Chapter 9

Kitty

”Yes, Miss.” 

My stomach somersaulted as I stepped around the table to draw out her chair. She stood and turned to face me, looking very satisfied indeed. I had the strongest impulse to stare at the floor but managed to pull myself together enough to screech her chair back under the table and reach over for my jacket. Astrid smoothed down her skirt and buttoned her blazer, her hands moving gracefully to adjust everything just so. She finished by checking her collar before looking at me meaningfully.

“Miss?” I asked, nervously.

“I think you could get the door?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” 

I wriggled around her and the tables to open the jangling door. She laughed kindly and stroked my cheek as she walked into the bustling street.

I caught up quickly as she pulled on a pair of soft brown leather gloves.

“It’s getting chilly. Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah,” I shivered. 

She looked at me dubiously.

“I think you need a thicker coat, darling,” she turned up the collar of my jacket and did up all the buttons. 

“You need to dress warmer, understood?”

“Yes, Miss,” I answered sheepishly.

“Good,” she softened her expression, “I like you’re calling me Miss. It makes me happy. But we didn’t agree you had to do that outside of private spaces.”

“I’m sorry,” I worried. It just felt right to address her that way. And it was hard not to when she gave such firm instruction.

“It’s okay,” she smiled softly, “You can do it if you want. But just remember, I don’t require it when we’re out.”

I nodded gratefully. 

“When we get into the flat though,” she leaned in close to my ear, “You had better remember or 

you will get a serious talking to.”

“Yes, Miss,” I whispered back, my fingertips tingling. 

She stepped away and beamed a wicked grin, suppressing what seemed to be a giggle.

“Good girl.”

The bus ferried us to Astrid’s quickly. As we entered, she ordered me to make the tea as she changed into what she called her ‘in-door heels.’ 

“There’s some biscuits in the cupboard,” she called from the living room as I started the kettle.

“Yes, Miss.” 

It struck me how this was starting to feel normal. Astrid’s instructions and my obeying. 

It felt good. 

Our time at the café had felt good too. The contract she had given me was simple and to the point. The list on the other hand had been confusing and intimidating. I tried to reply as honestly as I could, not entirely understanding what everything was. I said maybe to uniforms, tickling, candle wax, and no to humiliation and knives amongst other things. Astrid had left notes on the list that she didn’t do knives, nor needles either. I said yes to rope bondage, worshipping, and exhibitionism. 

As the kettle clicked off, I wondered what she might want to explore first. 

I poured out two mugs and made a plate from the packet of Jammy Dodgers I found in a mostly barren cupboard. I somehow managed to carry it all into the living room, laying it on the coffee table in front of Astrid, who lounged in low-heeled shoes and her blazer unbuttoned. I sat next to her as she picked up her mug and a biscuit. She crunched happily and I found myself smiling at her pleasure.

“Biscuit?” she offered as I picked up my own tea.

“Thank you,” I took one, before hastily adding, “Miss.”

She looked at me pointedly and then smiled before taking another bite. 

I munched as she sipped her tea. 

“It’s okay, you can relax. I told you, I’m not going to whip you for every little thing.”

“Thank you, Miss,” I surprised myself again with how normal it felt to thank her for not punishing me, “I guess I don’t want to do it wrong.”

“You can’t do it wrong,” she paused, “You could misbehave, or you could break a rule, but those are almost always issues that are my responsibility to correct and for you to work on.”

I was confused.

“It’s like this,” she turned to face me more, “If you forget to call me Miss, it’s my responsibility to make sure you remember.”

It still didn’t quite make sense. 

“Your job is to try your best and obey,” she explained, “As long as you’re doing that, you’re doing it right. If you make a mistake, you don’t have to worry about that either, because I will correct it. And then you will work to do better.” 

I sipped my tea and tried to process what felt like a significant change in perspective. 

“The things you could truly do wrong, would be to wilfully disobey or to not take care of yourself.” 

I nodded.

“That is intolerable,” she noted firmly, “I won’t put up with it. And in those cases, you will really see me displeased.”

“Yes, Miss,” I was still hazy on the details. 

“Good,” she clapped her thighs with her hands, and stood, “So let’s practise. Stand up.”

“Yes, Miss,” I tried to change mental gears. I put down the tea and stood awkwardly.

“Some lessons in protocol I think. Firstly, if I’m standing, so are you.” 

“Yes, Miss.”

“It’s good manners and respect. You may sit when I am sitting. Unless we are in high protocol, but that’s for another day.”

“Okay,” I tried to take it in, “Fuck… Okay, Miss.” 

Astrid smiled at me warmly and I flushed. 

“Sorry, I suppose I shouldn’t swear, Miss.”

“Actually, no, that’s fine,” she surprised me, “Go ahead. But not in high protocol. In that case, you won’t be allowed to talk much at all. But again, getting ahead of myself.”

That really made me wonder. 

“Now,” she continued, “You will serve me first, whenever we’re eating or drinking together, and you won’t start until I do.” 

“Yes, Miss.” 

It all sounded like the etiquette lessons we had at school. Knives and forks arranged in particular orders, elbows off the table, that sort of thing. My parents had insisted on that last one at all times. I always found it really hard. Jane loved all that dinner manners stuff. I dismissed the thought I should ask her for a refresher.

“You can swear up a storm. I want you to feel free to express yourself and disagree with me” she smiled, “And we both know how much I enjoy your cheek. But I brook no disrespect, nor talking back when I give a final order.” 

“Yes, Miss.”  

It felt like a fine distinction and perhaps my concern about that was obvious.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “Remember, I will let you know if there’s a problem or you misbehave.”

She looked at me. 

“This is all going to be an exercise in letting go,” she came closer and reached up to hold my upper arms, “You will learn that you are not in control. That you can act how you think you should and if you need to be disciplined or corrected, I will provide that.”

The idea finally clicked. 

It was profound. 

Intimidating. 

But also, oddly liberating. 

“Thank you, Miss,” was what occurred to me to say.

“Good girl.”

We stood like that for a long moment, before she drew me in by my arms and kissed me. Her lips were soft and her touch gentle. We parted but she continued to hold me.

“Enough lessons for now,” she said in a low tone, “It’s been a big day.”

I nodded, still overwhelmed from the instruction and her kiss.

“What would you like to do now?”

My mind was blank. I was speechless at first. She waited patiently for me to draw my thoughts back into some sort of order. 

“I think…” I started, a strange tension formed in my chest, “I mean, please. Um. Would you spank me? Miss.”

“I could do that, yes,” her expression didn’t shift, nor did her grip on me, “But do you know why you would like me to do that?”

Tears threatened and I had no idea why.

“I think…” I stumbled, “I think I want to mark the moment. Or… I feel like I want to let go. Or I want to be taken. Or I want to cry. I don’t know…”

She lifted a hand from her grip and stroked my cheek.

“That all sounds very reasonable,” she said softly, “and I think it would make me happy to do it. To seal our contract.”

She took her hand from my cheek, placed it on the back of my head, and gently drew me into her embrace. I reached up and around her back and held on tight. 

“I think something special for the occasion,” she said before guiding me backward out of her arms, “Come into the bedroom.”

“Yes, Miss,” I felt limp and ready to do anything she asked of me. She led the way into the bedroom and I noted that the bed, which had been a twist of sheets and duvet when I was last there, had been restored to impeccable order. 

“Next time,” she followed my gaze, “I really will get you to make the bed after you mess it up.”

I watched her take her blazer off and hang it over the chair back by her vanity. She paused to look at me, seeming to take her measure for something. 

“Go stand by the end of the bed, darling.”

“Yes, Miss,” I obeyed. 

She stepped behind me. I heard a drawer open and then close again. Her heels clicked and then thudded softly over the carpet, as she came into my periphery. She was holding something taught in her hands.

“A special day deserves a special implement,” she held up a thick strap of leather. It was dark brown, longer than her forearm and half-way along its length split into two thick thongs. 

“This is my tawse. It was a gift from a dear friend, and it is very precious to me.”

I looked at it with awe and not a little trepidation.

“I propose to strap you with this,” she said, “But I won’t insist on it. I want to know if you think you can manage it.”

I swallowed hard. Fear, or desire, had struck me. 

The tawse looked wicked. I couldn’t conceive of what it would feel like to be thrashed with it. At the same time, I felt a lurch in my chest when I considered it. 

I wanted her to do it. 

I wanted the pain and the release that followed. 

I also wanted to take it for her. 

“Yes, Miss.”

“Don’t be mistaken,” she warned, “This will leave quite a mark.”

I thought of Penny and her caning. The welts it had left on her backside. I remembered my fascination with them. The thought of the pain that must have accompanied them made me shiver. But I remembered also how it made me feel. How it had made me ask Astrid to do something similar to me. 

“Yes, Miss,” I answered again, looking her in the eyes, my chest heavy, “Please. I want you to.”

“Then take off your clothes and lay them neatly on the chair with my jacket.”

That was a jacket and not a blazer? Fuck, I know nothing about clothes. Of course, it’s a jacket… Suit jacket.

“Yes, Miss.” 

I undressed and folded my shirt and trousers. I placed them carefully on the chair seat, before adding my underwear and socks. I returned to the end of the bed and stood naked where I had before. 

“I am going to ask you to bend over the bed in a moment,” she explained, “and you will stay there until I tell you that you can get up again.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“I will strap you hard and I want you to take it as bravely as I know you can.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“But if it’s too much at any point at all, you will tell me, and we will stop. Is that understood?”

It wasn’t a question, it was an order, “Yes, Miss.” 

“This will hurt, girl and you will have trouble sitting down tomorrow.”

I turned to her, tears threatening again.

“Yes, Miss,” I begged.

She looked back at me, calm, stern, and warm.

“Go down then girl,” she whispered.

“Yes, Miss,” I leaned over the end of the bed, realising in that moment, that the frame and mattress seemed to be at just the height for me to comfortably bend over it with my legs straight. I lay my head to one side on the soft creaseless sheets, my arms bent in front of me. A cold sweat formed on my back. 

Astrid stroked the cheeks of my bottom with both hands. Slow and soft at first and then more insistently. She started to knead and pinch. I gasped as her touch became harsher still. 

She withdrew her hands from my warmed skin and stepped back and to my side. 

“Stay down now for me girl,” she said kindly.

“Yes, Miss,” I answered and before I finished the last syllable, the heavy swish of leather cracked across the breadth of my backside. 

I screeched and fought the overwhelming impulse to fly up and out of my skin. 

Astrid lay a hand on the small of my back and pressed me down gently. 

The tawse fell again. 

I screamed and spluttered from the blaze whipped across both cheeks. 

I twisted the sheets in my fists, and fought for air. 

Another stroke and a stream of hot tears rolled down my face. 

Astrid lashed again and my sobs quaked through me, my mind blown to pieces. 

The tawse was replaced by a soothing hand.

“Shhhh,” she whispered, “You’re doing so well.”

I spluttered in response, trying to talk, but unable physically or emotionally to reach the words. 

“Th…” I tried, “thank you… Miss.”

She caressed my burning weals.

“You’re welcome darling,” she said softly, “Two more now and you’re done.”

Astrid stepped back and her hand left too. I waited, sobbing, my body surrendered, limp and heavy on the bed. 

The swish sounded and the loud smack of leather connected fiercely. I almost flew off the bed but clawed into the matress. 

A hand lay on my back again, steadying me. 

“One more.”

I nodded my face against the sodden sheet and I bit my lip hard. 

The leather fell again and I heard myself shriek and weep. 

Astrid lay on top of me from behind, her weight pressing me into the bed. If I had been remotely conscious, I might have thought it was an entirely bizarre thing to do, but in that moment it was exactly what I needed. 

I needed her to be there. 

Weighing and holding me down. 

My chest heaved all the more under the constriction of Astrid’s body. She cooed close to my ear and stroked my hair. 

I don’t know how long I cried like that but eventually my breath came easier. Astrid raised up and I felt cold as her weight left me. Her body was quickly replaced by a soft blanket. 

Astrid guided me to lie properly onto the bed. I barely registered her buckling my wrists and ankles into her leather cuffs. The click as she clipped my hands and feet together sounded so very far away.

Astrid bundled me in her arms and held me curled against her chest. The tears flowed a while longer. The heat in my backside settled into a smouldering throb. The sensation, though fierce, became comforting. 

A lingering, deep, touch. 

Time drifted. 

Astrid moved me off her shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Darling, you need to drink.”

I looked up and was about to apologise. But Astrid had materialised a bottle of water and placed it to my lips, silencing the attempt. I sipped carefully as she held the back of my head steady. Withdrawing the bottle, she kissed my parched lips softly. I was overcome and went to reach up to hold the back of her head, but found my tethered wrists wouldn’t allow my hands beyond her face, so I cupped her cheeks instead. When we separated, her eyes were closed and her lips parted ever so slightly. A look of satisfaction I couldn’t fully comprehend. 

Astrid

Kitty stared back up at me, entirely open, her bound hands on my cheeks. I was overcome. I started to say something I wasn’t ready to, so I kissed her to silence myself, tasting the salt of her sweat and tears. 

Kitty moaned into my mouth so I leaned back and pulled her gently off what must have been her blazing behind.

“Didn’t mean to push you onto a sore spot,” I apologised, “Um. I’m going to need to get up and slip into something a little more comfortable, darling,”

A wry smile spread across her tired face. I moved as carefully as I could so as not to roll her onto her back. I managed to shuffle off the side of the bed and come to an awkward upright. I made a mental note not to wear a corset and pencil skirt to bed again after whipping Kitty. 

I undressed, finding the wet stain on my blouse and smiled.

“I’m sorry about that,” Kitty apologised weakly from the bed.

“It’s alright,” I smiled, “Having your tears soak my blouse feels quite sweet, maybe poetic.”

I slid off my skirt and hung it along with the jacket in the closet. 

“And, it’s ’I’m sorry about that, Miss.”

“Fuck, sorry Miss,” she admonished herself. It was a good thing I was turned away because it was hard to stifle a titter. Once I had suppressed it, I turned around. 

“Forgiven.” 

I walked back to the bed naked and pulled the covers over us both. 

“You’re exhausted,” I said, “I think you should sleep.”

I scootched around to grab the small alarm clock next to the bed. It was an old-fashioned brass affair with two actual bells on the top. It made an awful racket, but was guaranteed to get me out of bed, as long as I remembered to wind it. I set the time and turned to Kitty, who was lying on her side, still bound, wrist and ankle. 

“I’ll have to get up early for work,” I explained, “You could step out with me if you think you’ll be awake? Or you can stay and drop the key through the letterbox when you leave?”

I paused for an answer but nothing came. I noted the calm rise and fall of her chest. Kitty had fallen into what looked like a deep and peaceful sleep. 

I shook my head. 

I am going to have to start spanking her earlier in the day, so she doesn’t crash out for the night directly after.

I reached over and released her wrists and ankles and placed the clips next to the alarm clock. 

I nestled in next to her and closed my eyes. 

It felt like only a moment later that the alarm clanged obnoxiously next to my head. I fumbled one hand to try to quiet the fucking thing. Finally, I found the right spot, and whacked it silent. 

I peeled my face off the pillow, cursing myself for falling asleep in my make-up. 

Kitty murmured and turned over. 

I chose not to wake her, and went about getting ready to head out. When I returned from the bathroom, having quickly washed, Kitty was stirring. I resisted the urge to slap her sore arse and send her off into the kitchen. Rather I went and made two mugs of tea and came back to see her trying to gingerly sit up in bed. 

“Good morning darling,” I tried to sound bright and breezy. 

“G’morning Miss.”

She was adorable in her mumbled politeness, stifling a yawn and a wince as she shifted her weight carefully. 

“Tea for two,” I placed a mug on her side of the bed. 

I really needed to get something more suitable for a bedside table. It was more of a stool, really. But it was free and I had no money, so there it was. 

I placed my own mug on the vanity and sat down to see if I could manage a passable new make-up for the day. 

“Thank you, Miss,” came another cute yawn, which I spied in the reflection of my mirror. Kitty scratched her head and reached down for the tea. 

“You fell asleep,” I pinned my hair to be helmet-ready, “I offered to let you sleep in but you didn’t hear me, so I guess you can come in with me.”

“Thmmank you, Missh,” she gurgled. 

“Not with your mouth full, Kitty,” I tried not to laugh again.

“Sorry, Miss,” she swallowed, her eyes wide.

“Better,” I finished my hair and turned around to face her, “We’ve been formally invited to dinner, if you would like. And I should ask you to remember not to speak with your mouth full in front of my queers in law.”

She turned pale and I burst out laughing. 

“I’m sorry,” I apologised, “It’s really not an actual ’formal’ affair as such, it’s just our regular family get-together, and Jen pointed out I should bring you, assuming you accepted our contract.” 

“Jen?” Kitty looked unsure.

“She’s my neighbour in the co-op. She was the one who caned Penny,” I offered and then realised why she might be uncomfortable, “Oh shit, Kitty, I’m sorry I spoke about you with her.”

“No, it’s okay,” she waved it off with her hand, “I was just a little surprised.”

I walked over to sit on the bed. 

“No, I’m sorry,” I insisted, “I should have asked to share things like that. Jen is my sister and we kind of look out for each other. But still.”

“I understand,” she smiled wanly, “Really, it’s okay. I told my flatmates about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” I was happily surprised. 

“I didn’t tell them about all this,” she admitted touching her collar, embarrassed, “Sorry… Miss.”

In my rush to apologise, I hadn’t kept track of her forgetting the use of my title. I needed to nip that in the bud. But then I realised what she said.

“Oh, yes, I understand… of course,” I lied. 

“I’m sorry,” she reached over a hand, “I didn’t know what to say, and we hadn’t really decided yet…”

Kitty trailed off, “Actually, that’s not true. I was scared, I guess, of what they might think, Miss.”

She looked so ashamed. It was hard to hold my disappointment along with my desire to comfort her. 

“It’s okay,” I took her offered hand in mine, “It can be tricky.”

“No,” she said, “It’s not right. They’re my best friends. My family. I should tell them.”

“If you want to,” I tried to keep some sense of objectivity.

“I’m not sure,” she sighed, “But, I also don’t want to lie. Jane already twigged something when I walked in with my scarf still around my neck, Miss.”

I smiled. 

“You could come by and meet them?” she offered shyly.

“I’d like that,” I answered, “But I don’t have to. And you don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.”

“I’m terrible at keeping anything from them,” she admitted, lowering her head, “And I would like it, if you came.”

“Then, yes please,” I was taken aback by where the conversation was going.

“How about before Loose Lips on Friday?” she suggested and then added, “Shit, I mean, Miss.”

I shook my head, “I’m going to remind you of that, don’t worry.”

Fuck, why was I so distracted? I was normally so good at drilling in my title from the get-go.

“Yes, Miss.”

“And yes,” I answered her question, “That would be nice.”

I tucked the falling locks of her hair behind her ear. 

“But bugger it, I really do have to get going,” I remembered the time. 

“Oh yes of course, Miss,” she stumbled getting out of bed, yelping as she did, “Ouch! Fuck!”

She stopped and looked at me.

“Sorry, Miss.”

I burst out laughing. 

“Oh, it’s alright,” I stood, “If you can’t swear about that, then what can you swear about.”

She blushed and I smiled with a wicked thought.

“But, since I’m now running late, I’ll have to speed off,” I went to the closet and picked out a riding habit, “I could give you a lift on the Vespa if you like?”

“Oh, yes, please,” she stood and rummaged for her clothes, “If it isn’t out of your way, Miss.”

“I have to go into town, I can drop you there or near the tube?” I dug through the bottom of the closet for my spare helmet. 

“I can go into town,” she gingerly pulled on her trousers. It was then that I caught full sight of her backside. I sucked in my breath. I had indeed laid it on thick. Faded but angry welts criss-crossed her cheeks and I felt a mixture of empathy and pride. I shook myself to get going. 

“Good,” I tossed the helmet on the bed and walked up close to Kitty, “Give me your hand.”

“Miss?” she asked, surprised. 

“Hand, please,” I repeated as cheerily as I could. 

She placed her hand in mine warily, palm down. 

I quickly slapped it. Not hard, but sharp enough to draw a surprised yelp from her. 

I let her hand go and stroked her cheek, “Title, girl.”

“Yes, Miss,” she blushed, rubbing the back of her hand. 

“Good girl,” I turned to collect my bag, humming softly to myself. I caught the hint of a smile from Kitty as I turned back to her. 

“All set?” I asked.

“Yes, Miss,” she nodded.

At the door, she helped me with my coat and I helped her with hers. I liked the reciprocation of her serving me and my dressing her. The difference may not have been obvious to an observer, but to me it was everything. 

She remembered to open the door for me and we walked over to where my Vespa was parked. I climbed on the front, reached between my legs for the choke and key, and gave it a good kick start. 

Describing it as roaring into life would be a great misstatement. Rather, my reliable Ruby, named for her now faded paint job, puttered and spluttered, yet still thankfully managed to fire up. 

Kitty straddled the cracked back-seat and paused. 

Here it comes, I thought. 

“Ah,” she noted, having managed to get her helmet on and looking down at the seat.

“Anything the matter?” I asked as sweetly as I could, craning my head round and grinning. 

“Miss…?” she started but then shook her head and very carefully mounted the seat. 

“You can hold on to me if you like,” I offered. 

Kitty reached her arms around my waist and I sighed happily.