The rationale expressed by Bay in this story is not necessarily one that I believe to be common in BDSM or M/s relationships, but it was one that intrigued me, from a writer’s perspective, as a possible basis for wanting to switch roles. It’s meant to be playful, even with the serious BDSM theory stuff/ideas explored.
In case it’s not clear, I believe Bay passes the test in flying colours, and Hesyon is very proud at the end.
* * *
Please … Obey Me (V.2)
Bay knelt at her Mistress’ feet. Her bottom lip trembled and despite the fire drawing sweat from her body, she shivered, and the sweat on her brow was not due to the heat. She fought the urge to close her legs, to hide her body, the only thing she could not do was meet Hesyon’s gaze.
“I’m waiting, slave!” Hesyon reminded her, and tapped a riding crop against leather-clad heel.
“Mistress, I dare not.”
“Fear not. Give me your answer.”
Bay inhaled and exhaled.
“Please … obey me.”
The tip of the crop lifted Bay’s chin, Bay hesitated to look up. When she did, Hesyon’s lips were drawn tight and each eye resembled a black hailstone.
“Say that again.”
“Please, Mistress. Obey me.”
“Obey you? And what would you gain by that?”
“Mistress, as You know, I always admire Your control, Your skill, Your power. You seem to destroy me and yet You always revive me. You give me so much through Your ownership of me. I have only striven to be the best slave You can make of me. You command me to challenge myself, to seek growth and new experiences, to aspire to be more and better than I believe possible. Mistress, it is to answer that commandment that I ask this. It is to try something I would never dream was possible, and to aspire to be, for a brief while, that which I most admire. Please. Obey me.”
Hesyon closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she said, “Stand.” Bay struggled to her feet. The naked slave faced her catsuited Mistress. Hailstones replaced by smouldering coal, thought Bay as she studied Hesyon’s eyes, one after the other.
“Very well,” Hesyon murmured. “Hold out your hands.” Bay presented her palms for Hesyon to inspect. Hesyon instead rested the crop upon them.
“If you believe you can take my obedience, take it. If you can’t, give it back.”
Bay bit her lip and trembled, but her fingers curled around the leather and she hugged it to her bosom. Hesyon raised an eyebrow.
Bay shifted her feet into a stronger stance, and cleared her throat. She squeaked, “Kneel, Mistress. Please.” It was Hesyon’s turn to shuffle. Bay took a deep breath and barked, “Obey me!” Hesyon smirked, and sank to her knees. “As you wish, Slave,” she grinned.
* * *
Bay hesitated. This was new, and unexpected. What would her Mistress wish of her? Could she live up to the challenge, to Hesyon’s high standards? Did that smile mean Hesyon knew she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, command her Mistress, or did she smile because she thought she could, and wanted her to succeed? To ask would be to admit defeat, and not to ask was to risk disappointing Mistress. But that was the deal. Bay served, to the best of her ability, and Mistress challenged those abilities. To serve was to risk failure, but to know there would be rewards. She had to do it, had to command her Mistress.
She licked her lips.
“Mistress, follow me on Your hands and knees.” Hesyon’s face grew serious, but her eyebrow quirked. Bay took short breaths and turned her back. Would Mistress follow? Bay took short steps, the riding crop brushed against her knee as she slipped into her perfect comportment as Hesyon had trained her, the lotion of her hands and feet as much a symbol of power as of submission, she found. She turned her shoulders and looked behind. Hesyon was crawling just as she had been told, her focus entirely on her slave’s free hand. Bay led Hesyon to the chaise longue. When she saw Hesyon still followed, she walked around the seat, along the back and round to the front again. Hesyon followed every move, her knees shuffling through the deep crimson carpet.
Bay lowered her bottom to the seat, to perch on its edge. Forbidden usually, save with Mistress’s touch and pleasure, Bay hunched herself to take as little room as possible. But still, her lessons remained. She gripped the crop with both hands, halfway along, paced her knees and ankles together, forced herself to open her shoulders and put them back, and straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Hesyon watched from all fours, her perfect hair pinned back in a classic French barrette grip, grey eyes studying Bay like a chemist with an intriguing compound.
Bay took a deep breath, and met the scientist’s gaze.
“Sit up, please,” she muttered. Hesyon pushed off the ground and sat on her haunches, lifting her hands to her chest in a doggie-paws pose. Bay stroked her Mistress’s hair from brow to grip, as she herself had often been stroked. A vacuum seemed to form in her bosom as she said, “Good girl.” Hesyon’s eyes crinkled and narrowed with her smile, and nod. Bay saw the look and heard in her mind the magic words reflected back. She studied her Mistress, trying to recall her own training as it might appear from the outside. She bit her lip, and adjusted her grip on the crop.
“Behind your back, please, Mistress,” she said and tapped Hesyon’s hands with the crop.
“Yes, slave, sorry,” Hesyon replied and sprang to obey. “Is that better?”
“Yes, Mistress. Good girl.” Bay felt warmer now.
“Um, Mistress, er, open your knees?” she tried. Hesyon raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told. Bay racked her brains for something to make her Mistress do. An idea came, and wth it, a smirk.
“Mistress?” she said, and Hesyon focussed. “Worship… knee!” she tapped her left knee with the crop. She felt a buzz like static making her hair stand on end when she saw Hesyon’s eyes widen. But Hesyon shifted her seat and bent to put her lips to the knee. She peered through her lashes at Bay. Bay held her breath and waited. Hesyon parted her lips and teased the bony tip with the tip of her tongue. She spread her jaw wider and used the broad sweep of her tongue to rasp and smear. Bay could feel the saliva at once heat and cool, her Mistress’s mouth and lips stroking and flexing against her skin.
Hesyon leapt back into position. Bay assured her, “Good girl.” Hesyon lowered her eyes for a beat, then met her slave’s again, a faint smile once more on her lips. Bay reached a decision. She spread her knees, and tapped her own cunt with the crop. Hesyon stared, and Bay nodded.
Slave spread for Mistress. Mistress bent for slave. Hesyon’s tongue worked Bay’s labia and clit with precision and flair, wielded by a Mistress in every way. Bay moaned, and sighed, and held her breath according to Hesyon’s will. And when she came, it was at Hesyon’s will. The orgasm swept from toe to crown, her cunt spasmed and oceans fell. The riding crop fell from her enfeebled fist, abandoned as she knew it must be.
Hesyon laid her slave on the chaise longue to recover, and reclaimed the crop. She stroked Bay’s hair and cheek.
“Good girl,” she smiled.