The Bodybuilder II: Hard Lessons

**Author's note:** This story is part of the Milly series - a collection of stories following a woman's journey into sexual exploration and self-discovery.

This is the continuation of Milly's encounter with the mysterious female bodybuilder she met at the gym, and which was kindly requested by a few readers. Now, in a candlelit bar and a high-rise hotel suite, things go even deeper. Sasha doesn't just remember Milly - she wants her. All of her.

if this sounds like your thing, great. If not, no worries. There's a lot more to explore.

I look forward to your comments and feedback.

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The bar didn't have a sign.

You either knew where Lune was, or you didn't. It wasn't the kind of place you stumbled into - it was the kind of place you were invited to find.

Milly stepped through the heavy black door and into the unfamiliar space.

Low ceilings and stone walls. A hundred candles flickering in thick glass jars, throwing shadows that seemed to dance across polished dark wood and worn leather furniture.

A jazz quartet played in the far corner - slow and mournful, almost too soft to hear. Not loud and brash like many city bars, just the low hum of a sultry voice sliding over the rim of a glass.

Milly's heels clicked softly on the floor as she entered, the sound swallowed by the place.

And there she was.

Sasha.

Sitting near the bar like heaven sent sin.

Tall. Late 20s at most. Built like a goddess from some ancient myth - all beautiful muscle, rippling and defined under flawless bronzed skin.

Her black leather trousers clung to thick, powerful thighs, the curve of her sculpted arse mesmerising. A black silk camisole strained across her chest and her surgically enhanced breasts were impossible to miss - big, full, high, perfectly round, sitting proud against the lean, sculpted frame.

Long, raven-black hair was slicked back into a brutal ponytail. Lipstick the deepest shade of ruby red. On her feet she wore killer black stilettos, the patent leather catching the candlelight, and which seemed impossibly delicate under the raw power of her body.

She looked like she could break a man over her thigh. Or fuck him to death without even losing her breath.

Milly wasn't here to resist her. No, she was here to surrender. Give herself to Sasha fully.

Because she wanted this.

Had dreamed of it.

Had ached for it since the gym, since that moment against the frosted glass where she'd come undone in Sasha's hands.

And tonight... tonight, she was ready for whatever came next.

Milly adjusted her dress, herself looking as good as the surroundings. She wore a black satin dress that clung to her own curves and slid over her hips like a second skin.

In her early 40s she still turned heads, and she loved it. Increasingly confident in her own skin, the duckling that had become a swan.

Her fair hair was pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, soft strands framing the sharp green glint of her eyes. Her curvy yet athletic frame moved with a grace she hadn't always had - long legs, toned arms, a waist still trim enough to make younger women look twice and older men forget their wedding vows.

She wore confidence now the way she wore that dress - unapologetic, and in complete control of her destiny.

She crossed the room slowly, heels beating a steady rhythm against the floor.

Sasha's head turned at the sound and she gave a slow and dangerous smile.

Milly's heart hammered, but she didn't slow.

Sasha rose from the seat in one fluid movement - towering over Milly in those glossy killer heels, a force of nature wrapped in silk and leather.

For a heartbeat, they just stood there, a breath apart.

Candlelight painted Sasha in golden tones. The faint scent of her perfume - dark and spicy - wrapped around Milly tightly.

"Hello, beautiful," Sasha said in a low voice.

She reached out, carefully tucking a stray strand of Milly's hair behind her ear. Her fingers brushed Milly's cheek.

Milly shivered, but held Sasha's gaze.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show," Sasha murmured, thumb trailing along Milly's jawline.

Milly smiled, surprising herself with her boldness.

"Did you really think I'd miss this?" she whispered back.

Sasha chuckled. "Good, I'm glad you did. I love a woman who knows what she wants."

She leaned in, her mouth lightly touching Milly's ear.

"And tonight, you're going to get everything you've been craving."

***

Sasha slid back onto her seat - legs parted just enough to send a message - and patted the one beside her.

Milly hesitated for half a second.

Then she perched next to Sasha, feeling the warmth of her body immediately.

So close. So dangerously close.

Sasha waved two fingers at the bartender, who appeared with practiced efficiency.

"Two Old Fashioneds," Sasha said, her voice itself smooth like well aged whiskey.

Milly didn't argue.

The glass was cool in her fingers when it came, the bourbon inside rich and dark.

Sasha raised hers slightly in a lazy toast.

"To unfinished business," she said, her voice low.

They clinked glasses - the soft chime of crystal against crystal temporarily breaking the candlelit hush.

Milly took a slow sip.

The bourbon burned deliciously down her throat - but it was nothing compared to the heat blossoming low in her belly as Sasha's hand slid onto her thigh.

Not rough or forceful. Just there - heavy, hot, and possessive.

Milly bit her lip, but didn't pull away.

She angled her body slightly toward Sasha instead, crossing her legs so her thigh pressed harder into Sasha's hand.

Sasha's mouth curved into a wicked smile.

"You remember the last time we touched, don't you?" she murmured, her thumb tracing slow, lazy circles just above Milly's knee.

Milly shivered. Every nerve ending seemed wired to Sasha's touch.

She nodded, once. How could she not?

"Good," Sasha said.

She leaned in, her mouth again against Milly's ear, her voice a dirty purr.

"Because I plan on making you remember tonight just as vividly."

Milly's stomach flipped. She sipped her drink to steady her hands, but it was useless.

Her skin buzzed. Her panties were already damp. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

And Sasha just watched her. Patient. Confident. Hungry.

Milly set her glass down with a soft click.

The jazz band shifted into a slow ballad - a woman's voice sliding through the air, singing something about love and ruin and too much liquor.

Milly met Sasha's gaze.

"I'm not here by accident," she said, steadily.

Sasha's smile deepened.

"Good," she replied.

Her hand slid higher - inch by inch - under the hem of Milly's short satin dress.

Not enough to shock. Not enough to be seen.

But enough to let Milly feel how easily Sasha could own her again. Here and now, if she chose to.

Milly's thighs parted instinctively. Part invitation, part surrender. But also a challenge.

Sasha's fingers touched the bare skin of Milly's inner thigh. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her pussy, but still not touching where Milly needed it most.

"You're so wet already, I can sense it," Sasha whispered hard against Milly's ear.

Milly moaned under her breath and Sasha chuckled.

"Finish your drink, beautiful. Then I'm taking you somewhere you can properly beg for it."

Milly's hand trembled slightly as she lifted the glass to her lips. Not from nerves but from need. A deep, visceral need.

She drank.

Tonight belonged to her. To them.

***

The cab smelled faintly of leather, diesel, and old money.

Sasha slid in first, sprawling across the backseat like she owned it. Like she owned the whole fucking city.

Milly followed, heart still hammering, sliding in beside her - close enough to feel the heat coming off Sasha's body.

The door slammed shut.

The driver nodded once, wordlessly, as Sasha gave him an address, and pulled out into the slow churn of London's night traffic.

The city flashed by outside. Neon lights and slick black tarmac, glistening under the lingering heat of the hot summer evening.

Inside the cab, the air was equally heavy and loaded.

Milly sat primly at first, hands folded in her lap, feeling her dress cling to her damp skin.

Sasha watched her, a lazy smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"You're nervous," Sasha said - not mocking, just observing.

Milly swallowed.

"No," she said, and it was almost true.

It wasn't fear she felt.

It was heat.

It was hunger.

It was remembrance.

The memory of Sasha's mouth on her skin, the press of her strong hands, the electricity of that brief encounter they had shared in the gym changing room.

The anticipation of it happening again.

Sasha laughed. "You should be," she said.

And then, without warning, Sasha reached over. She hooked one thick, powerful arm around Milly's waist and dragged her across the seat into her lap. As she did her right bicep exploded into a massive, powerful peak.

Milly gasped. Half in shock, half exhilaration - and found herself straddling Sasha, her dress riding high around her hips, the hem barely covering anything.

The driver said nothing.

London's lights flickered over them - casting them alternately in gold, in shadow, and then in crimson.

Milly's hands came up instinctively, bracing herself against Sasha's chest.

Sasha's muscles flexed beneath her palms.

God, she was huge, thought Milly - all sculpted power and impossible, mouth-watering femininity.

Suddenly Sasha's mouth was on hers.

No slow build, no teasing. Their lips crashed together, tongues tangling instantly.

Sasha kissed like she might fight - with total domination, with the hunger of someone who knew she was going to win.

Milly moaned into the kiss, grinding down against Sasha's hard thighs, feeling her panties already soaked, her body betraying the filthy thoughts racing through her mind.

Outside, London pulsed past in a blur - glass and steel, neon and night.

Inside, there was nothing but hot breath and hands.

Sasha's roamed Milly's body without shame. Hands sliding up her thighs, cupping her arse, tugging her tighter against her.

"You're fucking desperate for it, aren't you," Sasha growled against Milly's mouth.

Milly whimpered.

"Say it," Sasha demanded, teeth nipping Milly's lower lip.

Milly's head fell back, gasping, lost in the moment.

"I'm desperate," she whispered. "Desperate for you."

Sasha's laugh rumbled through her chest.

"Good," she said.

One of her hands slid up Milly's spine, gripping the back of her neck, holding her still. The other slipped under the hem of her dress, finding the heat between her legs through her sodden panties.

Milly gasped and bucked against her hand - but Sasha just smirked and pulled away.

"Patience," she murmured. "You're not cumming until I say so."

Milly whimpered, hips jerking instinctively toward Sasha's teasing fingers. But Sasha just stroked lightly, maddeningly, keeping her on the edge.

The cab hit a red light.

The driver adjusted his mirror.

Milly flushed. Part humiliation, part filthy thrill.

She was on display. Being touched, being teased, being owned and she loved every second of it.

Sasha gave a knowing grin and leaned in to whisper: "You're not going to walk straight tomorrow, beautiful."

The cab pulled up outside the hotel. It was a gleaming tower of glass and steel, luxurious yet discreet.

Sasha tossed a banknote onto the front seat without a word, yanked the door open, and stepped out - dragging Milly with her.

Milly's legs wobbled slightly, though from what she couldn't say. From the alcohol, from the cab, from the kiss, or the unbearable arousal.

Sasha caught her easily, grinning widely,

and bent to whisper against Milly's ear as they disappeared into the heavy glass doors of the lobby.

"Now the real fun begins," she said.

***

The elevator came to a halt with a soft chime.

Sasha stepped out first, her heels clicking sharply against the polished black marble of the private floor. Milly followed, skin prickling with anticipation.

There were only two doors up here.

Sasha's keycard beeped against one of them.

The door swung open with a soft, hydraulic sigh and Milly walked into Sasha's world.

The suite was breathtaking.

All clean, brutal lines.

Polished tiled floors.

A sunken living space scattered with massive, low-slung black leather sofas.

Floor-to-ceiling glass walls wrapped around the corner of the building which offered a dizzying, endless view of London's skyline, the city lights blinking and pulsing below.

A massive king-sized bed dominated one side of the suite - dressed in rich, blood-dark sheets that gleamed under the low, recessed lighting.

There was no clutter.

No softness.

Everything was sharp. It was precise. just like Sasha.

The heavy door clicked shut behind them, and the world outside ceased to exist.

Sasha tossed her jacket lazily onto one of the couches and turned to face Milly - the lighting throwing every curve and muscle into stark, breathtaking relief.

She didn't speak.

Milly stood frozen - pulse pounding in her throat - until Sasha strode forward, slow and deliberately.

She stopped a breath away.

Reaching up, she cupped Milly's chin in her strong hand, tilting her face, forcing her to meet her searing eyes.

"You know why you're here," she said.

Milly nodded, throat dry.

Sasha's thumb brushed over Milly's lower lip.

"Good," she whispered.

She stepped away and began peeling herself out of her clothes with deliberate slowness.

Her leather trousers slid down her powerful thighs. The black silk top floated to the floor.

She stood there in nothing but a black lace thong and those killer stilettos - her magnificent surgically enhanced breasts high and proud, her muscles rippling.

A fucking vision.

Milly swayed slightly, drunk on the sight and on the promise.

Sasha gave a wicked smile and crossed to the minibar, retrieving a bottle of champagne already chilling in its silver cradle.

The cork popped softly.

Sasha poured a single glass. She held it out, but didn't hand it to Milly.

She held it just out of reach. Waiting. Testing.

Milly's breath hitched before she slowly stepped forward. She took the glass from Sasha's hand - her fingers brushing Sasha's knuckles - and raised it in a silent toast.

Sasha watched her with a hunger that made Milly's knees weaken.

She sipped.

The champagne was sharp, cold, delicious.

Milly licked a stray droplet from her lip and saw Sasha's eyes darken.

Sasha stepped closer again, plucking the glass from Milly's hand. She set it aside with a decisive clink.

Then, without preamble, she hooked her fingers into the thin straps of Milly's satin dress and slid them off her shoulders.

The dress puddled around Milly's feet.

She stood there in nothing but tiny black lace panties and strappy heels - bared to Sasha's gaze, her skin prickling with arousal and anticipation.

Sasha circled her slowly like a shark sizing up her prey.

"You're perfect," Sasha said simply, voice a growl.

Sasha stopped behind her.

Leaning in, she pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss against Milly's neck. As she did Milly gasped, knees buckling slightly.

"Tonight," Sasha whispered, her breath against Milly's skin, "you're mine."

Milly closed her eyes and surrendered.

***

The first thing Milly noticed was the table.

Low, black, gleaming. On it was a metal case, the sort a photographer might use to carry expensive equipment.

But inside was no camera. It was laid out with toys that looked more like designer artefacts than instruments of pleasure.

A black leather flogger.

A heavy, sleek silver candle.

A set of glistening, smooth jiggle balls that shone under the lights.

Sasha stood behind her, a living work of art. Bare except for her thong and heels, her muscles flexing with every slow, deliberate movement.

Milly's heart hammered in her chest. She wanted this. All of it.

And Sasha knew.

She could see it in the way Milly's chest rose and fell, in the way her thighs pressed together, desperate for friction.

Sasha reached out, sliding a single finger down Milly's spine - slow, teasing - making her shiver.

"Hands," she said gently.

Milly offered them without hesitation.

Sasha produced a silk tie - black and soft - and bound Milly's wrists in front of her with slow care.

Not tight. Just enough to remind her who was in control.

Sasha led her to the centre of the suite - positioning her under a spotlight that bathed her in a pool of warm, golden light.

She circled her again.

Once.

Twice.

Letting Milly feel her watching.

Feel the hunger building.

"You're going to take everything I give you," Sasha murmured, voice thick with promise. "And you're going to beg for more."

Milly moaned under her breath, the sound low and raw.

Sasha smiled. She picked up the flogger first.

Dragging the strands lightly across Milly's bare skin - over her breasts, her hips, the inside of her thighs.

The leather was soft, teasing, offering barely a kiss. It made Milly's nipples harden instantly, sending shockwaves through her.

Then a flick of Sasha's wrist.

A soft, stinging slap across Milly's backside.

Milly gasped - half pain, half pleasure.

Another.

And another.

Sasha worked her slowly. never brutal, always measured, warming her skin to a sweet, aching flush.

Milly's head fell back, a moan slipping free.

"You like that," Sasha said. Not a question, but a knowing statement.

Milly nodded, gasping, and Sasha rewarded her with a soft, soothing kiss between her shoulder blades.

Then Sasha reached for the candle.

Milly tensed.

The first drop of wax landed on her back - making her cry out, made her clench the silk tie between her hands.

Sasha was careful. Precise.

She dripped the wax slowly, mapping Milly's body with tiny, burning kisses - on her lower back, her thighs, her breasts.

Each drop felt like a brand. Like ownership - and Milly craved every single one.

When Sasha judged her ready, panting and desperate, she set the candle aside and picked up the jiggle balls.

They were heavy, sleek and cruel.

Milly watched, dazed, as Sasha approached. She hooked one finger in the waistband of Milly's soaked underwear.

She tugged them down, slowly, leaving Milly totally naked but for her heels, her thighs shining under the soft light.

"Spread," Sasha ordered in a voice that was full of command.

Milly obeyed - legs parting, exposing herself shamelessly.

Sasha knelt before her. She placed one hand on Milly's hip, steadying her, as she slid the first ball slowly inside.

Milly cried out. The sudden feeling, the pressure, almost too much after everything else.

Then the second.

Milly's knees went weak - but Sasha held her steady, stroking her soothingly.

"Good girl," Sasha whispered.

Milly whimpered as Sasha rose, her own breathing heavier now. She pushed Milly gently backward until she landed on the black leather couch, sprawled, wrists still bound.

The jiggle balls shifted inside her with every movement, sending shocks through her overloaded nerves.

Sasha stood over her, a goddess carved of steel, and finally, finally, stripped herself bare.

Her thong slid down her thick thighs - her massive, perfect breasts swaying slightly as she moved.

Milly couldn't tear her eyes away.

Sasha prowled forward, straddling Milly's body, trapping her.

She gripped Milly's jaw, tilted her face up, and kissed her with a hunger that bordered on violence.

Milly moaned needily into her mouth.

The balls shifted again inside her and as they did Milly bucked desperately against Sasha, chasing friction and any kind of release.

Sasha pulled back just enough to smirk.

"Not yet," she whispered. "You're going to suffer for me first."

***

Sasha stood over Milly like a goddess of war.

Milly lay wrecked beneath her - wrists still bound loosely in silk, body slick with sweat.

The jiggle balls shifted cruelly inside her with every tiny movement, keeping her nerve endings screaming.

Sasha knelt between her thighs, parting them with a beautiful tenderness, and ran her tongue up the inside of Milly's trembling thigh.

Milly moaned - a long, broken sound - head tipping back against the cool leather.

Sasha's mouth found her pussy - wet, swollen, desperate - and the first flick of her tongue made Milly cry out helplessly.

Sasha pinned her easily, one strong arm thrown across Milly's hips, holding her down.

She licked slowly. Teasing and circling.

Never giving Milly what she truly craved until Milly was grinding her hips up shamelessly, chasing every stroke of Sasha's mouth.

Then, without warning, Sasha slid two fingers deep inside her.

Milly screamed.

The sensation - the pressure of the jiggle balls already inside her, combined with Sasha's fingers curling just right - sent her straight over the edge.

She came hard, her back arching, thighs clenching around Sasha's head.

But Sasha didn't stop.

She fucked Milly through the orgasm, through the aftershocks, through the writhing oversensitivity.

She licked and sucked and drove Milly into another orgasm, and another, until Milly was begging into the leather.

"Please," Milly sobbed, voice hoarse. "Please, Sasha... I can't...."

Sasha laughed.

"You can," she whispered. "You will."

Milly was barely aware of her own body being lifted, of the silk bindings being untied, of being manhandled gently but firmly onto her hands and knees on the vast bed.

Somewhere in the haze of her mind, she heard the soft sound of Sasha fitting a harness around her hips.

The low thud of something heavy and thick being picked up from the toy table.

And then she felt it. The blunt, thick head of a strap-on dildo pressing against her soaked entrance.

Bigger than the jiggle balls.

Bigger than Sasha's fingers.

A slow, teasing pressure at first.

Milly whimpered, pushing back instinctively - needing it. Craving it.

"Beg," Sasha commanded.

Milly's face burned.

But she didn't hesitate.

"Please," she gasped.

"Please, Sasha, fuck me."

Sasha groaned, the sound almost feral, and pushed forward in one slow, devastating thrust.

Milly cried out. The stretch, the fullness, almost too much.

Almost.

Sasha set a punishing rhythm that was purposeful and relentless. Each stroke was precise.

She gripped Milly's hips with strong hands, forcing cries and sobs from Milly's throat with every thrust.

The jiggle balls still moved inside her. They rubbed her g-spot, making her body scream for release.

Sasha leaned over her, one hand sliding around Milly's body to pinch and roll her clit.

"You're mine," she growled against Milly's ear. "Say it."

"I'm yours," Milly gasped. "I'm fucking yours."

And then she shattered.

Her orgasm slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave, tearing a scream from her throat, locking her muscles, making her entire body seize and thrash under Sasha's thrusts.

Sasha kept on fucking her through every whimper, every helpless cry, until Milly collapsed forward onto the bed.

Sasha pulled out slowly, the strap-on glistening with Milly's juices.

Sasha untangled the harness and let it fall to the floor with a soft, satisfied clatter.

She didn't say anything. No comfort or words.

She just reached down and rolled Milly onto her back, her fingers brushing the sweat-soaked strands of hair from her flushed face.

Milly blinked up at her in a daze.

Her lips parted, but no sound came.

There was nothing left to say.

Sasha lay beside her. Not holding, not cradling - just present.

They lay like that - naked and tangled - watching the city shimmer through the glass as if it, too, had just come.

"Now," Sasha said, "I'm going to show you what I need."

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