05 - College Kinks - Rules

I woke up before Jess did, which was a small miracle in itself, considering how spent I was when I fell asleep last night.

For a few seconds, I simply lay there, listening to her slow breathing and watching the early morning light crawl across the ceiling of her room. Then my mind wandered to the events of yesterday. The contract. The chest under my bed. The fact that every piece of clothing I owned was locked away, and that the key was somewhere in my mistress' possession.

During the night, Jess had turned onto her back, which had broken our embrace. My hand still rested on her stomach, and hers was holding mine, but we were no longer entangled like when we fell asleep.

It was hard to take my eyes off her. The sheets had slid down to below her boobs, exposing her wonderful upper body to my eyes. The athletic figure, the long, slightly curly blonde hair and perfect face made me wonder again and again how in the world I had deserved this girlfriend.

I carefully slid out of the bed, trying not to wake her. My first instinct was to grab something to wear, a hoodie, a T-shirt, anything, but of course there was nothing to grab. I stood in the middle of her room, naked, and felt a slight shiver run down my back that had nothing to do with the temperature.

What does a slave do in the morning? Our contract had not said anything about that specifically. But I remembered what Jess had taught me the night before.

So, I knelt down beside her bed, spread my knees wide, rested my hands on my thighs with my palms facing up, and lowered my gaze. Nadu. And then I waited patiently.

It took almost twenty minutes for her to stir. My knees were already starting to complain, still sore from scrubbing the floors the day before, but I did not move, determined in my submission. When she finally rolled over and blinked her eyes open, she nearly jumped.

"Jesus, Nessa," she gasped, and then she started laughing. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Not long, mistress," I lied.

She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at me for a long moment. The surprise on her face slowly turned into something else, something softer, but also hungrier.

"Now that is a sight I could get used to. You did that by yourself?" she asked.

"Yes, mistress. I did not know what else you would want from me in the morning."

She swung her legs out of bed and sat on the edge, right in front of me. If I had only looked up, I could have seen her in all her glory, but in my position, it felt improper to make eye contact, or even look at her without permission. But that permission was granted indirectly, as she lifted my chin with one finger, just like she had done the evening before.

"Well, then let's fix that," she said. "From now on, every morning, I expect you to wake up before me. You make coffee. Then you come back, and you wait for me exactly like this, until I wake up. When I open my eyes, I want the first thing I see to be you, on your knees and naked. Understood?"

"Yes, mistress."

"And on the days when I have early classes once the semester starts, you wake me at seven with the coffee. Gently. And with a kiss."

I could not stop the smile spreading over my face. "As you wish, mistress."

"Good girl. Now go make that coffee. I'll forgive you for today, since you didn't know."

I wanted to stand up, but a quick click of her tongue stopped me, and I remembered. I crawled out of her room and into the kitchen on all fours, feeling her eyes on me the whole way.

While I made coffee and breakfast, she jumped in the shower. I would have loved to join her, of course, but since that was not my decision to make anymore, I resigned myself to my chores. Once she was finished, she stepped into the living room wearing a plain white V-top on simple leggings, covering most of her body, which I had admired just moments before. The fact she was clothed again made me feel even more naked than I already was.

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We ate breakfast together. Or rather, Jess ate at the kitchen counter, and I knelt beside her chair, while she fed me pieces of toast from her plate every now and then, like a pet begging at the table. It should have felt ridiculous. Instead, every bite she held out for me sent a little thrill through my stomach.

When she had finished her coffee, she set down her mug, and then did something I did not expect. She slid off her chair and sat down on the floor next to me, cross-legged, so that we were at eye level.

"Okay. I need to talk to you for a second," she said. "Not as your mistress. As Jess."

I nodded, slightly nervous. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Well, sort of." She ran a hand through her still slightly wet hair. "Last night, when I fell asleep, I kept thinking about yesterday. About you being alone here for hours with your panties in your mouth."

I blushed at the memory. "I liked that. Very much."

"I know you did. That's not the point." She took my hand. "The point is, our contract has a clause about safe words, and we never actually talked about it in detail. We skipped right over it, because we were both too excited to finally sign the thing. And then I gagged you and left you alone. If something had gone wrong, if you had felt sick or panicked or anything, you would have had no way to tell me. Not even a word."

I opened my mouth to say that it had been fine, but she squeezed my hand and kept going.

"I read a lot yesterday, and I talked to Mike when we were shopping, and everybody says the same thing. The safe word isn't there for when things go well. It's there for when they don't. And I don't ever want to be in a situation where I hurt you, or put you in a position of discomfort, and you can't stop me."

There was something in her voice that made my throat tighten. She was serious. More serious than I had ever seen her.

"Okay," I said softly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Colors," she said. "Like a traffic light. Mike says that that is the standard. Green means everything is fine, keep going. Yellow means slow down, or something isn't quite right, and I need to check in with you. And red means stop. Immediately. No questions, no punishment, no discussion until afterwards. Red ends everything."

"Green, yellow, red," I repeated. "That's easy enough to remember."

"And when you can't talk," she continued, "because your mouth is full, or you're gagged, you snap your fingers three times. Or, if your hands are tied, you hum three times in a row. Short, like this." She hummed three quick notes. "That counts as red."

I had not even thought about that. The fact that she did showed me that she had really put a lot of thought into it. She was serious about my wellbeing, which made me feel good. Safe. Protected.

I tried the humming. It sounded silly, and we both laughed, but she made me practice it twice more before she was satisfied.

"And Nessa?" she said, her face serious again. "You use it. If you need it, you use it. I won't be disappointed, and I won't be angry. Promise me."

"I promise," I said, and I meant it. I leaned forward and kissed her, and for a moment we were just two girls sitting on a kitchen floor, one of them naked, kissing as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Then she pulled back, stood up, and her expression changed in an instant. My mistress was back.

"The dishes won't wash themselves, slave."

"Yes, mistress."

**********************************************************************************

The hours went by without anything too interesting. First, she sent me to shower, and ordered me to shave thoroughly. Not that I ever had hair on my body; I had started shaving when I turned 16 and had my first boyfriend, but she insisted that even a little bit of stubble could get me in trouble.

After that, Jess made me do chores, keep her supplied with snacks and drinks, and every time I finished a task, I went and knelt by her side and waited patiently for my next command. Once she ordered me to kneel on all fours before her, when she placed her feet on my back and used me as a footstool. I felt humiliated, degraded to simple furniture. But at the same time, it made me shiver with anticipation of what else she might come up with to fulfill my twisted desires.

She occasionally brushed her hand along my body, my vulva or my erect nipples, when I was kneeling next to her or doing chores. My pussy in particular was getting increasingly damp and desperate as the day went on. I was hoping for an orgasm that evening, but since Jess decided when and how often I would experience them, I really had no say in the matter.

The first real problem came that same afternoon, in the form of a ringtone.

I was in the middle of wiping down the kitchen counters when my phone started buzzing on the table. I glanced at the screen, and my heart sank. Mama. Video call.

I had completely forgotten. Every Monday, without exception, my mother called me from Germany. It was late evening there, and she would be sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, and my father would occasionally lean into the picture to wave and ask whether I was eating enough.

I stared at the phone, then down at my naked body, then at Jess, who was sitting on the couch with a book, watching me with raised eyebrows.

"Mistress," I said, my voice slightly panicked. "It's my mother. She calls every Monday. If I don't pick up, she will call again, and again, and then she will call you, and then she will start to worry."

Jess put her book down. For a second, I could see her weighing her options, and I was not sure she would help me at all. Then she got up, went into my room, and I heard the rattle of the padlocks on the chest holding my clothes.

She came back with a single item: a loose, light blue blouse. Nothing else.

"Put it on," she said, tossing it to me. "Sit at the table. Prop up the phone against the fruit bowl. Your mother only gets to see what's above the table."

I fumbled with the buttons with shaking fingers, sat down, and answered the call just as it was about to ring out.

"Hallo, Schatz!" my mother beamed at me from across the ocean. "There you are! I was already starting to think you had forgotten me."

"Never, Mama," I answered in German, forcing a smile. Beneath the table, my bare thighs were pressed tightly together on the cold wooden chair.

We talked about the usual things. The weather in Germany, which was apparently terrible. My father's back, which was apparently also terrible. My grades, which were fortunately not quite as terrible. I relaxed a little after a few minutes, and started to actually enjoy the conversation.

That was when Jess decided to make things harder for me. She sat down on the chair directly next to me. Just outside the frame. With her hand resting casually on my naked thigh.

I nearly choked on my words, as I was telling my mother about how few people were left on campus during the break.

"Nessa? Is everything alright? You look a bit flushed," my mother said, leaning closer to her screen.

"It's, uh, it's really warm here, Mama. Summer break, like I just said, you know?" I stammered, while Jess' fingers traced slow, lazy circles on the inside of my knee. She did not go any further than that. She did not have to. The knowledge that she could was more than enough.

"Is that Jessica next to you? I can see her arm! Say hello, Jessica!"

Jess leaned into the picture with the most innocent smile I had ever seen, waved and said, "Hallo, Frau Weber!" in her terrible German accent, which made my mother laugh out loud. Then she leaned back out of the frame, and her hand returned to my thigh.

"Such a nice girl," my mother said. "You two really are inseparable, aren't you?"

"Yes, mi... Mama," I said, my voice slightly higher than I would have liked, almost having called her mistress. I earned a smirk and side-eye from Jess for that. "You could say that."

She looked at me for a moment longer than usual, the way only mothers can. "You know, you look different, Schatz. Happier, I think. Is there something you want to tell me?"

I felt Jess' hand go completely still on my thigh.

"Maybe," I said, after a second. "Soon. Not today. But soon."

My mother smiled, and did not push. She never did. We said our goodbyes, I promised to eat enough, and the screen went black.

I let out a breath I had been holding for what felt like ten minutes, and turned to Jess, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"That," I said, "was mean. Mistress."

"That," she replied, unbuttoning the blouse I was wearing one button at a time, "was fun. And I think you agree." She slid the blouse off my shoulders, and then her expression softened. "Did you mean it? That you'll tell her? About us?"

"About us being together, yes," I said. "Maybe not the rest."

She laughed, and kissed my forehead, and carried the blouse back to the chest, where she locked it away again. Meanwhile, I got up from the chair and fell to my knees again. After all, the floor is where a slave belongs.

**********************************************************************************

Unfortunately, I was not rewarded with an orgasm that evening, as I had hoped. She was sitting on the couch and I knelt beside her feet like the good slave I was. My legs spread lewdly far apart and my head lowered, while she slowly stroked my hair and finished her book. I had been dripping wet ever since my mother called earlier, and I was sure Jess was aware. Suddenly, she snapped her book shut with a thud.

"Up, slave!" she barked. "On your feet."

My body obeyed instantaneously without me needing to consciously make that decision.

"Stand there, in front of the TV." She indicated where she wanted me by pointing. "Face me, and present."

Again, my body went through the motions by itself. I had seen the 'present' pose once before; Sam had taken it in Mike's basement before he had tied her up. I tried to recall what exactly it entailed. I stood, my legs spread slightly wider than shoulder-width apart, my hands clasped behind my head with my arms at 180-degree angles sticking out to my sides. This way, my tits stuck out from my body, my back was arched and my ass was on display if anyone stood behind me. This position felt wonderful. I felt exposed, but at the same time desirable, downright sexy.

"Well done, slave. You look delicious, like a good little slut. Maybe that's what I should call you more often," Jess said with a devious smile. "But I am also really disappointed," she said with a stern expression. A cold shiver ran down my spine and my eyes widened in shock. Had I forgotten something? Did I make a mistake? My mind tried to replay the last few hours, but I did not know what I could have done wrong.

"I am so sorry, mistress. Please forgive me," I blurted out, not even knowing what I was apologizing for.

Neither did Jess apparently, as she asked, "For what?"

"I don't know, mistress," I admitted. "But I will make sure it never happens again." I thought I could see the faintest smile on her face when I said that.

"Don't worry, slut, it has nothing to do with you," she finally said, after letting me wallow in my distress for a few seconds. "You have done very well today; I am proud of you."

The shiver was replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling of accomplishment and pride, completely contrasting the fact that I was currently standing naked and presenting my body in humiliating fashion to my fully clothed girlfriend.

"No, it is because my book was really good, but ended on a cliffhanger," she explained. "I want to know where the story continues, but the next part does not yet have a release date. Can you understand why that would frustrate me?"

"Yes, mistress," I simply said, knowing full well what she felt. After all, I had been frustrated, albeit in a different way, all day already.

"It seems all you can do is to wait, mistress." Her eyes narrowed into slits and her lips curled with a wicked frown. Fuck. I walked right into her trap and immediately regretted that comment.

"Oh, I'll show you waiting," she snarled. "Stay there!" With those words she headed for her room.

"I'm sorry, mistress, please forgive me for my insolence," I cried after her, but I knew she would not change her mind. I could hear her rummage around the boxes she had stored under her bed, and she quickly returned with something in her hand.

"Bad slaves need to be taught not to mouth off," she said with a mean smirk, before opening her hand. I could see a silicone ring with straps attached to the sides. A ring gag.

"Open your mouth, slut!" I obediently opened and let her shove the gag in my mouth, forcing me to keep my jaws open. She stepped back, taking in the scene. I already started drooling, my saliva tracing paths down my chin and dripping onto my exposed tits. Needless to say, this was the most aroused I had been today. Jess' smile confirmed that she did enjoy this too.

She stepped closer again, and put her hand in between my trembling legs. She traced her fingers around my pussy lips, making me moan out in frustration, which caused even more drool to make its way down my body. She made sure not to touch the soft pink flesh on the inside for a while, before suddenly, and without warning, tracing a finger the entire length of my slit and holding it up for me to see. It was glistening with my wet lust.

Slowly she moved the finger to her mouth, before seductively sucking on it, tasting my desperation.

"Hmmm, you taste surprisingly good for being such a bad girl," she said, after wiping her finger on my cheek.

"Go on, have some for yourself." She took my right hand from behind my head and guided it down to my twitching sex. She made me scoop up some of my juices, and led the hand back to my face.

"Lick it clean, slut."

I did, and she was right. I was not as sweet as her when I got to lick her, but I found I enjoyed the taste.

"Keep going until I tell you to stop. And don't you dare cum!" With those words, she returned to her spot on the couch, and reclined, watching me scoop finger after finger of my juices into my mouth held open by the ring gag.

I was a twitching mess within minutes. Every time I touched myself, I got more excited, causing me to lose even more fluid. At the same time, the stream of drool had reached my crotch and lubricated me even more, so I was not in danger of running out.

After a few minutes she tilted her head, an idea forming in her head, causing her to grin mischievously.

"What is your color?" she asked, more gently.

"Ghhhhnnn," I managed to say.

"Green?" she clarified. I nodded.

She took out her phone, pointed it straight at me, and started recording.

"Do you have anything to say to your mistress?" Her voice was as cold as ice again.

I tried to speak, but due to the gag, my words were incoherent garbling. All the while I continued to bring finger after finger glistening with liquid from between my spread and trembling legs to my mouth.

"I did not understand you, slut. Try again."

She knew my fantasies. Several of them contained me being forced into a humiliating situation or being caught naked and someone taking photos of me with which they could blackmail me into doing anything.

"Mmm Swwwmmyy, mffftttffff," I managed to articulate with a shaky voice.

"Oh, you are sorry? Sorry for what?"

"Fffff fffpppkkknnnggg aaahht oooo hhhhmmmm." No one in their right mind could have understood what I garbled through my gag and my fingers, but Jessica seemed to understand.

"You are sorry for speaking out of turn?" she asked, probably so the camera would understand too.

I nodded. "Yeff Mffftfff."

"Good. Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yeff Mffftfff." I nodded again.

She stopped the recording and put the phone away.

"I'll keep that, it might come in handy," she smirked, mischievously. I was sure she would never share the video with anyone. But the thought that she was in possession of a video of me debasing myself in the most disgraceful way possible made me moan out in pleasure.

"You can stop now, slut. Put your hand back where it belongs." Reluctantly, I moved my dripping wet hand back behind my head and clasped my hands again. Jess took in the view of me standing naked, spread and covered in drool and cum for another moment, before removing my gag. I relaxed my jaws in relief.

"Look at the mess you made!" She pointed to the ground. A small puddle of various bodily fluids had formed between my legs. "Clean that up. And then take a shower."

"As you wish, mistress," I bowed my head, and fell to my knees, shuffling over to the kitchen, to get a rag.

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The next three days followed the same rhythm. Coffee in the morning, kneeling in Nadu at her bedside. Chores during the day, crawling whenever she was watching. I ate my meals on the floor at her feet. And in the evenings, Jess would play with me, tease me, bring me so close to the edge that I was trembling and begging, and then stop. Every single time.

She had not been joking about the contract. My orgasms belonged to her now, and she was clearly in no hurry to give any of them back. I got the feeling this was still payback for my comment the other day.

By the third day, I was a mess. Every brush of air against my skin felt like a touch. Every time she walked past me, I could feel my heartbeat between my legs. I had never known that wanting something could be this physical, this constant. And yet, I persisted. I abided by the contract and did not masturbate or cheat. It took a massive amount of willpower not to just plunge my fingers into my throbbing sex, but I was determined to be a good slave to my mistress, even if that meant enduring discomfort.

Until that night, after three days of being denied an orgasm, when I had the dream.

I do not remember much of it. Only that Jess was in it, and that she was not stopping this time, and that it felt so real that when I woke up, gasping in the dark, it took me a few seconds to understand where I was.

I was lying on my stomach on my own bed, where Jess had sent me to sleep that night as part of her teasing. My crotch was pressed against my pillow in a way that left no doubt about what my body had been doing while I was asleep. My heart was racing. My thighs were shaking. And there was a warm, heavy feeling in my lower belly that I recognized all too well.

I froze. Had I...? I was not sure. It had been so close, and I had been asleep, and it had all happened so fast. Maybe I had woken up just in time. Maybe I had not.

I lay there in the dark for a long time, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do.

Jess would never find out. That much was clear. I could simply change the pillowcase, wash it in the morning, and nobody would ever know. It was not even really my fault. I had been asleep.

But I would know.

And I had promised her honesty. Not in the contract, but on the couch before I had signed it. Four nights ago, when I had told her that I would never keep anything about me from her again. We had wasted a whole year by not telling each other the truth. I was not going to start lying to her now, not even about something this small.

When I knelt by her bed the next morning, naked and with her coffee in my hands, I was so nervous I could barely keep the mug steady.

She opened her eyes, yawned a drawn-out "Good morning, slave," smiled at me, and then frowned.

"What happened?" she asked immediately. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Mistress, I need to confess something," I said, keeping my eyes on the floor.

She sat up and took the coffee from me, setting it on the nightstand. "Go on."

So, I told her. About the dream, about waking up against the pillow, about not being sure whether it had counted. My cheeks were burning the entire time, and I could not bring myself to look at her face.

When I finished, there was a long silence.

"Look at me," she finally said.

I raised my eyes. She did not look angry. She looked something I could not quite read. Moved, maybe.

"You could have just not told me," she said quietly, completely unlike the authoritative tone I was used to, addicted to.

"I know, mistress."

"Then why did you?"

"Because I promised you I wouldn't keep anything from you," I answered. "And because I belong to you. Even when I am asleep."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, she was my mistress once more, but her voice was gentle.

"I believe you that it wasn't on purpose. And I am very, very proud of you for telling me. But the contract is clear, slave. Your orgasms belong to me. And something happened last night that I did not allow, whether you meant it or not." She paused. "So, you will be punished. Tonight. But it won't be as harsh as it would be if you had done it on purpose, or if you had lied to me. Do you understand the difference?"

I nodded. Strangely, I felt relieved. "Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress." I bowed my head further.

"Don't thank me yet," she said, before taking a sip of her coffee.

**********************************************************************************

I spent the entire day thinking about the evening. Every chore, every moment of crawling across the floor, every time I passed her room and saw the edge of the locked boxes under her bed, I thought about it. What she would choose. Whether it would hurt. Whether I would be able to take it. Maybe she would tease me to insanity, and then deny me to make up for the orgasm. Maybe she would spank me, until I could not take it anymore. Maybe she would tie me up, or extend my denial. The uncertainty drove me insane.

At 8 pm, she called me into her room.

She was sitting on her bed, fully dressed in a black blouse and jeans, with two of the wooden boxes open next to her. She had changed the combination on the locks, I noticed, and she had clearly been waiting for me to notice.

"Kneel."

I knelt in front of her, in Nadu, and waited.

"Tell me why you are here," she said sternly.

"Because I came without your permission last night, mistress. Even if I did not mean to."

"And what do you deserve for that?"

I swallowed. "Punishment, mistress."

"How do you expect I will punish you?"

"However you desire, mistress." I lowered my head in shame, while blushing in anticipation.

She reached into one of the boxes and pulled out the paddle. It was made of dark wood, smooth and polished, with a leather-wrapped handle. It looked heavier than I had expected. She turned it over in her hands for a moment, and I realized that she was nervous too.

From the other box she pulled four padded leather cuffs, two longer and thicker ones, which I assumed were for the ankles, and two smaller ones for the wrists, as well as the adjustable spreader bar.

"Ten strokes," she said. "You will count every single one of them out loud and thank me. If you lose count, we start over. And you remember your colors?"

"Green, yellow, red, mistress."

"Good. What color are you right now?"

"Green, mistress."

"Then bend over the bed."

I got up and bent over the edge of her bed, my hands flat on the blanket, my legs apart. She wrapped the cuffs around my wrists, tightening them until they were snug and I could not slip out, and clipped them together. Instead of shackling my ankles as I had expected, she used the longer and thicker cuffs around my thighs, just above my knees. But instead of clipping them together, she spread my legs further apart and locked the spreader bar to my knee cuffs. This way I could not close my legs again. I got nervous.

"What color, slave?" she asked again, her voice not as firm as I had expected.

"Still green, mistress," I replied, shakily.

I could feel her standing behind me. For a long moment nothing happened, and the waiting was almost worse than anything she could have done.

Then I felt the cool wood of the paddle rest against my skin, just for a second, as if she was measuring her aim.

The first stroke was lighter than I had expected. A dull slap, more sound than pain.

"One. Thank you, mistress."

The second was harder. The third harder still, and by the fourth, I could feel the warmth spreading across my skin, a hot, stinging glow that made my breath catch.

"Four. Thank you, mistress," I managed.

The fifth stroke landed on the exact same spot as the fourth, and the sting exploded into something sharper, something that brought tears to my eyes before I could even think about it. I gasped, and my voice came out much meeker than I wanted it to.

"Yellow."

Immediately, the paddle disappeared. I felt Jess' hand on my lower back, warm and steady.

"Talk to me," she said. Her voice was calm, but I could hear the tension underneath it. "What's wrong?"

"It's... it's the same spot," I said, breathing heavily. "Twice in a row. It's too much there."

"Okay." Her hand moved in slow circles over my back. "Do you want to stop?"

I thought about it, and was surprised by my own answer. "No, mistress. Just... not there again. Please."

"Okay," she said again, and I could feel her let out a long breath. "Thank you for telling me. What color are you now?"

"Green, mistress."

"We're continuing at five, then. You don't lose your count for using your words. Never."

The sixth stroke landed lower, on fresh skin, and it was different. Still painful, still stinging, but in a way I could breathe through. A way that made the heat spread all through my body, not just over my skin. By the eighth stroke, I had stopped thinking altogether. There was only the sound, the sting, my own voice counting, and her presence behind me, which felt like the only solid thing in the world.

"Ten," I finally gasped. "Thank you, mistress."

The paddle dropped onto the bed next to me and I heard her quickly unclipping the spreader bar and the knee cuffs. And then Jess was there, pulling me up and into her arms, fumbling to unclip the wrist cuffs which she did not bother taking off, turning me around and holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.

"You did so well," she whispered into my hair. "You did so, so well."

I started crying then. Not because of the pain, which was already fading into a dull, warm throb. I could not even have said why. It just came, all at once, like a wave I had no control over, and she held me through all of it.

**********************************************************************************

It was a long while before either of us spoke again.

We were lying on her bed. She had changed into one of her oversized shirts, and I was naked as always, lying on my stomach, while she gently rubbed some of the cooling balm she had introduced me to after our first shower together onto my sore backside. It hurt and felt wonderful at the same time.

"Are you alright?" I finally asked.

She stopped. "Me? You're asking me if I'm alright?"

"Yes," I said, turning my head to look at her. "Your hands were shaking. Before you started. And your voice was shaky."

She looked at me for a long time. Then she put the balm aside and lay down next to me, her face only inches from mine, and I saw that her eyes were wet.

"When you said yellow," she said, very quietly, "my heart just stopped. For a second, I thought I had really hurt you. That I had gone too far, and that you were going to look at me differently from now on. Like I was some kind of monster."

"Jess," I said, and reached out to touch her cheek. "You stopped. Immediately. You asked me what was wrong, and you listened, and you changed what you were doing. That is the opposite of a monster." I smiled. "That's exactly why I could keep going. Because I knew that you would stop if I needed you to."

She let out a shaky laugh and pressed her forehead against mine. "When did you get so wise?"

"I have always been wise," I said. "You were just too busy being bossy to notice."

She laughed properly at that, and kissed me, and for a while we just lay there, two girls tangled up in each other, one who had just been punished and the one who had punished her, comforting each other in turn. Opposites, I thought. But it did not feel like we were on opposite sides of anything. It felt like we were holding the same thing from two different ends.

"For what it's worth," she murmured eventually, "you were incredibly brave this morning. Telling me about the dream. I don't think I would have."

"You would have," I said. "You told me about Mike, remember? That you went to him behind my back. You didn't have to tell me that either."

She went quiet for a moment, and something flickered across her face, something I could not quite place.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She reached over and glanced at the screen, and I saw her bite her lip. She turned the phone face down again, a little too quickly.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Nobody," she said. Then, after a second, she sighed. "No. That's not fair, after everything we just talked about. It was Mike."

'Perfect timing,' I thought. As if he had felt that we were just talking about him. Almost creepy.

She turned the phone around and held it out for me to read.

"Have you asked her yet?"

I looked at the message, then up at Jess.

"Asked me what, mistress?"

Jess took a deep breath, pulled the blanket up over both of us, and wrapped her arm around my waist.

"Tomorrow," she said. "I promise I'll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, you're just going to sleep. Right here. With me."

I did not argue. I closed my eyes and turned around, taking her hands and pressing them to my chest. My skin was still warm and stinging, as I felt my mistress' heartbeat steady against my back, and wondered what in the world Mike could want from me.

"After all, one of us has to make sure you don't have another involuntary orgasm," she said, giggling softly.