[Author's note: This story was originally posted in "Lesbian Sex", but due to the heavy sadomasochistic themes of the series, I have moved it to "BDSM".]
*****
-Dr Pacetti's Notes:
To recap: Katy is Mrs Alderney's maid, and also her masochistic slave. Sophie is her secretary, and also Katy's friend. Sophie has a history of being dominant and Katy has begged to submit to Sophie's control. Mrs Alderney has agreed that Sophie will take control of Katy. It is clear that Sophie's treatment will be cruel and intense, but Katy seems willing to take it all.
Naturally, further scenes of sadism and humiliation are to follow. I remind you that all participants are consenting adult women.
-
Somewhat to Sophie's satisfaction, the next two days passed without incident. Neither she nor Mrs Alderney made any mention of their arrangement, confining their conversation to professional exchanges, as Sophie carried out some clerical duties.
Meanwhile Katy was impeccably behaved, and it was this that most pleased Sophie. She dressed correctly, deported herself perfectly and was quietly efficient. Sophie enjoyed watching when Katy was concentrating on her work, enjoying the earnest, gentle focus in her face. She had the elegance of a dancer, her feet flurrying over the carpet or tiles, her body erect and balanced. Every small compliment and cool 'Thank you' from Sophie was met with delight. A brief, broad smile would flash shyly across her face and she would continue with renewed energy.
Unfortunately this had a drawback. Sophie was increasingly attracted to the girl, and increasingly turned on, apparently all the time.
-Sophie's Statement:
At last, on the afternoon of the third day, I decided it was time. I had proven to myself that I had control of my own urges - which was suddenly important to me for some reason - and now I was ready to take another step with Katy. I took a break from my typing and went in search of the maid.
She was in the kitchen washing the plates from lunch. She was dressed in her usual barefoot uniform, with a sort of pinafore tied around her waist. The kitchen was perfectly tidy except around the sink and there was a radio on the table playing soft piano music. Katy hadn't heard me enter so I slid silently onto a chair facing her back.
I realised she was cleaning the plates slowly and silently so that she could listen intently to the music. I wondered why at first, it sounded like no more than pleasant, twinkling background music to me. But then it began to turn darker and heavier, and more threatening. I realised she was humming along, struggling to lower her voice to match the piano's pitch. All at once it was beautiful and silly and cute, and I felt like a bitch for sitting there and silently grinning.
As the music began to subside into gentle twinkling again, I spoke.
"Who's it by?"
She jumped and dropped something into the sink, spinning on the spot to look at me. She froze and stammered, then regained her focus.
"Chopin. Ashnekazy, I think. Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."
I smiled. "It's okay. You have a lovely voice. Bass baritone, right?"
She giggled and blushed and turned away to pick up a towel and dry her hands.
"Sorry," she said again. "I always try to sing along, and my voice never fits. I know it's one of those cliché popular classics that everyone knows, but it's one of my favourites. The menace and the release... sorry, you don't care. Sorry. Did you need me for something?"
I couldn't stop grinning at her. "It's not a popular classic that I know. By the way, I've been glad to hear you've dropped the formal 'May I offer m'lady tiffin?' bollocks. That wasn't sexy."
Katy laughed, and I thought I saw a flicker of response to the word 'sexy'. "I'm glad too. I actually just ran out of vocabulary."
I laughed with her. "Carry on, by the way, I only wanted a chat."
As she turned back to the dishes, the music concluded and a voice murmured on the radio to confirm that Katy had identified it correctly. I stood and walked around the table to stand beside her. I folded my arms and leaned my hips against the worktop.
"I was also glad to see the special effort you've been making, the last few days."
"I've been trying..." Katy whispered, as though this conversation was a secret. "I remembered what you said... how you shouldn't have to discipline me or correct me. I want to... to be good. Christ, that sounds so silly." I decided she was whispering because she was embarrassed by what she was saying.
"It does, a little. But you're exactly right. Be proud of it. You've done well. It means a lot to me."
She finished the washing and dried her hands again. She turned towards me but looked down at her feet.
"I realised... you said... well, now you've told me how to ask for things I want, I don't need to... Well, I want to be proud of myself, not always misbehaving to get punished."
I reached up to touch her hair, delighted as ever by how soft it felt. "I was thinking about our talk too. We got distracted and I didn't ask everything I intended to. It wasn't important but I've been a little curious."
"Yes Miss Sophie?" If it's possible to smirk shyly, she did.
"I was wondering... no, I shouldn't be asking you like this... before I ask would you do something for me?"
"Yes Miss Sophie."
"Will you get down on your hands and knees please Katy?"
She tensed and bit her lip, her eyes glanced to the open doorway, but then fixed on my face. She looked excited and alarmed all at once. I returned her gaze with a gentle smile,and my hand caressed the back of her neck.
"Hands and knees please, sweetie."
She looked down and slowly reached her hands to the floor, her fingers pressing against the cold tiles. When she was on her knees I spoke softy again.
"Touch your face to the floor, sideways, so you can still look up."
Katy obeyed, and one large, slightly frightened eye swivelled to look up at me.
"And now your hands behind your back." Her hands arranged themselves neatly side by side on her raised hips. "Good girl," I said brightly, as though to a dog. I walked very slowly around this little figure on the floor, a full circuit, looking at her from every angle, stopping close to her face so that the glossy black toe of my shoe was an inch from Katy's lips. I was aware that she could have looked up my skirt, if she had dared.
"Oh, that's much better. I think you'll find it easier to answer now. So... do you masturbate?"
Katy blinked and her lips parted and closed several times.
"Oh, well, Madame... she doesn't allow..."
"No." I said firmly. "That wasn't the question. Do you masturbate?"
Her eye didn't stop looking at me. "No Miss Sophie. I haven't for a long time. Madame would be disappointed with me. But I have in the past."
I nodded, and smiled. "And you've been fucked, I'm sure. Cheeky little slut like you won't be a virgin."
"No Miss Sophie. I mean, yes. I have been. Not recently. Not often, actually."
"And the last question... do you orgasm?"
Now she closed her eyes. "No Miss-"
I tapped my foot and purred, "Look at me when you speak to me, Katy."
Her eye snapped open, and there was a hint of tears. "No Miss Sophie. No, I've never had... one. I've really tried, and I think I've been close, but I don't think I'm normal." She looked surprised at her own words. I was sure she was going to cry, either from sadness or humiliation. I returned to my chair and looked down at her, kneeling where I had left her.
"No, I think we can agree you're not normal. Okay, good. Get up off the floor, you've got work."
She rose gratefully and looked aimless for a moment, face bright red and a little bemused.
"Carry on, Katy. We'll talk again later. I think you should some to my room before bed tonight. Shower and change for bed at the proper time, then come and knock on my door."
Katy merely gaped for a moment.
"Shoo. Back to work."
Katy scurried away. I smiled and listened to the radio's latest popular cliché. I went back to my desk and spent the rest of the day pleasantly distracted, making plans for the evening.
-
I stepped out of the bath and walked naked into my bedroom. I let my body dry naturally, but used the hair-dryer until my hair was soft and warm, smiling at the memory of Katy doing the same. I put on white knickers and bra, and found the same t-shirt and soft, clinging jogging pants from the other day. I put them on and instinctively sat down to put on make-up, and then wondered if that was appropriate. This wasn't a date. This wasn't a seduction. I didn't have to please anyone. I satisfied myself that the lighting was warm and flattering.
I went to the drawers and took out a variety of scarves and belts, and draped them over the frame at the foot of the bed. I checked the bedside clock and saw that Katy was running late.
Just as I began to worry that I had scared her too much, there was a knocking at the door, so faint as to be little more than a breath.
"Come in."
The door swung slowly inwards, creaking a little, and there stood Katy. She was freshly washed, her hair a little damp and barely controlled by a set of bobby pins in mismatched colours, and she was dressed in pale blue cotton pyjamas. Her fingers gripped tightly to her cuffs.
Immediately I knew my self-control was going to be tested. This girl was beautiful and vulnerable, and prompted conflicting urges. Deferred gratification, that was the key. Be cool and measured for a little longer and the reward would be so much greater.