13. Katja

No.That's my automatic response to Amara's question.

No, I won't teach you how to do what I want to do. No, I won't teach you how to make Wren submit to you, because I only ever want them to submit to me. No, I won't help fix your relationship so that it's glaringly obvious just how surplus to your requirements I am.

But isn't that also what I set out to do? Isn't that how this possibly unhinged idea of mine first came to my mind? Didn't I set out to try and help a couple that were so obviously and desperately in need?

The answer to those questions is irrevocably yes. The problem is that somewhere along the way, somewhere during the time I watched them kiss and as I kissed each of them in turn and tasted them in each other's mouths, I realised that I had made a grave mistake.

Because I am not that selfless.

No, I'm selfish. Horribly selfish. Stupidly, foolishly selfish.

I want to do this for me. I want to feel them surrender to me. I want to be the one they look up to, that they worship, that they obey with their bodies and their minds.

Schei?e.

But Amara is still waiting for an answer and when it comes down to it, there is only one answer to give. It's not in me to be so selfish that I reject an opportunity to help someone learn how to love their partner. I was a young Domme once. I had to learn – from a wickedly stern Swiss woman in her fifties called Madame Fran?oise – and I will forever be grateful for her, even though I have a scar under my right butt check from one of the welts she gave me that never healed.

Maybe this is how I get to stay in their hearts far beyond tonight. Maybe this is how I'll make sure they never forget me. If I unlock a part of Amara that helps them find a new way to enjoy intimacy that serves them both.

"Yes, of course," I say, and I reach out a hand to cup Amara's face. I feel the edge of her jawbone and the softness of her skin. She is beautiful in a way that continues to startle me – her golden-brown skin, her sharp features, her impossibly long and curled eyelashes and her sparkling treacle brown eyes – and I'd think it impossible that she would ever look at me with such a doting expression, if I wasn't witnessing it right now.

But my self-doubt is the last thing Amara needs right now. It's the last thing any of us need.

So I push it aside, and I tighten my hold on the side of her face, moving her to look at Wren.

"You want to show Wren that maybe you have a dominant side?"

Wren scoffs. "I know she has a dominant side. She is nothing but dominance day in, day out."

"They're right," Amara says. "But that's work. This is… different."

"Which is why you've always liked to submit," Wren clarifies and there is a twist in their voice which lingers in the air between us. I reach out with my other hand and take hold of Wren's chin again.

"Are you going to be a good little sub for Amara? Or are we going to have a problem?" I ask pointedly.

Wren blinks. "I'll be a good little sub," they say with a flinch and I can tell those words didn't come easy. Good. They need to remember that they're learning too.

"Kiss," I say, a little angrily as I thrust their heads together. I swear their teeth clash as their mouths join and the sickest part of me hopes they draw blood. I would enjoy kissing them after that and swallowing it down.

Their kiss starts rough and raw, gasps escaping now and then, but it quickly deepens into something more sumptuous and passionate and yet practised and familiar. It makes heat pool between my legs, watching them fit so perfectly together, but it also aggravates me because it's just another reminder of what I'll be missing come the end of the night.

"Enough," I say. "Amara, what do you want to happen next?"

Amara's chest is heaving with laboured breaths, as is Wren's. How silly they both were to think that this relationship of theirs was close to over. I watch as Amara considers her answer and she takes entirely too long over it.

"Hurry up," I tell her as gently as I can, but my nipples are hard, my core is tight and I want hands on my body and at least one mouth on my cunt.

I move to grip her elbow and talk close to her ear. "Don't overthink things, but also be prepared. You should always have at least three or four ideas in your mind for what you want to do, what you want to see."

"Three or four things? I can barely think of one."

"That's not true. You're trying to think of the best thing. To impress me, or maybe Wren. Instead, think about what your body wants. Think about what you were craving as Wren took your mouth."

"I want them between my legs," Amara says in a rush. "I want their tongue between my legs."

"Very good," I say.

"But is it not too much? Should we not be warming up to that? Building the anticipation?"

I try to swallow my sigh but even if they both hear, it's not a bad thing. Knowing when a sub displeases their Domme is just as important as knowing when she is pleased.

"Amara, pull your dress up to your waist," I demand.

Amara hesitates only a fraction of a second before she has gathered the silk around her hips. I take a moment to look at her underwear, noticing how it's the same blood red as her dress, not that there's much to it, just a small triangle of lace covering a bare pussy. How I wish there was time for a proper inspection – of them both – but this is not going to be one of those nights, sadly.

"Put two fingers inside yourself," I order.

There's no hesitation for this order and Amara slides her index and middle finger into her underwear swiftly. I'm about to ask her if she's wet but a light squelching sound fills the room and we all know the answer.

"You really are a needy little whore," I say. "Now we know that you don't need to build more anticipation. Your body is ready to be fucked. You just have to make Wren do it."

Amara stalls and I really hope she doesn't take as long as she did previously thinking up her next move. I'm about to prompt her but she speaks.

"I want you to fuck me, Wren." She stands up a little straighter, lengthening her neck. "With your mouth."

"Yes, Amara." Wren bows their head slightly.

"Hmm, Amara… Does my greedy little slut like that or would she prefer Mistress or Madam?"

"Mistress Amara," is her almost confident reply.

Wren doesn't miss a beat. "Yes, Mistress Amara."

"Very good, Wren," I say and a twitch of a smile pulls at Wren's mouth.

"And how do you want Wren to fuck your pussy?" I say into Amara's ear, pressing my body up against the side of her arm. There's nothing sexual about the touch, but my body hums with an electric charge from the contact. "On their knees? Bent over you sitting up on the island? On top of you on the couch?"

"On the couch," Amara replies after only the briefest deliberation.

"Hmm. And should Wren crawl there?"

"Yes," Amara says, breathless.

"Then tell them so."

"Wren, I want you to crawl to the couch, where you'll put your face between my legs until I come," Amara says but as soon as her mouth is closed, she speaks again. "Twice."

"Versaute Hure," I mutter and feel goosebumps prickle Amara's forearm. Before Wren drops to their knees, Amara turns to me. "And Chef?"

"Yes?"

"Can I crawl too? I know this is a lesson in dominance, but I want to thank you for the lesson by crawling for you," Amara asks ever so sweetly.

"Yes, meine sü?e, kleine Schlampe, you can."

Amara is the first to kneel in front of me, but Wren follows suit immediately. I watch them both as they take it in turns to rotate their bodies and head towards the lounge area. Although it's clear Amara is the most competent at crawling, clearly having done it many times before, Wren's physicality means they catch up in no time. For a few blissful moments I walk behind them watching both their hips sway in time, side to side, as they crawl across the floor to the couch. A sense of peace washes over me, cruelly making me wish this could be my reality, these two complex, confusing, and yet, competent souls, bending themselves to please me, to show me their love and affection. But I blink those misplaced and unhelpful thoughts away.

When they reach the couch, they both stop and wait, still on all fours.

"Mistress Amara," I say from behind them. "I think you have more orders for our Wren, don't you?"

I'm pushing my luck, and possibly my own sanity by calling Wren ours, but it felt so right rolling out of my mouth. It still feels right hanging in the air between us.

Amara stands and moves to stand next to me. I wonder if doing so brings her comfort? Is it wrong that it does for me.

"Stand up, Wren," Amara says.

"Yes, Mistress Amara," Wren says, getting up.

"Oh, I like that," Amara says to me in a whisper, and I smile at her.

"Sit on the couch," Amara continues. "Hands on your knees."

Wren obeys, their eyes lifting and seeking Amara.

"Is Wren allowed to look at you, Mistress Amara?" I ask.

"Hmm, no. No, they are not."

Wren bows their head. One of their hands finds a nearby cushion and grabs a fistful of the material.

"Oh dear," I say, looking at that mischievous hand. "Wren's not obeying your orders, Mistress Amara."

Amara's gaze follows mine and we're both seeing Wren's hand freeze, their fingers flexed. "Oh, yes."

"I think they need to be punished," I say slowly, deliberately, studying Wren's face carefully. Their jaw tenses again but their lips lift a little.

"I think a spanking should do it," Amara suggests and I turn to see her smiling thoughtfully at her spouse, who gives a little shiver.

"With your hand? Or would you like me to fetch something you could use?"

Amara's head twists to me, her brown eyes wide. "What do you have in mind?"

"One second," I say and I head to my crate of pans and utensils I already cleaned. I retrieve a large silicone spatula with a wooden handle. "This should do the trick."

I hand the utensil to Amara and then wait.

She clears her throat before speaking. "On your knees again, Wren. And turn around. Bend over the sofa."

It's a credit to Wren that they don't look up and they are completely silent as they slowly slide off the sofa and onto the floor. I smile when they lengthen their spine and play with their shirt tucked into their trousers. I'm about to open my mouth to prompt them to follow Amara's orders but then they bend over, resting their hands on the sofa cushion in front of them.

"Such a good little sub," I offer some reassuring praise and watch as Amara steps in front of Wren. I move closer so I can speak in her ear.

"You want to hit directly on the backside. It hurts the least in the middle of the butt cheek. Lower and higher will sting more, even through their trousers and I don't think their mistake quite deserves that, do you?"

Amara shakes her head, her eyes fixed on Wren's bottom.

"When you're ready, Mistress Amara," I say.

Amara holds the spatula up but then holds very still. "I don't know if I can," she says to me in a hurried whisper.

I look at Amara from head to toe. It barely takes a second or two but seeing her raised hand shake, her top teeth working her bottom lip and a slight frown across her forehead, I know she's right. She can't do this.

But I can.

"Would you like me to spank Wren for you?"

She clears her throat again. "Yes, Chef. Yes, please."

I open my hand towards her and she puts the spatula into my palm.

"Brace yourself, Wren," I move into position, "and get ready to count."

My first strike is loud enough to send a soft slapping sound into the room and both Amara and Wren jump with the shock of it. I rub the spot I just hit for a few seconds as I feel the rush of power that comes from having them both await my next move.

"I didn't hear you, Wren?" I say, still soothing their butt cheek.

"One," they grit out.

I swap hands and then strike again, on the other cheek.

"Two," Wren counts.

"Very good. Three more," I say, rubbing their skin through the material of their trousers. It was only a minor transgression after all.

I strike again, this time in the same place I just hit so I know it will sting a little more.

"Three," Wren says and although their voice sounds strained, I watch their back arch and the head fall to the couch. They don't hate this. No, they don't hate it at all.

I deliver the last two strokes to their left butt cheek and Wren counts dutifully, little gasps leaving their mouth in between. I take my time soothing the spot, taking full advantage of touching the firm muscles in their backside.

"I think they're ready to obey your orders again, Mistress Amara," I say, stepping back.

Amara hasn't moved but her body has changed. She's breathing hard and fast, and the hard points of her nipples look obscene through the silk of her dress.

"Back on the couch, Wren. Hands on your lap too, and keep them still," Amara says and the confidence is back in her voice.

Wren does as they're told, keeping their head down which is almost a shame as I'd quite like to see more of their face right now, to know just how that spanking affected them.

"I'm going to undress now," Amara says. "And you're not allowed to look at me until I say so."

Wren's breath hitches and there's a pause before they reply in a strained voice, "Yes, Mistress Amara.'

"Very good, meine kleine Hure," I tell Amara. Still standing beside me, both of us in front of Wren, Amara pulls the straps of her dress down her shoulders, one at a time, until it falls to the ground. She steps out of the puddle of red silk and I can't stop my face turning towards her, letting my eyes hungrily study her. She's not wearing a bra and the underwear I'd caught a hint of earlier is a scrap of a thong that she is now hooking her thumbs over and sliding down her long brown legs. She has a dancer's body – toned and lean – and if this night was more than what it is, I would make her dance for me, make her strip for me, make her fuck the air in front of me.

"She's naked now," I tell Wren. "She's so beautiful. And so very ready for your mouth."

I watch Wren closely and they don't make any big movements, but I do see their throat work as they swallow.

Amara climbs onto the couch and settles at the corner of the L. She sits up straight, the nipples of her small breasts hard and so very suckable. My eyes linger on her narrow waist for just a few moments before they're pulled further down as she spreads her legs wide open.

I nearly choke on my next breath. Seeing all the brown skin that is a shade darker than the rest of her body. Seeing her dusky pink flesh, flushed and wet. Seeing the closed flower bud of her clit protrude slightly, ready for kisses, a tongue, a mouth.

I have no idea how Wren is feeling, but I am desperate to put my mouth on Amara, and Amara sure as hell better give Wren orders to do so soon or I am going to throw this whole thing into utter chaos by taking her myself.