HSN Exchange Fic: Please Be Careful With Your Aim (2/2), for susurrusnight
Title: Please Be Careful With Your Aim (2/2)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Rachel/Quinn
Word count: 11,028
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: Quinn has always wanted to try BDSM - unfortunately, it doesn't go quite the way she had anticipated.
A/N: I've split this into two parts - part one fills the original prompt, part two expands on it! Hope you like it, . (If you don't like part two, just pretend I never wrote it, I won't cry. Much.) A huge, huge vote of thanks to my beta relvoxballroom , who kicked my ass and this fic into serious shape! The fic title is a quote from 'Queen of Pain' by The Cramps and while it's not a song fic, the song is pretty much a perfect fit for this story. It's also an awesome song, I recommend listening to it if you don't know it.
And now for part the second, in which the tables are turned. I've split the fic like this deliberately - I don't know if susurrusnight would rather only see awkward BDSM fail!smut - if that's the case, turn away now and I promise not to be offended! If you'd like to see it done right, keep reading :D
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Rachel had gone to London to study music, but in the end it turned out that what she learned in her professional field, although considerable, was much less important than what she learned about herself. A month after the beginning of her course, she had been dragged by some of her classmates to a London goth club (not her scene in the slightest and if hadn't been for the fact that the girl doing the majority of the dragging was very much Rachel's type and had a penchant for low-cut tops Rachel wouldn't have gone. Unfortunately, when she managed to remove her gaze from the girl's cleavage she discovered that she'd accepted the invitation and she prided herself on never breaking her word).
'Slimelight' had been... an eyeopener. It was dingy and dirty and crowded and she had never had so much fun. No-one there cared who she was and the music, although nothing like her usual tastes, had a way of getting into her blood, making her body vibrate along with the bassline and driving her onto the dance-floor for hours. She didn't know which she was more intoxicated by - the music, or the alcohol that flowed so freely. But by the end of the evening she found herself doing something she had never done before - going home with a stranger, for a night of passion. (She found that if she phrased it that way in her thoughts it didn't sound quite so sordid.)
It turned out to have been one of the most life-changing things she had ever done. The other woman - and she was a woman, easily ten years older than Rachel but jaw-dropping beautiful - had made slow, tender love to her - and then asked her if she would like to be tied to the bed. Curious, Rachel had agreed - and then the real fun had begun. Because Rachel's mystery woman was one of the London fetish scene's most well-known and respected faces, and she had earned her status honestly.
It turned into a lot more than a one-night stand. The woman - who went by the name Medea and was, Rachel later discovered, as highly respected in her professional field as she was in her recreational one - had taken Rachel under her wing. As a kind of apprentice, she said with an amused chuckle when introducing Rachel to a friend one night, someone to pass her knowledge onto who truly appreciated it. Because what Medea had seen in Rachel that night after the club, that Rachel hadn't even known was there, was the ability to be the same sort of careful, compassionate sadist that she herself was.
Rachel learned how to read body language, how to know when her partner's body was crying yes when their mouth was saying stop, how to handle a whip so that it could caress as lightly as a feather or as sharp as a knife, how to safely immobilise someone. There was so much to learn, and a year wasn't long enough - but it was long enough for Rachel to realise that not only was this something she was good at - it would always be a part of her. She even had her tie to the lifestyle inked on her skin - the tattoo on her wrist was the BDSM emblem. She liked the symbol, even without it's deeper meaning, but it was also an affirmation to herself of who she was - and a subtle coded message for those who could read it.
She'd known Quinn was submissive from the first time she had kissed her - she'd suspected it for much longer. But she couldn't just turn around to the girl and say 'hey, what do you say, I think you and I have a date with a pair of handcuffs and a flogger,' could she? Not successfully anyway, although it might be funny to see Quinn's face if she did. It had only been two months, after all - she had been looking for a way to broach the subject without freaking Quinn out when she mentioned it. And when Quinn had been looking at the (frankly, sub-standard) toys in Babeland, she'd known that was her opportunity - and then Quinn had been naive enough to think that she actually wanted to dominate Rachel.
Still, Rachel had been willing to go along with it - she wasn't submissive but she knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end and she'd been taught (and agreed) that any good top should know what their tools felt like. Then - well, then it had been the unmitigated disaster she had been rather afraid that it might turn out to be. Quinn hadn't known what she was doing, hadn't done any research (hadn't known how to, Rachel was sure, and that wasn't her fault) and worst of all, now Quinn felt like she should never approach anything that wasn't completely vanilla with a ten-foot pole.
Rachel had the perfect solution for that problem, though.
A week after their disastrous attempt at BDSM, Quinn had shoved the incident thoroughly to the back of her mind despite Rachel's attempts to bring the subject up. Rachel wanted to talk about it, of course she did - Rachel always wanted to talk about thing, Quinn thought rather glumly to herself. Quinn didn't want to talk about it, at least not until she felt slightly less ridiculous and incompetent - and employed every trick she had to distract Rachel when the subject came up. Luckily for Quinn, Rachel tended to go slightly monosyllabic when Quinn kissed her, so it wasn't as hard as it might have been.
So, Quinn had relaxed slightly - she certainly wasn't expecting the sight that greeted her on Friday afternoon when she walked into Rachel's place (unlike Quinn, who had a room to call her own, Rachel had an entire apartment, courtesy of her Dads' tendency to equate money with love). Rachel was wearing a sleeveless button-down shirt in a deep emerald green, and a knee-length pencil skirt with an indecently high spilt up the back. Her stockings (and yes, they were stockings, Quinn could see the tops flashing through the slit in the skirt when Rachel led her into the apartment) were seamed up the back, and Quinn hadn't known that Rachel could walk in five-inch stilettos. Her hair was up, in a French pleat and her make-up was smokier and bolder than usual.
"Rachel, what -" Quinn said, not even realising that she was repeating Rachel's words from her abortive attempt at domination.
"No talking," Rachel said quietly, smiling just a little as she saw the recognition flash across Quinn's face. Quinn kept quiet, intensely curious now.
"There are only two rules," Rachel said, still in that quiet tone - Quinn had to strain to hear her. "The first rule - you do everything I say, without question. The second rule - if you want me to stop, if you truly and honestly want me to stop, say 'red light' and I will. That's your safe word. Nothing else will make me stop - just those two words. But if you use your safe word, I will not start again. Do you understand?"
"I," Quinn started to say, and Rachel's eyes flashed.
"Just one word, Quinn," she said softly. "Yes, or no. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Quinn said, voice cracking as her throat was suddenly dry.
"That's my girl," Rachel said, pleased, and reached out to run the backs of her fingers softly down Quinn's cheek.
She continued the caress, running her hand down Quinn's neck and across her shoulder, trailing her fingertips down her arm until they circled her wrist, gripping gently but firmly and pulling her into Rachel's bedroom. The room had been rearranged, so that there was a large open space, and Rachel moved Quinn to the middle of the space before stepping back and taking a seat on a chair that faced into the room.
"Now," she said. "Take your clothes off - slowly. Fold them neatly and place them on the chest, and leave your bra and panties on."
Quinn bit her lip and moved her hands to the hem of her shirt, beginning to pull it up. She froze when Rachel's voice whispered softly into the room again.
"You've forgotten something, Quinn." How could she sound so - so firm, so totally in control, when she was barely audible? Quinn was having to strain to hear her, every ounce of concentration she had was focused on the other woman.
Quinn was wise enough to realise that she probably shouldn't say anything - she just froze where she was, eyes fixed on Rachel, almost not breathing. How had Rachel done this, created such a charged atmosphere with just a few, well-chosen words?
"Acknowledge an order when I give you one, Quinn," Rachel told her, and tilted her head a little to the side as she waited for Quinn's response. Her hands were folded loosely in her lap and she looked completely at ease - totally at odds with the way Quinn was feeling now. "Take your clothes off," she repeated, giving the words a prompting inflection.
"Yes...," Quinn said, hesitantly, "yes, Mistress?"
"Just 'Rachel' will do," Rachel said with a slightly amused smile, and then she leaned forward, the smile dropping off her face as her voice turned husky. "I want to be sure that you know exactly who I am."
Quinn shivered, not even sure what it was she was shivering for, and nodded.
"Yes, Rachel," she said, hands not moving, standing perfectly still.
Rachel leaned back again. "Continue," she said.
"Yes, Rachel."
Quinn's hands began to move again, and she didn't miss the pleased expression that fitted across Rachel's face - she looked almost proud. She pulled off her top and pants, folding them neatly as she had been instructed, laying her socks on top of the pile and her shes on the floor next to the chest. Rachel hadn't said what to do with her shoes but when Quinn had flicked her eyes over to her as she bent to place them on the floor Rachel had nodded slightly. One she was undressed, she moved back to the spot Rachel had placed her in, standing awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do with herself.
"Hands behind your back," Rachel said. "Shoulders back. You're beautiful - you should be proud of yourself."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, doing as she was told.
"If I tell you to stand somewhere," Rachel said, "that's how I want you to stand. Tall and proud. And I want your eyes fixed on me at all times."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, feeling the words becoming somehow more powerful with repetition.
"Now, kneel. Knees a little apart, sit back on your heels. Back straight, hands behind you. And, eyes down. When you're kneeling, unless I tell you to look at me, I want your eyes on the ground."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, lowering herself to the ground and casting her gaze down to the carpet. She could hear Rachel moving and fought with herself to keep her gaze lowered. She desperately wanted to get this right - and not, she was realising, just because she didn't want to get it wrong again. No, she wanted to be perfect for Rachel, be what Rachel wanted her to be. Wanted to be the person Rachel was telling her that she saw, proud and beautiful.
"You're perfect, Quinn," Rachel said, running her hand through Quinn's hair and Quinn jumped, gaze flicking to Rachel before she could stop it. How had the girl managed to move so quietly, in those heels?
"Or not," Rachel said amused. "That's another one, Quinn."
Quinn bit her lip against the impulse to ask what Rachel was referring to, and Rachel laughed quietly as she watched her struggle. After the initial startled glance, Quinn's eyes had been firmly fixed on the carpet - honestly, she was amazed at how well Quinn was doing. She stroked her hand through Quinn's hair again, loving the silky feel of the strands against her fingers, letting it fall back against Quinn's shoulders slowly.
"Perfect," she said again, before taking her hand back and straightening up. "But," she said, voice losing it's intimate tone, becoming colder. "You desperately need to be taught a lesson."
Quinn could feel her muscles tensing, and couldn't stop the little shiver that ran through her. Was Rachel really that mad at her? She thought that it was all over and forgotten, had she been wrong? Rachel had kept trying to bring it up - maybe this was her way of forcing Quinn to deal with the issue. Her musings were broken when Rachel's voice cut in.
"Come here."
She'd moved back to the chair - silently, again, Quinn was starting to get a little freaked out by how well she could move in those damned shoes. Quinn got to her feet, moving to stand next to the chair, hands behind her back, proud of herself for remembering.
"That's another one," Rachel said, and Quinn felt her forehead wrinkle in confusion. "What do you say when I give you an order?" Rachel asked, and Quinn hung her head, angry with herself for forgetting.
"I'm sorry, Rachel," she said before remembering that she wasn't supposed to say anything.
"And again," Rachel said, amused. "You really are determined to make this hard for yourself, aren't you?" Quinn bit her lip against the impulse to say something, and Rachel considered, for a moment, allowing her to speak. But she looked so sweetly confused and conflicted standing there, that Rachel couldn't bring herself to break the spell. Quinn didn't need to speak, either, not yet.
"Now," Rachel said. "I'm going to give you a demonstration of how a spanking should be delivered. Pay very close attention," she said, voice going impish for a moment, "there may be a test."
Quinn ventured a small smile at Rachel's words and watched with momentary confusion as Rachel kicked off her shoes before realising that of course with the heels on her knees were probably too high.
"Put my shoes with yours," Rachel told her, "and then come back here and lie down across my lap."
Quinn swallowed and did as she was told, reflecting that she really did deserve this. After what she'd done to Rachel, she didn't blame the other girl for wanting to get her revenge. Which was why, when she was comfortably arranged across Rachel's lap, she was so shocked when all Rachel did was stroke her ass, softly smoothing her palm over the firm muscle.
"Perfect," she murmured again, seemingly stuck on that word to describe Quinn. Then she swatted her, lightly, not even hard enough to sting.
Quinn jumped just a little, more from expectation that from pain, because it actually didn't even hurt. Rachel continued, almost patting her, and Quinn found herself melting into her lap with pleasure. She didn't even notice when the pats became slaps, until she suddenly realised that she could hear the impact Rachel's hand was making against her panties, and that she was squirming slightly.
"Hold still," Rachel said warningly, resting her free hand in the small of Quinn's back.
"Yes, Rachel," she said immediately, stilling her squirming.
"Good girl," Rachel told her, accompanying her words with a loving caress of Quinn's now-warm buttocks. "I think we can dispense with the panties," she said idly, pulling the offending garment down. Unthinkingly, Quinn raised her hips to help her, and Rachel pushed the panties down Quinn's thighs until they were caught just above her knees.
Suddenly, Quinn felt very... dirty, kneeling across her girlfriend's lap with her panties around her knees, but it wasn't a bad kind of dirty - it was exciting, just a little risque. Rachel was running her hand back up the inside of Quinn's thighs, fingers brushing both legs at the same time until she reached her sex and Quinn was shocked to realise that she was wet. She hadn't even noticed the arousal creeping up on her it had been so slow, and she had been so focused on Rachel.
"Very good," Rachel said, drawing her fingertips through Quinn's wetness. "But not," she said, abruptly taking her hand away, "good enough to deserve that kind of reward. Now," she said, returning to her spanking, and now it did hurt but somehow it wasn't a bad kind of hurt - Quinn found that she was actually anticipating the blows and not fearing them.
"Now. When you were spanking me," she said, with an especially hard swat that made Quinn cry out quietly and then bite her lip, "did you make sure that I was warmed up enough so that it would only hurt the way this is hurting you now?" She was still spanking as she spoke, and she continued delivering blows to Quinn's now stinging buttocks as she waited for an answer.
"No, Rachel!" Quinn managed to gasp, in between blows.
It hurt. There was no denying the fact that it hurt, but - she wanted it to hurt.
"Do you understand the difference between what you did, and what I'm doing?"
"Yes, Rachel!" Quinn wasn't even sure if it was an answer to the question or a plea for more, but if it was a plea then it went unanswered because Rachel stopped. She smoothed her hand gently over Quinn's ass as she spoke.
"Good girl. But that wasn't the only thing you got wrong. Shall we move on to the next lesson?"
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn whispered.
Rachel picked up the paddle - Quinn could see it out of the corner of her eye, and she'd seen it when they first came into the room, sitting on a table next to the chair. She stroked the smooth side of the paddle against Quinn's skin before pausing.
"What's your safe word, Quinn?"
Quinn paused, unsure if she was allowed to say it without Rachel stopping.
"You can say it," Rachel said, understanding Quinn's hesitance, "but that's another one."
"Red light, Rachel," Quinn said, making the connection on Rachel's counting - she was counting Quinn's mistakes. That was a little worrisome.
"Good girl," Rachel said with a rewarding little light slap of the paddle.
Quinn jumped slightly because it felt different - Rachel's hand hadn't been so sharp, hadn't stung so much, and that had been a lighter tap than her hand had been delivering by the end.
"Now, because I took a break," Rachel explained, starting into a steady, light rhythm with the paddle, "I can't just start in as hard as I was before. Your skin will have become sensitised, and if I whaled into you, it would hurt." She gave one, harder blow with the paddle and Quinn shot forwards with a strangled gasp. "Like that," Rachel said cooly, not stopping, and the momentary flash of harsher pain subsided into the general warmth that was spreading through Quinn.
"You're doing so well," she said soothingly, stroking her hair. "I know you can take this - for me."
She was shuddering now, trying so hard not to wriggle, and Rachel stroked her free hand along her spine, gentling her like a nervous horse. Quinn reacted the same way, settling down, steadying her beathing, trying to relax into the pain. It helped. It was a strange mix of sensations - the pain, the pleasure that was both divorced from and part of the pain, the unfamiliar feeling of being totally at someone else's mercy, the soothing touch of Rachel's hand and tone of her voice, the desire to please Rachel, to do this - for her? It all mixed into one confusing mess, one that had Quinn shivering and gasping, and somehow more aroused than she had ever been in her life.
One last blow, harder than any before, and Rachel put the paddle down and ran both hands over the reddened skin of Quinn's bottom. There were a few marks that would bruise, but mostly the evidence would be gone by tomorrow. She massaged the skin gently, letting Quinn start to come back to the real world.
"What did you do next?" Rachel asked, and Quinn winced, remembering.
"The butt plug, Rachel," she whispered, knowing and accepting what was coming next.
"No," Rachel disagreed with her, and Quinn frowned, confused. "Back on your knees, love," Rachel told her, and Quinn wouldn't even process the endearment until later but it was the first time Rachel had ever used the word 'love' in relation to Quinn.
She slid carefully off Rachel's lap to kneel beside her, remembering to look down.
"Look at me now," Rachel said idly, leaning over to the table to pick up - oh. The blacksnake. "You'd forgotten about this, hadn't you?" Rachel said, idly unwinding the whip and shaking it out. Quinn nodded, dry mouthed, before catching herself - in time, she hoped.
"Yes, Rachel."
"You wanted to use this - and you almost didn't stop. You were going to whip me with this after I had expressly said no. "
Quinn felt her shoulders slump - it was true, she had.
"Stay there, and watch me - and I'll show why I made you stop."
Quinn swallowed and watched as Rachel stepped into the room, shaking the whip out. She swished it once, cracked it - and the sharp noise made Quinn jump - and then aimed it at the bed, cracking it again. The noise sounded weirdly muffled and it took a moment for Quinn to realise that was because Rachel had aimed the whip at one of the throw pillows on her bed - and the pillow now had a hole in it. Quinn's eyes widened.
"I know what I'm doing," Rachel said. "What would have happened if that had been my back?"
The blood drained out of Quinn's face and she swayed slightly on her knees. She could have really hurt Rachel - not just hurt her, damaged her. She should have known that, and she almost tried to do it anyway. Thank God Rachel had stopped her.
"Take your bra off and leave it with your clothes, and then come here," Rachel said, "and bring the cuffs and that chain with you."
Hesitantly, Quinn got to her feet and did as she was told, picking the cuffs and chain up from the table and walking over to Rachel. Rachel had put the whip down on the end of the bed, and held her hand out.
"Cuffs," she said, and Quinn obediently passed them over. She had actually forgotten about these - and as Rachel buckled them snugly around her wrists she wondered why. They were made of leather, softly passed on the inside, and buckled firmly. There was a big metal D-ring so that they could be clipped to each other, but that didn't seem to be Rachel's plan, because when she had them fastened to her liking, she climbed up onto the end of the bed with the chain. Quinn blinked in confusion until she realised that Rachel was reaching up and clipping the chain to an eye-bolt that had been fastened into the ceiling - had that always been there?
Rachel stepped back down again, and reached for Quinn's wrists, guiding them gently up over her head, although not so far that her arms were entirely straight. She clipped the cuffs to the chain, one a little above the other. The chain actually hung down to the ground, brushing coldly against Quinn's skin.
"Reach up and hold onto the chain," Rachel said, stepping back - Quinn could hear her moving, now, and she wondered if that was intentional. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said immediately - because it wasn't something she had to think about.
As soon as she'd spoken, she heard something whistle past her, a few feet away, and crack in front of her. She flinched at the sound, but stayed still. She trusted Rachel.
"You may trust me," Rachel said quietly, "but I don't. I've been doing this for less than a year. There are experts who've been throwing whips for twenty years who still won't use one on a person who doesn't have at least jeans on. I would never use this on you. I'm touched that you trusted me enough though - that means a lot."
She walked back to the table, curling the whip up and putting it down, picking up something else - Quinn thought it was the plug this time, but she couldn't be quite sure. She was, though, when Rachel walked back to her - she definitely had the plug in her hands, and a small bottle of lube. She squeezed a large dollop of lube onto the plug, and spread it liberally over the object with her fingers. Quinn swallowed. Somehow, it looked a lot larger now than it had before.
"The trick with something like this," Rachel said conversationally, putting the plug down on the floor - flat on it's base, which was not lubed because ew, sticky - "is, once more, the slower the better. Spread your legs a little, love."
Swallowing hard, Quinn did as she was told, with a slightly reluctant murmur. Red light.
"Yes, Rachel."
"Now, relax," Rachel told her, stepping up behind her again.
At some point, Quinn realised, Rachel must have slipped her shoes back on - when had she done that? - because she was now if anything a little taller than Quinn. Rachel's firm warmth pressed up behind her was wonderful and Quinn leaned back against her, just a little. Rachel kissed her lightly on the back of the neck and Quinn's eyes drifted shut - then she felt Rachel's fingers sneaking in between her buttocks, and her eyes snapped open again as she tensed up.
"I said relax," Rachel said, firmly, and Quinn forced her muscles to loosen.
"Yes, Rachel."
She could feel Rachel's fingers coating her asshole with the lube but not actually penetrating, just pressing, rubbing - it felt weirdly good and she found herself wanting to push back. She was so turned on now that she felt that if Rachel would just touch her, even for a second, in just the right way she would explode. But Rachel wasn't - she was continuing that gentle circling only now it was only one finger - her little finger, although Quinn didn't know that.
Rachel had trimmed her nails.
When the very tip of Rachel's little finger slipped inside her, Quinn jerked at the unfamiliar feeling, but not in pain - it didn't hurt at all, it just felt strange. Good, but strange. And then the finger slid out to be replaced by a slightly larger digit, that twisted and tugged inside her until Quinn was gasping and pushing back onto Rachel's hand. And that was when Rachel added another finger and it hurt, just for a moment, a slight sting that went barely noticed beside the pleasure that Rachel's fingers were giving her.
Rachel's other hand slipped around Quinn's hips, brushing down over her stomach and combing through the patch of golden curls to find her clit. Rachel coated her fingers in Quinn's wetness before circling her clit and as she did so she added another finger to the two that were already in Quinn's ass until there were three slender digits impaling her. The low burn of the intrusion and the stretch and the fullness and the fingers moving on her clit had Quinn squirming and gasping and for once Rachel didn't say anything about the noise she was making.
Then the fingers were gone and luckily Quinn didn't have time to complain before the cool silicon of the plug was pushing against her, insistently. Rachel's fingers were back on her clit, stroking gently, and Quinn forgot that she was scared of the size of the plug and pushed back onto it. There was a moment of fiercer pain, stinging and burning, before the widest part of the toy slipped inside her and her muscles closed around the slender stem. Her eyes closed at the feeling, the unfamiliar fullness and stretching, Rachel's fingers still moving on her, and she shivered.
Then Rachel stopped and stepped back. Quinn twitched but stopped herself from turning around. Rachel reached up and unclipped the cuffs from the chain, guiding Quinn's arms down to her sides, massaging her biceps for a moment. Quinn almost purred at the sensation, but then Rachel was stepping around her, unzipping and stepping out of her skirt and sitting down on the edge of the bed. She wasn't wearing any panties, just the stockings and a suspender belt.
"I think I've been concentrating on you for long enough," she said, spreading her legs and pointing to the floor between her feet. "Kneel. And watch."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, kneeling - awkwardly, conscious of the plug still inside her, feeling it with every movement.
Rachel moved one hand between her legs - the one that still glistened with Quinn's own wetness - and began to tease herself. They'd never done this - well, they'd never done anything like this, with the exception of Quinn's terrible attempt - but neither of them had ever touched themselves while the other watched. Quinn's mouth watered at the sight and she shifted on her heels, trying to get some relief. Rachel noticed her moving, and frowned at her.
"That's another," she said, even as her fingers slid down and into herself.
Quinn stilled her movements, watching as Rachel pumped her fingers slowly in and out, heel pressing down on her clit. Rachel was absolutely soaked, the evidence of her arousal glistening slickly on her thighs and fingers and Quinn desperately wanted to lean in and taste her, not just watch. She subconsciously licked her lips and Rachel smiled before reaching out to paint a wet line along Quinn's lower lip. Quinn licked her lips, darting her tongue out to catch Rachel's finger as well and Rachel let her pull the digit into her mouth. Quinn swirled her tongue around the finger, gratified at the little moan Rachel gave as the sensation. Rachel held the rest of her fingers out and Quinn applied her mouth to them as well, sucking and licking Rachel's hand clean.
"Make me come," Rachel whispered, curling her hand around the back of Quinn's head and pulling her in.
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, equally quietly, before applying herself to the delicious task in front of her. It wouldn't take much, she could tell. Rachel was moaning and quivering under her, breath fast and unsteady, hips pushing her up just a little into Quinn's mouth. She gave a quiet gasp and pulled Quinn harder into her and Quinn opened her mouth even wider, licked as hard and as fast as she could until Rachel climaxed with a low groan, her fingers tightening painfully in Quinn's hair. Quinn kept licking.
Finally, Rachel pushed her away, panting, and passed a shaking hand over her face.
"That definitely deserves a reward," she said, after a moment. "But there's the matter of your mistakes as well." She climbed a little shakily to her feet. "On the bed. Lie on your back, arms at your sides."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, feeling Rachel's wetness on her cheeks and chin, knowing that she looked like she had been doing exactly what she had just been doing. She climbed up onto the bed, stifling a groan at the feeling of the plug moving inside her, and lay down on the bed. Going down on Rachel had only served to turn her on even more - she had almost climaxed when Rachel did.
"Ten," Rachel said conversationally, returning with a kitchen timer in her hand. Quinn blinked. "That means ten minutes, before you may orgasm. And if that doesn't sound very long - I suspect you're pretty hair-trigger right now, aren't you?"
Quinn nodded, and Rachel chuckled evilly.
"Eleven minutes," she said, adjusting the timer.
She handed the timer to Quinn and climbed onto the bed, settling herself comfortable between Quinn's legs, handing her the timer.
"Turn this on when I say so."
"Yes, Rachel."
Rachel moved until she was lying between Quin's legs, breath ghosting over her glistening folds, and slid two fingers into her. Quinn gasped as her hips bucked up - she could feel Rachel's fingers moving against the plug, only a thin wall of flesh separating them.
"Turn it on," Rachel murmured, before leaning in to lick a long line, from her fingers to Quinn's clit, circling it and moving back down, then up again to suck the proud flesh into her mouth.
"Yes, Rachel!" Quinn choked out, hitting the 'start' button on the timer and arching her back as Rachel flickered her tongue across her clit. Eleven minutes. How am I going to last even minutes if she keeps doing that? Rachel kept licking, and curling her fingers, the heel of her hand bumping up against the plug and causing it to shift and push inside her. Quinn arched her back again, biting her lip and fighting not to climax. Rachel chuckled into her and Quinn almost screamed at the vibration of her lips.
Rachel curled her fingers hard and Quinn was sobbing, fighting to keep from coming and knowing that she was going to lose, going to come before the timer had even counted down to ten minutes. And then Rachel took her mouth off her and leaned back, looking up at her with a wicked expression on her face.
"You know what? Fuck the timer. Come for me. Now."
And she leaned back in and suckled hard on Quinn's clit, curling her fingers, and pulled the plug out, slowly but firmly. Quinn broke apart under her, giving in, now that she had permission, to the wave of ecstasy that had been building up. She actually screamed as she came, for the first time in her life, back bowing, neck back, fingers clenched so hard into the sheets that they almost ripped.
Panting, she came slowly back to awareness to find that Rachel had crawled up the bed next to her and was lying there, smiling at her looking just like a pleased cat. She leaned across to plant a gentle kiss on Quinn's forehead.
"Good?"
"Yes, Rachel."
"You can speak again," she said quietly, kissing her again. "I think we're done with that for now."
Quinn smiled tiredly, and turned her head to nuzzle a little into Rachel's neck.
"I'd like to do this again," Rachel whispered, sounding unsure for the first time in hours. She knew that Quinn had enjoyed herself - the evidence was incontrovertible - but would she ever want to do it again?
"Yes, Rachel," came a sleepy murmur into her ear, and Rachel giggled.
"You can talk, remember?" She asked, amused.
"I know," Quinn said, sounding half-asleep. "The answer's still 'yes, Rachel'. I think you could ask me anything, and the answer would still be the same."
(It was. Three years later, Rachel stood across from her girlfriend in a candle-lit room and asked the most important four-word question anyone can ask. And Quinn folded her hands behind her back, put her shoulders back, and said 'yes, Rachel.')
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'Quinn is secretly really into BDSM. Her girlfriend (up to you) gets suspicious after Quinn keeps making suggestions for things like whips and harnesses. Quinn admits it, eventually, and her partner agrees to give it a shot. Unfortunately, Quinn may have WATCHED a lot of BDSM porn, but she's never actually DONE any of it, so awkward/hilarious sex ensues.'
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Rachel/Quinn
Word count: 11,028
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: Quinn has always wanted to try BDSM - unfortunately, it doesn't go quite the way she had anticipated.
A/N: I've split this into two parts - part one fills the original prompt, part two expands on it! Hope you like it, . (If you don't like part two, just pretend I never wrote it, I won't cry. Much.) A huge, huge vote of thanks to my beta relvoxballroom , who kicked my ass and this fic into serious shape! The fic title is a quote from 'Queen of Pain' by The Cramps and while it's not a song fic, the song is pretty much a perfect fit for this story. It's also an awesome song, I recommend listening to it if you don't know it.
And now for part the second, in which the tables are turned. I've split the fic like this deliberately - I don't know if susurrusnight would rather only see awkward BDSM fail!smut - if that's the case, turn away now and I promise not to be offended! If you'd like to see it done right, keep reading :D
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Rachel had gone to London to study music, but in the end it turned out that what she learned in her professional field, although considerable, was much less important than what she learned about herself. A month after the beginning of her course, she had been dragged by some of her classmates to a London goth club (not her scene in the slightest and if hadn't been for the fact that the girl doing the majority of the dragging was very much Rachel's type and had a penchant for low-cut tops Rachel wouldn't have gone. Unfortunately, when she managed to remove her gaze from the girl's cleavage she discovered that she'd accepted the invitation and she prided herself on never breaking her word).
'Slimelight' had been... an eyeopener. It was dingy and dirty and crowded and she had never had so much fun. No-one there cared who she was and the music, although nothing like her usual tastes, had a way of getting into her blood, making her body vibrate along with the bassline and driving her onto the dance-floor for hours. She didn't know which she was more intoxicated by - the music, or the alcohol that flowed so freely. But by the end of the evening she found herself doing something she had never done before - going home with a stranger, for a night of passion. (She found that if she phrased it that way in her thoughts it didn't sound quite so sordid.)
It turned out to have been one of the most life-changing things she had ever done. The other woman - and she was a woman, easily ten years older than Rachel but jaw-dropping beautiful - had made slow, tender love to her - and then asked her if she would like to be tied to the bed. Curious, Rachel had agreed - and then the real fun had begun. Because Rachel's mystery woman was one of the London fetish scene's most well-known and respected faces, and she had earned her status honestly.
It turned into a lot more than a one-night stand. The woman - who went by the name Medea and was, Rachel later discovered, as highly respected in her professional field as she was in her recreational one - had taken Rachel under her wing. As a kind of apprentice, she said with an amused chuckle when introducing Rachel to a friend one night, someone to pass her knowledge onto who truly appreciated it. Because what Medea had seen in Rachel that night after the club, that Rachel hadn't even known was there, was the ability to be the same sort of careful, compassionate sadist that she herself was.
Rachel learned how to read body language, how to know when her partner's body was crying yes when their mouth was saying stop, how to handle a whip so that it could caress as lightly as a feather or as sharp as a knife, how to safely immobilise someone. There was so much to learn, and a year wasn't long enough - but it was long enough for Rachel to realise that not only was this something she was good at - it would always be a part of her. She even had her tie to the lifestyle inked on her skin - the tattoo on her wrist was the BDSM emblem. She liked the symbol, even without it's deeper meaning, but it was also an affirmation to herself of who she was - and a subtle coded message for those who could read it.
She'd known Quinn was submissive from the first time she had kissed her - she'd suspected it for much longer. But she couldn't just turn around to the girl and say 'hey, what do you say, I think you and I have a date with a pair of handcuffs and a flogger,' could she? Not successfully anyway, although it might be funny to see Quinn's face if she did. It had only been two months, after all - she had been looking for a way to broach the subject without freaking Quinn out when she mentioned it. And when Quinn had been looking at the (frankly, sub-standard) toys in Babeland, she'd known that was her opportunity - and then Quinn had been naive enough to think that she actually wanted to dominate Rachel.
Still, Rachel had been willing to go along with it - she wasn't submissive but she knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end and she'd been taught (and agreed) that any good top should know what their tools felt like. Then - well, then it had been the unmitigated disaster she had been rather afraid that it might turn out to be. Quinn hadn't known what she was doing, hadn't done any research (hadn't known how to, Rachel was sure, and that wasn't her fault) and worst of all, now Quinn felt like she should never approach anything that wasn't completely vanilla with a ten-foot pole.
Rachel had the perfect solution for that problem, though.
A week after their disastrous attempt at BDSM, Quinn had shoved the incident thoroughly to the back of her mind despite Rachel's attempts to bring the subject up. Rachel wanted to talk about it, of course she did - Rachel always wanted to talk about thing, Quinn thought rather glumly to herself. Quinn didn't want to talk about it, at least not until she felt slightly less ridiculous and incompetent - and employed every trick she had to distract Rachel when the subject came up. Luckily for Quinn, Rachel tended to go slightly monosyllabic when Quinn kissed her, so it wasn't as hard as it might have been.
So, Quinn had relaxed slightly - she certainly wasn't expecting the sight that greeted her on Friday afternoon when she walked into Rachel's place (unlike Quinn, who had a room to call her own, Rachel had an entire apartment, courtesy of her Dads' tendency to equate money with love). Rachel was wearing a sleeveless button-down shirt in a deep emerald green, and a knee-length pencil skirt with an indecently high spilt up the back. Her stockings (and yes, they were stockings, Quinn could see the tops flashing through the slit in the skirt when Rachel led her into the apartment) were seamed up the back, and Quinn hadn't known that Rachel could walk in five-inch stilettos. Her hair was up, in a French pleat and her make-up was smokier and bolder than usual.
"Rachel, what -" Quinn said, not even realising that she was repeating Rachel's words from her abortive attempt at domination.
"No talking," Rachel said quietly, smiling just a little as she saw the recognition flash across Quinn's face. Quinn kept quiet, intensely curious now.
"There are only two rules," Rachel said, still in that quiet tone - Quinn had to strain to hear her. "The first rule - you do everything I say, without question. The second rule - if you want me to stop, if you truly and honestly want me to stop, say 'red light' and I will. That's your safe word. Nothing else will make me stop - just those two words. But if you use your safe word, I will not start again. Do you understand?"
"I," Quinn started to say, and Rachel's eyes flashed.
"Just one word, Quinn," she said softly. "Yes, or no. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Quinn said, voice cracking as her throat was suddenly dry.
"That's my girl," Rachel said, pleased, and reached out to run the backs of her fingers softly down Quinn's cheek.
She continued the caress, running her hand down Quinn's neck and across her shoulder, trailing her fingertips down her arm until they circled her wrist, gripping gently but firmly and pulling her into Rachel's bedroom. The room had been rearranged, so that there was a large open space, and Rachel moved Quinn to the middle of the space before stepping back and taking a seat on a chair that faced into the room.
"Now," she said. "Take your clothes off - slowly. Fold them neatly and place them on the chest, and leave your bra and panties on."
Quinn bit her lip and moved her hands to the hem of her shirt, beginning to pull it up. She froze when Rachel's voice whispered softly into the room again.
"You've forgotten something, Quinn." How could she sound so - so firm, so totally in control, when she was barely audible? Quinn was having to strain to hear her, every ounce of concentration she had was focused on the other woman.
Quinn was wise enough to realise that she probably shouldn't say anything - she just froze where she was, eyes fixed on Rachel, almost not breathing. How had Rachel done this, created such a charged atmosphere with just a few, well-chosen words?
"Acknowledge an order when I give you one, Quinn," Rachel told her, and tilted her head a little to the side as she waited for Quinn's response. Her hands were folded loosely in her lap and she looked completely at ease - totally at odds with the way Quinn was feeling now. "Take your clothes off," she repeated, giving the words a prompting inflection.
"Yes...," Quinn said, hesitantly, "yes, Mistress?"
"Just 'Rachel' will do," Rachel said with a slightly amused smile, and then she leaned forward, the smile dropping off her face as her voice turned husky. "I want to be sure that you know exactly who I am."
Quinn shivered, not even sure what it was she was shivering for, and nodded.
"Yes, Rachel," she said, hands not moving, standing perfectly still.
Rachel leaned back again. "Continue," she said.
"Yes, Rachel."
Quinn's hands began to move again, and she didn't miss the pleased expression that fitted across Rachel's face - she looked almost proud. She pulled off her top and pants, folding them neatly as she had been instructed, laying her socks on top of the pile and her shes on the floor next to the chest. Rachel hadn't said what to do with her shoes but when Quinn had flicked her eyes over to her as she bent to place them on the floor Rachel had nodded slightly. One she was undressed, she moved back to the spot Rachel had placed her in, standing awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do with herself.
"Hands behind your back," Rachel said. "Shoulders back. You're beautiful - you should be proud of yourself."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, doing as she was told.
"If I tell you to stand somewhere," Rachel said, "that's how I want you to stand. Tall and proud. And I want your eyes fixed on me at all times."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, feeling the words becoming somehow more powerful with repetition.
"Now, kneel. Knees a little apart, sit back on your heels. Back straight, hands behind you. And, eyes down. When you're kneeling, unless I tell you to look at me, I want your eyes on the ground."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, lowering herself to the ground and casting her gaze down to the carpet. She could hear Rachel moving and fought with herself to keep her gaze lowered. She desperately wanted to get this right - and not, she was realising, just because she didn't want to get it wrong again. No, she wanted to be perfect for Rachel, be what Rachel wanted her to be. Wanted to be the person Rachel was telling her that she saw, proud and beautiful.
"You're perfect, Quinn," Rachel said, running her hand through Quinn's hair and Quinn jumped, gaze flicking to Rachel before she could stop it. How had the girl managed to move so quietly, in those heels?
"Or not," Rachel said amused. "That's another one, Quinn."
Quinn bit her lip against the impulse to ask what Rachel was referring to, and Rachel laughed quietly as she watched her struggle. After the initial startled glance, Quinn's eyes had been firmly fixed on the carpet - honestly, she was amazed at how well Quinn was doing. She stroked her hand through Quinn's hair again, loving the silky feel of the strands against her fingers, letting it fall back against Quinn's shoulders slowly.
"Perfect," she said again, before taking her hand back and straightening up. "But," she said, voice losing it's intimate tone, becoming colder. "You desperately need to be taught a lesson."
Quinn could feel her muscles tensing, and couldn't stop the little shiver that ran through her. Was Rachel really that mad at her? She thought that it was all over and forgotten, had she been wrong? Rachel had kept trying to bring it up - maybe this was her way of forcing Quinn to deal with the issue. Her musings were broken when Rachel's voice cut in.
"Come here."
She'd moved back to the chair - silently, again, Quinn was starting to get a little freaked out by how well she could move in those damned shoes. Quinn got to her feet, moving to stand next to the chair, hands behind her back, proud of herself for remembering.
"That's another one," Rachel said, and Quinn felt her forehead wrinkle in confusion. "What do you say when I give you an order?" Rachel asked, and Quinn hung her head, angry with herself for forgetting.
"I'm sorry, Rachel," she said before remembering that she wasn't supposed to say anything.
"And again," Rachel said, amused. "You really are determined to make this hard for yourself, aren't you?" Quinn bit her lip against the impulse to say something, and Rachel considered, for a moment, allowing her to speak. But she looked so sweetly confused and conflicted standing there, that Rachel couldn't bring herself to break the spell. Quinn didn't need to speak, either, not yet.
"Now," Rachel said. "I'm going to give you a demonstration of how a spanking should be delivered. Pay very close attention," she said, voice going impish for a moment, "there may be a test."
Quinn ventured a small smile at Rachel's words and watched with momentary confusion as Rachel kicked off her shoes before realising that of course with the heels on her knees were probably too high.
"Put my shoes with yours," Rachel told her, "and then come back here and lie down across my lap."
Quinn swallowed and did as she was told, reflecting that she really did deserve this. After what she'd done to Rachel, she didn't blame the other girl for wanting to get her revenge. Which was why, when she was comfortably arranged across Rachel's lap, she was so shocked when all Rachel did was stroke her ass, softly smoothing her palm over the firm muscle.
"Perfect," she murmured again, seemingly stuck on that word to describe Quinn. Then she swatted her, lightly, not even hard enough to sting.
Quinn jumped just a little, more from expectation that from pain, because it actually didn't even hurt. Rachel continued, almost patting her, and Quinn found herself melting into her lap with pleasure. She didn't even notice when the pats became slaps, until she suddenly realised that she could hear the impact Rachel's hand was making against her panties, and that she was squirming slightly.
"Hold still," Rachel said warningly, resting her free hand in the small of Quinn's back.
"Yes, Rachel," she said immediately, stilling her squirming.
"Good girl," Rachel told her, accompanying her words with a loving caress of Quinn's now-warm buttocks. "I think we can dispense with the panties," she said idly, pulling the offending garment down. Unthinkingly, Quinn raised her hips to help her, and Rachel pushed the panties down Quinn's thighs until they were caught just above her knees.
Suddenly, Quinn felt very... dirty, kneeling across her girlfriend's lap with her panties around her knees, but it wasn't a bad kind of dirty - it was exciting, just a little risque. Rachel was running her hand back up the inside of Quinn's thighs, fingers brushing both legs at the same time until she reached her sex and Quinn was shocked to realise that she was wet. She hadn't even noticed the arousal creeping up on her it had been so slow, and she had been so focused on Rachel.
"Very good," Rachel said, drawing her fingertips through Quinn's wetness. "But not," she said, abruptly taking her hand away, "good enough to deserve that kind of reward. Now," she said, returning to her spanking, and now it did hurt but somehow it wasn't a bad kind of hurt - Quinn found that she was actually anticipating the blows and not fearing them.
"Now. When you were spanking me," she said, with an especially hard swat that made Quinn cry out quietly and then bite her lip, "did you make sure that I was warmed up enough so that it would only hurt the way this is hurting you now?" She was still spanking as she spoke, and she continued delivering blows to Quinn's now stinging buttocks as she waited for an answer.
"No, Rachel!" Quinn managed to gasp, in between blows.
It hurt. There was no denying the fact that it hurt, but - she wanted it to hurt.
"Do you understand the difference between what you did, and what I'm doing?"
"Yes, Rachel!" Quinn wasn't even sure if it was an answer to the question or a plea for more, but if it was a plea then it went unanswered because Rachel stopped. She smoothed her hand gently over Quinn's ass as she spoke.
"Good girl. But that wasn't the only thing you got wrong. Shall we move on to the next lesson?"
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn whispered.
Rachel picked up the paddle - Quinn could see it out of the corner of her eye, and she'd seen it when they first came into the room, sitting on a table next to the chair. She stroked the smooth side of the paddle against Quinn's skin before pausing.
"What's your safe word, Quinn?"
Quinn paused, unsure if she was allowed to say it without Rachel stopping.
"You can say it," Rachel said, understanding Quinn's hesitance, "but that's another one."
"Red light, Rachel," Quinn said, making the connection on Rachel's counting - she was counting Quinn's mistakes. That was a little worrisome.
"Good girl," Rachel said with a rewarding little light slap of the paddle.
Quinn jumped slightly because it felt different - Rachel's hand hadn't been so sharp, hadn't stung so much, and that had been a lighter tap than her hand had been delivering by the end.
"Now, because I took a break," Rachel explained, starting into a steady, light rhythm with the paddle, "I can't just start in as hard as I was before. Your skin will have become sensitised, and if I whaled into you, it would hurt." She gave one, harder blow with the paddle and Quinn shot forwards with a strangled gasp. "Like that," Rachel said cooly, not stopping, and the momentary flash of harsher pain subsided into the general warmth that was spreading through Quinn.
"You're doing so well," she said soothingly, stroking her hair. "I know you can take this - for me."
She was shuddering now, trying so hard not to wriggle, and Rachel stroked her free hand along her spine, gentling her like a nervous horse. Quinn reacted the same way, settling down, steadying her beathing, trying to relax into the pain. It helped. It was a strange mix of sensations - the pain, the pleasure that was both divorced from and part of the pain, the unfamiliar feeling of being totally at someone else's mercy, the soothing touch of Rachel's hand and tone of her voice, the desire to please Rachel, to do this - for her? It all mixed into one confusing mess, one that had Quinn shivering and gasping, and somehow more aroused than she had ever been in her life.
One last blow, harder than any before, and Rachel put the paddle down and ran both hands over the reddened skin of Quinn's bottom. There were a few marks that would bruise, but mostly the evidence would be gone by tomorrow. She massaged the skin gently, letting Quinn start to come back to the real world.
"What did you do next?" Rachel asked, and Quinn winced, remembering.
"The butt plug, Rachel," she whispered, knowing and accepting what was coming next.
"No," Rachel disagreed with her, and Quinn frowned, confused. "Back on your knees, love," Rachel told her, and Quinn wouldn't even process the endearment until later but it was the first time Rachel had ever used the word 'love' in relation to Quinn.
She slid carefully off Rachel's lap to kneel beside her, remembering to look down.
"Look at me now," Rachel said idly, leaning over to the table to pick up - oh. The blacksnake. "You'd forgotten about this, hadn't you?" Rachel said, idly unwinding the whip and shaking it out. Quinn nodded, dry mouthed, before catching herself - in time, she hoped.
"Yes, Rachel."
"You wanted to use this - and you almost didn't stop. You were going to whip me with this after I had expressly said no. "
Quinn felt her shoulders slump - it was true, she had.
"Stay there, and watch me - and I'll show why I made you stop."
Quinn swallowed and watched as Rachel stepped into the room, shaking the whip out. She swished it once, cracked it - and the sharp noise made Quinn jump - and then aimed it at the bed, cracking it again. The noise sounded weirdly muffled and it took a moment for Quinn to realise that was because Rachel had aimed the whip at one of the throw pillows on her bed - and the pillow now had a hole in it. Quinn's eyes widened.
"I know what I'm doing," Rachel said. "What would have happened if that had been my back?"
The blood drained out of Quinn's face and she swayed slightly on her knees. She could have really hurt Rachel - not just hurt her, damaged her. She should have known that, and she almost tried to do it anyway. Thank God Rachel had stopped her.
"Take your bra off and leave it with your clothes, and then come here," Rachel said, "and bring the cuffs and that chain with you."
Hesitantly, Quinn got to her feet and did as she was told, picking the cuffs and chain up from the table and walking over to Rachel. Rachel had put the whip down on the end of the bed, and held her hand out.
"Cuffs," she said, and Quinn obediently passed them over. She had actually forgotten about these - and as Rachel buckled them snugly around her wrists she wondered why. They were made of leather, softly passed on the inside, and buckled firmly. There was a big metal D-ring so that they could be clipped to each other, but that didn't seem to be Rachel's plan, because when she had them fastened to her liking, she climbed up onto the end of the bed with the chain. Quinn blinked in confusion until she realised that Rachel was reaching up and clipping the chain to an eye-bolt that had been fastened into the ceiling - had that always been there?
Rachel stepped back down again, and reached for Quinn's wrists, guiding them gently up over her head, although not so far that her arms were entirely straight. She clipped the cuffs to the chain, one a little above the other. The chain actually hung down to the ground, brushing coldly against Quinn's skin.
"Reach up and hold onto the chain," Rachel said, stepping back - Quinn could hear her moving, now, and she wondered if that was intentional. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said immediately - because it wasn't something she had to think about.
As soon as she'd spoken, she heard something whistle past her, a few feet away, and crack in front of her. She flinched at the sound, but stayed still. She trusted Rachel.
"You may trust me," Rachel said quietly, "but I don't. I've been doing this for less than a year. There are experts who've been throwing whips for twenty years who still won't use one on a person who doesn't have at least jeans on. I would never use this on you. I'm touched that you trusted me enough though - that means a lot."
She walked back to the table, curling the whip up and putting it down, picking up something else - Quinn thought it was the plug this time, but she couldn't be quite sure. She was, though, when Rachel walked back to her - she definitely had the plug in her hands, and a small bottle of lube. She squeezed a large dollop of lube onto the plug, and spread it liberally over the object with her fingers. Quinn swallowed. Somehow, it looked a lot larger now than it had before.
"The trick with something like this," Rachel said conversationally, putting the plug down on the floor - flat on it's base, which was not lubed because ew, sticky - "is, once more, the slower the better. Spread your legs a little, love."
Swallowing hard, Quinn did as she was told, with a slightly reluctant murmur. Red light.
"Yes, Rachel."
"Now, relax," Rachel told her, stepping up behind her again.
At some point, Quinn realised, Rachel must have slipped her shoes back on - when had she done that? - because she was now if anything a little taller than Quinn. Rachel's firm warmth pressed up behind her was wonderful and Quinn leaned back against her, just a little. Rachel kissed her lightly on the back of the neck and Quinn's eyes drifted shut - then she felt Rachel's fingers sneaking in between her buttocks, and her eyes snapped open again as she tensed up.
"I said relax," Rachel said, firmly, and Quinn forced her muscles to loosen.
"Yes, Rachel."
She could feel Rachel's fingers coating her asshole with the lube but not actually penetrating, just pressing, rubbing - it felt weirdly good and she found herself wanting to push back. She was so turned on now that she felt that if Rachel would just touch her, even for a second, in just the right way she would explode. But Rachel wasn't - she was continuing that gentle circling only now it was only one finger - her little finger, although Quinn didn't know that.
Rachel had trimmed her nails.
When the very tip of Rachel's little finger slipped inside her, Quinn jerked at the unfamiliar feeling, but not in pain - it didn't hurt at all, it just felt strange. Good, but strange. And then the finger slid out to be replaced by a slightly larger digit, that twisted and tugged inside her until Quinn was gasping and pushing back onto Rachel's hand. And that was when Rachel added another finger and it hurt, just for a moment, a slight sting that went barely noticed beside the pleasure that Rachel's fingers were giving her.
Rachel's other hand slipped around Quinn's hips, brushing down over her stomach and combing through the patch of golden curls to find her clit. Rachel coated her fingers in Quinn's wetness before circling her clit and as she did so she added another finger to the two that were already in Quinn's ass until there were three slender digits impaling her. The low burn of the intrusion and the stretch and the fullness and the fingers moving on her clit had Quinn squirming and gasping and for once Rachel didn't say anything about the noise she was making.
Then the fingers were gone and luckily Quinn didn't have time to complain before the cool silicon of the plug was pushing against her, insistently. Rachel's fingers were back on her clit, stroking gently, and Quinn forgot that she was scared of the size of the plug and pushed back onto it. There was a moment of fiercer pain, stinging and burning, before the widest part of the toy slipped inside her and her muscles closed around the slender stem. Her eyes closed at the feeling, the unfamiliar fullness and stretching, Rachel's fingers still moving on her, and she shivered.
Then Rachel stopped and stepped back. Quinn twitched but stopped herself from turning around. Rachel reached up and unclipped the cuffs from the chain, guiding Quinn's arms down to her sides, massaging her biceps for a moment. Quinn almost purred at the sensation, but then Rachel was stepping around her, unzipping and stepping out of her skirt and sitting down on the edge of the bed. She wasn't wearing any panties, just the stockings and a suspender belt.
"I think I've been concentrating on you for long enough," she said, spreading her legs and pointing to the floor between her feet. "Kneel. And watch."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, kneeling - awkwardly, conscious of the plug still inside her, feeling it with every movement.
Rachel moved one hand between her legs - the one that still glistened with Quinn's own wetness - and began to tease herself. They'd never done this - well, they'd never done anything like this, with the exception of Quinn's terrible attempt - but neither of them had ever touched themselves while the other watched. Quinn's mouth watered at the sight and she shifted on her heels, trying to get some relief. Rachel noticed her moving, and frowned at her.
"That's another," she said, even as her fingers slid down and into herself.
Quinn stilled her movements, watching as Rachel pumped her fingers slowly in and out, heel pressing down on her clit. Rachel was absolutely soaked, the evidence of her arousal glistening slickly on her thighs and fingers and Quinn desperately wanted to lean in and taste her, not just watch. She subconsciously licked her lips and Rachel smiled before reaching out to paint a wet line along Quinn's lower lip. Quinn licked her lips, darting her tongue out to catch Rachel's finger as well and Rachel let her pull the digit into her mouth. Quinn swirled her tongue around the finger, gratified at the little moan Rachel gave as the sensation. Rachel held the rest of her fingers out and Quinn applied her mouth to them as well, sucking and licking Rachel's hand clean.
"Make me come," Rachel whispered, curling her hand around the back of Quinn's head and pulling her in.
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, equally quietly, before applying herself to the delicious task in front of her. It wouldn't take much, she could tell. Rachel was moaning and quivering under her, breath fast and unsteady, hips pushing her up just a little into Quinn's mouth. She gave a quiet gasp and pulled Quinn harder into her and Quinn opened her mouth even wider, licked as hard and as fast as she could until Rachel climaxed with a low groan, her fingers tightening painfully in Quinn's hair. Quinn kept licking.
Finally, Rachel pushed her away, panting, and passed a shaking hand over her face.
"That definitely deserves a reward," she said, after a moment. "But there's the matter of your mistakes as well." She climbed a little shakily to her feet. "On the bed. Lie on your back, arms at your sides."
"Yes, Rachel," Quinn said, feeling Rachel's wetness on her cheeks and chin, knowing that she looked like she had been doing exactly what she had just been doing. She climbed up onto the bed, stifling a groan at the feeling of the plug moving inside her, and lay down on the bed. Going down on Rachel had only served to turn her on even more - she had almost climaxed when Rachel did.
"Ten," Rachel said conversationally, returning with a kitchen timer in her hand. Quinn blinked. "That means ten minutes, before you may orgasm. And if that doesn't sound very long - I suspect you're pretty hair-trigger right now, aren't you?"
Quinn nodded, and Rachel chuckled evilly.
"Eleven minutes," she said, adjusting the timer.
She handed the timer to Quinn and climbed onto the bed, settling herself comfortable between Quinn's legs, handing her the timer.
"Turn this on when I say so."
"Yes, Rachel."
Rachel moved until she was lying between Quin's legs, breath ghosting over her glistening folds, and slid two fingers into her. Quinn gasped as her hips bucked up - she could feel Rachel's fingers moving against the plug, only a thin wall of flesh separating them.
"Turn it on," Rachel murmured, before leaning in to lick a long line, from her fingers to Quinn's clit, circling it and moving back down, then up again to suck the proud flesh into her mouth.
"Yes, Rachel!" Quinn choked out, hitting the 'start' button on the timer and arching her back as Rachel flickered her tongue across her clit. Eleven minutes. How am I going to last even minutes if she keeps doing that? Rachel kept licking, and curling her fingers, the heel of her hand bumping up against the plug and causing it to shift and push inside her. Quinn arched her back again, biting her lip and fighting not to climax. Rachel chuckled into her and Quinn almost screamed at the vibration of her lips.
Rachel curled her fingers hard and Quinn was sobbing, fighting to keep from coming and knowing that she was going to lose, going to come before the timer had even counted down to ten minutes. And then Rachel took her mouth off her and leaned back, looking up at her with a wicked expression on her face.
"You know what? Fuck the timer. Come for me. Now."
And she leaned back in and suckled hard on Quinn's clit, curling her fingers, and pulled the plug out, slowly but firmly. Quinn broke apart under her, giving in, now that she had permission, to the wave of ecstasy that had been building up. She actually screamed as she came, for the first time in her life, back bowing, neck back, fingers clenched so hard into the sheets that they almost ripped.
Panting, she came slowly back to awareness to find that Rachel had crawled up the bed next to her and was lying there, smiling at her looking just like a pleased cat. She leaned across to plant a gentle kiss on Quinn's forehead.
"Good?"
"Yes, Rachel."
"You can speak again," she said quietly, kissing her again. "I think we're done with that for now."
Quinn smiled tiredly, and turned her head to nuzzle a little into Rachel's neck.
"I'd like to do this again," Rachel whispered, sounding unsure for the first time in hours. She knew that Quinn had enjoyed herself - the evidence was incontrovertible - but would she ever want to do it again?
"Yes, Rachel," came a sleepy murmur into her ear, and Rachel giggled.
"You can talk, remember?" She asked, amused.
"I know," Quinn said, sounding half-asleep. "The answer's still 'yes, Rachel'. I think you could ask me anything, and the answer would still be the same."
(It was. Three years later, Rachel stood across from her girlfriend in a candle-lit room and asked the most important four-word question anyone can ask. And Quinn folded her hands behind her back, put her shoulders back, and said 'yes, Rachel.')
-
'Quinn is secretly really into BDSM. Her girlfriend (up to you) gets suspicious after Quinn keeps making suggestions for things like whips and harnesses. Quinn admits it, eventually, and her partner agrees to give it a shot. Unfortunately, Quinn may have WATCHED a lot of BDSM porn, but she's never actually DONE any of it, so awkward/hilarious sex ensues.'