Rachel X Amy Story - Exclusive WIP Preview (500~ words) (Patreon)

 Now I've posted the earlier story on DeviantArt in celebration of hitting 1000 watchers, I wanted to give Patrons something extra. I'll be posting story WIPs in future too, both of this and other characters/settings!

 Thanks again for your support. It's the support on Patreon which made me decide to start trying to write again. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

(for the record, the following scene isn't set directly after the previous story preview. Sometimes I'll jump between sections depending on what's inspiring me at the time)

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Amy almost tore the door off its hinges as she stormed into her house, not even thinking about the half dozen speeding tickets she likely earned herself on the drive home. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Rachel!?" she roared and slammed the door behind her but her call seemed to fall on deaf ears. Her girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. Amy didn't stop moving forward as she threw her jacket aside and kicked off her high heels. Conflicting emotions had her so wound up she could barely catch her breath. She knew just where that idiot would be. That stupid, dumb, meat-headed, sexy, irresistible, breath-taking idiot.

"No. Don't smile. You're angry with her!" Amy reminded herself and threw open the door to the basement. A wave of heat greeted her and sent butterflies squirming in her stomach in spite of herself. She pulled out her phone as she stormed down the stairs, furiously scrolling through it. Her free hand swept her blonde hair back in place. Only looking up once she'd reached the bottom and ready to raise her voice, Amy found her breath catch in her throat.

The once perfectly organised gym was a wreck. Weights, medicine balls and straps were strewn everywhere. The punching bag had split, spilling foam all over the floor. Various machines had been pulled around for one reason or another. On top of that, there didn't seem to be a mat or bench without a girlfriend shaped imprint of sweat. It all led her gaze to the centre of the room. The eye of the hurricane. Rachel. Kneeling. As pumped and sweaty as Amy had ever seen her.

Rachel was leaning forward so her forehead touched the floor, palms down in front of her. Spreading her shoulders this way made her lats flare out and bulge, exaggerating the taper down to her muscle packed waist.

Amy gulped as her brain stalled and she simply stared. It was impossible to build up full immunity to the sight of her girlfriend in such a state. Thankfully she shook it off before long, and turned her phone to Rachel. Her voice was sharp, high and angry - distinctly different from that of the playful disciplinary tone she often used with Rachel. "What do you call these!?" she demanded, scrolling through the gallery of dozens of pictures. All sent to her over the course of the day by Rachel. Pictures of her training, pictures of herself in all states of undress and distress. Some were selfies, others set up with timers. Leg raises, boxing, skipping, sometimes just flexing and smiling. Enough to drive Amy to absolute distraction. Her phone had been pinging every half hour and she simply couldn't resist looking. It had made her very important day of work - which Rachel knew full well about - a disaster. "It's not funny!" she insisted, stamping her foot as she saw Rachel smirking. The girl remained unfazed, looking up at her with those big, dark eyes. A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek and dripped from her chin. Amy took a deep breath.

Amy had been desperate for this all fucking day. No more nice girl.

She steadied her breathing. Lifted a foot to Rachel's head to gently push her back down until her forehead was back on the floor. Then, she made her wait. She straightened her glasses and put her phone aside. In her own time she unzipped her pencil skirt, neatly folded it and set it aside. Then she started to undo her blouse, button by button. Of course, she made sure Rachel could hear it. It was working, she could see it in Rachel's breathing as her back rose and fell. Amy was back in control and it was a good feeling. Her girlfriend gave a delightful shudder as Mistress Amy spoke, her voice low, sultry. "You've had your fun. Now I'm going to have mine... I hope you enjoyed your warm-up."

Rachel's waist and hips slowly shifted, squirming with barely contained lust. "Welcome home, Mistress."

--

 Amy was on her, neck craned down to kiss the shorter girl. Both hands gently held her up her head before trailing down, greedy to find more. They massaged her pumped traps and worked down to her chest, pushing Rachel's modest breasts against her firm pecs. She could feel her hardened chocolate nipples through the her sports bra and that's what sent her clumsily tugging at the material. "Get this thing off!" she gasped, and Rachel obliged with a well practiced flourish, crossing her arms and tugging up from the bottom. All in one motion she showed off her shoulders, lats and triceps with a bounce of her pretty breasts for good measure. Her upper body shimmered with sweat from the efforts of her day so far lighting each muscle in sharp contrast with her dark skin.

 She wanted to see Rachel's upper body work hard and knew how to make it happen. Weighted lateral raises made Rachel's glorious muscles spread like wings and burnt out her shoulders just in time for overhead presses to really force her to work for it. Amy had her use the heaviest weights she could manage and kept her gripping them until her hands cramped. Bicep curls followed, then tricep extensions. Once finished Rachel looked like she was about to cry as she finally pried her locked up hands from the rough metal bars. She shook them out for the few moments it took her to reach the weight bench, where she took on an even thicker, more loaded up bar without hesitation.

 "Atta girl." Amy said firmly, watching Rachel's eyes, which were locked on some far distant image past the ceiling above her. Her mouth was wide open, naked chest heaving, arms shaking. But Amy knew why she hadn't started lifting yet. The crazy bitch wanted more weight. Amy obliged. An extra pair of fifteen pound plates on the already generously loaded bar would do the trick. Often, Amy liked to tease her girlfriend while she was benching. Grope her, flog her... and the rest. But this time she stood by her head, carefully spotting. It was a lot of weight and Rachel was going hard. A part of Amy wanted to tell her just how proud she was... but that's not what her muscle slave needed right now.

 She snapped her fingers in front of Rachel's face to pull her out of the thousand-yard stare, "Are you asleep? Get started, I'll tell you when to stop!" she lied.

 Rachel repped until failure, howling and trembling. Until she found herself trapped under the bar and Amy had to use all her strength to meagrely help the girl rack it. Only when she saw the deep mark the metal had left across Rachel's breasts did she realise she may have gone too far. She quickly crouched by Rachel's head, wiping the matted hair from those dark, beautiful features.