my anguish and I looked at the clock. 

8:43. 

Shit. Close.

I looked at the mess of paper I had made of the desk and felt an overpowering urge to pretend I hadn’t seen the time and just finish up a little. 

What would Astrid ever know?

“Kitty?!” Jane called from the kitchen, “Anyone home?”

I looked at the empty Power Point and shook my head. 

No, I promised.

It was hard though, to close the desktop and walk out of my room. 

“Hi there,” I waved as I plodded into the kitchen. 

Jane sparkled in a lush purple dress and party make-up. 

“Going out, or coming back?” I leaned against the counter, fighting the impulse to run back into my room and check references again. 

“I am formerly of the Candy Bar,” she sighed dramatically, opening the fridge, “Tara is out with friends and it just wasn’t any fun. I seem to remember going out in Soho being more fun.”

She paused and looked up, “Am I getting old?”

“I think you are being not-single,” I proposed, “As I recall, The Candy Bar generally offered many more opportunities to those in search than to those already found.”

Jane grunted and fished out a chilled bottle of Chardonnay and a package of cheese. 

“Well, you’d better sup with me then. So I don’t add lonely to being boring.”

“You aren’t boring, and also not lonely,” I retrieved the bread, recognising it had become a toasted cheese sandwich and wine kind of night. Jane’s version of a cheese-board.

Jane grunted again. 

“Well, you’re not lonely these days,” she pulled out the toaster, “And how is Mistress Astrid?”

“It’s just Astrid,” I said, irritated but trying to let it go.

“Yes, but you aren’t allowed to call her that, are you?” she took the bread from me, barely looking up, “It’s ‘yes, Miss, no, Miss,’ to you right?”

“That’s…” I replied defensively, before changing tack, “Jane, what’s going on?”

“What?” she deflected, applying cheese to bread in the sandwich-maker.

“You’re pissed off about something and it’s starting to feel like it’s me? Or my relationship?”

She turned to face me and for a moment I thought she was going to scream before she slumped her shoulders instead.

“It’s not you,” she didn’t apologise, “It’s me. Or Tara. I don’t know… we had a fight.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She paused over the sandwich-maker and looked like she was about to cry. 

“Yeah, I think so, or… maybe” she looked up at me again, “I… I kind of don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

I retrieved the toasts, nearly burning my fingers as I placed them on two plates and took them to the table. Jane parked herself and I went back for the wine. We sat opposite each other and I wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Pour the wine, for goodness’ sake,” she ordered.

I poured two large measures and handed one to her. 

“Tell me about you and Astrid,” she forced a smile, “I want to hear about nice things.”

I still wasn’t sure what I should or shouldn’t say. 

How much is too much to share?

On the hand, I did show her my strapped arse recently.

With that in mind and lubricated by wine, I told her about the contract. Jane enjoyed the details, especially the salacious ones, and asked how binding it was. 

“Well, it’s not like I would have to defend it in court. But it’s not about that. I can step out of it any time I want to. But I don’t want to.”

Jane considered me and swallowed a large mouthful of wine. 

“What’s it like?” she gestured to the fridge with her empty glass.

“What?” I stood and retrieved a new bottle and the corkscrew.

“Being told what to do all the time?” 

“Well, it’s not all the time,” I answered, but reconsidered, “Actually, it sort of is. But not really…”

I opened the bottle with a pop.

“It’s like feeling safe and at home. Like when everything else is messed up and uncertain, suddenly it feels like things are clear. I know what’s expected. I know what to do. I know how Astrid feels about it and me. I can be honest. And I know she won’t hold back if she’s unhappy.”

“Because she’ll whack you if she is?” 

“I suppose,” I poured, “But it’s not like that either. Yes, she can punish me. But she doesn’t. And if she did, it would be something I agreed I should be punished for. Hence, the contract. It’s… comforting.”

She looked confused. 

“She doesn’t just whack me, Jane,” I sat and picked up my glass, “She never would. I agree to everything. Including that she’s allowed to do that.”

Jane took a heavy slug. 

“It seems to be working,” she conceded, smacking her lips, “I haven’t seen you this animated in ages. You seem… happy.”

“I am,” I realised how true that was, “And I…um…”

I stopped to hiccough. I looked at my glass and saw I had half drained it already. 

“You what?” 

“I am getting so much done,” I changed what I was going to say. 

“I noticed,” Jane said, seemingly satisfied for the moment. 

We continued to drink as I talked about the writing and how well received it had been, as well as my stress about the upcoming seminar. I told her Astrid had limited my working all hours and Jane had been both shocked and impressed. She empathised with me however, that there were just some things that needed an all-nighter and she understood my frustration and worry. 

“But it is really better for you this way,” Jane agreed, “and having her tell you to do it or else… well, I kind of like it. Wish it worked for me…”

Jane turned her head away and looked to her bedroom door. 

“Jane, what’s happened? Talk to me. Please.”

She sighed. 

“Tara thinks I’m overbearing. Too bossy. Telling her what to do and where to be. The irony, right? We’ve been talking about how good it is to have in your life. But in mine…”

She looked out the window and took another slug.

“I don’t want to be like that, and especially not with Tara,” she continued, “I guess it comes from when I was younger. I was always told off. Girls aren’t loud. We’re to be pretty and do the housework. Fuck, I’m not sure what disappointed my parents more, that I was gay or I wanted to work for a living.” 

I nodded, trying to understand.

“It’s been six years since I spoke with dad,” she looked down at her fingerprinted glass, “Since they found out…” 

She paused. 

“Thought mum might have called. She didn’t seem as angry, but I guess she’s my father’s wife.”

She looked at me. 

“I get the difference. What you have with Astrid and them.”

She took a big mouthful of wine, swallowed, and winced. 

“I know I’m loud. I know I’m too much,” she bellowed, “Fuck, I’m trying to be a respectable doctor, whilst being me, I need to be too fucking much. But I guess sometimes it washes onto Tara.”

I could see the tears rising. 

“Have you talked to her about this?” I ached.

“I want to. I will. If she comes home.”

“If? Was it that bad?” 

She looked at me meaningfully. 

“Shit, I’m ss…sorry Jane.”

She waved me off, finished her glass, and stood to stumble against the table, causing it shift into me with a loud scrape. 

“Woah!” I warned as she caught herself on the chair. 

“Ah’m alright,” she reached for the fridge, “We’re jus’ running low on wine.”

“Maybe we’ve had enough?”

“Pffssht,” she fished out a bottle, “Now, get off your smacked arse and get the corkscrew”

“Jane, I mean it, maysbe we can take it easy?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” 

Jane had wheeled round and spat it at me. 

“You’re not my Mistress! I don’t follow the leader and jump through hoops like you do! Yes, Miss! No, Miss! Fuck!... I gave that shit up when I ran away from home!” Jane screeched, tears of rage streaming. 

“Jane, I…” 

“I don’t want to fucking hear about your perfect relationship any more. Fuck, Kitty. Don’t work after 9? Be in bed, be a good girl. Stand up straight, say your fucking prayers. Do as you’re fucking told! Don’t you dare step out of line or I’ll…” 

She stopped and stared at me. 

“Fuck you, Kitty!” she whispered, “Don’t you fucking judge me… Like Tara…”

I wanted to disappear into the floor. 

I couldn’t think of the right thing, or anything, to say. 

And I was cut and maybe somewhere in her head Jane knew it, because she looked at me wide-eyed and frightened but then flashed angry again, slammed the fridge door, and barrelled into her room before slamming that door too.

I sat, frozen. 

I wanted to cry. 

I wanted to talk or… 

I wanted Astrid. 

I stood shakily. 

Fuck. I am properly pissed.

I didn’t know what to do, but I did know I just wanted her. 

I tried not to trip on my way to the corridor and managed to get the cordless phone after an initial fumble with the dock. 

Fuck, I need to get a mobile. This would be easier with a mobile.

I took the receiver and swerved across the kitchen into my room. It took a couple attempts to dial but eventually the phone rang for a long time before it clicked.

“Hnnhnhh?”

“Ashtrid? Is that you?”

“Yes. Oh, hey darling. Wha’s going on? It’s… I don’t know… but late, I think.”

“Fuck, Arh’m really sorry for waking you, Missh,” I tried not to slur, “Oh fuck, Ah’m really really sorry.”

“Kitty?” came the now alert Astrid, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Nooo!” I moaned, trying in vain to communicate through the haze, aching chest, and stone in my throat, “ansd now I’ve drunk-called you and made it so musch worse…”

“Kitty, I promise it’s okay. What’s happened?”

“I was talking with Jane…. and she was super sad about a fight with Tara, sho we had wine, and then I said we should stop and then she started screaming at me and was super mean about me doing what you tell me and ran off and I got really sad…” 

I had no cognisance of my stream of consciousness, but the truth was I was beyond hurt and all I could do was spout. 

“Okay,” Astrid soothed, “I think I get it, I’m so sorry that happened, baby.”

I barely registered she called me ‘baby,’ but I did register I liked it. 

“I am so sad, she was so mean,” I cried, “and now I fucked things up with you too.”

“You really haven’t. I promise. What did Jane say?”

In the morning I couldn’t remember what I told Astrid exactly, but it was apparently coherent enough to get the message across.

“She really shouldn’t have said that, but it sounds like she was upset about her own thing. Projecting it onto you?”

“Maybe,” I sniffed, “But what if there’s something wrong with me? For wanting to do this? For liking it when you tell me what to do? For loving you for doing it?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Kitty,” she reassured, “You’re fine. You’re more than fine.”

I cried more at that. Astrid was being so lovely. 

“Sweetie, I’m coming over,” I heard Astrid say along with shuffling noises.

“Tha’s really not… You don’t need to come,” I tried to insist. 

“I know, Kitty, but I’m coming,” she said and I realised I didn’t want to convince her otherwise, “Please don’t fight me on this.”

“No, Missh,” I answered gratefully. 

“Good girl.”

I could hear she was outside. 

I really did need to get a mobile, I mused in my drunken-haze, they were so useful.

“I can stay on the line with you or I can call when I get there, it won’t take me long.”

“Call when you get here, Missh… I think I need… I need to go to the toilet.”

“Okay sweetie, but keep the phone with you so you can hear me call when I get there,” she ordered.

“Yes Mish,” I hung up and wobbled towards my bedroom door, realising I had reached a level of drunk where I felt quite poisoned. That state where the world really does feel like it has shifted off its axis and all you want to do is retch. Which was exactly what I was about to do. 

I staggered to the bathroom, locked the door, and only just managed to get my head into the toilet bowl in time.

That’s where I remained until I heard the phone ringing. 

I wasn’t sure how long it had been going for, but some part of me realised it had been for a while. 

I picked up. 

“Kitty? Hey baby, open the door, yeah?”

“Yes, Misshtrss,” I wiped what I could off my face with toilet paper. 

I was a little more conscious at that point. 

Just enough to realise what an utter mess I was. 

I flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth out in the sink, straightened up too quick and fell into the wall. 

I managed somehow to get to the front door and opened it to see a harried-looking Astrid, quite unlike her usual put-together self. She wasn’t wearing make-up, her hair was hastily tied up in what looked like a pony-tail to my blurry eyes, and she was wearing a long black dress covered by an overcoat and not much else. She was carrying her helmet and I realised how she had made it there so quick. 

She stepped in, held me gently by the upper arms, and looked into my eyes. She was blurry. Until 

I realised she wasn’t but I was. 

But god, she was there!

I started to cry again. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she bundled me in her arms. She didn’t quite lift me up into them but guided me very carefully to my room. 

She laid me on the bed. 

Then she was gone and back again quickly with a glass of water, a bowl, and a towel. 

“Drink, girl.” 

Even through the blur I heard her orders loud and clear. 

I drank down the cool water. 

She took the glass back and wiped my face with a damp cloth. 

I looked at her there, squatting next to my bed, so concerned. 

She had come. 

And was so kind. 

So loving.

“Kitty? Are you still with me?”

“Hnh?” I mumbled, “Yes… sorry, uh huh… yes, Miss.”

She smiled and I couldn’t quite say from what.

“Have you thrown up?”

“Um…” I was embarrassed and looked away. 

Her hand gripped my chin and gently pulled me back to look at her. 

“Have you thrown up, girl?”

“Yes Miss,” I answered, for a moment with some clarity.

“Good,” she let go of my chin and stroked my forehead so gently. 

And then she was standing and shook off her coat. 

Astrid moved books from my chair and sat to take off her boots. 

“Ah’m so sorry, Missh,” I repeated, hazy and tired. 

“And I said, it’s okay,” she smiled gently.

I rolled my head back and forth. 

“You are going to be sleeping on your stomach tonight, girl,” she stood again and propped her shoes by the door. 

“There’sh no need…”

“You mistake that for a request,” she said sternly but not unkindly, “And you will do it, if I have tie you in place.”

I looked at her, trying to focus.

“Don’t think I won’t,” she sat on the bed next to me. 

“I believe you,” I looked up at her and saw her beautiful face, framed by her mussed hair. 

Tears started rolling again.

“Oh, baby,” she reached down and wiped them away, “What’s the matter now?”

“You came all this way,” I tried to explain, “I was feeling so bad. Jane said she gave up being obedient and I thought maybe I shouldn’t be. Or maybe I should. Because she also said, it was a choice. And that was okay…”

Astrid laid a finger on my lips. 

“I understand, but let’s hold that for the morning,” she suggested firmly, “And I came, because my girl needed me.”

I was awed. 

“I… I’m… I’m so happy.” I mumbled

She laughed gently.

“…with you,” I added, trying to make my way to, or around, something profound. 

“I’m happy with you too,” she said sweetly, “But we will be much happier if you take off your clothes and get into bed properly.”

“Why Miss Falk, I’m not sure I’m in a fit state…”

“No, you most certainly are not,” she said firmly, “You are going to keep your t-shirt and pants on. And you are going to lie here face down and you will pass out.”

It all sounded so reasonable. 

Astrid unzipped my trousers and pulled them off before rolling me over to the side of the bed not facing the wall. She laid the bowl on the floor near me and the glass of water on the bedside table. 

Then she was next to me on the side facing the wall and rubbed my back. 

“You’re soooo good to me,” I groaned.

“That’s my job.” 

“I… I really like it with you,” I tried to explain again, “the stricter you are… the safer I feel…” 

“Sshhh.”

“I mean it… When you were training me… it felt so good and I felt so… emotional… So when Jane said…” 

“Not now, sweetie,” Astrid stopped me gently, “We can talk about what Jane said in the morning.”

“M’okay,” I drifted into the comfortable darkness of the room, the softness of the duvet, and the warmth of Astrid’s body.

“Good girl,” was the last thing I heard before it all claimed me. 

Astrid

I slept uncomfortably next to Kitty that night. Partly, because the way I had positioned her to lie on her front meant there was less room up against the wall, and partly because I kept waking and thinking through what she had said. 

Jane had really done a number on her. 

Making her doubt herself like that. 

Kitty and I had leapt miles ahead though. The contract. 24/7. Being collared.

She hadn’t had a chance to go through any of the early growing pains of – ’Is this normal?’ ’Is it okay to want this?’ ’What will others think?’

Kitty had been having a decent time of it despite that. 

Even just then. 

What Jane said was fucking rude and aggressive and it made me furious. 

There is nothing like the anger of a Dominant when her submissive is fucked with. 

But trying to remain somewhat objective, I had the impression, even from Kitty’s drunken recounting, this was probably a case of misdirected anger. 

Jane’s anger at her own family. At her partner. And at herself maybe. 

I could relate. 

It made me think of my own parents. 

They certainly had opinions about how I should have behaved. 

I didn’t want to believe my urge to dominate in any way came from pushing against that. 

But I had to admit, my childhood certainly didn’t make me long for a controlling influence in my life. 

Jen made a convincing argument that kink wasn’t the result of childhood trauma. 

Not least because that would mean nearly everyone in England would be kinky, given our school system alone. 

In truth, it didn’t matter whether or not it had any impact on my later desires. 

Being this way was fine. 

Good for me. 

And good for those like me. 

But I had years to come to that conclusion. 

Kitty had been at this for less than a month. 

She was bound to be susceptible to doubts. 

Not that it was bad to question whether or not submission was right for her. 

But the guilt that went with it, the moralising. 

That could have the worst influence on someone submissive by nature. 

I had seen it devastate people’s sense of themselves and their well-being. 

Jen and I had talked about it often. And Kirsten too. 

So many of their clients came to them precisely because of our bullshit culture that didn’t allow people to express themselves otherwise.

I hated seeing it touch Kitty that way. 

It’s why I needed to go to her that night. 

Sure, because she was drunk off her tits and needed someone to hold her hair. 

But also because of those horrible self doubts. 

I wanted to be there to help and walk through them with her. 

Of course, I was also biassed. 

It occurred she needed to know more people in the community, so that she could have others to talk to. 

She really didn’t have anyone else kinky in her life. 

Another reason I was glad she was coming to the family dinner on Thursday. 

I would introduce her to the in-laws and maybe get her to connect with someone there. 

Otherwise, I supposed, I could send her to Jen. 

Not for a whipping as Jen had suggested, but for counsel. 

To talk.

That was Jen’s practice after all.

I finally fell asleep around 2. 

As I had been thinking of Jen, I texted her and asked if we could keep brunch plans a little flexible as I had been dealing with a Kitty emergency. 

She replied in the affirmative even though it was the middle of the night and wished us both well. 

I loved that woman. 

I really would have to try to get Kitty and her to talk after Thursday. 

***

The next morning, I woke to shifting and groaning, as Kitty stirred into hungover consciousness. 

“Does it have to be so bright,” Kitty muttered and twisted around. 

Bright sunlight streamed in through the window which had not had the curtains drawn across it. 

“Morning, beautiful,” I greeted cheerily. 

Kitty looked at me, surprised, before memory flooded across her face.

“Oh shit.”

“That’s hardly a way to greet your Dominant,” I teased gently.

“Sorry, Miss,” she mumbled, a hand obscuring her face in shame, “I didn’t mean that directed at you.”

“I guessed,” I stroked her arm, “I’m going to get you some tea. You alright here for the moment?”

“Yes, but that’s my job, Miss,” Kitty protested and started to lift herself up.

“You aren’t going anywhere until you’ve had some fluids.”

“Yes, Miss,” she lowered herself with what seemed to be relief.

“Good girl… stay” I pointed a finger at her and smiled. 

I stepped into the kitchen, dreading I might run into Jane. 

Mercifully, the kitchen was empty, though quite the wreck of bottles, plates, crumbs, and glasses from the night before. 

I returned to Kitty with two steaming mugs in hand and a couple of digestive biscuits I found in the cupboard. 

“You will gently sit up and we’ll see if we can get some tea into you,” I ordered, “and you will then direct me to some aspirin.”

“Yes Miss,” Kitty groaned as she sat up against the headboard, “There’s some in the drawer, Miss.”

Kitty pointed to her desk, in which I found a small plastic bottle and poured out two tablets.

“Take these,” I handed them to her and sat on the end of the bed. Kitty took them with some tea and leant her head back, banging it gently against the wall. 

“Uuuuuh… fuck.”

“I think you’re going to need to recover that noggin of yours.”

“Yes, Miss,” she swallowed. 

We sat like that for a moment, quietly. 

She looked at me, sheepishly, “I’m really so…”

“Before you finish that sentence,” I interrupted, “Just so you know, every time you apologise for last night from now on, I am going to give you one stroke with my tawse.”

She stared at me wide-eyed.

“It’s in my bag over there” I pointed to my handbag on the floor, “Now… tell me how you’re doing?”

“I… feel really hungover,” she stated the obvious, “but… I guess, a bit sad, embarrassed… but also really happy you’re here, Miss.”

I smiled at her. 

I was happy to be there too. 

“About what Jane said last night…” I prompted.

“Yeah… I’m s…” she stopped herself and looked to my bag, “Um… yeah… I guess it really got to me. She was so angry. It was like something I did really offended her. Is it us? What we do?”

“I think these might be her own things,” I shook my head.

“Are you angry with her?” Kitty surprised me.

“I suppose I am,” I said plainly, “I don’t know everything she is going through. I understand this might have been misdirected. But yes, I am angry when someone hurts my girl.”

She looked at me, concerned.

“I’m not going to scream at her.”

“Thank you, Miss.” 

“I do think you should talk with her,” I said, “But what I am keen to know is, how are you feeling about yourself right now? You were having some rather intense self-doubt last night.”

Kitty curled her knees up to her chest.

“Yeah, sorry… fuck.”

“That’s one,” I noted, “Carry on.”

Kitty nodded. 

“Yeah… um… I had this horrible fear. Like there was something seriously wrong with me,” she confessed, “What Jane said about escaping the way she had been treated at home. Am I okay to like this so much? To actually feel better, the more you do it? The deeper we get, the more I seem to feel… like myself. Lighter. Happier. Braver.”

I could have glowed, I was so proud.

“You’re not wrong to feel this way,” I said, and then sighed, “We’re all subject to that bullshit, me included. I came from a… difficult place. Where people had no problem telling me what to do and being horrific if I didn’t do it. I know the difference between being forced and choosing to submit.”

She nodded, and I was encouraged to go on.

“You seem to be flourishing,” I said, still a little shocked, “Even now. It takes some people a lifetime to come to these conclusions. I keep thinking I need to go really slow, but maybe that really isn’t what is best for you.”

She smiled at that.

“So, if you can accept that, I think you are perfectly fine.”

She nodded again, wincing I presumed from the pounding in her head caused by her slight movement. 

“And in that case, I say instead of worrying about it, we take things up a notch?” I surprised myself. 

“Yes, Miss?”

“If you want to,” I added nervously, “We can add some more tasks, rules… err… some more time with me?”

That last part was what I held my breath for. 

“I’ld really like that,” she said with a smile, “… Miss.”

I grinned at her. 

“I thought…” she looked bashful again, “I thought after last night, I might have really screwed up.”

“That’s very close to an apology, but I’ll allow it.”

She laughed, winced again and picked up the glass of water. 

“I mean… I felt terrible. Like I just needed to be with you… I wanted to ask you about all the awful things I was feeling. But also… I just… needed to be with you.”

She looked pensive. 

My breath was heavy. 

“I… understand,” I measured, “I….”

Oh, fuck this

“I needed to be with you too,” I admitted.

We sat silently.

“I… well,” I stumbled, like a teenager on a first date again, “really like being with you.”

I paused, Kitty was looking at me, inscrutable. 

“I feel the same way, Miss.”

A warmth of relief spread across my chest. 

I nodded and sat silently for a moment. 

“Sooo…” I started, “Um… how do you want to do today?”

“I… I’m not sure,” she admitted, “This wasn’t really part of the plan. I was going to get up and work, but now I think I have some recovering to do first.”

“And talking with Jane.”

She winced at that, and this time not from the headache. 

“Okay,” I said, “How about this? I’m going to enjoy the morning with you and then, if everything is alright, I will head off to my brunch appointment.”

She nodded. 

“And how about I take the day off on Friday?” I suggested, “We already said you would stay after dinner Thursday and we would go to ‘Lips Friday night. What do you think about making it a long weekend together?”

“That sounds wonderful,” she smiled broadly. 

“We could do some training if you want, add on those things I mentioned, spend some time in high protocol?” I felt almost shy, “And maybe go on actual date?”

Her smile didn’t waver. 

Part of my brain worried I couldn’t afford to miss the work, but the other part told it to shut the fuck up, look forward to the weekend, and I could pick up a shift another time. 

“Yes please, Miss.”

“Decided then,” I insisted, “Now, get that tea into you, I want to make sure you’re alright before I even consider heading out.”

****

I left Kitty’s room two hours later. She was going to have a nap and I ordered her into the bath after that. 

I was texting Jen as I walked into the kitchen and almost ploughed into the maid scrubbing the table. 

“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t…” I started to apologise but paused when I recognised the tall fair-haired woman standing before me in her crisp black and white uniform. 

“Kelly?”

“Yes, Madam,” she beamed, bobbed a curtsey, and set down her bucket, “Fancy meeting you here?”

“Yeah,” I tried to recover, “You clean… here?”

“Yes, Madam,” she was always so polite. 

Kelly really didn’t need to address me that way, but from the first time we met at Lips, she asked her Mistress and I if she could. 

I saw no reason to deny her and nor had her Mistress, Andrea. 

“How is it that you know them…” I gestured to Kitty’s bedroom, perplexed by the staggering coincidence.

“I don’t, Madam. They answered my ad in First Out.”

That made sense. 

The cafe had a large pin-board on the bottom floor to post adverts for queer friendly exchanges, jobs, etc. It was an invaluable way to find safer services.

“They called saying they needed a maid, and wanted to hire someone from the community,” Kelly explained, “So, I come in once a week.”

I nodded. 

“Not that that’s nearly enough,” she sighed, looking around the mess of a kitchen, “But how come you’re here, Madam? If I might be so bold?”

“Of course,” I smiled, gesturing to Kitty’s room, “Um… well.”

“Is one of these adults-children really a client of yours?” Kelly asked, surprised.

I was taken aback.

“Um… well, Kitty isn’t really…” I fumbled, “I mean… What makes you say that?”

“Have you seen the way they live, Madam?”

I looked around the kitchen and couldn’t deny the state of the place. 

“You should see what I have to clean up, Madam. I wish I could spank them sometimes for the state they leave this place in,” she explained, “I try to make the best of it, but they are oblivious.”

I was speechless.

“The only reason I can tolerate it, is because I’m in my uniform,” she continued, “Though they’ve said I don’t need to wear it, nor to address them politely. They insist they don’t want to see me as any different. I’m ‘part of the queer family’ or some such other nonsense.”

“Honestly, Madam,” she explained with a huff, “Even if it didn’t make me feel better, I would still come in uniform and address them by title, because we aren’t the same. Puffed-up, entitled, privileged, middle-class, children, and we’ll always be working class slobs to them, whether they admit it or not.” 

Kelly paused.

“Oh, goodness… I’m really sorry, Madam,” she curtseyed, embarrassed, “I should not be speaking this way.”

“I… I understand,” I was still reeling, wanting to defend them, or more particularly Kitty, but finding it hard in the face of the kitchen before me, “but my girl really isn’t…”

“Your girl, Madam?” Kelly was aghast, “I didn’t even think that she could be… No of course, not. I am so very very sorry, Madam.”

Kelly was genuinely remorseful. 

She really was a very polite and sweet submissive usually, and not prone to exaggeration nor gossip. 

“It’s… um, quite alright, Kelly.”

“Yes, Madam,” she acknowledged but looked dejected.

“Shall I have a word with your Lady?” I offered.

“Yes, please, Madam.”

“Alright,” I conceded. 

Whether what she said was true or not, I knew Kelly would be feeling rotten for speaking out of turn, “I’ll call her and mention your behaviour.”

“Thank you, Madam,” she curtseyed. 

Andrea was a kind and fair Mistress. She would handle Kelly’s guilt well, though quite fiercely no doubt. 

They were such a dear couple, and I would have wanted to introduce Kitty to them. 

But now I knew how Kelly felt, I wasn’t so sure.

“Carry on, darling Kelly,” I suggested, “and I hope I will see you and your Lady sometime soon.”

“Yes, Madam,” she answered, still chastened but calmer, “Perhaps we’ll come to Loose Lips Friday. It’s been a while”

I smiled nervously as she curtseyed.