Don't Be Shy 7 (Patreon)

Kara slept in late that morning. Very late. She’d been worn out for a while, running on fumes from stress and… pretty much just stress. The thing with Lena… the anal thing, Kara couldn’t help but remind herself… had kicked the legs out from under her in a good way. Taken out her remaining energy so she had no problem getting to sleep.

She ended up overdoing it. When she checked the clock on her nightstand, it looked like she’d actually been asleep for ten hours.

There was a note placed next to the untouched knife on the nightstand. It read Good Girl. Kara wasn’t proud of the flume of excitement that had gone through her then. She’d cut her bonds, put the note away where she wouldn’t lose it, then showered and dressed. She came out in one of the hotel’s provided robes, glorying in the feel of its lush fur instead of the threadbare towel she’d used to own. Lena had started coffee in the pot and Kara took a cup before going to the window to admire the view.

The morning sky was an inchoate gray, like God had tried to take all the black out of black and all the white out of white and what was left over, He poured all over the Earth. It was the same color as the pavement, reflected in the glass of the skyscraper, until everything outside the window was the same as half-hearted mud to Kara.

But when she saw her reflection in the glass, there was a smile tingling at the corners of her lips, a brightness in her eyes. I must be the worst actress in the world, she thought. There was no concealing her excitement. Her arousal from the encounter in the night hadn’t gone away, it’d just shifted deeper. Kara had to force herself away from thoughts of Lena. It wouldn’t take much for her nipples to spring up and her pussy to thrum… the Happy Hooker right out of the Penthouse Forum.

Her reflection frowned. Safe to say she’d had some of the best sex, maybe the best sex of her life with Lena in the driver’s seat. What did that say about her? That she enjoyed it more when it was paid for, depraved, domineering, than when it’d been at her junior prom?

Kara forced some coffee down. The dreary day and the inescapable fact of what she’d done for cash were enough to send her back to bed. It was something she would’ve done in her unemployed days. She wouldn’t let that happen now that she’d gotten her reprieve. So she needed all the caffeine she could get. Kara was going to take full advantage of this opportunity.

Opportunity, hell. You’re being paid to fuck. Paid to let a total stranger come into your room at night and tie you up and outright say she was getting off on the thought of leaving you that way. Even prostitutes have time off. You are her pet. Just like she said.

Kara pouted; had the unavoidable thought that Lena would probably like the look that greeted her in the reflection. ‘I’ll give you something to pout about,’ she heard in Lena’s sultry, yet barely-there accent. And that brought back all the things she’d dreamed about Lena doing to her while she was bound. Unable to resist even if she’d wanted to.

Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life. Is that it, Danvers? Do you love being her plaything? She called you that too. What, is everything about empowerment, feminism, independence going out the window just because it’s a woman calling the shots instead of some man?

Kara drank some more of her coffee. It was bitter. She couldn’t bring herself to look for any creamer.

“Morning,” Lena said behind her, and Kara jumped.

Her coffee jumped with her. She angled her cup, trying to catch up with the coffee that had sloshed free of the container. In attempting to recover it all, she rammed her mug into the window. Both the glass and the mug cracked. The coffee vomited out of the broken mug onto the carpet.

“I guess I won’t be putting the Do Not Disturb sign on the door today,” Lena observed.

Kara spun around. “I am so sorry… you can take that out of my pay…”

“Nonsense. It was an honest mistake.” Lena was mostly dressed. Mostly. Another suit like the one she’d worn yesterday, cut a little differently, but still flattering her body like Lena had been designed for the suit instead of the other way around.

She didn’t have on shoes, just black socks, and her white dress shirt wasn’t all the way buttoned. No tie or jacket. Her mask was still in place, but her hair was in nothing more than a ponytail. The combination of pale skin, white shirt, and a mask that was practically glowing was intoxicatingly contrasted by her loosely bound black hair. The hint of cleavage between those straying buttons made Kara want to moan.

Oh God, if she decided she didn’t want to pay me, how would I ever stop letting her do whatever she wants?

“Did you sleep well?” Lena continued, getting a glass of orange juice before setting herself down at the breakfast nook.

“As well as can be expected,” Kara said, her eyes trained on that orange juice. Lena didn’t have that out just to smell it, did she? She’d have to take off the mask to…

Sitting down, Lena reached over to a cupboard, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved a metal straw. She set it in the orange juice.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Kara began, as Lena fit the end of the straw through an almost invisible opening in her mask.

“I’m a Pisces,” Lena said.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Were you wondering about something else?” Lena asked jauntily.

Kara had the feeling she was being laughed at. It was a very junior high feeling. She had no idea how she could accept having a finger up her ass but not a joke being made at her expense… maybe it was that Lena hadn’t paid her to be the butt of any jokes.

“Yeah. I was kinda wondering why you wear that mask all the time?”

“I don’t wear it all the time,” Lena said, taking her cell phone from her pocket and powering it on.

Kara persisted. “Why do you wear it at all?”

Lena put on a rather good English accent. “Oh no, it's just that they're terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future.”

Kara nodded. “The Princess Bride. Should’ve known that would come up.”

“That’s the problem with lesbian relationships,” Lena said, back to her own vague way of talking. “You’re both just such damn girls. I ordered room service for breakfast. Two sausage links, a shortstack of pancakes, toast with jelly, one hard-boiled egg, and you found the coffee.”

Kara’s eyebrows raised. “Is this going to be one of those times you don’t wear the mask?”

“No, I ate after my morning exercise. This is all for you.”

Kara scoffed. “I’m not Oliver Twist, you know. I haven’t actually been starving.”

“I know. But I like your current proportions. I’d hate for you to lose them once I start giving you more strenuous work-outs.”

Desire corded at the center of Kara. She pictured herself getting on all fours on top of the table, padding up to Lena, and giving Lena her own fuck me look right in her face.

And maybe she’ll give you a bonus for that. Whore.

The thought killed some of Kara’s ardor, but also engaged her stubbornness. She was almost intoxicated with the thought of what Lena would do that when someone knocked at the apartment door, she jumped.

A fragment of the cracked mug flew away from the rest and some of the coffee that had remained at the bottom flew out to stain her robe.

“That will be room service,” Lena said. “Go let them in please.”

“Yeah,” Kara said, moving to put the broken mug down, then realizing it would probably stain whatever she set it on.

So she looked around for the wastebasket, couldn’t find one, and put the mug in the sink before unthinkingly wiping her hands off on her robe. When she looked down, more stains greeted her from the pristine white pelt of the complimentary, monogrammed robe.

“Kara,” Lena said, “if you want to be punished, simply ask. I’ll take your word for it if you tell me you’ve been a bad girl.”