Chapter 5

Kitty

I floated the whole tube ride home. It was an odd state to be in, mentally so peaceful and yet sure I should be trying to figure out what the hell just happened. The impulse to do something with Astrid had been evident, but I hadn’t known what that something was nor what it would actually be like. 

Despite just having done ’it,’ I wasn't sure what ’it’ was. Whatever ’it’ had been, ’it’ had been very good. 

I glided into our apparently empty flat. Astrid said I should stay hydrated and I hadn’t really understood why, but I took a glass of water from the tap regardless and went into my room. The usual hostility of the unattended academic work was conspicuously absent. Instead, I noted the sunlight streaming in beams through the window and hitting whatever particles drifted in the air. 

It was serene. 

I looked at the desk, still a heap of books and paper. I lifted a page and examined it before turning it over and picking up another. I was surprised when I knew how I could sort them perfectly. I sat and turned on the computer, which made a satisfying hum as I picked up another book full of Post-it notes. 

Suddenly the blank screen was filling with thoughts. I mapped out the chapter I'd been struggling with, wrote sections, and sought out quotes and references. I had no sense of how much time had passed when I heard a tentative knock on my door.

“Hello?” Jane peered in.

“Hi?” I swivelled my chair to see her pushing the door open a little more. 

“How’s it… uh.. going?” she asked, uncharacteristically timid.

“Gooood,” I answered, wary of this sudden respect for my space, “What’s going on with you?”

Jane straightened and leaned against the door-frame.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she said with crossed arms and a mischievous smile, which was much more her norm.

“What do you mean?” I asked unconvincingly.

“Ugh!” Jane marched into my room proper, “Just tell me already! Andy said you went out again with your Mistress Lady Person. And then you come home and hide in here without telling us, more importantly me, anything!”

“Her name is Astrid,” I corrected as Jane flopped onto the bed, lay on her side, and propped her head up with one arm. 

“Uh huh,” she smiled tightly, “Aaaaaand?”

“And nothing,” my pokerface was truly terrible. 

Jane continued to smile, expectantly.

“We went for a walk,” I offered. 

Jane remained motionless. 

“It was in Richmond Park,” I tried. 

Jane was a rock.

“Alright!” I relented, “It was incredible.”

“Finally!” Jane flipped around to sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees and head resting in her hands, like an eager child waiting for story time.

“We walked into the woods,” I calculated. 

I always told Jane everything. But this? I wasn’t sure how she would react. Maybe completely fine? But did I even know what it was that had happened? Expressing it then felt like I was exposing myself.

“We found a secluded bench and made a hot mess of a spectacle of ourselves.” 

It wasn’t technically untrue and I knew Jane would accept this explanation. I was notoriously prudish about sharing details about the sex I might be, but more often wasn’t, having.

“Ooooo,” she cooed, before fluttering her eyelashes, “So, are you two like going out now?”

“Well, um…” I stuttered which made her laugh, “We agreed to go out again Friday.”

“AAaaargh!!!” Jane actually screamed.

The sound of pounding feet preceded Tara appearing at my open door, “Are you okay, baby?!”

“Oh, fuck yes!” Jane gestured wildly at me, “Kitty’s got herself a girlie!”

“Ah,” Tara relaxed, comforted Jane had not in fact impaled herself, “So, Kitty’s seeing that girl from the club?”

“I’m actually still here,” I interjected grumpily, “In fact, for once I’m actually getting some work done, so with the sincerest regards to you both, kindly bugger off for a bit.”

Tara raised an eyebrow and Jane snorted. 

“Fine,” Jane stood and smoothed down her dress, “Then carry on. But don’t think this gets you off the hook telling me much more… and soon.”

She pointed a finger at me as she strolled to Tara and kissed her on the cheek before they both left, leaving the door open. 

I stood and closed it after them. 

I paused holding the handle and wondered why I hadn’t just told Jane what happened. The thought was disquieting. 

I nudged it away, choosing to lie where Jane had just been instead of going back to work. 

I closed my eyes and thought back to the park and how it had felt in the moment and after. 

It was so good to be told what to do by Astrid. Like a warm embrace that stilled my mind and heightened my senses. The release had been cathartic and yet it left me wanting more. 

Much more. 

And soon. 

But what did I actually want? 

What did I want her to do? 

What did I want to do? 

Was I kinky now? 

And what was that anyway? What did that say about me as a person? 

I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. And that thought was desperately sad. I couldn’t conceive of telling Jane. And if not her, then no one else either. What was there to tell anyway?

I looked to my desk and saw an intimidating pile of books and paper and a glaring screen. 

It all felt too much. The empty room. The empty bed. I hadn’t noticed tears welling until they slid down my cheeks onto the bed. I reached my hand to my forehead and a sob bubbled up with it. 

What the hell was happening to me?

A dim part of my mind recalled Astrid’s instructions. I was to call her if I felt drop. I had no idea what drop was, nor how to recognise it if it happened. 

It was ridiculous feeling this sad for no good reason.

But at the same time, the clear image of Astrid came to mind, making me promise I would call. 

And besides, I just wanted to. I wanted to hear her voice. 

I got up and wiped my face, but the tears continued to flow. I opened the door to my room and like a cartoon burglar, looked out for my flatmates. 

Certain they were out of sight, I crept through the kitchen to retrieve the phone from the hall and scamper back to my room. 

I sat on the end of the bed and stared at the receiver. The sudden depression that seemed to cloud everything was pierced by the thought, I promised to do something for Astrid. And the feeling I should obey her gave me the resolution to tap the number out and raise the phone to my ear. 

It rang for a long while. 

I thought I should hang up. Not disturb her. 

What time was it anyway?

“Unh.. uh.. hello?” a sleepy voice answered.

“Astrid?”

“Hunh… yep.”

“It’s Kitty.”

“Oh!” Astrid yelped, and then the sound of something dropping, followed by a more distant, 

“Fuck!”

“Are you okay?”

“Shit… yes, sorry, I am,” I could hear Astrid shifting again, “I just dropped my Hobnobs.”

I couldn’t help laughing even though I was still crying. Astrid laughed too and my chest eased. 

“It’s okay, no biscuits were harmed,” she assured, “How are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I answered automatically, then grimaced before admitting, “Actually, no. Not really. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Okay,” Astrid sounded serious, “Do you think you’re feeling a bit of a drop?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, tears flowing freely, “I was doing fine and then all of a sudden I just started to cry and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I’m really glad you called,” Astrid said kindly but still drowsy, “It’s going to be okay. And you’re okay.” 

“Uh huh,” I mumbled weakly and perhaps a little snottily. 

“What were you thinking when you got sad?”

“Well,” I swallowed, “It was like I finally started writing when I got home. I mean, after our walk, I felt all calm and could work. And then when I stopped, after talking to Jane, I lay down and got really sad and started crying because I didn’t think I was ready to tell her what a lovely time you and I had.”

I breathed in heavily.

“That makes sense,” she said evenly, “I’m not sure if it’s drop or if you’re really tired. Or both.”

I nodded, forgetting Astrid wouldn’t be able to see I had. 

“Either way, it sounds like you could do with a rest, and to be kind with yourself.”

“Okay.” 

It sounded so reasonable.

“You’re in bed?”

I nodded again and then answered out loud, “Yes.”

“Good. Then I suggest you stay there, wrap yourself up in lots of warm fuzzy clothes or blankets, and try to let go of the day.”

“That sounds good,” I admitted.

“I’m glad,” she yawned.

“Oh! I’m so sorry I woke you. I didn’t even check the time,” I cringed.

“’s quite alright,” Astrid yawned again, “Now… you don’t get to worry about me. I’ll tell you if it’s too late.”

Her tone was commanding, and somewhere in my tired mind I really appreciated that.

“And it’s never too late for something like this,” she insisted, “I’m really glad you called like you promised you would.”

“Thank you,” I smiled, feeling my heart expand and my own impulse to yawn.

“Then go to sleep, darling, and don’t worry, you’re fine. We can talk again soon. We still have our date.”

“Yes Miss,” I chanced. 

There was a pause on the other end and a flash of anxiety on mine.

“Aren’t you darling,” was what came back and I blushed wildly, “Now be a good girl and go to sleep.”

We wished each other good night and I buried myself in the duvet to quickly do as I was told. 

Astrid

I blinked awake to a dull headache. 

My bleary eyes fell on an empty bottle of wine, a lipstick-stained glass, and a half-eaten packet of Hobnobs next to the bed. 

I groaned at my inability to hold the slightest alcohol. 

With great effort I managed to extract from the sheets I had wound around myself in my sleep. 

I padded into the bathroom and as I brushed the lingering taste of the previous evening away, I remembered the conversation with Kitty. 

My first thought was I should check in with her. If it was drop, it might have come back with a vengeance in the morning. She won’t be used to it.

My second thought was, I called her a good girl… again.

After she’d used my title.

Which, if I was honest, had inspired a very particular little thrill.

But we hadn’t negotiated that either. 

I shook my head. 

I don’t want a girl right now. I can’t handle a girl right now.!

“Fulhck meegh!” I gurgled my toothpaste.

I thought about my conversation with Jen. I knew she would tell me to go easy on myself.

I spat out into the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. 

“What do you want, Mistress?” I demanded my reflection. 

I want Kitty, came the immediate mental response. 

“But fucking why?!” 

She’s sweet. She’s earnest. She’s kind... 

I groaned again and looked at the mess in the sink. 

I was acting like a love-lorn teenager, struggling with her first crush. But this wasn’t my first time. And the last time had been… 

Fuck! What did I even want with Kitty? A fling? A little play at Dominance and submission?

I don’t do either of those things.

Ever.

I’d never managed to keep it casual with someone I liked. And anyone I wanted to be with, I wanted to dominate. 

And here was this girl.

Was she even submissive? 

Or was she just playing with it? 

And either way, I couldn’t fuck her up by being careless. 

“Shit! Fuck!” I cursed out loud again, and shook my head. 

I thought of my mentor, who had drilled BDSM safety into me. I had been so lucky to have Alexis. The tall, voluptuous, American Domme, who graced Lips with her particular brand of vicious humour and the mentoring practices from the US. It was much less common in our little community to apprentice to another Domme to learn the ropes, so to speak. Most muddled through with books, talking to each other, and watching. 

I met Alexis shortly after she arrived in London, when I was still a super green wanna-be Domme. I was in awe of her the first time I saw her stroll into the club sporting a black leather corset matched by black leather trousers, waistcoat, and a peaked cap on top of her head of jet-black cropped hair. She wielded a hefty red flogger and I was mesmerised watching her whip one of our regulars into a frenzy, her strokes so fluid and varied as to keep the girl at the very edge of her sanity. 

I was terrified to talk to her when she walked up to the bar after her session. She had been sweating considerably from the effort, drops trailing down her luscious umber cleavage. She’d laughed at me when noticing the direction of my gaze, but kindly took it as a compliment. I made her a very tall lemon-water with ice by way of apology and to help her rehydrate. 

I told her how new I was and that I was so impressed with her flogging skills. She graciously offered to show me how to do it and managed to coax me out from behind the bar for a lesson that very night. It wasn’t long after she took me on as her apprentice. 

In her service, she taught me so much. And she was very popular in our little scene, so we never wanted for willing submissives to practice on. However, she also insisted I be on the receiving end, at least once, of anything I wanted to do to someone else. 

Those were very challenging sessions. 

I washed my face and sighed. 

I missed Alexis. 

She’d gone back to California a year later and it had been a heart-wrenching goodbye. We still spoke now and again on the phone, but international calls were expensive and we’d lost touch somewhat. 

I continued to think about Alexis as I rode my route. She was such a stickler for safety and protocol. I wondered if she would be horrified by how I was handling the Kitty thing. I felt like I was fucking it up from all ends.

I was still grumbling to myself when I got home from my shift. I changed out of my riding habit and considered my closet and its collection of formal wear. 

I was so proud of it. 

It hadn’t been easy to get suits on my nonexistent budget, but I’d been lucky at the charity shops and found some wonderful second-hand pieces. 

I picked out a white blouse and a purple striped pussy-bow tie to pair with the navy skirt suit from the 40s I was particularly fond of. 

I felt much more myself as I left the house to meet Jen for the tea she’d insisted on the previous evening. I found her in our usual spot in Shoreditch, already seated in what she called her ’Sunday best,’ which consisted of a floral dress and gloves. Her jacket and plumed hat rested on the chair beside her. 

Jen grilled me further about Kitty. I confessed she’d called after Jen’s departure. I told Jen about the potential drop as well as Kitty’s parting use of my title. 

“Oh, darling, I am impressed!”

“Yes, well,” I countered with a sip of warm tea, “It’s all going way too fucking fast don’t you think? 

We haven’t negotiated her calling me that, let alone anything else.”

“What I’m hearing is that your new girl was presumptuous with your title and needs a thorough seeing to,” Jen grinned over her teacup.

“Jen!” I complained too loudly and looked around to the other tea-drinkers guiltily. 

“I mean,” she put the cup down and made a short slapping gesture with one hand, “you could always send her to me if you think she’s in need.”

“I can take care of that myself,” I said shortly, before realising what I’d said, “Not that we’re anywhere near that.”

“If you say so,” Jen giggled. 

“Seriously,” I insisted again, “And frankly, I’m not sure we’re doing anything at all.” 

“But you’re taking her to Lips again on Friday?” Jen creased her brow. 

“As an introduction,” I glared at her.

“To what, or whom, exactly?”

“To kink,” I was getting frustrated, “Fuck, I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing with her. She’s completely green.”

“She’ll have a good teacher then,” Jen answered so kindly I was knocked off my tail-spin. 

“I… well… maybe that’s what she needs?” I tried to navigate my muddled feelings, “Someone to show her the ropes?”

“That’s a terrible pun.”

“You know what I mean. Someone to go slow with her, show her around safely, if this is something she really wants?” 

“Uh huh.”

“Not that she has to do anything, or anything with me.”

“Uh huh.”

“Just really slow going,” I insisted, “Snail-pace. One thing at a time.”

Jen looked at me. 

“I could be her mentor?” I offered.

Jen didn’t move.

“What?”

“A mentor… uh huh, sure.”

“I don’t need to be her Dominant.”

Jen stared at me again.

I wasn’t convincing her, and trying to was frustrating. Not least because I wasn’t sure I was convincing myself either. 

I asked after her practice, which was always good to get Jen going. We spent much of the rest of the tea continuing our ongoing discussion of humiliation as a part of discipline. Jen was enthusiastically in favour, whereas it made me rather uncomfortable. We managed to agree shame could, on occasion, be useful. But that was as far as I would go. Jen, on the other hand, was willing to go much farther and was keen to explain how in great detail. 

Once she had done so to her satisfaction, we kissed goodbye before I headed home. I checked my phone as I went, disappointed not to have heard from Kitty. I realised I should’ve asked if she had a mobile so she could text me.

I tried to shake it off as I went for a stroll along the second-hand stores on the way home. They proved barren of anything good, and I started to feel frustrated again. 

At home, I tried to distract myself. 

I pulled The Femme’s Guide to the Universe, off the shelf, which was always good for a sense of familiarity, but my mind kept wandering. I considered what kind of submissive Kitty might be and admonished myself immediately. It wasn’t alright to think about her that way. 

I’ll just show her around Lips. Introduce her to everything. Snail-pace. Then she can decide what she wants. Probably find herself a good Top or something.

I tried the TV, hoping that might fare better at stalling my spinning brain. I flicked through my meagre selection of channels, and started to wonder if Kitty might call. We hadn’t agreed anything, but maybe it would be good to know how she was after the previous night? It would only be right to check. For safety. 

But would that be imposing? Or just weird?

“Oh, fuck it, I’m calling,” I said out loud, irritated by my own insecurity. 

The phone rang for a while before an unfamiliar voice answered.

“The House of the Rising Pansies, Andy speaking.”

“Uh, hi?” I answered, convinced I must’ve gotten the number wrong, “Is… Kitty there?”

“Kitty!” came a loud bellow distant enough from the receiver so as not to blast my ear off before the voice returned much more softly, “She’ll be right there. Who may I say is calling?”

“It’s Astrid.”

“Oooo Astrid!” Andy cooed, “Great! I wanted to ask you–“

Andy disappeared into what sounded like a brief fumble. 

“Hi, yes, sorry, hold on,” Kitty’s voice emerged.

I listened to yet more fumbling, before Kitty returned, “Hi, sorry about Andy, I had to take the phone into my room… so that I wouldn’t be listened to!” 

The last part was shouted, presumably at Andy. 

“The joys of communal living?” I asked when Kitty returned to the phone. 

“Yes,” she answered, “My flatmates are desperate to know everything I’m up to with you.”

“Uh huh,” I felt self-conscious, “Well, feel free to tell them whatever you want, my life’s an open book.”

Kitty laughed nervously and I wondered what that meant.

“It’s good to hear from you,” Kitty said before I could consider further. 

“Yeah… I wanted to see if you were alright. After yesterday.”

“Oh, yes,” I heard her shuffling, “Hey, um, I’m really sorry about calling like that.”

“I asked you to and I’m glad you did,” I said earnestly.

“Thank you. I feel a lot better. I spent the day writing more. I guess something was really shook loose yesterday.”

“So, you enjoyed it?” I asked after a pause, realising how nervous I was for her answer.

“Oh, yes,” Kitty sounded honest, “I’m still getting my head around it. Or maybe I’m not sure if I understand it. But I think I really did. Enjoy it, I mean.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.” 

And I really was. But then struggled with what to say next.

“So, you’d still like to go with me to Lips?”

There was a brief pause before Kitty answered, “Yes, I would like that very much.”

“I’m glad,” I said, relieved, “So should we meet there?”

“Yes, please.”

“Great,” I replied, again running out of things to say, “Okay, then, until then… then. Shit. Sorry. Meet me there at 9?”

Kitty laughed, “Absolutely.”

“Okay,” I repeated. 

“Oh, what should I wear?”

“Ah, yes,” I was grateful to switch to something I was much more comfortable with, “You can wear whatever you want, but also the collar. The same dress you had last time is fine.”

“Okay,” 

I noticed a catch in her voice.

“Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” Kitty answered, “I mean yes.”

“Alright then,” I continued, still unsure, “But don’t stress it. You’ll be fine and we’ll take it really slow, I promise.”

“I’m glad,” Kitty seemed lighter again, “I’m nervous, but I’m... I'm looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” 

There was an awkward pause on both sides. 

“So, I’ll see you Friday then?”

“For sure,” Kitty chuckled nervously, “I won’t be late.”

I bit my tongue, because all I wanted to say was ‘you’d better not be.’ 

I instead went with, “Good.”

We wished each other a good night and hung up. 

I managed to watch TV after that but realised though my mind was calmer, a different kind of frustration had settled into my stomach.

The next day I called Road Rash to let her know I wouldn’t be able to tend bar that Friday. She’d been mildly irritated at first. Then again, mild irritation was something of a default setting for her. 

Road Rash was an old-school biker dyke, nicknamed for a particularly spectacular incident involving said bike. She wore her long hair undercut and dressed like a gay pirate in outfits I could never pull off in a million years. All skin-tight leggings, knee boots, blousey shirts, and waistcoats. People who’d just met her were often intimidated by her gruff exterior. But once you got to know her, you would find her to be a deeply loyal and kind friend. 

Road Rash owned Lips and the tattoo shop which fronted it. She ran the club as a private space for her own kinky interests, but also for the community because, as she put it, “If I don’t, what other cunt will?” 

I adored Rash. She’d taken me under her wing when I first came to London. I was penniless, gay, and had no fucking idea what I was going to do after escaping the family up north. I’d run into Rash at a bar whilst I was getting stinking drunk on money I couldn’t afford to spend. I was a day away from living on the street and she took pity on me. 

“A baby dyke in need of room,” she’d called me, and despite my protests, she was right. 

She took me in for my first months in the city as I figured out what the fuck I was going to do. 

We’d been kin ever since. 

“Well, who the fuck am I going to get to sling the drinks,” she grumbled, mostly to herself.

“You know I wouldn’t normally cancel but well, I’m going to be a little preoccupied.”

“Oh, yeah?” I had peaked her interest.

“Yeah,” I stumbled on, “I’m bringing a girl… I met her. And well, I’m bringing her this week… She’s super new.”

“Uh huh,” Rash considered, “Well, in that case, you must absolutely not be working behind the fucking bar. In fact, I forbid it.”

“Okay, then,” I couldn’t help laughing, “I promise I won’t.”

“I’m curious to see who could get you to play in my house again.”

“We’re not going to play,” I answered hastily, “I’m just bringing her to explore.”

“Aye,” Road Rash was clearly unconvinced, “Right… well, if you’re needing to use a horse or summat’, just tell me and I’ll kick any cunt off so you can have a go.”

“Thank you? But really, I won’t need to, we’ll be taking things very very slow.”

“Aye.”

This was going to be a thing now. 

Kitty and I would certainly be scrutinised the second we walked in. And that was all I needed. To be watched over constantly as I tried to carefully navigate Kitty, and myself, through the space.

I spent the rest of the day trying to focus on work and not think too much about how it would be with Kitty.

I managed not to call her. 

I lingered in town after my shift and headed to the coop for our midweek family dinner. 

It’d been the usual chaos, but I’d managed to get out of it relatively unscathed as Jen was absent due to a prior ’disciplinary engagement.’ So, no-one there knew about Kitty and it was nice not to have to face twenty questions about her.

Work on Friday was tedious and I was tense about the evening. By the time I got home, I’d convinced myself that Kitty and I would just walk around Lips a few times, chat to some of the regulars, and that would be it. 

Snail-pace.

Despite that, I found myself nervously waiting outside the tattoo shop in my large overcoat, which hid my buckled corset, bell-sleeved blouse, and black skirt. The only thing that passers-by might have noticed of my outfit were the tall shiny black stiletto heels. I’d teased my hair into my usual coif and lacking staggering amounts of creativity, went with the same dark red lipstick and black eyeliner as always. 

Kitty didn’t keep me waiting long before she trotted up along the pavement in a three-quarter length beige trench-coat, covering the majority of the dress I’d seen her wear the first night we met. She was wearing a thick scarlet scarf too, and I wondered if that was hiding her collar. As I considered that, I noticed how awkwardly she seemed to be walking in her heels. 

“Hi, there,” she kissed me quickly and then hugged her arms around herself, despite the relatively warm evening. 

“Shall we go in?”

Kitty nodded and I linked my arm in hers to walk into the tattoo shop, lit only sparsely by a hidden lamp at the back. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes… uh… I guess I’m a little nervous. But yes, I’m fine.” Kitty chuckled.

We stepped to the trestle table, where Ally was helping someone else with their coat. 

“I get it, but if you aren’t up for it, we can go. It’s really alright.”

“No,” she replied quickly, “I really want to. It’s just a little scary. I’ve been thinking about this since Wednesday. I guess I’m not sure what it’ll be like.”

“It’s going to be very chill,” I promised, “And if you want to go any time, we will.”

“Okay,” Kitty said with an easier smile.

I felt an overpowering urge to protect her, and in a way, that was an easier role to fill. 

Certainly a more comfortable role than that of scared-shitless Domme.

“Well, hello!” Ally greeted us with an exuberant grin when she finished with the previous coat check. I wondered if there was a reason she was so especially perky. 

“Here as a punter tonight, Ally,” I pulled out my purse.

“Oh no,” Ally held up a hand, “On the house for you both, Rash’s orders.”

“Ah,” I put my purse away. 

Of course Rash had been talking about us with Ally, and probably everyone else too. 

“Can I take those for you?” Ally asked cheerily, pointing to our coats. 

“Certainly,” I tried to keep it cool, “Kitty?”

Kitty nodded and took off her layers. Her scarf had indeed been hiding her collar and I was proud of her for wearing it to the club. Most people would get changed there and that would include things like collars. 

I took Kitty’s coat and handed it and my own to Ally. 

Ally turned and hung the garments with her usual efficiency, returning with cloakroom tickets. 

“You have a lovely night now,” she beamed, “And do give Penny a happy birthday slap from me.”

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was tonight. Is she inside?”

“Yup,” Ally answered happily before turning to another couple who had come in after us.

Kitty looked confused. 

“I won’t be slapping Penny,” I assured her.

“Oh,” Kitty shook her head, “No, I wasn’t worried about that. I just thought maybe I should have brought her something.”

“That’s sweet,” I was touched she would think of that. 

I stroked her cheek, “Honestly, Penny’ll probably be quite distracted, if I know her on her birthdays.”

Kitty smiled and made for the stairs. I held her hand back. 

“Let’s step into the changing room.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“Not like that.”

She laughed shyly and we walked into the dirty room.

“Come,” I sat on one end of the bench and patted the space next to me.

Kitty joined me, the skirt of her dress riding up, her hands in her lap. She looked stiff and unsure.

“I want to go over a few things before we go in and I want to make sure we understand each other.”

Kitty nodded.

“I said you would be here with me, and your collar kind of acts like a symbol of that.” 

“That makes sense,” Kitty raised her hand to the ring.

“So, while we’re in the club, I’m going to ask you to behave a certain way, alright?”

Kitty’s eyes grew wide. 

“That sounds good.” 

“Since you’re with me, and we’re in public, you need to follow a couple of my rules.”

“That seems fair,” she said, still wide-eyed.

“I won’t order you around, like I did in the park,” I thought I detected an ever so slight flash of disappointment, “I want you to you feel free to explore the place, roam around, and ask questions.”

“Okay,” she said in a way that I was starting to recognise. 

“But,” I added, “you will call me Miss for the time we are inside.”

She nodded and shifted in her seat.

“And you will not stray far without permission.”

“Okay,” she said shortly. 

“And if you want to stop, what do you say?”

“I say stop.”

“Good,” I finished, “How do you feel about that?”

Kitty looked down for a moment before looking up again, “I think that sounds really good.”

A warmth spread across my chest, ”I’m really glad to hear that.”

I looked into her sweet open face. I still didn’t really know what I was going to do with her. But in considering her that way, I felt a resolve. 

I reached a hand up to the ring under her chin and gripped it with my index finger. 

Kitty sucked in her breath. 

“I expect you to behave,” I said quietly. 

Kitty’s eyelashes fluttered and her lips parted. 

I watched and held her. 

The urge to stay the tension like that was overwhelming. 

I couldn’t resist leaning in to steal a kiss from her soft, pink lips.

I managed to contain myself enough to make the contact brief. 

I leaned back, still holding the ring and looked into her eyes. 

“Good girl,” I tried to maintain a steady tone of voice, “I’m glad we understand each other.”

I released her ring and stood, feeling the power build in my chest and arms. I folded my hands in front of my skirt and looked down at her and smiled.

“Up you get then,” I resisted the urge to go full formal bitch Mistress mode on her and tell her off for sitting while I was standing. 

I’d promised myself to take this at absolute snail-pace. I needed to focus. Even if this was going to be relatively informal, I was still in charge. 

“Oh,” Kitty stuttered before standing shakily, “Yes, Miss.”

I crooked my elbow for her and motioned to the door. We walked out together and down into Lips proper. 

“It’s weird being here and not behind the bar,” I admitted as we got in. 

I saw Mica was in my usual spot and I nodded in her direction. She waved back and gave me a raised eyebrow which I dutifully ignored. 

I turned instead to my girl.

“So, where to first?” I asked her, “We can sit and have a quiet drink? Or we can go into the play-

room? Maybe it’s best if we stay in the bar for now?”

It occurred I might feel as shy as she looked.

“Maybe we could go straight into the play-room, Miss?” Kitty asked, just so perfectly. 

“Sure,” I agreed warily and guided her to the curtain in the centre of the room. 

Walking around it, I was surprised to see a ring of regulars facing away from us surrounding our gym-horse-come-whipping-bench. Starting to suspect what was happening, I walked slowly forward.

“Um,” I worried, “This might be a slightly unusual night. It’s Penny’s birthday, so she might be getting her present.”

Kitty looked at me curiously and I stopped.

“Uh… maybe… okay… uh… Are you alright seeing her get spanked?” I asked as plainly as I could. 

“Oh,” Kitty seemed startled by the suggestion, but after a pause added, “Sure.”

“Okay,” I considered carefully, “But she can get a little full on, so if you need to step out, just say.”

Kitty nodded and I wasn’t sure if I should just pull her out of the room straight away. But she did want to experience the space, and this was what it could be like. So, I led us to one side of the circle to join the audience. 

As we drew up, I could see Penny bent over the horse, her hair clipped up, wearing a very short crop top, garter belt and stockings, a pair of shoes, but nothing else. Her wrists and ankles were secured by leather straps to points screwed into the legs of the horse. Her waist was held down by a large leather belt drawn across her back and she was attached via a leash to her collar for good measure. 

This did not feel ’snail-pace’ for Kitty. 

Jen stalked into the room flexing a cane. 

Oh, shit.

“Look,” I whispered to Kitty, “this might be a bit harsher than I was expecting, so if you want to step out?”

“It’s okay,” Kitty replied, watching the scene unfold, before remembering to add, “Miss.”

She turned to me, “I’d like to see it. Please.”

Her pleading was so earnest, and I didn’t want to step on that, nor on the fact she forgot my title. 

“Okay,” I turned to face the scene again, placing a hand gently on Kitty’s back.

“For being a very good girl for another year, darling Penny,” Jen spoke loudly as she stepped behind the horse, “You have earned yourself my most severe and public punishment.” 

Jen cast her arms around theatrically to the audience, who dutifully cheered for her. 

“Now,” Jen turned back to Penny as she paced, “Please know that this is going to hurt you a lot more than it will me.”

I had to give it to Jen, she had a flair for the dramatic. 

Jen stood tall in her bright red vinyl dress and matching heels, as she swished her crook handle school cane for effect. The fierce whistle of the rod drew a few “Ooo’s” from the audience. 

As she strolled around Penny, Jen spotted us and her eyes grew wide. She looked at me, then Kitty, and winked demonstrably. 

Coming around to Penny’s rear again, Jen stopped, adjusted her stance, and placed the cane to Penny’s backside. 

She paused and the room was silent. 

I think I held my breath.

Jen raised the cane high and brought it down in a swift arc. 

The loud ”swish” and immediate ”crack” resonated throughout the room, eliciting a few “oooh’s” and a couple of sharp intakes of breath from the audience. 

Jen raised the cane again but I wasn’t watching her, rather I was trying to see Kitty’s reaction. 

“Swish!... CRACK!” the cane fell again and a short grunt burst from Penny. I placed a hand on Kitty’s shoulder and leaned next to her ear. 

“Swish!... CRACK!” I registered a more audible gasp from Penny as I asked Kitty, “Are you okay?”

“Swish!... CRACK!” Kitty was staring ahead wide-eyed, her lips slightly parted as before. I couldn’t read her expression at all, so when she nodded her answer, I needed more.

“Swish!... CRACK!” Penny let out a clipped screech, as I asked Kitty, “What are you thinking?”

“Swish!... CRACK!” Penny screamed properly. My heart was in my mouth, so I was quite startled by Kitty’s answer.

“Can…” she whispered back to me, “we try something like that sometime?”

“Swish!... CRACK!” A guttural grunt this time from Penny, and I was stunned for the moment into silence.

“You want me to cane you?” I asked, staggered I was asking at all.

“Swish!... CRACK!” A scream followed by a stream of expletives from Penny. 

“I…” Kitty turned to face me, “Well… Maybe not the cane. Or maybe? It looks really hard.”

“Swish!... CRACK!” A proper full-throated bellow from Penny made Kitty’s point for her.

“But,” Kitty continued undeterred, “Maybe… something?”

She looked so sweet and shy. 

I paused before answering, Penny’s caning faded into the background. 

“I don’t take spanking lightly,” I said, unguarded, “but if you want, we can talk about it when we get home. Okay?”

“Swish!... CRACK!” 

I couldn’t read Kitty’s reaction. 

Was she disappointed? 

“I’m not saying, no,” I drew closer still, “I want to be careful. We will need to talk it through properly, alright?”

“Swish!... CRACK!”

“Yes, Miss.”

My heart glowed when she called me Miss. 

“Swish!... CRACK!”

“Okay,” I said, still reeling, “Now… watch Penny get what she deserves and you can think about it.”

“Yes, Miss,” she repeated, her expression still hard to read but my heart soared again at hearing my title. 

I draped my arm over her shoulder and she leaned into me. 

“Swish!... CRACK!” Penny hollered and her bonds rattled and stretched as she struggled against them. Jen paused and wiped her forehead on her arm. 

“Well, that was twelve of the very best,” Jen spoke up, so the audience could hear, “but since you have been extra special good this year, I think another six is only right.” 

I barely registered the six strokes that followed because my mind was whirling. 

What the fuck had I just suggested to Kitty?

What the fuck had she just asked of me?

And was I really going to talk about spanking her?

Let alone do it?

This is not fucking snail-pace! I screamed internally as the cane fell again with a loud crack.