Part 4 – Decisions
Stone floors really weren’t made to be slept on, Catherine thought for perhaps the thousandth time on the night. Still, with how sleep deprived and exhausted she was, she should be asleep by now. It had been at least a few hours since Lia left her chained to the wall in this tiny stone room filled with the devices of her nightmares and dreams. In the total blackness of her cell, her mind roiled with turmoil. Thoughts crashing in violent waves across her mind.
Like much of her fantasies come to life over the past few days, now was a perplexing mix of emotions. These last few days had been surreal. She’d gotten to live out fantasies long held and that she never expected to be realized. It had been wonderfully arousing, and yet many of those dream moments had turned out to be less fun when made reality. The drudgery of being a prisoner, the constant ache, the denial of pleasure, and the cutting pain, all mixing in a strange fusion that left her unsure of how exactly she felt about it.
And all of that was before considering the real issue. Her warden in this little prison fantasy, Lia herself. She’d gone from wide eyed and surprised damsel in distress when they met a couple nights ago to seeming to be a sadistic, or at least stern, jailor, and now those masks had both faded away for Catherine to see the inexperienced and confused young woman beneath. One ascribing misplaced romantic inclinations toward her just because she was likely the first fellow kinkster Lia had met.
Catherine couldn’t deny it was easy to let the intoxicating intensity of their shared fetish go to their heads. She herself was quite tempted to pursue the young woman. Catherine sighed in the dark room, the hushed sound dashing against the stone. I won’t take advantage of her naivete. I won’t be like her, Vivian, Catherine said to herself in a moment of stern resolve. A flash of a memory at her first serious relationship. It had been a non-kinky one, but one that had left her more battered than any misguided sadist partner she’d played with. Catherine reminded herself, You know how easy and unfair it is to manipulate an un-tempered heart. You need to stop this game for her sake before you dig the hole ever deeper, before it hurts anyone. Catherine felt a sickening sadness in her chest.
And yet, she didn’t want to. Partly, it was a selfish desire to keep enjoying this. To risk more mixed signals of what this was for the erotic highs of this game they were playing. But doubt was there too, admittedly. Catherine had been certain that what she was asking Lia to do was weighing on the young woman’s soul. She’d believed that it was born out of some want to seek Catherine’s approval. But Catherine, laying here with nothing to do but think, was starting to reconsider it. Was she just being conceited that she had such an effect on the young woman? Had it not been Lia who pressed for pain in their play, even after Catherine had mentioned she only liked the illusion or threat of bodily harm? There had been hesitancy in Lia’s eyes during some of the punishments, right? Though hadn’t there been lust there as well? Or was that the imagined emotion? Sleep deprived and drained, everything was becoming muddy in her mind.
Catherine rolled onto her side, one hand brushing against the other’s raw wrist. A memory of the kindness, the tenderness demonstrated by her pretend jailor. How could someone be so sweet, but also want to inflict such sadistic torture? Didn’t that mean that the stern captor was a façade, an act meant to play into a misguided assumption of what Catherine wanted? Not to mention Lia had been in self-bondage when they met confounding things further.
A heat arose behind her chastity belt at that particular recent memory. Lia had looked so good, especially when she climaxed while Catherine struggled in her own bonds. A sore hand frustratingly danced across cold metal. The inability to do anything about her own desire only added to the flames. Didn’t that self-bondage thought mean she wasn’t a dom, but a submissive like her?
She could be a switch, Catherine conceded, and Lia made for such a perfect jailor. The stern looks, the dismissiveness, and the degradation. The uncaring way she made Catherine do menial, pointless physical labor. The blithe way she had left her standing in that cage for so long the first day, like a forgotten, discarded object. A fairly loud moan escaped Catherine’s lips, a hand playing at her own chest. She might not be able to sate her baser hunger, but the memories forged from the previous days could help bring her close nonetheless. A flash of the looks of gleeful anticipation on Lia’s face, the fear of the wooden horse, the perfect limit pressing stretch of the rack.
Another louder groan, followed by a high whine of frustration. Right now, she’d let Lia do anything, whip her, beat her, burn her, if that cute young woman would give her the climax so desperately sought. Catherine bit the inside of her cheek, an old bad habit she used to do when frustrated or angry in her youth, and one that she hadn’t done in years.
Get your head together, Catherine admonished herself. What am I to do? Which Lia was real? Maybe both? Or neither? Should she let this game play out or call it now? Nothing seemed to make sense here in this darkness, in this place without light, without direction. Lost in turmoil, Catherine nearly didn’t register a strange sound, the door lock turning. She froze. There was the slightest creak of a door opening. Was her mind now hallucinating noises? Did she hear the light padding of bare feet? Catherine tried to focus her vision in the dark, but it was useless.
She strained to hear another sound, and there it was. A few low, quiet pants. Then more. Sudden unmistakable inhales, and the breathy shudder of a failed attempt to hide an orgasm. Then the less stealthy patter of retreating footfalls. The less cautious creak of a closing door. The undeniable click of a lock.
Catherine remained unmoving and wordless. She wasn’t sure what else to do. Knowing what had transpired brought a rush to her delirious desire that sought to consume her.
She should call all of this off. She and Lia weren’t thinking clearly. But weren’t they both consenting adults in this? She wanted to keep this rarity of a moment alive. What was the right call? Catherine tried to think, but exhaustion overtook her, and as her mind swirled with what to do, she faded into much needed dreamless deep sleep.
She awoke with the nudge of a boot to her side, and a flat “Guten morgen, prisoner.” Groggy, sleep-filled eyes parted and tried to focus in flickering torchlight. A cold bowl of porridge sat between two rich leather boots. Boots that were attached to a young, beautiful jailor, dark eyes trying to seem disaffected, but filled with emotions.
What a way to awake Catherine mused. “You should eat quickly. You’ll be in that while I make some preparations for today.” Lia flicked her chin to a small flat iron cage caked in a smattering of rust. It looked far too small for the auburn-haired woman to fit in. She’d certainly have to be hunched over in little more than a human ball to even have a chance. It was an oddly clear thought in an otherwise fogged mind.
Wasn’t there something she needed to say? Right, she should say her safe word, end this, but the way Lia stood resolute, the confidence once more in her voice, Catherine couldn’t help but capitulate to her orders. She hastily looked around for a spoon for the bland-looking porridge. When none materialized, she looked up expectantly to the woman straddling the bowl. The only response was a raised eyebrow, daring the older woman to say something.
It cowed Catherine instantly, and she began eating with her bare hands. Hunger took over as she shoveled mouthfuls of the gruel greedily into her mouth. It was humiliating eating like this; the bowl and her head between her captor’s legs. The idea of moving the food from underneath Lia never crossed her mind as the degrading act spiked desire through her body. That arousal cast out, for a moment at least, the question of stopping this game. Once finished, even having licked the mush from her hands, Catherine crawled back slightly and resumed the position Lia expected of her on her knees, hands behind the back of her head, and eyes to the floor.
The young German let the tension of the moment build in silence. Catherine wondered if she should say something. Call for a break to discuss her thoughts potentially, but her lips refused to part. Finally, the dreaded quiet broke without ceremony. “Sadly, my prisoner, it is raining this morning, so we cannot resume your work.” Catherine didn’t dare look up. She simply listened, though her sore body seemed to reflexively sigh with relief at the reprieve.
“But, I am thinking that you should not miss your fresh air, so I will need to prepare something in the courtyard for you.” Anticipation and a hint of fear flickered in Catherine’s mind. What could those words mean?
Soft hands unlocked the chain affixing the English woman to the wall. An emotionless voice commanded her, “Cage, now. Crawl.” Without looking up, Catherine did as she was bid. At the cage she scrunched low, aching knees and back pressing against abrasive and brittle rusted iron. When her head pushed against the end of the cage, she stopped her shuffle. A small tap from a boot caused her to crush herself further. Head turning down and inward, knees scooting forward slightly, feet now pressing firmly into her buttocks. The cage door swung down with a harsh clang. A rattle of metal on metal made clear a lock had been applied. Her feet pressed backward, trying to stretch out only to move a few centimeters before being halted by rusted iron. Her elbows pinned to her sides, she splayed her hands out, fingers wrapping around the lattice of metal to claim some unused space.
Catherine was now trapped in this claustrophobic and inhuman cage. The effect was practically instant. Her sealed away sex was slick once more, and no doubt the game would continue for the moment. How maddeningly she wished she could relieve her need. Soon, her world turned dark as Lia draped a tarp over the cage. “Prisoners don’t need to see their fate before it’s ready.”
Again, Catherine was left with uncertainty. She listened as, over the course of several minutes, Lia grunted and strained to move something out of the room. It sounded heavy, like wood scraping across stone. What piece was she moving? Catherine tried to review her mental image of the room. The torture chair was too large and heavy to move much. The wooden horse? Hopefully not. She thought of a few more, but there was no way for her to be certain. Eventually, the labored exertions of her captor faded away, leaving the English woman to her thoughts.
She allowed herself to slip into a fantasy in her cramped cage. She imagined herself a condemned prisoner awaiting a public execution before clamoring masses. In truth, she was awaiting some sort of punishment. She was sure of that, at least. The blurring of fantasy and reality, along with the ever-oppressive metal enclosure, helped build a heady feeling deep inside her. If only she could reach her most private of places, she was sure she would have a mind-blowing orgasm. That was impossible, though, fueling further waves of need. It was an awful paradox of building desire that promised never to culminate.
How wicked of my warden, Catherine mused. The thought ripped her back, if still partially distracted, to her earlier trepidation. Lia, she was doing so much, and Catherine’s concerns about what this was doing to the woman remained. Should she call this now? She wanted so desperately to learn and experience her fate as Lia’s prisoner. To see what new torment or mundane task awaited her. But wasn’t that selfish? What if, to impress her, Lia did something one or both of them regretted? Wouldn’t it be more prudent to forgo it all and rip away the bandage, so to speak?
As time slipped away and the cramping of her contorted and compressed body claimed her, Catherine continued to reflect, but could not settle on a decision. Unable to reconcile her warring thoughts, she froze when Lia pulled away the tarp and opened the cage. “Out!”
Catherine began worming her way backwards. She was going as fast as her aching body allowed. It must not have been fast enough though, as a few light kicks from Lia rattled the cage and reinforcing the command. Catherine emerged and was immediately pulled to her feet, the cage door dropping back into place behind her. Lia attached a rope to her collar in silence.
Catherine looked to her jailor, severe, but her eyes continued to show more. They dropped for a moment to Catherine’s raw wrists. Lia seemed to realize the continued issue there, as only leg irons were applied today. Her wrists remained unfettered. “Ready for some fresh air, prisoner?”
Catherine hesitated. Should she end this now or let it play out a bit longer? Her hesitancy was met with the same question, but a waver creeped into Lia’s voice. “I said, ready for some fresh air, prisoner?”
It couldn’t hurt to let this go just a little longer, right? “Yes, Ms. Richter.”
The younger woman turned and led Catherine by the rope, her steps restricted by the restraints. She shuffled along, trying to keep up. As they neared the now familiar door to the small yard of the castle, she felt anticipation about what lay beyond, what Lia had strained to move there from the dungeon. Catherine realized in hindsight that she could have tried to look about to see what was missing earlier, but she hadn’t. Her eyes either on the floor or on Lia.
As the other woman pushed the door open, Catherine took a deep breath, shambling after. It was indeed raining. Thankfully, it was a light and warm-ish summer rain. It honestly felt good. She hadn’t had a bath in a few days. That, combined with the hard work and dusty accommodations, meant Catherine was caked in grime. And as the rain pattered against her, she could feel some of that filth washing away. The weight of the past few days lightened, literally.
She must have slowed, luxuriating in the feeling, for she felt a hard tug at her neck that caused her to stumble forward. It also caused her gaze to fall upon the heart of the small space between the central structure and the front gate. There standing resolute and resplendent was the pillory from the first night.
Catherine’s heart beat a little faster. She knew she probably should stop this game, but seeing the object of her initial self-bondage plot, and that had once held her current captor, it beckoned to her. It was impossible to feel anything other than ominous arousal. She looked to Lia who seemed to have a smug smile, but also the faintest hint of, was it hesitancy?
The English woman excitedly squelched and splashed through the puddles that had formed in the yard. She followed her jailor until they stood before the pillory. The rope was removed. Catherine stood wet in more ways than one, mesmerized by the pillory. It was open, awaiting a new tenant. Catherine would be one in a long line of victims, though she would likely only be its second ever willing victim.
Lia retrieved a set of modern padded cuffs from a bag stashed under a nearby temporary tent. She wrapped them around Catherine’s tender wrists. The padding made them surprisingly soft. Catherine wondered where such anachronistic items had come from, but was grateful for them as they didn’t seem to really inflame the injuries.
Catherine was completely submerged in the scene. Her worries distant echoes to her desires, her fantasies. She let the young woman guide her arms and neck into place. Lia slotted in the top half of the pillory’s upper stocks. A familiar click signaling the pillory was now secured, frisson spreading across the English woman’s body. Catherine was now nude, save for the chastity belt, in the open air, bent over and exposed, heels slightly off the wet ground, and at her captor’s complete mercy. She couldn’t help letting out a moan. Oddly embarrassed at the lack of composure, she hoped that Lia didn’t hear that little sound. No acknowledgment came, so maybe it had been lost against the backdrop of the rain.
Catherine pulled at the wooden contraption, the modern cuffs adding enough width to prevent her from escaping. Lia soon came into view, and Catherine strained to look up at the brunette. The iron collar around her neck and the pillory combining to deny her full range of mobility. She couldn’t quite see Lia’s face, but the would-be captor recognized this and dropped into a squat. Her brown eyes held what Catherine could only describe as lust mixed with trepidation. She was hiding something beneath her raincoat. Lia huffed and seemed to center herself.
“So, since you can’t do your labour for now, prisoner, I thought we would test your resolve and remind you of your place. Sadly, we have no oubliette to forget you in, so this will have to do.” Her jaw set, no predatory smirk this time, as she withdrew a metal object from her coat, one Catherine recognized instantly and that made her blood run icy while intensifying the burn between her legs. It was an object referred to often as a pear of anguish. It was an item she had fantasized about many times before, though never experienced. The illogical part of her mind brimmed with excitement at another dark fantasy being made real, but the more practical part of her mind worried that she would not be able to endure the pain.
Lia spoke less with her domineering jailor persona, but instead fell slightly back towards her informative tour guide voice. “This little object, as you are most likely aware, is the pear of anguish or choke pear. I assume you know that its use as a torture device is highly disputed, with many modern scholars asserting it was later reimagined as a perverse interrogation tool, and thus it is another example of the exaggerated perception of cruelty in the dark ages.”
The English captive knew this debate and generally agreed, for what it was worth, with the more modern scholarship. That hadn’t changed the fact it had dwelt in her demented dreams. The idea of the pear being shoved into one of her orifices and slowly cranked open, building pressure and pain as it went. She knew she really couldn’t handle that, and her safe word would absolutely be needed if Lia intended to use it as a torture device. Still, it did make her horny to think about it.
“Now, prisoner, I am going to give you a chance to avoid learning firsthand if it is an effective torture device or not.”
Lia must have seen the quizzical look etched on Catherine’s face, the barest hint of a smile at the corners of the German’s thin lips. Catherine shifted her feet on the soft ground and tried to flick away some of her wet tangle of auburn hair. It was a futile effort, but in what appeared to be a moment of tenderness, Lia reached up and brushed a mass of Catherine’s hair behind one ear before continuing her explanation. “Let me clarify. I am going to have you hold it in your mouth. You will keep it there until the rain ends and we can resume your work. I will wait under the tent to observe, and every so often I might make things more interesting. If you fail, then I will do a little exercise to test just how effective it is as a torture device, and I’ll also give you 10 lashes with the whip. So, any questions before you cannot speak, prisoner?”
Catherine had a few, if she were being honest. What if the rain didn’t end until the next day? What if she needed to use the restroom? If she failed, where exactly would this suspect, but terrifying, object be used precisely? But the one she ultimately asked was, “Ms. Richter, what happens if I manage to succeed?” It was a loaded question, but one clearly not established by her captor thus far. Catherine hoped perhaps the chastity belt might be taken away so she could actually get a damn orgasm with how aroused she had been.
Lia looked at her with a bemused and patronizing look. “Nothing. I hope you weren’t thinking you will get a reward for doing as you are told. That is expected of a prisoner.” The line was delivered flatly, but with a smug undertone. Catherine shuddered. Honestly, it was a perfect response to set her alight.
Maybe I really have misjudged this young lady. She’s too good at this roleplay. Maybe she is more experienced than I’ve assumed. Or maybe you are just projecting your own selfish desires on her and allowing her to go beyond her own personal limits to just sate your needs? Like how Vivian did with you all those years ago. Just continuing the cycle, hmm Catherine?
Lia held the item to the captive’s lips. Reflexively, her mouth opened and accepted the metal object. Fully closed, as it was now, it easily fit in her mouth, but would require her to clench her jaw slightly to prevent it from slipping free. It wasn’t difficult exactly, but with time it would become an agony. She asked herself how long she could actually keep it up. A part of her mind screamed, as long as you need to because you won’t be able to handle the consequences if you don’t.
The younger woman gave Catherine’s cheek a small pat, eliciting a moan from the auburn-haired woman. “Careful,” Lia said before walking over to the tent, sitting down in a familiar folding chair. It was perfectly positioned so if Catherine turned her head to the left, she could easily see Lia already reading a book as if the bound woman would bore her. Another spike coursed through the pilloried woman at the dismissive treatment. It was just too good.
It didn’t take much effort to hold the object in her mouth to begin with. Instead, the greater issue to start with came from Catherine’s battered body. Everything hurt, to be honest. The soft cuffs around her wrists were wonderful, but the tender flesh beneath still burned with the damage that had already taken place. Her neck felt stiff, trapped in iron and wood. Her back bowed and flexed at the odd uncomfortable angle, the rigor of the past day and her morning confinement making it so much worse. Her thighs and calves were already experiencing slight trembling and forewarning future cramps.
Like her back, her legs were still not recovered from yesterday. Catherine wanted to curse that this wasn’t a few years earlier when she was still in her twenties. Now on the other side of 30, Catherine had noticed her body didn’t recover as quickly as it once did. Aches lingered, exhaustion could even remain after a good night’s rest, and she certainly hadn’t gotten that over the past few days. She had no way to tell time, but in less than a half hour, her entire body was in anguish, distracting her from her task. More than once, a particularly loud groan threatened to loosen her grip on the intruder. Any slight mistake could doom her without the use of her hands.
Catherine’s arousal had continued, but the growing pains in her body were beginning to overwhelm it bit by bit, minute by minute. When Lia announced it had been a full half an hour, Catherine let out an exasperated noise. It had felt at least double that. Her frustration with the slow tick of time soon became a secondary concern, though. Lia’s hands appeared and reached for the end of the pear. At first, a confused Catherine thought Lia was about to start opening the item while it was inside her mouth, but she realized Lia had some string attached to a small round and dark item. The thin hands obstructed her concerned vision from seeing exactly what it all was and what Lia was doing.
Then suddenly a tug came from the protruding part of the pear. The captive managed to clamp down with her mouth, but the pear had slipped ever so slightly out of her mouth. Her vision went cross as she tried to focus on what had been added. Lia had tied a small fishing weight to the end, it appeared. Catherine’s heart sank. She was clever enough to see where this was going. Before Lia returned for a second addition at an hour, the rain picked up. Water now streamed down parts of the English woman’s restrained body. The most infuriating were the two rivulets that met at her chin.
At the one hour mark, a second weight was unsurprisingly applied. Catherine whined at the extra heft. She clenched her jaw tighter. She was in a bad place already. Her legs were constantly trembling and even starting to cramp. Her hands flexing more out of desperation than any purpose. Through it all, Lia hadn’t said a word.
Before a third weight could be added, Catherine’s jaw gave. It wasn’t all at once, though. A slight shift of her smashed tongue under the saliva coated device caused it to nearly drop out of her mouth. She had managed to hold on at the last possible second, but it meant holding the pear with a great deal more force, an untenable reality. Slowly it kept sliding by tiny increments. Then finally her jaw could last no more. The pear slipped and fell to the soaked ground.
Working her jaw, Catherine stared down at her failure. Her body shivered, not from being cold, but from the anticipation. Lia took her time returning to the front of the pillory. At first, she squatted and simply looked into Catherine's panicking eyes. It was hard for the willing captive to focus enough to discern much. She considered using her safe word, but didn’t for reasons unknown to the fear filled woman. She was practically hyperventilating when Lia’s hand ran over her soaked hair in a reassuring gesture. The sadistic jail warden persona was gone. “It’s okay. I’ll check in after each stroke.”
Was that supposed to reassure her? Catherine wondered. It seemed that would only prolong her suffering. Lia rose, whip menacingly curled around her hand, and disappeared around the back of the pillory. She didn’t want to be whipped, but that seemed to be her fate. She couldn’t deny a certain degree of desire still filled her. Maybe this time the repeated states of extended arousal without release would let her mind overcome the matter of pain she tried to rationalize. Then Catherine’s world went white. Pain radiated out from an epicenter on her left ass cheek, but oh, did it not stay there. The piercing sensation ricocheted through her outer extremities and back down to the source. The horniness was gone instantly. She gasped, but couldn’t form words.
At some point Lia petted her head again, soft reassurances uttered before the jailor made her way back behind again. Dread filled Catherine. She tensed her muscles in anticipation. She should call it. This was too much for her, whether up to this point had been unfair to Lia or not. Say the sodding word, woman, she screamed to herself. Before she could find the coordination to say the singular syllable to save herself, Catherine felt the bite of the whip again. It hit the soft spot where her thigh met her right butt cheek. Her exhausted body coiled and roiled at the pain. This time, though, words sprung forth when she called upon them. “Fuck! RED! Fucking red! I said red!” She was sobbing between desperate words. She was a wreck, as Lia frenetically released her from her bonds.
Catherine wasn’t sure how it happened, but when her panic attack subsided, she found herself under the tent, a blanket draped over her shoulders, Lia hugging her from behind. She became aware of a string of English and German words spewing from the younger woman in a cadence not that dissimilar of Catherine’s own in her panicked moments before. “Es tut mir leid. Es tut mir leid. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I-I just…es tut mir leid. I didn’t kn-know. Es tut mir leid…Ich habe gemerkt…es tut mir leid…”
A strange clarity gripped Catherine. A serenity that she had no right to. She reached up with one hand and squeezed Lia’s shoulder behind her. In a soothing voice like a mother to child, Catherine reassured the younger woman. “It’s okay. Lia, it’s okay. I’m okay. You did nothing wrong.” No, thought Catherine, this is my fault. I knew this would get out of hand. I knew you weren’t ready to play the unrepentant sadist, and I knew I wasn’t actually a true masochist. I saw the hesitation in you. I saw that you were lost in your perceived feelings for me, and I let you careen into this moment when I should have been the sensible one, the responsible one.
“I…I’m sorry. I went too far. Please forgive me.” Lia’s words were more measured and less driven by terror.
Catherine turned around and reversed who was soothing who. Her arms now wrapping and pulling Lia into her bare chest. Watch it Catherine, you need to be careful to not send a mixed signal. She simply embraced Lia, letting the younger woman cry for a moment. I may not have manipulated this sweet, naïve soul like how Vivian did to me at her age, but I inadvertently took advantage of her and her emotions, Catherine chastised herself.
“You have nothing to be sorry for…I agreed to this. Did we have to use our safety? Sure, but that is why we have such things.”
Tear-stained brown eyes looked up to hers. “Look, you were amazing in all honesty.” It wasn’t a lie. The past couple of days were indescribably fantastic, even when reality hadn’t matched fantasy. “You’re new to this, right? This was your first time playing with someone else?” A timid nod. “I figured. And you’re way better than most would be in your shoes. You had me aroused so often and so well. I’m not an easy submissive to deal with. I have these strongly dark fantasies, but I also am a complete pushover when it comes to pain.” Catherine hugged slightly tighter. “From the outset, it was obvious it might be difficult for both of us to get what we wanted, and I’m older and I should have been more careful about that. You have fantasies of wanting to inflict pain, am I right?”
New tears formed as Lia nodded again, looking guilty before timidly asking, “Does that make me a monster?”
Catherine smiled down at the younger woman. “Far from it. There is nothing wrong with embracing that part of you if you have a partner who complements that. I’m just not the sort.”
“I don’t know if I even want that now, though. I-I, uh, enjoyed it, but…”
“It didn’t feel the same as you expected?” Lia nodded silently. “Trust me, I get that. I have some twisted fantasies, and all too often, reality doesn’t quite live up to it.”
Lia’s face was a mix of thankful for the reassurance, but also sadness as the implied earlier rejection. Catherine couldn’t help but think how beautiful a soul this young woman was likely to be. How radiant she would be when she learned more about herself and accepted it. Catherine wanted to do more than reassure her with words in this moment, but no, that wouldn’t be proper. She’d be letting her own desires walk her down a path eerily similar to Vivian’s all those years ago.
“Look, how old are you?”
Lia had buried her head deeper against the older woman’s chest. A muffled “23” vibrated through Catherine’s ribcage. The age surprised the auburn-haired woman. She had assumed a gap of at least a decade, but it was closer to seven or eight years.
Not quite so bad, she mused before shaking away the small ember of hope the information had given her. “I know things feel raw now. You’ve never played with someone before, and this was a lot to take on for a first time. And I’m probably the first person you’ve met that shared, at least partly, some of this same kinky interest. Have faith. You’ll find someone else. Someone who will be able to help you explore these hidden parts of yourself. You are still figuring out who you are, and that is okay.”
Catherine gave what she hoped was a chaste kiss to the top of the brunette’s head. I shouldn’t have done that; it was too close to romantic, she thought. “We’re strangers, but even so, in the little moments I could tell you cared. You treated my injuries and before the whip, never pushed me beyond my limits. With time, you’ll gain a plethora of life experiences, and this will be a fond, kinky memory in a sea of better memories.”
Lia seemed skeptical, but grateful. “Thank you.”
The two sat there under the tent, the older physically exhausted woman holding and soothing the younger as rain beat against the nylon awning. Eventually, the two broke the embrace. The game had ended, and soon Lia led Catherine back inside to where her duffle bag and her belongings lay. Lia offered to treat the two stinging whip marks. Catherine thanked her, but declined. While she hated pain, she wanted the throb of those marks to last. A reminder of her wondrous days as a willing prisoner, and a cherished memento of the bright young woman who had given them to her.
Once the chastity belt was gone and she was dressed once more as an everyday person, Catherine and Lia exchanged pleasantries rife with underlining tension. The two walked together in silence to the front gate. There, Catherine gave Lia a quick hug. Pulling back, she could see regret and gloom in the younger woman’s eyes. Catherine knew better, but couldn’t help herself. “You need to have the freedom to grow and learn about yourself. And selfishly, I want to see that happen. Care if I give you my number for us to stay in touch?”
Instantly, Lia brightened. “Yes!” The two exchanged numbers, and another friendly hug. Then Catherine left. As she walked back to the village center to catch a ride to her next destination, she couldn’t stop thinking about the past few days. She’d learned some more of her fantasies should stay that way, but also others were far too fun to leave in the realm of dreams. She recalled the sense of helplessness. More than anything, her mind kept calling her back to the young brunette. She wanted to march right back and embrace her and give her a snogging worth announcing to the world. Yet Catherine’s own past traumas told her how unwise that would be. Maybe in a few years, and once Lia had been given the chance to learn about herself. It was another fantasy that almost certainly would prove false in reality, like so many others in Catherine’s life.
Three years later…
Catherine was going about cleaning her flat when her phone rang for a video call. She practically fell over the couch, diving for the blaring device. There really was only one person who called her on video, the same young brunette she had met at a small castle in Germany.
Seizing the phone, Catherine took a second to try to catch her breath. She didn’t need to give the cheeky younger woman any more ammunition to tease her with, in the form of her panting. After a couple of inhales to steady herself, she accepted the call. She was greeted with a familiar face at a familiar angle. Lia had a habit of making video calls to her while walking the streets of Munich, and she always seemed to point the camera so Catherine’s view was from below. She often wondered if Lia did it on purpose to give the English woman the perspective of having to look up to her. She was probably reading too much into it, but considering how they had met, she couldn’t shake the thought altogether.
It was nice to see Lia. They texted or talked nearly every day, but it had been a few days since their last video chat. “So, couldn’t wait to see me in a few days?” Catherine asked, starting what would likely be a torrent of teasing between the two as it so often went.
Lia’s thin lips smiled, “I still can’t believe I’m finally being awarded my doctorate. I really started to wonder if it would ever happen.”
Catherine smiled back. “I’m not. You’ve been working so hard to finish it ever since I’ve known you. You look tense, everything okay?” She had noticed the slight tension in the younger woman’s face and words.
“I guess I’m just nervous. I’ve got something really personal to deal with today, so I wanted to see you and hear your voice. It always calms me.”
Catherine flushed a bit. Lia had said that a few times before. Most recently, just before the defense of Lia’s thesis. It was odd that she wouldn’t say what exactly she had to take care of now. Their friendship had blossomed from afar over these past few years to the point they shared practically every detail of their lives with each other. The only thing she could think of was that it had to do with her brother. Maybe he was back in rehab again.
Seeing she needed to change the subject, Catherine noticed the grey sky that served as a backdrop to Lia’s beautiful face. “It looks like it might rain on you there in Munich. It’s supposed to rain here as well today.”
“Oh, really? I wouldn’t know.” The words sounded oddly cagey. Whatever, Catherine thought. The weather being a bust, she tried changing the subject again. “I was thinking about seeing if I couldn’t get a flight tomorrow morning instead of the day after, so we’d have more time to spend together before all of your family gets into town.”
“Now, who can’t wait to see who?” Lia playfully asked.
“Oh, hush,” Catherine retorted, feigning offense.
“You know I’m not good at doing that, but it would be really interesting for you to fly to Munich sooner.” Lia still seemed off, and that was a weird way to say that last part. The background of the grey sky was now replaced with a hallway of lights and tiles.
“So, would it be okay if I flew out to see you tomorrow instead?” Catherine asked, wanting to confirm it wouldn’t be imposing on Lia.
“You could, I suppose,” Lia said in a surprisingly teasing voice. She had stopped walking. It looked like she was already at her destination. “But you would have one small problem.”
The older woman gave a puzzled look. “And what is that?”
“I’m not in Munich. I’m here.” Lia turned the camera around, revealing a door that suspiciously looked like the one to Catherine’s flat. Lia dropped the call with a last giggle. The older woman was in shock, disbelieving that Lia was here right now. Then a knock left no doubt.
Heart beating a bit faster than it would normally be for any other ‘friend,’ Catherine rushed to the door and opened it to a casually dressed Lia smiling.
Catherine started to speak, but Lia hushed her by holding up a hand.
“Cathrine, I wanted to tell you some things in person and ask you a question.” Lia said the words as if they were a question, clearly looking for permission before continuing. The auburn-haired woman nodded in faint understanding.
“We met in one the strangest of ways, and back then you felt the need to walk away because I was still lacking in life experiences. Over the past three years, I’ve shared every up and down of my life. Navigating family issues, gaining my doctorate, and even a few messy relationships. I would say that constitutes a fair bit of life experience, wouldn’t you?”
The older woman stood frozen for a second. Her heart was racing even faster now. Was this going where she thought it was? Oh, she was not ready for that if it was.
“I know my feelings for you have evolved. You were right. At first, they were childish, wanting to latch onto the first person who I’d met who shared some part of my darker fantasies. But in the years since I have gotten to know the real Catherine, and my longing for you has only grown. I cannot honestly imagine meeting anyone else who compares to you.” The brunette now looked desperately to Catherine for a reaction.
Catherine stood speechless at this confession. The truth was, her heart mirrored Lia’s words, though she would never have initiated it herself. “Lia, I…I feel…well I feel the same way, to be perfectly honest. But are you sure? I mean, I’m still a fair bit older.”
“Seven years is nothing.” Lia stepped in and wrapped her hand around the back of Catherine’s head, pulling her into a kiss. It was the most electric one Catherine could remember. She didn’t want it to end, and was disappointed when Lia pulled back, her lips trying to chase the brunettes for a moment. Somehow Lia fended it off playfully before asking, “I do have one question though for you, then.”
“What’s that?” Catherine asked, planting a kiss on Lia’s neck.
“Are you ready to be my one and only prisoner?”
This time, Catherine pulled back. From somewhere, though Catherine couldn’t have said where, Lia produced a set of old wrist irons dangling them in front of the older woman.
“Of course, Ms. Richter.”
Epilogue
“So, prisoner, why do you want our next holiday to be to Türkiye?” Lia asked while flipping the page of her book lounging on their bed. Catherine kneeled next to the bed, her shackled hands interlaced behind her head, knees spread wide, and her eyes cast towards the floor. Her expected position when playing the frequent role of Lia’s personal prisoner, and the same one Lia would take when she rarely played the prisoner role as well.
“Ms. Richter-Smith,” Catherine never tired of their hyphenated last name since getting married, “There is a dungeon museum there that an acquaintance of mine named Liz, highly recommended. She said it was the best she had ever seen and the tour guide, Elif, was truly dedicated to her work in an inspiring way.”
“Hmm, fine, since you already booked the flight for us, and we do like a good dungeon.” Catherine smiled inside. She knew Lia would love their four-year anniversary gift.
“But, prisoner, you did this without consulting me, so I hope you know you are due a punishment. Ja?” The words delivered again as a simple matter of fact.
“Of course, Ms. Richter-Smith.” Catherine had counted on getting some form of punishment as a thank you for her little romantic gesture.
“Fine, you’ll wear your chastity belt until the trip.”
Catherine, already wet from kneeling beside her wife for the past hour, felt herself nearly climax underneath the aforementioned device. The next three weeks would be a frustrating hell, but this was the exact sort of punishment she had hoped for. Lia clearly knew exactly how to show her love to her prisoner wife, Catherine thought.