Claiming Katy Ch. 03

[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 Isabella Pacetti's Notes:

To recap: Sophie Burton has started a new job as assistant to a novelist, Marie Alderney. She has moved into the author's house and befriended her maid, Katy. Harbouring dark secrets in her own past, she is immediately aware that the relationship between Katy and the widowed Mrs Alderney is odd. However, Sophie is shocked when, a few weeks later, the employer brutally canes the maid in the office, ostensibly as punishment for her poor behaviour. Enraged, Sophie tells them she is leaving, and storms out as the punishment continues.

Once again I remind you that all the participants in these acts of sadism and submission are consenting adult women.

-Sophie's Statement:

I climbed the stairs faster than was comfortable, making more noise than necessary, desperate to distract myself. The sounds of the cane and Katy's voice were loud in my ear, and I dared not remember the scene I had left downstairs.

My clothes were all unpacked by now, but I was glad to concentrate on the mundane task of gathering all my belongings and cramming them into bags and cases.

...Please Madame, may I repeat my lessons?

Very well. Take it off...

...Soft black hair, quivering like downy feathers against white flesh, shaking with cold or fear or excitement in the cool sunlight...

I groaned and clasped my palms to my face, trying to squeeze the images out of my mind. I began to grab underwear from the drawer and stuff it carelessly into a bag.

...What are these?

My knickers Madame...

For God's sake. I put the packing on hold while I took off my office clothes. I laid my jacket, skirt and dreary black shoes with some semblance of order on the bed. I rooted through the growing mess and found jeans and a clean white t-shirt. I tugged on the jeans.

...Bend your back and raise your behind...

This was becoming foolish.

I carried the t-shirt into the bathroom and threw it aside so I could splash cold water over my face. As I waited for the basin to fill, I stopped moving for the first time as I leant on it with both hands, staring at my eyes in the mirror. I felt as though I was vibrating. I scooped a double handful of water and threw it against my face. Looking at myself again, I could read no emotion in my expression. I tried to feel angry again, but I suspected I was just afraid. Not afraid of Mrs Alderney and her cane, of course. Not afraid of Katy. Not as such...

I bent my back and raised my behind and I laughed at myself. I watched my chest dip and my modest cleavage exaggerate, tiny beads of water rolling and curving over my neck and shoulders. I was trying to tell myself that I was sexy. I was trying to tell myself that I had nothing to be scared of, or to be sickened by. A few years ago I would've just laughed at the pair of them, snatched the cane from the old bitch and shown her how it should be done.

But of course, I had changed.

There came the softest possible sound of knocking from the bedroom door and the very softness of it annoyed me, jolting me out of my daydream. I snatched up the t-shirt and pulled it on, and allowed the anger to grow again. I stamped into the bedroom and hauled open the door.

There stood Katy, wearing her uniform again. Her face and her eyes were red. She had cried and then rubbed her face, her hair was messy and she stood awkwardly, nervous and uncomfortable. When she spoke her teeth were porcelain white behind her soft puffy lips, and her voice was small and damp.

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't want to hear it, Katy." I turned my back and busied myself with my packing. I hadn't dried my neck and now the collar of the t-shirt was cold and clingy. I let this irritate me. "I want you out of my sight. You're pathetic, the of pair of you."

"It's a valid lifestyle-"

"No! How dare you? Don't give me that shit! You know that's not the point, for fuck's sake! You betrayed me! You humiliated me! We were supposed to be friends!"

She started to cry. "We are friends! Sophie! I'm sorry! Please!"

"I really don't care." But when I turned to face her, I knew this wasn't true. She stood there, sobbing freely and openly, staring at the ceiling in despair. Even through my anger I could see her genuine distress, so I spoke as softly as I could.

"Look, calm down." This seemed to be all the sympathy I could manage. "Stop crying and I'll talk to you. Go wash your face."

Katy hurried past me into the bathroom. I stood in the doorway and watched her approach the basin. Apparently she caught her reflection in the mirror and something about this renewed her tears. She dropped clumsily to her knees and pushed her face against the front of the basin, racked with sobs.

This struck me as a little too theatrical, too clearly calculated to melt my heart and gain my forgiveness. I was sure I was being manipulated and this triggered renewed fury and I frankly lost control. I stormed over to her and thrust my fingers into her hair, taking tight hold. Katy squealed and clutched at my wrist, shock on her face.

With all my strength and surging rage I hauled Katy up and over the basin, shoving her face into the bowl, knowing all the time, just beneath the surface, that I should have been soothing the wretched creature, not attacking her. But I did feel betrayed and humiliated and insulted. Katy flailed and spluttered as her head was thrust down into the water. Instinctively I caught one of her arms, redoubling the pressure with the hand that held her head.

She wriggled and with her free hand she clutched helplessly at the taps, the tiles and my leg. I could stand up straight, leaning quite easily, holding the girl in place with surprisingly little effort.

Dr Pacetti has pointed out that I make it sound like I was trying to drown her, and of course I wasn't. I'm not completely insane. I can't justify it, or excuse it, or give it any rational motivation, but I think my intention was to make her panic, and make her fight me. I'm not proud of this part of the story, and I only agreed to tell it because la dottoressa threatened to write a version of her own which would make me look even more ridiculous.

And anyway I quickly realised she was not trying to fight me. Instead she just shuffled her feet on the cold floor and wriggled her body. In fact she moved everything but her head, which remained submerged. It was this lack of resistance that disturbed me and made me feel foolish. I let go and stepped back as Katy hauled her face from the water, reeling backwards, raising a great plume of water and tumbling onto the floor, gasping and coughing.

Perversely, the shock seemed to have calmed Katy, and she lay still and quiet on her back. She was tense but no longer crying. Her legs curled up a little and her face turned away, apparently waiting. She had fallen so wildly that her dress had risen up far enough to allow her belly button to peep from under the hem. Her thighs exposed, the scars were dark and red and clear, the pink skin was sharply overlaid with the white cotton knickers.

I looked for several seconds at the cruel marks contouring the girl's body, front and back now. Then I quietly stepped forward and gently pulled the dress down over Katy's thighs.

"Cover yourself up," I admonished, but softly. I seemed to have calmed myself too. Much of the anger was gone now, and already the cold shame of what I had just done was gnawing at the back of my mind.

"Come on, we'll talk." I reached down and let Katy's hand curl around mine. I helped her up and led her into the bedroom. I think we were both a little shocked by whatever we had just revealed about ourselves.

Katy was waterlogged, hair slicked down to her temples. She breathed raggedly, eyes watching me intently but calmly. I sat on an uncluttered part of the bed and cleared a spot for her.

"Can I stand?" she whispered, hands nervously brushing over the back of her thighs.

"You can kneel, can't you?" I patted the bed and Katy climbed on, resting awkwardly on her shins. "Is it very bad?"

Katy shrugged, then nodded.

"You get this often? This bad?"

Katy shrugged again. "Quite regularly. She was specially harsh today, because..." She smiled uncomfortably, apologetically. "Well, you heard it all."

I nodded and gently ran my finger through her hair, pushing damp strands away from her face. I asked, "Are you okay?" and she nodded. I sighed and wiped my fingers on the bed. All of the rage and violence and noise had gone.

Katy whispered, "Sophie, I'm so sorry."

"Don't start that again," I sighed, making Katy look down at her own knees.

I looked down too. "Show me," I said, gesturing to Katy's lap. Her fingers trembled their way to the hem and drew the dress up until her thighs were exposed. They were an unreal shade of pink and crossed with six distinct red welts, each one crossing both legs. They were precisely spaced from just below the waistband of the knickers down to hem-level. Katy's finger touched one of the slightly raised lines and she breathed:

"To Ignore the Teacher is to Insult the Teacher..."

"Katy..." I shook my head and began to stroke her hair again. "Really, are you sure you want her to do this to you? You know you don't have to?"

"She only does it because I need her to. Because I ask her to. It's good for me."

"She's abusing you. She's messed with your head 'til you don't really know what you want."

Katy looked up with fierce and shining eyes. "No! You can't tell me what I want! Since the first time she smacked me I've asked for her to do it! I say Please and Thank You because Madame taught me to ask nicely nicely for the things I want. Do you really not understand? No, I know you understand. Are you really going to sit there and pretend? And judge us?"

"Jesus. Okay. I understand. I don't judge you." I wasn't going to let her be self-righteous, and I wasn't going to be put off until I was satisfied. I let my palm rest against her cheek. "The phrase I want to hear from you Katy, is 'I enjoy it'."

I was pleased to see her look a little embarrassed as she blinked slowly, nodded her head and said "I enjoy it, Sophie."

I let my hand linger for a moment longer and then pulled the hem back over her thighs. "Show me the rest."

Katy knelt up and shuffled around, raising her dress once again. Once she was facing away she bent at the waist and curled up. I didn't try to stop her. That perfect behind was revealed to me, now raw with the beatings and again crossed with six precise lines. Three were partially obscured by the white fabric, taut across her bottom. I looked for a minute, my eyes drawn down her legs to her feet - which looked tiny on the bed, a toe of one foot slightly crossing the other - then back up to her hips, her knickers shaped by the fascinating contours of her body. I focussed on the red marks, rather than stare at her pussy again.

I was distracted for a moment as I considered that Mrs Alderney must have struck her more than six times, simply because she had restarted the count at least once. But only six lines. So she had repeated the strokes in precisely the same places. I had to admit I was impressed, by both the skill and the cruelty.

"When will they subside?" I reached and touched the lowest welt, very gently. Katy flinched and she breathed sharply.

"A few days." Her voice was muffled, her face against the upholstery. "I won't be caned again until they're gone. Mostly gone."

I dared to brush my palm over the brutalised skin. Katy trembled and gasped to a tiny thrill of pain. The skin was hot and the grazes were slightly raised. My hand felt firm and strong against her delicate flesh. "So what if you require a lesson in the next few days?"

"If I'm... ahh! very bad she... may cane me anyway. Like today. But she has other means of... ow! teaching."

"Like?" I pulled the dress back into place. Katy didn't move and most of the scars, and her knickers, were still visible. I didn't object.

"She can tie me up uncomfortably and leave me for a long time, if I don't have chores. Or if I've got dirty she might hose me in the garden. She does whatever will teach me my lesson. And my tits are okay at the moment."

I absently straightened the knickers. I was fixating on Katy's pussy again. The material was limp from being stretched, but it clung nevertheless to Katy's skin. "And what are your tits used for?"

Katy whispered, "Whatever will teach me my lesson."

"Katy, the phrase I want to hear... tell me. Each one."

"I enjoy being hosed. And, um... I enjoy being tied up. I enjoy when my tits are tortured. You can't know... I live for it."

My voice also dropped as I finally asked, "And does she fuck you?"

Katy was silent for a moment and she squirmed a little. "No. Madame doesn't... we don't do that." Her voice became quiet and sad. "I wouldn't stop her, if she wanted me."

I was genuinely surprised. "Not... nothing like that? I assumed... does she... make you... bring yourself off?"

"No Sophie. Madame discourages that sort of thing. I mean... Madame forbids it."

I was dumbstruck. I had automatically assumed that the relationship was fully sexual. How could it not be? I felt foolish and humiliated, as though I had revealed a fantasy of my own.

So when Katy said, "Would you like to fuck me?" I slapped her.

My palm cracked smartly against Katy's bottom and she yapped in pain and surprise. She convulsed, twisting over onto her back to shield her behind, and fell off the bed. She lay contorted on her side, whining and gasping. I thought she was over-doing it, so I stood up and snapped at her. "Get up! Up!"

Katy just looked up with sullen defiance.

"Get on your feet."

Katy dragged herself upright and cowered in front of me, strange shivering moans forcing themselves between her lips.

"How dare you?" I held Katy's chin tightly in one hand. "After everything you've done, after all this?"

"I didn't mean... I thought you were... I wouldn't mind..."

Still holding her chin, I pushed her backwards sharply, bumping her against the wall. "What's wrong with you? Do you offer yourself to everyone? You wouldn't mind? Do I look like I need charity from some filthy little whore?"

Katy looked terrified. Her eyes were astonishingly large and dark as she looked up at me. But her lips were parted with that odd expression again, and suddenly - painfully and sickeningly - she reminded me of Tara. I felt the anger clouding my thoughts but I was also drawing energy from it. I let go of Katy's face and stood up straight.

"Well do I?" I asked in a slightly calmer voice, as she shrank against the wall.

"No," she whispered, with thrilling wide-eyed sincerity.

I grabbed Katy's hair and pulled her head back, then leaned in to bring our faces within inches of each other. I didn't lower my voice much. "I don't care what you thought, I don't care what you would and wouldn't mind. It's this simple: if you want anything from me you say 'Please may I, Miss Sophie?' Do you understand?"

Katy nodded, transfixed, and silently mouthed, "Yes, Miss Sophie." I detected a hint of a smile.

I pushed her away and sat on the bed, trying to calm down and push thoughts of my old flat-mate out of my mind: I didn't need that distraction. But I was riding a wave of adrenaline and I couldn't stop myself proving some sort of point. To myself, to Katy and to Mrs Alderney.

"Open that drawer." I pointed at the nearest one on the dressing table. While Katy obeyed I crossed one leg over the other and looked down at my naked foot, satisfyingly lithe and strong, flexing and kicking up and down. I forced myself to feel cold and cruel as I said, "It's at the back, take it out. You know what I'm talking about."

Katy returned to me with a white latex shaft clasped in her twisting hands. It was my vibrator, a foot-long, designer affair from some absurdly over-priced London boutique. But it was also the best toy I had ever owned.

"Do you have anything to ask for?

Katy squeezed the toy in her fists, looked away, ashamed, and murmured, "Please may I be fucked, Miss Sophie?"

I smiled. "No Katy, you may not. You slut. Put it back."

Katy looked bemused and hurt but she obeyed dumbly. I watched her closely and was satisfied that she looked disappointed and frankly rather dazed. I allowed a few seconds of silence then said "Come sit by me."

"May I kneel?"

"No, sit."

Katy eased herself tenderly onto the bed and winced. She took most of her weight on her hands. I touched her face affectionately now.

"Katy, haven't you noticed yet? I'm not like Mrs Alderney. She is cool and controlled, she will obviously be careful with you. I'm just... cruel. You don't want me to play your games with you."

"Not games, Sophie, and I do want you. I need you. We need you. I'm such a burden for Madame and she... she doesn't... handle me the way you do... Please. And I need... a friend."

"Games, Katy, yes. These must remain games. You should be more careful. You don't know me. You like the way I 'handle' you? I've assaulted you, Katy! Don't you understand? How do you know I'll treat you well? Hm? Do you think you know anything about me?"

Katy pushed her face against my hand, and gazed into my eyes. "I know you're strong and beautiful... I know you'll be Madame's equal. I want cruel... I want to feel things...I'm not a child, I'm not an idiot, I know what I want..." Her eyes were bright and passionate, and a smile parted her lips. "I don't feel assaulted, I feel excited!"

"You should feel frightened."

"I am frightened," Katy whispered. "I like being frightened." She grinned. "I enjoy being frightened."

I shook my head. I had to stop this. "No, Katy, no... I had a girlfriend once. I mean a lover. She was... a lot like you. You need to understand this Katy, please listen to this: she let me treat her badly and that's exactly what I did. Worse and worse. She got what she asked for and more." I was stroking Katy's face continuously now, enjoying the exquisite softness of her skin. "She worshipped me... and it ended badly..."

Katy turned her face away, gingerly eased herself off the bed and sank to her knees, shuffling around until she was facing my foot, which was still flexing. She looked down and said, "Did she worship like this? Kneeling, small and pale and ugly and inferior?"

I couldn't speak. The intensity was too much. I froze, my foot motionless now. Katy seemed lost in her own world.

"Like this," she murmured, raising her head and moving it close to my foot. "Did she say 'Please may I kiss you, Miss Sophie?'"

"Yes," I breathed, and I don't know to this day which question I was answering. Katy seemed satisfied that she had been given permission, as she rocked forward and softly kissed a toe with beautiful, silky lips. She withdrew only an inch.

"Please may I again, Miss Sophie?"

A mess of images spun through my mind, memories and possibilities all confused. I took a deep breath, kidding myself I was making a deliberate choice.

"Yes." I was clearer this time and Katy kissed with her open mouth, lips drawing across my sole, her hot tongue questing against my skin. I was glad that she wasn't looking up at me, as I felt my own lips part involuntarily and released a silent moan. The sensation was overwhelming. When Katy relented, she pressed her cheek against my instep and closed her eyes.

I watched her and felt her warm cheek for a moment. I was overcome with a surge of affection, and with it a growing feeling of power. I had nothing to be afraid of. Katy was no threat, and there was nothing beyond my power, nothing beyond my reach. I realised, with a shock, that I had been seduced by Katy. She had read me and pushed buttons I thought were hidden. With a sudden feeling of liberation I realised I was free to punish her for it.