Counting Reps - Rachel & Amy (Patreon)

This is a little experimental, you'll have to let me know how readable the text in the image is, I may repost if it's hard to see. I'll also paste the story below for anyone who'd rather read it that way!

So, first time trying out the new style for Rachel, do please let me know how you like this look for her. Also first time posting the story within the image! Might be something I post publicly some time in future to try and promote the Patreon. Your guys support is really what keeps me writing so, thankyou as always :)

Counting Reps - Rachel & Amy

 “Good girl!” Mistress Amy’s sultry voice addressed her slave as one might address a puppy, as Rachel lay below her, flat on her back with her chest heaving for breath. She cut a broad figure, her powerful muscles swollen and pumped, flexing as she hungrily took in air, stray beads of sweat slipping along her shining, tan body. “How many burpees was that?”

 “I.. I lost count again, Ma’am.” Rachel panted, her blush hidden by her already flushed skin, “Three hundred and something... I think?” she bit her lip as Amy tutted, but the Mistress saw past that faux look of guilt. Amy crouched beside her, twirling a thick riding crop idly in one hand as the other reached out. She groped Rachel’s thigh, a swollen trunk of hard muscle, pumped full of lactic acid and cramped so much that as Amy squeezed, her lithe fingers barely made a dent. Once finished with her study, she rose. “We’ll do them again later. With some weights - maybe they’ll keep your memory sharp.”

 “Yes, Ma’am.” Rachel had sat up, peeling her back from the dampened floor, and was massaging her thighs hard with the heels of her palms, trying to mask a discomforted grimace.

 “For now, up!” commanded Amy, and while Rachel obeyed quickly, her stance was awkward and shaky, her legs barely able to keep her upright. Her glutes were searing as she straightened up with a hiss. “Rings.” the servant turned her weary, shaking gait to the familiar spot beneath a pair of suspended gymnastics rings. Just as she raised her arms, Amy stopped her, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

 Rachel stopped sharp, and looked back over her shoulder, sweeping her hair back so that Amy could see her deep brown eyes and knowing smirk and was for a moment, breathless, “Sorry, Mistress, I am being forgetful today, aren’t I?” her voice was musical. She crossed her arms over her chest, tucked her fingers beneath the elastic of her tight sports bra and drew it over her head in one smooth motion that made her lats and back muscles swell in glorious definition. The top hit the floor with a wet slap. The girl crouched, groaning as her thighs protested, and letting out a yell of effort as she leapt upwards. She grabbed the rings with a well practiced grace, and pulled.

 Years of gymnastics and years more of bodybuilding had drilled into her the knowledge of perfect form and a body capable of carrying it out. Her grip was wide, her form smooth and confident. Amy watched the mountain range of glimmering back muscles transform was she moved. Rachel relished the slow, controlled flex and the sense of power that came with lifting her body like this. Until a flash of pain tore across her shoulder blades and rang in her ears Rachel cried out in surprise, but quickly composed herself, even biting her lip with the thrilling delight. She lifted herself for another rep, and on it’s completion was met with another hard swipe of Mistress’ crop. The sharp pain ebbed away but she could feel the red welts rising on her skin.

“I thought I‘d help you out a little.” Amy called, “When you lose count, we’ll just count the marks on you! How does that sound?”

The deep shudder of happiness that passed through Rachel’s body seemed to throw every chiselled muscle into hard definition under the harsh basement light as she replied, “Perfect, Mistress!”