Chapter 7

Kitty

I woke groggy and with an oddly stiff neck. 

Opening one narrow eye, I was greeted by an out of focus mound. After a moment’s confusion, I lifted my head to realise I had been sleeping all night on Astrid’s tit. 

Shifting to get more comfortable, my face felt strangely wet. Still very much out of it, I tried to look down at my own chin, barely aware that was not going to work, before being struck by an awful instant of realisation.

I have literally drooled all over her!

Mortified, I looked up to see she was still asleep. I moved my head as carefully as I could, so as to find some way to clean the offending puddle before she woke. My stealth mission was quickly foiled by the meep I let out as I pivoted on my bottom. It wasn’t an ear-piercing shriek by any measure, but enough to startle Astrid awake, who looked around befuddled before resting her eyes on me and smiling sleepily.

“Good morning, Kitty,” she murmured. 

“Hi,” I managed, embarrassed by my clumsy attempt to hide the evidence and also by answering ’hi’ to ’good morning.’

“Hi,” she mimicked with a titter, “Did you sit up too quick?”

“Yeah,” I stroked my backside.

“I do like to make my spankings memorable,” Astrid smiled softly, “Turn over and let’s have a look at you.”

I rolled over to present my bottom, noting I didn’t feel embarrassed, nor surprised, by how normal it felt to do so. Astrid stroked my cheeks gently.

“It looks fine to me, but just a little tender right here?”

I yelped at the surprise swat. It wasn’t hard at all, but it was a shock and I blushed madly. I twisted around to see a giant toothy grin on Astrid’s face. I couldn’t help smile. It occurred I hadn’t seen such a playful expression on her face before.

“Wow,” I mocked sarcasm, “Just wow.”

“We aim to please,” she teased and scooted to sit up. When she was resting against the headboard, she looked down at herself. 

“Did you drool on me, darling?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” I buried my face in the pillow. 

“That is just precious,” she chuckled, ”But sadly, like all good things, it must be swabbed up with a tissue.”

Astrid reached over to her side of the bed, her arse flashing as the sheets moved. She returned with a box of tissues and withdrew one to dab at her chest before offering me the box. I took a tissue wordlessly and wiped my chin. She was still grinning at me. 

“Sleep well?” she asked cheerfully. 

“Hmm,” I balled the tissue in my hand, “Except for the crick in my neck.”

“Well, if you insist on sleeping on my boob all night,” she swivelled to draw near and kiss me softly on the lips, “Not that I’m complaining of course.”

Her touch was tender. 

I shifted again and grimaced. 

She drew back to appraise me.

“Oh, darling Kitty, was I too cruel with you?”

“No,” I answered quickly, “I’m fine.”

“Good,” she eased, “because I do love to watch you squirm.”

I stared at her. She winked which made me laugh.  

“Tea, I think,” Astrid slid out of bed, “Yes?”

I nodded and she opened the closet for a silky white nightgown and matching robe. With her hair mussed and her make-up bruised, she looked like a ravished beauty as she returned to the bedside with a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. 

“I’m sorry this is all I have that’s comfy,” she apologised, “Everything else is dresses, skirts, and blouses.”

I took them gratefully. The t-shirt was fitted, with a picture of a bee stencilled on the front, framed by the words, ’Queen Bee.’ The shorts felt soft against my backside as I pulled them on. 

Astrid nodded her approval when I was dressed and led the way into the kitchen.

“If your bottom is really sore, I have some arnica cream,” she offered as she filled the kettle from the tap, “or some ibuprofen.”

“I’m alright, honestly, it mostly just smarts in one spot.”

She set the kettle to boil and turned to face me, leaning against the counter.

“I probably should have warned you about that.”

I smiled at her, “You did. You said I would be sore after.”

“True,” she conceded, retrieving mugs and tea bags. 

With tea made, we found our way to the sofa. I was grateful when she suggested the hard kitchen chairs were perhaps not the best venue for me just then. 

Astrid laid the pot covered with a worn tea-towel on the coffee table along with a little jug of milk.

I sipped from my steaming mug gratefully and looked at Astrid. She was enjoying her own tea, seeming as calm and collected as she had the night before. 

“Umm,” I approached, “So, that thing we talked about.”

“Yes?”

Fuck, she’s going to drag this out of me, isn’t she?

“Yeah,” I continued, “Right before we went to sleep?”

She nodded.

“About you liking to dominate someone in your relationships.”

“Yes,” she sighed, “I do. And I’m torn.”

“Oh?” I asked, nervous.

“Because it’s stupid early for this,” she motioned to us both.

I looked down, a hollow forming in my chest. 

“But, as I said, I feel this… thing.”

I looked up, hopeful.

She huffed and stared into the living room, “Fuck Kitty, it’s way too soon but, you’re so damn…” 

She shook her head and turned to look at me, “submissive.”

I almost guffawed.

“You really are. Every time we’ve met. In the park, last night, right now…”

I held my breath. 

“I spanked you properly last night and you just melted in my arms and fell asleep, fucking purring.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you fucking did,” she snorted, then turned serious again, “But the relationship I want with you… it’s intense.”

“Okay…” I yearned for her to continue but worried what she might conclude.

“People usually only do it after years in the scene, and when they know each other very well.”

“I see,” I had an awful dropping feeling in my stomach again.

“You just don’t do it after knowing each other for a week!” she gesticulated with her hands and spilled her tea in the process. 

“Fuck!” she scrambled to get her mug under control as I dove for the tea towel covering the pot and dabbed the hot stains on her gown. 

She looked at me with the oddest expression.

“Are you burned?”

“No,” she looked down at me, still with that expression I couldn’t read. But it felt… overpowering. Like someone doing the opposite of objectifying me. 

“O..okay,” I sat back on the sofa.

She followed me with her eyes and after a beat, shook her head. 

“Well, fuck it, Jen,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

”It’s just something a friend said to me recently.”

She paused again. 

“Okay,” she resolved, straightening up and rearranging her wet gown to cover her thighs, “We can try.”

“Yes?” I beamed. Somewhere inside a small voice screamed I had no idea what I was letting myself in for. But a much louder voice shrieked in delight. 

“Yes,” she repeated but looked serious, “But there are rules.”

I nodded enthusiastically. 

She looked at me with her appraising eye, seemingly still considering whether to continue. 

“We will agree some of them, but there are others that are non-negotiable.”

I stayed silent, trying to take it all in, my breath heavy in my chest.

“This is important,” she said, “These rules are for safety. First and foremost, as my darling Mollena says, there’s a prime directive that supersedes all others, precisely for this.”

“Uh huh?”

“The prime directive is that it is the absolute primary duty of the submissive to protect the Dominant’s property, which is you in this case. And that includes protecting that property from the Domme herself.”

It was hard to grasp the implications of the instruction and of being so casually referred to as property. Just the notion ignited something in my mind.

“That means, you must, above all else, make sure you do not come to harm,” Astrid pointed an index finger at my chest, “including from anything I might do with you.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, confused by the last part. 

“It means you need to be honest if something is too much,” she explained, “and it means that if I tell you to do something that is harmful to you, you _must_ tell me.” 

I nodded.

“This is not negotiable,” she reiterated in a tone I hadn’t heard from her before, “You _will_ do this.”

“Yes,” I answered, taken aback, and almost added, ’Miss.’

“Okay,” she softened, “If that’s understood, then the other rule is pretty easy.”

“Oh yes?”

“Do what I say, at all times,” she smiled before adding “Unless it contradicts the prime directive.”

Obey her, at all times? 

I couldn’t even conceive of what that might mean. 

And yet, it didn’t scare me. 

Rather a thrill ran through me from head to toe.

Astrid sipped what was left of her undoubtedly now-cold tea, before continuing, “You still live your life.” 

She set the empty, wet, mug down, “In fact, I would insist on it. My orders will include for you to take care of yourself, work reasonably, take breaks, see friends, enjoy yourself.”

I was confused. That wasn’t what I had expected to hear.

“I mean it,” she read my mind, “A big part of my dominance is wanting you to be the best you that you can be.” 

I considered her proposal. It almost felt scarier than any of the kinky things she might have suggested. 

“But,” she added, “I would also demand you spend time with me. Some of which would be chatting, fucking, getting to know each other, and going on at least one actual date for starters.”

I laughed at that, tension breaking.

“Yes,” she confirmed with a smile, “but even during that more off-time, you will do as I tell you.” 

I nodded.

“And there will be other times,” she continued, “when I want to use you in any way I see fit, within parameters we agree beforehand.”

I didn’t know it was possible to feel cold and hot at the same time.

“That is part of what we will negotiate,” she finished, before pausing and shifting in her seat, “and finally, we will talk about discipline.”

I nodded again.

”What do you think about all that? You haven’t bolted for the door just yet.”

I could see her confident demeanour was masking at least some measure of concern.

“It sounds good,” I tried to reassure her, and then shook my head, “I don’t really understand why this feels so good, but it does. I really liked you telling me what to do in the park, and yesterday too. The spanking made me feel soft and calm. And like I just wanted to be held. All these things you’re saying should be terrifying but it just sounds warm… and lovely.”

I finished, having surprised myself with what I said, but also the certainty I felt saying it. 

“Um,” Astrid seemed just as startled, “that’s a good start.”

I looked up and laughed.

“We would still go slow,” she added seriously, “I’m not going to start whipping you every day or suspending you from the ceiling.”

I glanced up.

“I have a hook-up point near the light fixture,” she said so dryly I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

“I would train you,” she continued, “Despite what might be going through your head after I whacked your bottom last night, I don’t believe in being a mean Domme.”

She put down her mug and leaned forward to place her forearms on her thighs.

“Kitty, I want you to make the tea and call me Miss,” she confided, “I want to fuck you silly. I want to sometimes slap your arse and tie you up. And maybe even occasionally show you off around a club. But what I really want to do is…” 

She struggled her words, paused, and changed the subject.

“I don’t know what this is, it’s all happened so fast. And maybe I should try doing the vanilla thing with you. But fuck it, I don’t want to. And it seems like you don’t want to either. And I feel like I have completely lost it even suggesting we try this. But there it is.”

She leaned back, looking like she was bracing to be punched or something. I ached for her. Was she not used to expressing herself like this? 

“I’d like that too,” I said, “I don’t understand it… and I mean at all, but you’re right, I just want to… try.”

She smiled shyly and nodded. 

“So, do I call you Miss all the time? Like even on the tube or at a party or something” I asked. 

“Would you like to?” 

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly.

“That’s okay. In truth, if we do this, I wouldn’t give you a choice.”

Something clicked into place in my chest. 

That should horify me. 

But it didn’t. 

It touched something deep within. 

Something I couldn’t put words to, but fundamentally understood. 

“For now, let’s say, you call me Miss whenever we’re in private,” she said, “or if we aren’t and I tell you to.”

“Okay.”

Astrid looked at me pointedly with the hint of a smile forming at the edge of her lips.

“Okay, Miss,” I laughed.

“Uh huh,” she exhaled, “Okay, we need to eat if we’re going to negotiate.”

I nodded. 

“There’s toast in the kitchen and some cheese in the fridge,” she offered, “I can also make you some eggs if you like.”

“Actually, that sounds really good, I’m starving.”

“Okay then,” Astrid stood, “And it’s, I’m starving, Miss.” 

I blushed. 

“We’ll work on it over breakfast,” she offered me her hand. I took it gratefully and she led me to the kitchen. My head was spinning and I felt like I could devour all the eggs Astrid might have in her fridge. 

“You can stand if you prefer, otherwise have a seat and I’ll see what I can whip up.”

I chose to sit, but did so gingerly, noting Astrid’s turn of phrase and wondered if she had chosen it consciously.

“Shouldn’t I be doing the cooking? If we’re going to be doing this?” 

“Sometimes,” she retrieved a bowl from the cupboard near the sink, “but only when I feel like it. That’s how this works. Honestly, Kitty, my dominance can sometimes be really boring stuff. I might tell you to make me eggs or I’ll order you to sit while I do. I might order you to take a nap while I tidy up or I’ll make you scrub the floors in your underwear while I watch your arse wiggle.”

She paused thoughtfully as she cracked an egg, “I suppose that last one wouldn’t be so boring, but I think you get what I mean.”

She took a whisk from the drawer and started to beat the eggs. 

“And that’s twice now you’ve forgotten my title.”

“Oh shit, sorry,” I apologised, “Miss.”

She turned to me and smiled, a vision of a 50s pinup with a bowl held under one arm and a whisk in her hand.

“Better.”

She stepped to the stove and put down the bowl and retrieved a frying pan, “But it does rather bring us to the topic of discipline.”

The colour drained from my face. Which she seemed to sense despite facing the other way. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to thrash you for every little thing,” she poured the eggs into the now hot frying pan, the sizzle punctuated the possibility of getting caned in my mind. 

“We will negotiate that, along with both our limits,” she folded the eggs in the pan with a spatula, 

“Would you put some toast on, it’s there next to the sink?”

“Yes, Miss,” I finally remembered and stood. 

“Good girl,” I heard the grin in her voice even with her back to me. 

I made toast for us as Astrid finished the eggs and we combined our efforts into breakfast on the table.

“Enjoy,” Astrid motioned for me to start.

“Thank you, Miss,” I replied, “You too.”

I launched into the food and it was surprisingly delicious, the simple affair of Tesco own-brand delights. 

We ate silently for a moment. 

“You remember when you asked me if I sometimes spank for punishment.”

I nodded.

“Well, I do, it’s true,” she said, “but only if we agree to it and even then, not often at all. Honestly, I don’t like punishing submissives.”

Astrid shook salt onto her meal, “I know there are some who do.”

She grimaced as she added, “Some in fact relish it in a way that does very little to raise up a submissive.” 

I wondered what she could mean. It was clear she was thinking of something or someone specifically. 

“But I don’t,” she looked at me seriously.  

“Mostly, I like to discipline before any need to punish comes up,” she sipped her tea, “Like spanking you last night. That is a form of discipline I can do with you, so you continue to feel soft and submissive.” 

She looked at me, “If you think that is something that would work for you?”

I considered it for a moment. 

“After the park, I wrote more than I have in weeks. That lingered and I got a lot done.”

She listened, holding her cutlery still.

“This morning, it’s the same. Like if I went home right now, I think I would write and feel just as free, if not more so. And… I like feeling this way.”

“Miss,” I added late. 

“I’m glad,” Astrid smiled softly. 

“So, when we’re together, you will tell me what to do, and when I am not with you, I live my life but sometimes you will tell me to do things then too?” I tried to summarise, “And every now and then we will do kinky things, and you will spank me because it makes me feel so well?”

“What do you think?”

“Hold on,” I suddenly realised, “does that mean, I’m your girlfriend now?”

“…Miss, shit, sorry… again.”

“If that’s how you’d like to think about it,” she said cryptically. 

“How would you think about it, Miss?” I asked, insecure. 

“You would be my girl,” she said simply, “We would be in a committed relationship. Like girlfriends, but it’s slightly different. If that makes sense?”

“And you would be my… Miss?”

“If that’s how you’d like to think about it,” she answered again infuriatingly, before laughing, “I would be your Dominant, or your Miss. Maybe some day your… um… but yes, your Miss.”

Astrid struggled with something but smiled again.

It felt odd, negotiating into being someone’s partner. On the few occasions I had relationships, it had always been more organic but, on reflection, no less awkward to date someone a while and then try to figure out if we were going out, were exclusive, or even ’together.’ It occurred that this way might actually avoid a lot of embarrassment and guessing. 

“Umm… Would I be your only girl?”

“Miss,” I added quickly, chiding myself. 

“Yes,” she said, “But how do you feel about that? Do you prefer to be with more than one person usually?”

“Actually, no,” I admitted, “I haven’t been with anyone for a long time, Miss.”

“Then it sounds like we can be exclusive for now?”

“I think so,” I replied. 

“We can revisit it if you like. There’s lots of different ways to do this.”

It seemed reasonable, but uncertain.  

I had started to worry about being able to always do what Astrid asked. 

“You said you didn’t like punishing submissives. So, ummm, what happens if I don’t do what you say?”

“In most cases, I would tell you to shape up,” she wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin, “like right now…”

She fixed me with a stern gaze but spoke softly, “Do remember my title, won’t you?”

I swallowed hard, “Yes, Miss.”

She smiled sweetly, “See how effective that is?”

Bashful, I couldn’t help laugh, “Yes Miss.”

“Nearly everything can be fixed like that,” she continued, standing up to put the kettle on again, 

“This is about your desire to submit and do better. I rely on your wanting to obey.”

“Yes, Miss,” I answered as she fetched our mugs and put new tea bags in them. 

“But there might be occasion when something would need punishment,” she poured the hot water and milk, and brought the mugs back to us, setting one in front of me, “On those occasions, I would like your permission to do that.”

She looked at me very seriously again. 

“I think so,” I answered. 

She continued to observe me. 

“Miss,” I added. 

“As I said, it’s a rare occasion,” she explained, “It would have to be something serious, and something that would need to be corrected on a fundamental level between us.”

I tried to imagine what kind of thing that could possibly be.

Astrid

Kitty was trying to take it all in. 

Each moment that passed, I thought, _This is way too much_. 

But then Kitty would agree in a way that felt genuine and manageable. 

And good. 

It was hard to talk about punishment. I would much rather not talk about it at all, but she needed to know. If we were going to do this. I couldn’t leave anything out. 

“And how would you punish me?” she asked the question I truly hated answering.

“That would depend,” I tried to explain, “partly on the offence, and partly on the girl.”

She sat silently. 

I sighed, “I tend to use the cane.”

She looked at me with those big brown eyes, and just the thought of punishing her made me sad. 

“But like I said, very rarely. And you would have to agree to it,” I carried on.

“I think it sounds reasonable,” she looked so earnest.

My heart lifted. I hated the thought of punishing her, but that she was willing to accept it… 

“You would consent to me punishing you with the cane?” I tried to ask evenly, ”If I thought it was necessary.”

She looked down in thought, and then back to me and nodded. 

“It wouldn’t be like Penny’s caning. It wouldn’t be fun and games.”

“I understand, Miss.” 

“Okay,” I replied, taken aback, “Alright, well… that’s… well, that’s a limit negotiated then.”

I tried to get back on track, ”Um, okay… there are protocols I will teach you, but that can wait. And after today, I will make you a yes-no-maybe list.”

“What’s that, Miss?” Kitty looked confused. 

“It’s a list of different kinks you can say whether you would be happy to explore, maybe want try, or not do at all,” I explained, “Yes, no, maybe.”

“Oh, I get it,” she nodded, “So, yes to doing what you say, yes to you spanking me because it makes me feel good and somehow literally kicks my arse into gear, and yes to caning me if I misbehave, Miss?”

I couldn’t help laughing, “Um… yeah, just like that.”

She smiled, “I think I’m getting the hang of this, Miss.” 

“It seems so,” I decided I adored her cheek, “You’re a quick learner, I will have to be harder on you.”

She went pale and I couldn’t help burst into laughter. 

“Only what you can handle, and what we agree to,” I reminded her, “You have to choose to obey and submit. It’s not a one time thing, you continue to chose to do it or not every day. We agree to these rules. But if you want to stop, you just say so.”

She nodded and sipped her tea. 

“Still on board?” I asked when she put the mug down. 

She smiled, “Yes, Miss.”

“Good,” I decided to act on an impulse I had been resisting since I woke up next to her that morning, “then answer me yes, no, maybe, to me marching you into the bedroom, tying your wrists to my bed, and licking your cunt until you explode?”

Kitty spurted the tea she had been sipping. 

“Hghn… sorry,” she wiped the table with her arm, “I mean… yes, Miss.”

“Glad to hear it,” I stood, “Then march your rosy arse into my bedroom, and get naked this instant, girl.”

Her lips curled into a grin, “Yes, Miss, right away, Miss.”

I followed her as she almost tripped into my bedroom and began to hastily strip off. 

As she pulled the t-shirt over her head, I stepped forward to trap her arms so the neckline caught on her nose and covered her eyes, the rest of the material wrapped around her shoulders and head. I stopped her gasp of shock with a fierce kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth and my knee into her crotch. She moaned against the onslaught. 

I let go briskly.

“What did I say, girl, strip,” I tittered, pent up and ready to pounce. 

I heard a muffled, “Yes, Miss,” as she struggled with her tangled arms. 

I suppressed a giggle, covering my mouth with my hand. 

She managed to get the t-shirt off and pulled down her shorts quickly to stand naked except for her collar in front of me. 

“Good girl,” I launched at her again, gripping the back of her head with a handful of her hair and crushing her mouth. Kitty stumbled backwards into the bed, which buckled her knees, and we both tumbled onto it. 

“Shit!” I yelped, pushing myself upright to hover over her “Sorry! Are you alright?”

Kitty laughed uproariously, “Yes… yes I’m fine, Miss.”

I grinned at her, as she looked up at me. 

“Errr… quick question,” she asked, “should I call you Miss during sex too, Miss?”

Oh my fucking god.

“Without question,” I relaunched my kiss, grabbed her hands and dragged them above her head. 

With Kitty in position, I leaned back. 

She looked up with heavy lidded eyes, panting. 

I fumbled over her legs, almost tipped onto the floor, as I reached under the bed for a length of rope and my prized leather cuffs. 

I returned to straddle Kitty and leant forward, allowing my tits to drop into her face, as I worked the rope around one of the rings of the bed’s headboard with an audible zip. 

“Keep your hands there.” 

“Yes, Miss,” she complied enthusiastically. 

I tied off the rope and wrapped a leather cuff around each of her wrists, buckling them before clipping both to the rope. 

With her restrained, I leant down and kissed her lips again hard, pushing her down into the mattress. 

I untied my robe, wiggled free of it, and tossed it onto the floor. I shifted down her legs, almost falling onto her stomach with my face. I coaxed her knees gently apart. I looked up the length of her to see her beautifully trussed, arms taught above her head, mouth open, and looking utterly wanton. 

I growled and, unable to hold back any longer, I buried my face into her cunt, getting the full flavour of her. I teased the length of her labia and heard the ropes strain against the iron ring of the bed in response. 

I flicked my tongue causing Kitty’s hips to squirm against me. 

I am not a cruel Domme, I reminded myself and laid my tongue directly onto her clit and began to work it up and down, around and across. 

Kitty gasped and twisted as if trying to draw me further into her. 

Her taste turned as I pushed my tongue deeper, eliciting a shrill and prolonged groan, her thighs clamping tight around my head muffling the sound of her climax. 

She gushed into my mouth and across my chin. I held her there as she spasmed over and over, until subsiding into short tremors. 

I lifted myself up to look at her. She lay spread open before me, slick with sweat, wrists and rope limp above her. I watched her for a few moments more, until she opened her eyes ever so slightly.

“Please, Miss,” she whispered. 

I reached over her, once again letting my tits fall in her face, to unclip her cuffs from the rope. As I worked, Kitty managed to catch one of my nipples between her lips.

“That’s,” I gasped, “very distracting, girl.” 

I released her cuffs from the rope but kept them clipped together. I dismounted and lowered her bound hands to rest on her stomach.

“You’ve made quite a mess of my sheets,” I noted, “I think your Mistress will have you wash 

them.”

“Mistress?” she croaked her question.

“Turn of phrase,” I diminished, cursing my slip.