Characters borrowed with much gratitude from SilentStream. First published on MC Stories May 2017.

Earlier that day, while they were both sitting around drinking tea and reading, Amy had looked at Mae over her mug and remarked, “I’m a hitty mood today.” To which Mae had responded by grinning and bouncing eagerly in her seat.

“You’re not cowering,” lamented Amy. “What’s the matter, am I not intimidating enough?”

So Mae dutifully cowered: “oh no please don’t hit me that would be absolutely terrible can you use that new purple flogger I really like that purple flogger oh no heaven forbid.” And Amy had choked on her tea and given Mae an affectionate kiss on the forehead, and they had both returned to their books, both slightly and pleasantly distracted imagining what might happen later that day.

* * *

That afternoon, Mae was curled up on the couch with the same book and another cup of tea, increasingly distracted. She kept glancing up from her book, at Amy, waiting for the moment of decision, the moment when the dynamics shifted around just a bit and Amy’s voice acquired that touch of evil and anything she said made Mae a little weak in the knees. When Amy stood up from her computer and went to the bedroom, Mae was pretty sure she knew why, and tried in vain to return to her book, but her nerves were already thrumming with excitement.

Amy returned to the living room, propped her hands on her hips, and fixed Mae with a reproachful stare. She coughed pointedly, and Mae looked up at her from over her now-upside-down book. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Mae,” began Amy slowly, “have you seen my purple flogger?”

“Nooooope,” said Mae with an exaggerated shrug, and put her book over her face.

Amy snorted, came over, removed the book, looked Mae in the eye. “Mae, did you do something with my flogger?”

“Nooooope,” said Mae again. This time, she shook her head vigorously for good measure.

“Because you know,” continued Amy, “if you had done something with that flogger when you knew I wanted to hit you with it, then whenever I found it I would probably have to hit you even harder. You know that, right?”

Mae widened her eyes. “Really? That is fascinating, and a thing I had not known before.”

Amy grinned. “So did you do something with my flogger?”

“Mayyyybe?”

Amy threaded her fingers through Mae’s hair, and Mae gasped just a little. “So Mae…” Amy brought her face very close. “Where’s the flogger?”

Mae made her eyes as wide and innocent as she could. “W-what flogger?”

Laughing, Amy cocked an eyebrow. “Dearest, do we need to do this the hard way?”

“Maybe?” Mae blinked up at her, not play-acting this time. “What’s the hard way?”

“The one where you refuse to tell me and I interrogate you and you resist and resist until you finally give in to my diabolical wiles and tell me everything.” Amy released Mae’s hair and snuggled up beside her on the couch. “Does that sound like fun?”

Mae bit her lip. “Yes? Maybe? Are you going to be angry at me when I don’t tell you? Or, or, pretend to be angry, or…?”

Amy chuckled and stroked her lover’s hair. “I don’t have to, if that would stress you out.” The last time they had done an interrogation scene, it had, in fact, stressed Mae out—after the aftercare, they had had a long discussion about what a less stressful version of that scene might look like in future.) “We can do the strictly fun and sexy kind of interrogation. Where I’m smiling the whole time and interrogating you with sex.”

“Ooh, with sex?!”

Amy stifled a laugh in Mae’s shoulder. “Yes, with sexy sex. No shouting, no hitting, just evil smiles.”

Mae nodded enthusiastically into Amy’s neck. “I like those things! That sounds fun!”

“I’m so glad,” said Amy, sincerely—her brain was already starting to tick through possibilities. “So, pleasure-torture sorts of things? Are you okay with ropes? Hypnosis? Me, ah, taking over your mind with pleasure until you don’t remember that you were resisting me?” Mae shivered against her, and Amy grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes pleeeaaaase,” Mae murmured, squirming a bit. “That sounds reeaaaallly niiiice.”

Amy pulled back to look Mae in the eyes. “And Mae, sweetie—look at me, this is important.” Obediently, Mae raised her eyes to Amy’s. “If it sounds like I’m mad at you or upset that you’re not telling me, it’s all play-acting, okay? I promise. I like you lots and lots, and I like it when you don’t tell me where the flogger is, because then we can have a sexier time, okay?”

Mae sighed relief and smiled up at Amy. “Thanks Amy.”

“Of course, you goob,” Amy said affectionately, ruffling Mae’s hair. “And if anything feels weird or bad, or you need a break, or you need me to remind you that I like you lots, tell me, yeah?”

Mae nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I can do that!”

“Good girl.” Amy kissed her softly, and Mae shivered with pleasure. “Want to get started?”

“Yes! I’ll never tell, do your worst!” Mae declared heroically, and Amy giggled.

“Good girl,” she murmured, and twined her hands back in Mae’s hair and yanked sharply—Mae gasped. “Sleep for me,” Amy commanded, and Mae let the words drag her under and felt her eyelids fluttering closed.

* * *

“And 1, 2, 3, awake, still woozy from that drug, securely bound.”

Mae’s brain dragged her out of trance with the numbers. She was sitting on one of their wooden dining room chairs, she realized, and something seemed to be holding her there. She tried to move her arms, but they seemed stuck behind her back; then her legs, but they seemed fastened to the legs of the chair. She felt the familiar chafing of rope against her limbs, holding her fast, though when she looked down she saw nothing. Taking stock, she realized that instead of wood, she was sitting on something bright pink and fuzzy. “Why’m I sitting on a towel?” she asked Amy groggily—even through her haze she could tell that Amy was nearby.

Amy chuckled, not unkindly. “Oh darling. I think you’re going to need it. Wide awake now,” she said with a snap of her fingers.

Mae blinked rapidly as she came back to herself. Invisible ropes bound her securely to the chair, and she was—she dropped her eyes, blushing furiously, suddenly squirming—she was completely naked, and Amy stood before her, fully clothed, looking down at her with that delightful evil smile on her face.

A rush of heat struck Mae between the legs, and she was suddenly very grateful for that towel after all.

“Mae,” asked Amy softly, gripping Mae’s chin and gently forcing her to meet her eyes. “Where’s my purple flogger?” She saw the indecision and confusion flicker across Mae’s face, because she added in a stage whisper, “I don’t actually want you to tell me yet.”

“Oh. OH!” Mae straightened her back and shot the best defiant look at Amy that she could muster while hypnotically tied to a chair, naked, and already dripping with arousal. “Well, in that case... I’ll never tell! Never ever ever! You’ll just have to interrogate me horribly!”

Amy grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she murmured, and then her hand was tangled in Mae’s hair, gripping roughly, forcing her head back. “Where’s the flogger?” she demanded again, more forcefully that before, but still with an evil smile in her voice.

“Your FACE is the flogger!” Mae shot back, even as the grip on her hair made her want nothing more than to melt into Amy’s hands.

Amy’s other hand pinched her nipple roughly, and her knee came up to push deliciously against Mae’s pussy. “Where is it?”

“It’s, aah—” Mae’s voice broke momentarily, her distraction evident. She squirmed against Amy, arching her hips in desperation for more contact even as she said in a trembling voice, “I’ll never tell!”

Amy’s mouth quirked in a smile and she withdrew her knee—Mae whimpered a bit at the loss of sensation. “And here I was worried you’d make this too easy,” Amy murmured, and Mae felt a rush of pride, coupled with a rush of anticipation mixed with arousal mixed with that delightful drop in the pit of her stomach of “dear god, what have I gotten myself into?”

“Look here, pet.” Amy brought up two fingers just at eye level and Mae stared, transfixed. With the ease of long practice, she felt her mind going still, opening up to Amy’s words.

“We have a very powerful polygraph here,” Amy told her in a low voice, moving those fingers back and forth just a bit to keep Mae’s eyes captivated. “It works via radio waves, so it doesn’t even need to be connected to you. But it can tell when you’re lying, and when you’re telling the truth. And when you lie, you feel a spasm of pain. Not too much, not more than you can take, but enough to make you think twice about telling another lie.” Mae whimpered and shifted in her seat. “And when you tell the truth...”

Amy trailed a finger up the other woman’s arm, and grabbed a fistfull of hair and slowly pulled. Mae felt her breath catch, felt her head being dragged back until she could feel Amy’s warm breath on her neck, felt a wash of arousal from her tingling scalp down to her pussy.

“We like it when you tell the truth,” Amy murmured into her ear. “When you tell the truth, you get to feel a wave of pleasure roll through your entire body. It makes your skin tingle, it makes your pussy throb, it makes every single inch of you feel so fucking good as it tears through you, leaving you gasping, dripping. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Mae could only squirm and whimper her assent. She tried to nod, she really did, but Amy’s hand in her hair held her as fast as the invisible ropes around her arms and legs. “Would you like to feel that, pet?” purred Amy against her throat. Again Mae tried to nod, and again she couldn’t, which only made her wetter.

Amy released her hair and came around to face her naked, squirming lover, crouching before her and looking her square in the eye. “What’s your name, pet?” she asked softly.

“M-my name is Mae—ffffuck.” The pleasure coursed through Mae’s body and set every part of her afire in the most delicious way. She looked up at Amy, panting, glassy-eyed.

“Where do you live?”

“432 Porter Road,” Mae just managed to say before another wave of pleasure engulfed her. She was unconsciously bucking her hips against the chair beneath her now, desperately seeking more stimulation.

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“V-vanilla!” cried Mae defiantly, and yelped in pain.

Amy smirked. “How did that feel?”

Mae drew a shuddering breath. “Like a hard spank and someone pinching my nipples too hard and a f-f-flogger...” She trailed off guiltily under Amy’s gaze, and Amy smiled widely.

“I told you, pet, our polygraph is extremely... sensitive.” As she said it, she reached out and raked her fingernails across Mae’s chest, making her moan softly and squirm against her invisible bonds. Amy chuckled and began to pet Mae’s hair softly. “So now that you know how the polygraph works, pet, tell me: do you like the feeling of telling me the truth? Do you like to feel that incredible pleasure rolling through you? Do you like the way it softens your will and fogs away your resistance?”

Mae swallowed and steeled herself. She knew what the right answer was. She knew it was true. She knew she would say it. And she knew how it would affect her. Amy was right, the pleasure would melt away her will, and she wanted it anyway—that knowledge alone was almost enough to make her moan aloud.

Instead, she looked up at Amy and whispered, “Yes,” and gasped as the pleasure hit, even stronger than before.

“Good girl,” Amy murmured, and Mae felt herself blush and and almost grin before she caught herself. She was in enemy territory here, damnit, and she was going to guard her information with everything she had!

“Can you imagine how good it will feel when you tell me where that flogger is?” Amy asked her, and “yes” sprang from Mae’s mouth unbidden, and again that pleasure washed through her, impossibly arousing.

“So my dear...” Amy stopped petting Mae’s hair and looked straight at her, and Mae felt her gaze locked magnetically onto Amy’s, knowing how often she had stared into those eyes until her mind opened right up to Amy’s words, knowing that she was powerless, knowing that—

“Where’s the flogger?”

Somehow, Mae kept her lips pressed tight shut. She wanted that pleasure, wanted it so badly, but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she wasn’t supposed to tell, or maybe she was supposed to, but that couldn’t be right, because Amy didn’t want her to, yet Amy clearly did want her to, but—

“Mae, honey.” Amy’s voice was different, gentler, and she was crouching to look Mae in the eyes. “Check in with me. How are you doing?”

The question and the tone penetrated Mae’s foggy brain. “M’confused,” she told Amy truthfully, and somehow her brain knew not to send a wave of pleasure through her this time. “Am I supposed to tell you where the flogger is, or...?”

Amy clapped a hand over her mouth at the sheer adorableness of the question. “Oh sweetie.” She leaned forward to kiss Mae on the forehead. “Would you like to keep going, then? Or be done?”

“I-I’d like to keep going, I think,” Mae told her. “For a bit. If, if you’re okay with it, I mean, if you’re enjoying, I just, it feels so good, and—”

Amy chuckled, and Mae fell silent. “I am definitely enjoying.” She found the glass of water behind her and took a long drink before offering it to Mae. “Go ahead and release your arms for a moment, sweetie.” Gratefully, Mae stretched her upper body, rolled her wrists a few times, and took the glass that Amy offered, draining it and handing it back.

Amy put the glass behind her, out of the way, and turned back to face her lover. “You want to keep going, you said?” she asked.

Mae nodded earnestly. “Just for a bit. But yes. Feels nice. But, wait, should I tell you, or...?”

Amy smiled broadly and kissed her on the forehead once more. “I like that you’re not telling me yet. I think you should tell me in a little bit, whenever you decide you’re ready to break. Does that make sense? Does that sound good?”

Mae nodded.

“Good, I’m glad.” Amy stood and gently placed Mae’s arms behind the chair once more, crossed at the wrists. “Feel those ropes back in place, binding you,” she murmured in Mae’s ear. “On your wrists, on your ankles, tying you securely to that chair. Knowing that if you really need them too, those ropes will just vanish, but while we’re here in this scene, no matter how hard you struggle, you can’t escape. You’re trapped here, in this chair, and you can fight all you want, but you know that right now you’re bound and helpless and I can do whatever. I. Want.”

Mae moaned a little at that. All of the arousal that had been put on hold while they checked in rose in her again. She started to rock herself lightly against the chair, seeking any pressure on her clit that she could get.

Amy noticed and grinned wickedly.

“And you remember how good telling the truth makes you feel, right? Well you’ve resisted telling me where my flogger is for so long, I bet when you finally tell me it will feel even better than everything else you’ve felt today combined. Can you imagine what that would feel like, pet?”

Mae whimpered and rocked herself harder against the chair, the towel beneath her nearly soaked through with her arousal.

“You’ve had all this pressure building up inside you,” Amy continued, starting to run her fingers lightly over Mae’s bare shoulders and arms. “All this pleasure running through your body, and you’re all tied to this chair and can hardly even squirm and that just makes it feel better”—she snapped her fingers—“and better”—another finger snap, each one making Mae buck and moan. Amy raked her nails down Mae’s back, eliciting a low moan.

“Are you a little turned on?” Amy asked with a wicked smile. Mae just whimpered and nodded. “D’you want to touch yourself?” Another whimper, another nod. Amy’s smile broadened. “Go ahead, try.”

Mae struggled to move her arm, wanting so badly to touch, craving that release, but the invisible ropes were tight around her wrists, and her arms remained locked behind her back.

“You can’t, can you?” asked Amy softly. “How does that make you feel?”

“Fuck,” Mae breathed. “So bad, I mean, good, I mean, want...”

Amy chuckled. “Imagine me sliding your favorite dildo inside you,” she murmured, and Mae gasped and rolled her hips (Her brain was a mush of arousal at this point, laid open to Amy’s words; anything that Amy said in that soft, deliberate tone she knew so well found its way automatically into the corners of her subconscious.)

“Imagine that dildo,” Amy was saying. “Focus on that sensation. On it filling you. How good that feels. And how it’s just stoking those fires, making you want more, that pressure building, needing to come so fucking badly...”

Mae moaned low in her throat and ground her hips down against the chair.

Amy took Mae by the throat—immediately she stilled, aflame with arousal, eyes locked on Amy’s and unable to look anywhere else. “Dearest, when you tell me where that flogger is, you finally get to come. You get to come so fucking hard. All of this pressure that’s been building up inside of you gets to explode into the longest, most pleasurable orgasm you can imagine.” Amy’s mouth quirked in a smile. “And we both know you can imagine a lot.” Mae smiled a shaky half-smile in response.

“And I bet that’s why you’ve put off telling me for so long, isn’t it?” Amy asked her, one hand still gripping her by the throat. “Because you knew that the longer you waited to tell me, the better it would feel when you finally gave in. Isn’t that right?”

The thoughts trickled slowly through Mae’s arousal-fogged brain. That sounded reasonable, and Amy’s voice sounded so sweet, and Mae felt herself nod just a tiny bit against the hand on her throat.

Amy released her grip and turned her attention to Mae’s nipples, making Mae squirm and gasp. “Feeling that pressure building,” she was murmuring, and Mae was barely conscious of the words as they snaked their way into her mind—“needing so fucking badly to come, and knowing that the instant you tell me where that flogger is you get that release, you get to come your brains out, and gosh won’t that just feel so fucking good, to let go, to explode, to come and come and come harder than you ever have before...”

Dizzily, Mae humped the chair. “Yes, want...” she breathed, fully overcome by that need that Amy whispered to her about. She knew that once it had been important that she not tell Amy, but now all she knew was that the pressure was driving her wild and she needed that release, she needed to come, she needed...

Amy took her roughly by the hair and started rubbing Mae’s clit with the other hand, and Mae knew she was lost. Within moments Amy’s hand was slick with her juices, and as Amy rubbed her in the most delightful ways Mae moaned and cried out.

“Tell me, pet,” Amy commanded softly, using that hand tangled in Mae’s hair to force the trembling woman to meet her eyes. “Tell me, and let yourself go, let that orgasm slam through you. Tell me now.”

Unthinkingly, half-blind with need, Mae responded automatically: “It’s, it’s in the linen closet, the top shelf, behind the blankets, and OHHHHH FUCKKK.” And as Amy pressed down roughly on her clit, Mae exploded—hips bucking wildly, cries and moans escaping from her lips, she rode Amy’s hand as the orgasm roared through her body, spasmed through her limbs, burst in fireworks behind her eyes and between her legs.

She writhed for maybe a full minute, lost to all thought, lost to everything except pleasure. Gradually her body stilled, and she slumped in the chair, panting and bleary-eyed.

Amy withdrew her slick hand from between Mae’s legs and wiped it off on the already-sodden towel laid over the seat. She was also flushed and breathing hard—she had followed Mae through that explosive orgasm and now she also felt a little wobbly, a little liquidy, a little spent. But not nearly so much as Mae, she thought with a grin as she reached out to caress her lover’s face.

“Feel those ropes falling away now, pet,” she said softly, and Mae slowly flexed her arms and legs.

“’m so noodly,” Mae muttered dazedly as she stretched clumsily.

Amy chuckled. Mae meant that her limbs felt like noodles—but the first time she had said something like after a scene, Amy had been half-terrified that she’d broken Mae’s brain. “You make such a cute noodle,” Amy said now, pulling Mae to her feet, one arm ready to steady her if she fell.

Mae smiled a wobbly smile. “Y’make good noodles.” Amy laughed gently and guided Mae over to the couch, where she sat and pulled the other woman to her. Mae gratefully sank down and snuggled up to Amy, burrowing her face against her breasts.

Amy began to stroke Mae’s hair, and Mae gave a low hum of pleasure. “You did so well,” she murmured into the top of Mae’s head. “I’m so proud of you.” Mae happy-sighed and burrowed deeper against Amy, who held her tightly.

“Are you gonna flog me now?” asked Mae sleepily. “It, it feels like you should flog me now, cuz I just told you where it was, and, and…”

“You don’t sound awake enough for a flogging, dear one,” Amy told her.

“No, no, I can do it! So awake! Look at me awaking! I—”

Amy cut her off with a kiss, laughing into Mae’s mouth. “I am not awake enough for a flogging. Let’s raincheck?”

Mae smiled. “Yay good. Flogging later. Snuggle now.” Obligingly, Amy wrapped her arms tighter around her lover.

They lay tangled on the couch for a few minutes, feeling each other, letting their combined heart rates return to normal. Amy was the first one to speak: “Know what my favorite part of that scene was?”

“Mmm, what?”

Amy pulled back a little so she could look Mae in the eye. “Of all the lies… Vanilla ice cream, really? Vanilla??”

“I love vanilla!” Mae protested. “I’m the most vanilla-est! Super vanilla! Kinky sex is bad, and and wrong, and…” She dissolved in giggles, unable to finish her sentence, and Amy cracked up as well, and they lay there together, clutching each other tightly, dissolved in delighted, helpless laughter.