Ellie Submits

"Yes, ma'am," Ellie says, immediately, instinctively, urgently. She feels small and hot. She wants to scream, to beg Miriam to tell her to do something.

"Kneel."

Ellie kneels, gazing up adoringly at the woman with the power over her.

Miriam bends low, and gathers the band in her fists, and pulls Ellie in, and kisses her, deeply. Ellie kisses her in return, neck bent back, lips flickering over the older woman's lips. Their tongues dart curiously around one another. They kiss for almost a minute. Ellie struggles with her hands. Normally should would be running them through Miriam's hair, and around her waist, and maybe up under her top. It's a novel and exciting experience to not be able to take any control. Miriam is controlling the moment, and Ellie... loses herself, just a little bit, in Miriam's moment.

Miriam withdraws, slowly. Ellie gets a few smaller kisses in, but soon her boss is standing up straight, achingly out of reach.

Ellie sits back, blushing deeply, smiling, tingling, rapt, and still somehow confused.

Ellie is twenty-three years old. She has dated and slept with various boys and girls of her own age, with varying degrees of commitment and enjoyment. Brief loves. One serious love, which ended very badly. Some miserable one-night experiences. But through all of it, she has never found real satisfaction. Romance became a stale puddle for her, with nothing new to experience. Nobody in her home town ever... took her seriously. Nobody matched up to her.

She has never been with someone like Miriam. This is new to her. It is not a relationship of a kind she fully comprehends.

And then, just as she's attempting to muster the courage to ask what is going on:

"Tell no one of this," Miriam orders her. She is still holding the ends of the purple band in her fists, like a kind of leash. "Act like it never happened. Even when you're with me. Even if we're alone together. Wait. Until I tell you when. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now stand up and resume your exercises." Miriam releases the purple band. She walks away, to a running machine, and starts configuring it.

Ellie stands up. She turns, struggling with her bound arms. "Um, ma'am?"

"Oh, and you can take that off now," Miriam remarks, casually.

"Ma'am, I don't think I can."

"Of course you can," Miriam says. "What use is all that muscle if you can't flex your way out of a trivial bind like that?"

"But how?"

Miriam shrugs. "Work it out." She starts jogging on the machine.

Ellie flexes. She looks at herself in the mirror, turning so she can see the complex knot behind her. Then, while looking, she flexes again, harder, shoulders bulging, stretching the orange rubber to its limit. She gropes for a loop of the rubber with one hand, catches it in a thumb, and pulls it down below her elbow. That's enough for the entire assemblage to come loose. She unthreads it from her other arm, and it falls to the floor, a confusing knot of orange. She picks it up and unties the knot. There's a slight burning in her arms from the effort.

"There, see?" Miriam says, breathing heavily as she runs. "If I really wanted to immobilize you, you'd know about it." She puffs. "I wouldn't use stretchy elastic, for one thing."

"What would you use?"

"What?" Miriam didn't quite hear over the sound of the machine and her pounding feet.

"What would you tie me up with? Ma'am."

"Oh, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

*

Ellie lives with another girl, Sonja, who is outgoing and flirty and dirty and generally the best buddy she could have. Sonja already knows that Ellie has been working out with her boss's boss's boss, and knows that Ellie thinks Miriam is an impressive woman. And, Sonja is gossipy and heavily invested in Ellie's love life.

Point being, she may or may not have guessed that Ellie has a crush on the woman. Ellie doesn't know either way. She does know that Sonja would flip out completely if she were told what actually just happened.

When Ellie gets home, Sonja is waiting, making a huge amount of curry. "Hi, babe! You'd better be hungry. I fucking am."

Ellie considers telling her what happened. But Miriam said, "Tell no one of this." So it's an easy decision to say nothing.

Ellie realises that she kind of likes having the decision made for her. It gives her a warm, secure feeling to not have to think about it. It doesn't matter that Miriam didn't exactly explain why. She trusts her.

*

The next two times they meet in the gym, Miriam behaves as if nothing happened at all. It's as if the whole encounter was just an act, a little one-act play they were performing in, and now it's over. Miriam runs on her machine, and Ellie lifts. They chat about work, music, food, fashion. They shower. Ellie bubbles with puzzled lust, desperate to make a first move, or second move it would be now, and struggling to obey her order not to.

The third time, a few weeks after the machine fell over, Ellie is doing bench presses while Miriam spots her. Miriam is, to some extent, acting as Ellie's personal trainer now.

"That's five," Miriam says, guiding the barbell back into its cradle. "Very good. No, don't sit up. Stay there."

Ellie stays lying down on the bench. Miriam circles around her, producing another pair of resistance bands. Miriam uses them quite frequently, for actual resistance exercises, but Ellie's heart skips every time she gets them out, because of the association. She has told herself that she has to stop getting so excited. But it's hard.

"It's time for another lesson," Miriam says.

"Oh!" Ellie says, involuntarily. Her heart starts pounding. "Does that mean I can ask--"

"No, it means you can be silent until I tell you to speak," Miriam says. She smiles thinly.

"Oh!"

"Quiet!"

Ellie bites her lip.

Miriam bends down beneath the bench. She takes Ellie's left wrist and uses a band to tie her wrist to the bench leg. A proper knot, not a simple loop. Very little give. She does the same to Ellie's right wrist. Ellie wears a strappy pink top today, one which ends just below her breasts, and cyan boyleg shorts with a pink stripe. With her wrists knotted beneath the bench, and her shoulders pulled backwards, Ellie's whole abdomen is on display, an acre of tanned, rippling abdominal musculature, with deeply grooved serrati anterior. She flexes her arms, trying to free herself. She can't. An excited tremble runs through her.

Miriam ties her ankles to the bench's front leg, for good measure. Then she stands back, admiring her handiwork, her newly wrapped gift. Miriam, for all her cool indifference, has been looking forward to this too. It has been very difficult, waiting, letting Ellie simmer, slowly becoming more... tender. Spread out before her, Ellie's body is a lush, well-tended garden of pleasures, aching to be explored.

She walks up to near Ellie's head, and runs a teasing finger around the inside edge of her ear.

Ellie squeaks.

Miriam says, "Try to get out of that."

Ellie struggles, and puffs. She's able to rock the bench a little, but can't get any of her limbs loose. At least, not immediately. She feels awfully self-conscious and vulnerable.

"I can't," she says.

"Good. If the bindings are too tight, or if you feel like you're losing circulation, you have to tell me immediately. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Miriam lets her hair down, a silky cascade of shimmering midnight black, falling in waves around her shoulders. She's wearing black today, black leggings and a taut black Nike T-shirt with the swoosh across her bust. With her hair free and her scrunchie discarded, she straddles Ellie's bare abdomen. She sits there, legs spread, resting most of her weight on Ellie's abs.

Ellie looks up at her, adoringly. Miriam is imposing from this angle. Ellie finds that she is a little scared.

"Ma'am, what are you teaching me today?"

"This."

Miriam leans forward and kisses Ellie deeply on the mouth. As she does so, she runs her hands up along Ellie's toned underarms, and back across her trapezii and neck and chest, across the smooth front of her top. The kiss continues and deepens. Miriam's tongue finds its way into Ellie's mouth. One of her hands finds its way up under Ellie's top, and cups her sensitive breast, and grips it, and strokes her areola, and thumbs her already-perky nipple. With her other hand, Miriam toys with Ellie's ear.

"Mmmmh," Ellie says. She fidgets, frustrated again by not being able to reciprocate. One-way foreplay. She doesn't know if she likes it at all.

Miriam lifts Ellie's top up, freeing her breasts, which rise up like little mountains atop her pectoral muscles, with stiff nipples for peaks. Miriam cups and squeezes Ellie's breasts, admiring them with not a little envy. (Her own breasts are huge and luscious, and she loves them, but they're heavy, and it's annoyingly difficult to find good underwear.) Then she sits up again, and looks Ellie in the eyes. She plants one hand on Ellie's chest, between her breasts. She reaches back with her other hand, not looking, and draws a tender line down Ellie's hip, and iliac furrow, toward the top of her tight shorts.

"Ma'am," Ellie says.

"Quiet," Miriam says. She lays her palm flat on Ellie's belly, and then slides her hand inside Ellie's tight blue-green shorts. And further. Past her fluffy mons, cupping her pussy, rubbing it lightly. A few delicate fingers find the inviting cleft between Ellie's lips, and curl inwards. And inwards.

Ellie mewls softly. "That feels so good..."

"I said, quiet," Miriam snaps. "I want absolute silence from you. Do I need to gag you?"

"No, ma'am. I'll be quiet."

Miriam slides another few fingers into Ellie's pussy. Ellie is soft and warm and quite tight, wrapping snugly around Miriam's fingers, holding them firmly. Miriam uses her thumb, spreading Ellie's nether lips some more, in search of her clitoris. She squeezes until Ellie's tiny clit makes an appearance from beneath its hood. Still working by feel alone, Miriam begins strumming the sensitive nubbin with her thumb, while she works her fingers inside Ellie's sex.

Ellie twists, closing her eyes.

Meanwhile, Miriam roams the rest of Ellie's body with her other hand: her breasts and trapezii and neck and ear. She strokes Ellie's cheek; Ellie nuzzles happily against her hand. She puts her thumb in Ellie's mouth. Ellie sucks it, on instinct. Ellie is being carried away on a wave of pleasure. She wants to close her legs around Miriam's hand to pull her in, but she can't. The tight elastic bindings mean all she can do is flex uselessly.

Miriam is watching her responses, and taking mental notes. Ellie is like a box of treasures. It's wonderful to explore her body, to watch her respond to different forms of teasing.

Soon, Ellie's mouth opens and she gasps, silently. Miriam feels a pulse of lubrication inside Ellie's pussy, although no telltale involuntary flexing. It doesn't seem like she's coming, yet, but it won't be long.

"Don't come," Miriam says. "And don't make a sound. Or I will punish you."

Don't come? Ellie has never been asked to do such a thing before. She is naturally orgasmic, multi-orgasmic, and noisy, too. This could be very difficult for her.

And then Miriam really goes to work, stirring Ellie's pussy until her hand is soaked with Ellie's excitement, other hand dancing across every part of Ellie's exposed flesh, grabbing her nipples and ears and squeezing her breasts and her throat, piling on the stimulation, turning her into a writhing animal. Ellie flexes, bucking, breathing hard through her nose and gritted teeth, butt leaving the bench, almost throwing Miriam off. Miriam grips her around the waist with her thighs, rubbing her own crotch against Ellie's belly. Ellie grits her teeth, the flood of pleasure overwhelming her. "Nnnh!"

"Don't come!" Miriam barks.

Ellie shakes her head. "Aaah! I can't do it! I'm sorry!" She fails. She clamps down tightly on Miriam's fingers, over and over. Her hips can't help but gyrate, thrusting up to meet Miriam's palm. A strong, delightful tremor runs up from her pussy to her scalp. Divine, sweet colours fire off behind her eyes. She wails with pleasure and dismay.

Miriam swirls Ellie's happy wet pussy until Ellie gains some measure of self-control, and can see straight again. Then she withdraws her hand and climbs off her lover. She wipes her fingers with a tissue. "Hopeless."

This is a crushing blow to Ellie. Tears form in her eyes, even though she's still humming with pleasure. "I'm sorry!"

"Oh, you will be." Miriam picks up another resistance band. It's just a long, flat strip of colourful rubber. She lifts it over her head and brings it down with a snap on Ellie's inner thigh.

"Ah!" Ellie is more surprised than anything.

Miriam hits her other thigh too. She alternates for a while, then transfers her attention to Ellie's bare abdomen, leaving a mild redness on her thighs.

"Ah!"

It's nothing, really. It's a beginner-level punishment, more for show than inflicting real pain. Miriam knows she could whale on her all day with a flogger as insubstantial as this. At least, her thighs and abs. But then she moves up a little, and strikes Ellie across her bare breasts.

"Ah!"

"Hold still." And again.

"AH!" Ellie tries to hold still. Then Miriam lands a blow directly on one of her nipples. "OW!"

Miriam works up and down Ellie's whole body for a little while, giving a little attention to her upper arms too. She strikes Ellie's nipples a few times. She ignores Ellie's pussy -- Ellie wouldn't even feel it through her shorts -- and is extremely careful to avoid her face. She gives her several minutes of beating, and then stops.

Ellie's head spins a little.

"What have you learned?" Miriam asks her.

"Um. I'll try harder not to come next time."

"What you've learned," Miriam snaps, "is that you're a filthy, degenerate slut. Just a thirsty wet pussy with legs."

Ellie hates this. "No, ma'am! I'm sorry!"

"Who deserves a sound thrashing."

"No, ma'am!"

"How many times did I flog you?"

"What?"

Miriam growls. She pulls one end of the resistance band back from her other hand, and releases it, allowing it to snap, very hard, against Ellie's left nipple. This is not a beginner punishment, it stings to high hell and Ellie yowls.

Miriam barks, "You say 'ma'am'! How many times did I flog you with this?"

"I don't know, ma'am! I wasn't keeping count! Ma'am! F-fifty?"

Miriam flicks her other nipple. Ellie shudders and pulls against her bonds, fruitlessly. It takes a lot of effort for Miriam to keep her face straight while she watches the show.

"Fifty-five, ma'am?" Ellie guesses, desperately.

"It was forty-five times," Miriam says. She raises the resistance band again, and holds it against Ellie's nipple again, waiting for a long moment while Ellie gets good and scared. And then, releases it. Snap! Ellie's breast quivers, and she yelps again.

"So what else have you learned?" Miriam asks her.

"I've learned to keep count, ma'am!"

"Good. And after I flogged you forty-five times, how many times did I flick you?" Miriam raises the band and takes aim once more, threateningly.

"Three, ma'am! Please, not four!"

A long, anxious pause.

"Please!"

"...Good." Miriam lowers the band. She wraps it up and throws it into her kit bag.

Ellie slumps, gasping for breath. She shouldn't be so out of breath, she tells herself. She's barely been moving! A mad little thought bolts through her head: does any of that qualify as cardio?

Miriam stands over her. She bends low over Ellie's face, allowing a curtain of her dark hair to fall around them, wrapping their heads in a kind of private room. She bends lower, and kisses Ellie, tenderly and sweetly. Ellie drinks the kiss in, and Miriam brushes her cheek.

Ellie breaks off. "What's happening, ma'am?" she asks. She is having trouble processing all of this. The pain, the insults, the harsh restraints... none of these are things she associates with sex. But it all feels so good. She feels like she just stepped off a roller coaster. "What are you doing to me?"

Miriam finds it a little amusing that a girl like Ellie wouldn't know BDSM when it strapped her to a bench and fucked her. Maybe that's why she really had to get out of her home town: it was Vanillaville, and she needed to be exposed to some good, hard kink.

Still, if she doesn't know, Miriam thinks it would be far more enjoyable for Ellie if she just waits and sees. So, she ignores the question. Instead, she says:

"I'm going to give you some ground rules. First: You still can't talk to anyone about our 'lessons'. Not even me, not even if we're alone together. Not until I tell you when. Second: You aren't allowed to touch yourself. Only I get to touch you."

"Ma'am?"

"You are a filthy slut," Miriam reminds her. "I've seen how you look at me in the shower, and I know exactly what you do with yourself after I leave. You need to be kept in check. We will work more on this."

Ellie blushes unhappily. The accusations are true. "I'll try, ma'am."

"You had better do better than 'try'," Miriam says. "If you fail, you will confess your failings to me at the beginning of your next lesson."

"Yes, ma'am," Ellie says, nervously.

"Third. This." Miriam puts a hand in Ellie's shorts again and tugs hard on her little tuft of pubic hair.

"Ow!"

"Get rid of it. From now on, I want you smooth as cream. I'm not masturbating you through a thicket again."

"But ma'am, you don't shave yourself--" Ellie begins. She's seen it in the showers. Miriam has a similar amount of darker pubic hair. More, if anything.

Miriam plucks one of Ellie's hairs, pulling it right out of her body with her fingers, root and all.

"Aiih!"

"I am without flaw," Miriam explains. "You are a delinquent sex-pot, in dire need of training and discipline. Hairlessness will form a part of that discipline. So: that's three rules. There will be more rules, later, but let's stop at three. You can count to three, can't you? I think we demonstrated that."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Miriam gets up. She ducks beneath the bench and unties Ellie's wrists and ankles, then stands up and walks away with the used resistance bands, bundling them up. Ellie sits up, rubbing her wrists, which are a little sore, and have red strain marks. Her ankles are the same. She is still wet between her legs. She needs to use the lavatory, and then the shower, and then the laundry. Same as after any workout, really.

She looks at Miriam, who has her back turned, and is untying her pumps. Her dominant personality seems to have vanished again, and she is ordinary Miriam. The lesson is over.

She can't talk about it anymore. That's the rule.

"Um. Thank you, ma'am. For... spotting for me."

"Oh?" Miriam turns. "Anytime."

Ellie finds that something is bothering her. The whole scene was one-way. Miriam didn't get to get off. "Ma'am," she says, "I would love to spot for you sometime."

"Hmm? Oh," Miriam says, seemingly caught off-guard. "Well. Uh. Maybe another time."

*

Sonja is on the couch reading social media on a tablet while some reality show plays on the television. She looks up when she hears Ellie come in through the door. "Hi, babe."

Then she double-takes. Ellie has an expression on her face which Sonja has never seen before. It's new, but it's incredibly easy to decode. It is an embarrassed, happy, guilty, utterly-failing-to-be-nonchalant expression.

"Oh my God," Sonja says. "What happened? You finally ask her out? She ask you out? I know you had a crush on her, you are the worst at keeping secrets."

Ellie shakes her head. "Mm mm," she says, lips pursed. She is trying not to say anything or admit anything or do anything. When did her feelings become so transparently obvious to everyone?