Restraint/s

***Hey all. Still working on the last chapter of Ben Loves a Challenge, it will come out next.

This story contains BDSM, sex work, spanking, bondage, and is mmf. Just a heads up.

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Penny***

Aisha checked her texts on her lunch break, then read it about ten times in a row. It didn't make sense to her, the words were wrong, Beth must have mistyped something, or sent it to her on accident, because it couldn't be for her. She was trying not to get her hopes up, trying not to crush her spirit, either.

"Jesus, Aisha," Ben snapped, leaning over her cube wall. "Sigh much? What's going on with all the sighing? Is this the 'best friend breakup' appointment you had last week?"

She flinched and Ben frowned. "Sorry, sorry. Seems like I hit a nerve."

He leaned back into his cubicle and she stood up, thrusting her phone in his general direction. "Ben, read this and tell me what you think it says."

Ben reached out and took it, then looked at the screen. "Um. What?"

"Read the text, and tell me what you think it means," she repeated.

"Um, seems like Beth, that's your, dom, ah, other boss, right? Seems like she's telling you about an appointment you have on Friday night with, um, D and M?"

"Do you think it's for me?"

"Ah, yeah, like, it's to you, and on your phone. So, why wouldn't it be for you?"

She paced her small cubicle. "Can we go for a walk?"

"Sure, but I'm meeting Dean in half an hour. You're welcome to come, if you wanted."

She hoped the look she shot him spoke her doubts on that topic. "Ah, no."

"Seriously, he wouldn't mind." She made her best 'yeah right' face and he shrugged. "Suit yourself." He grabbed his coat, and she grabbed hers, then rushed out of the building, passing him in the process. "Slow down," he called after her, barely catching the door as it shut in his face. "Aisha, what's up?"

"Arrey, Ben, like, I messed that one up, totally. The 'best friend break up' appointment ended up being a two for one deal. Like, Beth brought them both back, and it was just an interview and meet and greet and then I got carried away, like the mood felt good, and I scened with them both, and I shouldn't have, but it was so hot, like, it felt like I should, and I thought, like they seemed really into it and-"

"Woah, hold up. Lots to unpack. So, the dude brought his best friend, then came into the room with him?"

"Um, yeah, like he came for, ah, 'moral support'. Guess he was just gonna wait for him like we have a fucking lobby or something. But then Beth brought him back, and I don't know why, but he hit some dom button in me and I started punishing him, like, he gave me an out and I didn't take it and I don't know why, it was weird, right, but-"

"Aisha, slow up," Ben complained, slightly jogging to keep up with her as she speed-walked around the parking lot. "Also, slow down, too."

She paused, letting him catch up. "I fucked up, Ben."

"Why do you think you fucked up?"

She sighed. "I eavesdropped after the session, and the client said I'd broken him."

"Isn't that the point, like to be mean and shit?"

She turned on him, frowning hard. "No, I mean, yeah, but, not to break someone. I fucked up, and I don't know how, like it felt good, natural. They responded so well to me-"

"They?"

"I already told you," she snapped, then caught herself when he flinched. "Sorry, Ben. I, like, I don't know why, but I kept him, the friend, he went to leave, asked to leave, but, like." She sighed again. "I didn't let him leave, like I told him to stay and he did. I sessioned with both of them."

"That sounds... unusual?"

"Very," she said, then started walking again, unable to keep her nervous energy bottled up. "And he stayed, he could've left, but he stayed, and the vibe was awesome. It was the best session I've ever done, easily. Like, I wanted them to like it as much as I did, Ben, and they didn't, and I didn't even realize. I'm a terrible dominatrix."

She felt like crying. As it was, a tear welled in the corner of her eye. She wiped at it aggressively, then held her breath so she didn't break down.

It was Ben's turn to sigh. "If they didn't like it, that doesn't make you a terrible dominatrix. It just means their kinks weren't your kinks."

"It's my job as a Professional to know their kinks, and to cater to them, not my own shit. It just, like, it was so easy! They melted for me, or I thought they did, but apparently they didn't think so."

Ben chewed on this for a second, then narrowed his eyes. "Um, what's this have to do with Beth's text?"

"That's them! D and M! There's no way they want another session with me, like, he said I'd broken him! I heard him say it."

"Are you sure?" Did they tell you that, or are you making assumptions?"

"No, I told you, I was listening through the door. I should've had Derrick leave, I shouldn't have scened with them both."

"Why didn't you, then? Make him leave, I mean."

She ran her fingers through her hair, then caught her braid on her rings. It tangled it beyond redemption. "I don't know. I wanted to, I just, like... I don't know. It felt so right, it felt... I wanted it to be right, I guess. I feel like them not liking the session broke me. Maybe I'm not cut out for this, maybe Beth's right..." She let her thought trail off as she unbraided her hair with one hand, trying to untangle her rings with the other. Her failure hurt too much to say it out loud.

"Did Beth tell you she didn't think you were cut out to be a dominatrix?"

She shook her head, which tugged painfully in her still knotted hair. "No, yes, kinda. I dunno."

"Look, text her back and confirm it was for you. If it was, maybe they weren't as disappointed as you thought they were. Maybe you misunderstood them."

"Maybe they want to get back at me for a terrible session." They'd looped the parking lot three times now, and the cold was cutting into her legging. "Let's go back, I'm too cold for this."

Ben nodded and followed her lead. "Did they tip? Like, is that a thing, you said the one guy, the cake guy tipped you the same cost as his session, right? Is tipping normal?"

"They didn't tip," she said, feeling like the words were nails in her coffin of hope that she hadn't fucked up their session terribly. "And they didn't fill out a card."

"A card?"

"Comment card. Like, a 'how was your service' kind of card. It's something my dungeon does, to help us improve, or make people more comfortable."

She pulled the door open and the warm air felt wonderful on her cold cheeks. Ben followed her in and they walked in silence back to their zone in the cubicle community. "Text her back, get clarification. Even if you fucked it up, it's not the end of the world, yea?"

"Says you," she grumbled, but she was already texting Beth with half-frozen fingers. They settled back into their habitats. Dean came by a short time later and collected Ben, and it only made her a little forlorn that she didn't have someone who cared for her like Dean did for Ben.

She squeaked when her phone chirped, then stood up and ran to Ben's cube, already forgetting he was gone. The text on her phone had her both terrified and excited at the same time and she wished Ben was there so she could show him, could get his opinion.

'Confirmed, your next appt is Friday at 9 with MM and DR. Room D. No requests.'

***

Had she thought she was nervous for what she was now referring to as her 'two for one special' clients before? Because it wasn't even time for their session yet, which she still didn't fully believe was even going to happen, and she was climbing the walls. She'd gone through her entire wardrobe, every corset she owned, then matched them with bottoms, short shorts, frilly boyshorts, short and medium skirts, even a pair of shiny black leggings, but everything was wrong.

Why did this session feel so damn important? Why did it mean so much to her? She sighed, then pulled on her favorite corset, navy blue with silver metal clasps that held it together in the front, and tiny flowers embroidered in silver thread. The pair of shiny leggings made the cut, though she made sure the lace from her thong peeked over the edges on her hips. Her hair came back into a tight, braided bun, then she checked her makeup, which was on point.

It took everything she had not to pace the room. Beth's soft warning knock made her jump, and she barely got herself under control as the door swung open. Like before, Miles came in first, followed by Derrick. They both avoided looking at her as Beth shut the door behind them.

"I hope it's, ah. Like, I hope it's okay that, like, I'm here again," Derrick stammered, studying her feet.

"Mistress Beth wouldn't have let you in if it wasn't," she said, standing up straighter. "Do you want to be here?"

His shoulders bunched up as he shrugged, still studying her black boots. She debated internally, afraid to scare them off, still unsure about why they were here if she broke them last time, but delighted to have a chance to redeem herself.

"Before we begin, do you have any feedback from last time, or questions, or requests?"

Derrick shook his head and she had to stop herself from frowning. Miles surprised her, though, meeting her gaze when she turned to look at him.

"Mistress," he began, locking eyes with her, though he was wringing his hands nervously. "Last time. Um. I'm, ah," he looked away, his cheeks blotchy pink patches. "I have a hard time, um, asking for. Or, like. I have a hard time talking about what I want." He rushed the last part, as if it took all of his willpower to say it, then cast his eyes down again.

"Okay," she said, trying not to sound stern. "What do you think would help you communicate your needs to me?"

He shivered. "I don't know," he admitted. "I, um." She and Derrick were both watching him now, waiting to hear what he had to say. Miles seemed to sway under the pressure of their combined scrutiny.

"Is it hard for you to use your safewords, the colors?"

He shook his head. "No, not that. Um. Last time. You, ah. You know. The... the paddle."

She waited for him to continue but he didn't. "Did you like the paddle?" He nodded his head enthusiastically. "You liked it? For real?"

"I liked it, Mistress," he whispered, dancing from foot to foot with nervous energy. "I want more."

It took a moment for her to fully process what he'd just said, because it was the last thing she expected to hear. "You liked it? But, you, like, are you sure? This is about you, I want this to meet your needs."

"I liked it, Mistress," he repeated. "But, it wasn't enough. Not, um. Not hard enough."

She stood there dumbfounded for a second, a deer in kink-tinted headlights. "You want it harder?"

"Yes, Mistress," he said, louder this time, as if the seal had been broken and now he could let out what he'd pent up inside.

"What about you?"

Derrick flinched as if he hadn't been expecting her to question him again. "Um. It hurt. It was, um. I liked watching."

Things weren't adding up in her mind, so she stopped thinking about it too hard. "Do you like him watching as you get spanked?"

"Yes, Mistress," Miles replied.

She nodded, rethinking the scene she'd planned out. "Okay. Miles, I want you to pick out four implements you would like to try to be spanked with. Then I want you both to strip down, completely naked, and once you're done, you will stand at attention for me. Do you understand?"

They both replied, but the timing was off and they spoke over one another. "No, no, not like that. Together. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress!" they replied, closer to in unison, but still not quite there. It would be fun to teach them that trick, but another time.

They stood there, Miles's eyes locked on her cleavage, and Derrick's on her boots. "Well? What are you waiting for?" she barked. They jumped into motion. She noticed Miles stripped first, folding his clothes neatly and placing them under the table before heading to the small section of spanking tools. Derrick seemed to be in shock, so he was a little slower in removing his clothing. He was not so neat at folding his clothes, but he really was trying.

Derrick stood facing her, already at half-mast. He studied her boots, but his shoulders were high, so she let it go. It took Miles a while to pick his four implements, longer than she expected, so long that Derrick started shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Stand still," she warned, her voice low, just for Derrick, but Miles heard it, too, and flinched.

He hurriedly picked his last implement and joined Derrick at attention. "Sorry," he whispered to Derrick.

"No talking to each other unless I tell you to, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," they said, again, not quite in unison, but getting there.

"Good. Miles, let me see what you've picked." She held her hand out and he awkwardly gave them over. "Hmm... Was last time your first time ever being spanked?"

"Yes, Mistress," Miles said.

Derrick shook his head, and a second later replied, "Dad used to hit me with a belt when I was bad. Or a stick. Sometimes his hat. His hat, the trucker kind, had a little beanie on it and it would leave welts..." He trailed off, full of nervous energy.

"Derrick, do you like the idea of being bound and forced to watch Miles's spanking today?"

He swallowed three times before he could answer. "Yes, Mistress. Is, um. That's not, like, gay, is it?"

"Do you think it makes you gay?" she asked, unsure if this was part of his scene or if he really was struggling.

"I dunno, Mistress," he admitted, shuffling his feet, his shoulders hunched again. "I, like. It's hot. Really hot. But, like, shouldn't I not wanna see it on a guy?"

"Would you rather session separately?"

"God no," he insisted. "This, like. I like it, just, I don't wanna seem, like-"

"Stop," she interrupted, firm but not harsh. "In this room, between us, there is no straight, no gay. There is only pain and pleasure. There are only the three of us, and we are here, in the time you have with me, to do what you want, what you can't find elsewhere. This is a safe space, the safest space you'll ever be in. You are in charge. Your desires, I'll grant them. No one here will judge you, and you shouldn't feel ashamed of your desires unless you want to feel shame. Okay?"

"Yes, Mistress," he whispered. "Thank you."

"Good. Do either of you have anything else to say before we begin?" They both shook their heads, eyes cast down. "Okay. Let's start by tying you up, Derrick." She put the implements down on the table, similar to the one in the room they used last time, but this one had a padded, built-in kneeling bench on the side.

Derrick trembled, but stood his ground as she walked by him towards a discreet black storage unit. She opened the cabinet doors and peered inside, looking for something good to bind him.

It was an easy choice with someone so new. She picked simple black leather cuffs, wrist and ankle, that were lined with felt so they would be soft on his skin. Next, she grabbed four carabiners and some short lengths of chain, then shut the cabinet door behind her.

"Derrick, here," she commanded, her voice soft. He hesitated, then took a tentative step forward, then another, until he was standing in front of her, his cock now fully engorged, a tiny bead of precum already blessing the tip. She knelt down and quickly cuffed his ankles, then wrapped the chains through the metal ring and looped them through the D rings. She let them hang by his feet and slowly stood up, taking a second to admire his cock in passing, blowing a soft breath on it that had his hips jutting forward impulsively.

She laughed, then reached for his left arm. He was shaking, she hadn't felt it when she'd cuffed his ankles, but his arms were shaking. "Color?"

"Green," he growled. She nodded, then cuffed his right wrist.

"Here," she said, pointing to the St Andrew's Cross. "Back against the center." He moved woodenly, but eventually was in place, his bare buttocks pressed against the wood where it crossed. She hooked his carabiners to the eyehooks that were strategically placed along the top and bottom of the cross so that he stood in the center, his arms and legs spread wide.

There was a clink of metal as he tested his bonds, they always tested their bonds. His whimper of helplessness made her laugh, but also brought a twinge of excitement to her loins. He looked so good on the cross, she wanted to tease and torture him, wanted to tickle him and pinch him, wanted to run her nails over his skin and clothes pin his nipples.

She held herself back, Miles was waiting for her, and Derrick's turn would come. "Miles, let's see what you picked out... Wow. You, um. I'm not sure you're quite ready for this one," she said, pulling the bamboo cane to the side. "I guess we'll see. The crop is good, I like a good crop. A paddle, traditional." The plastic paddle, six inches long past the handle with five small holes drilled into it, was kind of boring, in her opinion, so she pushed it to the side for now.

The next one she picked up made her smile. "A hairbrush?" She held up the hairbrush, it was on the larger side, dark red wood with horsehair bristles. Hair brushes were the staple of good spanking fetishes. They were commonplace, something everyone had, something that had a more feminine connotation, something innocent looking. But, also, something that could really hurt. She loved everything about spanking with a hairbrush.

"Yes, Mistress," Miles mumbled, his face burning. She liked how his cheeks looked when they were pink, and she was ready to give him a second matching set.

She almost sent him to kneel on the table, but changed her mind at the last minute. For some reason she wanted to warm him up with her hand, something she'd never done with a client before, partially because no one had ever asked, but mostly because she'd never wanted to before.

But, with Miles, it was different. She didn't know why, it just was. And with Derrick watching... It made her want to show off, want to tease them both until they were mushy puddles of men. She wanted to touch them as she melted them into something different. Something new.

Aisha moved to the corner and pulled out the wooden chair, the kind commonly matched with a nice dining room table, then moved it to a clear spot in the room. A quick glance at Derrick had her adjusting its position before she sat down, then patted her legs. "Come here, Miles."

Miles had the courtesy to look confused. "Mistress?"

"Over my lap, boy!" she snapped, patting her leg with the hairbrush. Honestly she'd forgotten it was in her hand, but she liked the idea of moving from her hand to the hairbrush, so it worked out. She tucked it between her ass and the chair for safe keeping.

"Yes Mistress," Miles said, his voice cracking a little. He moved awkwardly, his eager cock bouncing with each step. Unsure of how to proceed, he hesitated in front of her. "Lie down on my lap, boy!"

His dick bobbed eagerly each time she called him boy, egging her on, as if she needed encouragement. It took him a few seconds to figure out how to mount her lap for a spanking, but she managed to pull him into place. His cock wedged between her legs and it took everything she had not to moan. These men didn't need to know how turned on she was before they had even really started.

The sound of chains shifting drew her vision back to Derrick. He was shifting uncomfortably, his eyes glued on Miles's pale ass, or maybe her cleavage, or maybe both. A long strand of clear precum hung from his tip, pointing straight at them. "Do you have a good view from there, Derrick?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes, Mistress."

"If you can't see, or need me to reposition so you can see better, all you have to do is say yellow and I'll move. Understand?"