Limits

Come Monday morning, Karen was back at her desk, tired and bleary after an unsettled weekend. Try as she might, she couldn't shake off vivid recurring memories of what she must have looked like as she had made such a spectacle of herself, losing control of her senses whilst sitting on Jude's knee. She should never have let herself be talked into it, never have gone for dinner with Lucy and Mel in the first place, never have gone with them to the club afterwards and never, ever, ever, have let herself be kidnapped by Jude. Part of what shocked her was that Lucy had been the instigator. Whilst she wouldn't have put anything past Mel, the Lucy she had met at Mary’s leaving do had seemed so nice, so caring. And yet the sly little minx had been directly involved at introducing her to Jude and, when Jude had paraded her around gagged and handcuffed, Lucy had looked on in delight as if she were pleased with what had happened, as if this is what she had planned all along. She was surprised that a nice girl like Lucy was involved in a club like that, let alone enticing others along. Surely she would have had more common decency than that?

And then there was the dichotomy that was Jude. Whilst they had just been chatting, before it had all got out of hand, she had seemed so nice, so caring, so compatible. It seemed that Karen had found a new friend but surely friends didn’t demand the things Jude demanded, and expected her to do, or take the liberties Jude had taken without a by-your-leave. And then there was the way she took control... it was at this point in her train of thought that it all got complicated and Karen’s moral certainties just got derailed.

Whilst Karen had been horrified at what she had been persuaded into doing, and in many ways blamed Jude for tricking her, for bullying her, for deceiving her for Jude’s own ends, as her anger receded she took a more honest look at herself and at what had really happened. As she did so she was forced to admit that Jude had given her many get-outs and at each significant step it wasn't just that Karen hadn't objected, she had actively encouraged the abuse. Right at the start, when Jude had told her to show off her legs she had obeyed without any real demur; when Jude had first handcuffed her she had been asked if she objected, and even then she had kept silent. Worse still was the memory of later on when she had been sitting on Jude's lap; as Jude’s hand had made its way “down there” she hadn’t done anything to prevent this, rather she had actively encouraged it by making herself more available. More than that, when she got home and was finally able to relax she found she was still holding the little bell Jude had given her, the safety signal. Karen could have stopped it all at any time. No, she couldn’t lay all the blame on Jude. Even if she had been bullied and cajoled, she had been an active and willing participant and, in the end, she was just as much to blame. She had been weak and foolish and was paying the price with her pride. She tried to use the wine as a get-out, to say that she had been drunk, but in her heart she knew this wasn’t true. She had been tempted and she had fallen.

And then there was the secret she hardly dared admit even to herself. Whatever the shame and humiliation, she had never felt anything as good as the orgasm Jude had given her and, for all her self-loathing, part of her knew she wanted to feel like that again. But that would never be, could never be, she had been tricked once; she would never be tricked again. She was never, ever, going back to that awful club.

And so it had been all weekend, as all these thoughts and doubts and second thoughts had circled and circled and had made her miserable. She had hardly slept and was now facing another awful week at work. She leant forward, her face in her hands and stared at her PC screen unable to find the energy to even log on, let alone get started on her tasks.

"Hello! How are you this bright and breezy morning?" Mel’s voice broke through Karen's reverie.

"I'm fine, thank you, Mel," Karen replied a little curtly.

"What a turn up for the books you turned out to be," Mel continued with a laugh. "My Lucy said you were one of us but I didn't believe her, not until I saw you with Jude. She had her hand right up your dress and you were loving every minute of it. Horny little cow, aren’t you? Who'd have thought it?"

"Shh! Mel! Really! Someone might hear! " Karen said anxiously, " and about all that, I'm not sure...."

"Not sure? You seemed pretty sure on Friday night. That reminds me, I've got something for you, a present from Jude."

"A present?"

"Yeah. She didn’t have your address so she came over to our place yesterday and asked me to give you this." Mel reached in her pocket and fetched out a small gift-wrapped package and handed it over. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"

Karen undid the ribbon and took off the paper to reveal a cardboard box underneath. Inside the box was a mobile phone, quite a basic model but ready charged and switched on. Karen picked it out of the box and stared at the blank screen as if expecting it to burst into life.

"Why on earth would she give me this?" she asked.

"Don't ask me," Mel replied. "You'll have to ask Jude. Why don't you ring her and find out?"

“Ring her? I don’t know her number.”

“Pound to a penny it’s programmed into the address book. Go on, open it up and take a look,” Mel suggested.

"Not now. You know the rules about mobile phones at work. Maybe I'll try later," Karen said doubtfully staring at the phone, "maybe later."

And with that the conversation was over  and Mel went off to her workstation. Karen tidied away the gift-wrapping and put the phone in her desk drawer, out of sight, out of mind. She'd work out what she should do about it later.

It was maybe eleven o'clock when the sounds of  k.d. laing’s ‘Constant Craving’ came from Karen’s drawer. At first she didn’t realise what it was but, when she opened the drawer, there was the phone, blaring away and with ‘Mistress Jude’ written across the now illuminated screen. Karen realised with a shock that, of course, Jude would have noted the number so that this would give her a way to get in touch. The song just got louder and louder and, as there was a strict ‘no phone calls at work’ rule, she looked at the keypad trying to work out how to stop it. She'd never owned a mobile and hadn’t got a clue what to do. She pressed keys at random and when the song finally stopped she was horrified to find that she had inadvertently answered the call; coming from the phone was the tinny sound of Jude's voice calling 'Hello, hello?'. In a tizzy she kept pushing buttons until the phone went silent again. With a racing heart she stared at the device. How could she have been so dumb? Of course Jude would use it to call her.

She was still staring at the phone when it gave a chiming noise and the words '1 Message received' appeared on the screen. She pressed the button marked 'Show' and the words 'We need to talk' came into view. As ever Jude wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. Shocked by the way her earlier resolve was being so quickly tested she didn’t know what she should do. For ten full minutes she just sat and stared at the screen. Although it went dark after a few seconds, the words that had been there were burnt into her mind. She had spent all weekend blaming Jude, hating Jude, and resolving never to see her again but, now that she had got in touch, it suddenly wasn't that easy anymore. To say that her feelings were mixed hardly described the turmoil inside. Surely she wasn't seriously considering replying, surely she'd learnt her lesson, surely she wouldn't give in?

Deep inside her a very different voice spoke a very different message. The idea of seeing Jude again put her heart in a flurry and worse, it stirred feelings of a very different nature. There was something about Jude that bypassed rational thought and went straight to her heart and, truth be told, straight to her groin as well. She felt hot and flustered at the very thought and could feel her resolve slipping. Maybe, maybe they should meet up. At the very least it would give her a chance to tell Jude what she thought of her, tell her that she never wanted to meet her again, to resolve all the issues that confused her so. She looked again at the bewildering buttons. How could she call? Mel had said that Jude’s number would be in the address book. What on earth did she mean by that? Karen needed help and, although the prospect was unwelcome, she knew she had to go to Mel to ask for it. Using the excuse of a training session, she got up and went over to Mel's pod.

"Err... Mel?" she said as she approached.

"Hi, boss. Whassup?" Mel responded cheerfully.

"This phone, how do you use it?" Karen, trying to act casually, handed the phone to Mel. "If I wanted to phone someone, what do I do?"

"Would this someone be Jude, by any chance? No, you don't need to answer that, your blushes say it all for you," Mel laughed.

But, for all her joshing, Mel patiently showed Karen how to use the phone and, in particular, how to access the phone book, the phone book that currently had but one entry: Mistress Jude. As Mel explained the workings of the phone, Karen made copious notes on a piece of paper.

"I guess that's all you need to know for now but, tell you what, I'll add myself and Lucy to your address book so you can use it to call us if you want." Mel's practised fingers flew across the keypad as she quickly added the two new entries. "Seriously, give Lucy a call sometime. She’s rather taken to you and she'd love to catch up. She was quite upset when you rushed off so suddenly on Friday. Give her a shout and tell her you’re OK."

"Thanks, Mel, I might well do that," Karen replied and, indeed, she meant it. For all that she had been calling Lucy fit to burst all weekend, the thought of having a sympathetic ear was now rather appealing. To be fair, even Mel was a lot friendlier today; her surly attitude had gone now that she had accepted Karen as ‘one of them’; maybe some good had come out of the whole affair.

Karen went back to her desk deep in thought. If she were going to call Jude she surely wasn't going to do it from her desk. Apart from the ‘no phones’ rule she didn’t want her work colleagues overhearing; she wasn’t sure what she would say to Jude but she knew it would be personal. She put the phone down beside her computer keyboard where it sat like a guilty secret, lying inert, a constant reminder of unfinished business. From time to time Karen would stare at it; part of her wished it would ring again, part of her was glad it didn't. When it came time to go home, she picked it up but, somehow, she didn't put it in her handbag but carried it in her hand. And then, on the bus, she sat staring at the shiny black screen almost willing it into life whilst still hoping it wouldn’t ring.

When, at last, she got home she went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As she put the teabag in her cup she looked at the phone, which she had placed beside the kettle, and she could no longer stand the tension. One way or another she had to get this over and done with. She searched in her handbag for the written notes she had made and, following the instructions carefully, opened the address book, scrolled down to Mistress Jude and pressed the picture of the little green phone. Holding it to her ear she heard it start ringing and ringing and ringing until....

"Karen, hi, look, hang on whilst I park. It doesn't look good if us coppers use mobiles whilst we’re driving.… One moment.… There we go. Hi, thanks for calling. I've been worried about you."

"Worried?"

"Yeah, I guess I overdid things a bit. Came on a bit heavy like. I didn't mean to.... Well, let’s just say I didn't want to scare you away and when you ran off like that, well, I couldn’t leave it at that, I really couldn’t."

Karen couldn't reply, she simply didn't have the words. She'd been all geared up for Mistress Jude and her harsh orders and now, here was the other Jude, the caring, sensitive Jude.

"Karen, Karen honey, are you still there? Please don't hang up. Look, I really want to see you again. I know I'm a bit much to deal with but surely we can work things out. Please, pretty please? Why don't we meet up for a drink? I come off duty at seven. What's your nearest pub? We'll meet up there; the first round is on me."

"Pub?... The Flying Horse," Karen said on autopilot, taken aback by the way Jude had once again taken control.

"I know the one. Corner of Radcliffe and Elm Avenue, right? That’s perfect. I'll see you in there at seven thirty. Gotta go, I’ve got a shout on the radio. See you later," and with that the phone went dead.

As Karen put down the phone, the kettle boiled and she was grateful that she had the diversion. Why, oh why was nothing ever simple with Jude? She had been kind and caring, concerned over Karen’s welfare and had effectively pleaded for them to get together but even then she had never given Karen the chance to respond, the chance to say no. She had just assumed that Karen would be there, she had just assumed that her wishes would be followed. A stubborn streak in Karen revolted, and as she went into the lounge with her cup of tea she had all but made up her mind not to go. And then, as she sat down and thought about it, all the uncertainties returned. Sure, she could make a stand but it wouldn't be the same unless it was face to face. She really wanted to see Jude just so she could tell her, get her to fully realise, really get her to understand that....

And then Karen calmed down again. What was it about Jude that got her so worked up? She just knew she was going, she just had to and, if Jude treated her meanly, then, well she'd deal with it.

And so it was that, come seven thirty, Karen was standing at the entrance to the Flying Horse car park dithering as usual. She wondered if Jude had already arrived and was waiting inside. What would she say? Once or twice she almost turned and ran but she knew she had to get this over with. She was still there when, with a peep-peep of a car horn, a black Astra swung in off the road, pulled in to a parking place and Jude got out.

"Hi, Karen. Wow, you look...." Jude said as she came over. "Seriously, you look great. I'm so glad you made it, I was afraid you would run away again. Come on, let's go in. I’ll get them in. White wine, isn't it?"

Karen followed Jude into the pub and they went to the bar whilst Jude ordered. As the barman poured their drinks Jude stood back and looked Karen up and down with a big smile on her face.

"You really are lovely, you know that?" she said. "Pretty as a picture." The barman handed over their drinks and Jude paid for them. "Now we both have a lot to say so why don't we find a quiet corner and sit down? Then we can talk properly."

Jude glanced about until she spotted an empty table where they could chat in peace. Taking Karen gently by the elbow she led her over and they sat down sitting across the table from each other. Karen had steeled her nerve and, once she was seated she was ready to make her stand. She looked up to see Jude looking at her with a apprehensive look on her face and, suddenly, it felt churlish and mean to say anything bad. The way Jude obviously felt concerned about her welfare, the way she looked at her, even the way she had guided her over to the table, made Karen feel wanted, appreciated and protected.

"First of all," Jude reached across the table and took Karen's hand in hers, "please forgive me, I'm sorry if I went too far. I guess I forgot to take into account just how new you are to the scene. It must have all been a little frightening. Please, pretty please?"

Karen looked straight into Jude's eyes and, at that moment, she would have forgiven her anything. She was too emotional to speak so she just nodded.

"After you had gone I had a long talk with Mel and Lucy and they told me just how much it was your first time, how you hadn’t even known what sort of club it was until you got there. It was very brave of you to let me do what I did. It must have been quite scary when I jumped your bones in the toilets," Jude went on. "You must have thought I was the wicked witch come to whisk you away."

"It was a bit scary," Karen admitted as she smiled at the image of Jude as the wicked witch, "but I didn't exactly say no, did I?" Now that Jude was being so honest Karen felt it only fair to confess her complicity.

"Well, you didn't, did you? In fact I got the impression you were loving every minute of it. That's why I didn't hold back much. If you really were my sub I'd be putting you over my knee and smacking that pretty little tush of yours for blowing hot and cold," Jude laughed. "Anyway, the important thing is that right now you're here and you're talking to me. So, tell me about yourself. You told me a bit back at the club but I want all the details. You're Mel's boss I gather."

And suddenly the awkwardness was passed. Once again Karen was finding that Jude was a superb listener. She really did seem interested in every aspect of Karen's life and, as the evening drew on, they talked and talked and talked. Even when talking to Lucy Karen hadn't been unable to unburden herself like this, to let someone else into the minutiae of her life, but with Jude it was easy. She just seemed to accept everything, to understand and to share her feelings and concerns. In return Jude told Karen quite a bit. How her mum had died when she was young, how she was the only daughter of a now retired policeman who, despite his misgivings on her sexuality, had been proud when she had followed him onto the force. How she had overcome prejudices and become very much part of the team and was thinking of going for promotion to Sergeant. "That would really make dad proud," she commented. "He wants grandkids more, of course, but if I got my stripes that would be a good second best."

And then, as the evening went on, the talk had become more intimate. In a fit of daring Karen had asked about Sharon. At first Jude had been quiet but she seemed to make some internal decision and, after she had gone to the bar for more drinks, more wine for Karen and lemonade for herself, she had returned had sat next to Karen, not opposite as before, and then it had been her turn to unburden herself. "In the end we wanted different things," Jude admitted. "We had four great years together but then it all went sour. I guess, to be fair, some of the things I did to her were born of anger, not love, and that's never a good sign. The crazy shifts we coppers work didn't help much either and then, one day, I came home and found the note. That was two years ago. She's moved away now but I hear through the grapevine that she's found someone new and good luck to her. I hope she's happier now than she was with me."

"So you've been on your own for two years?" Karen asked.

"Well, apart from the occasional one night stand," Jude admitted. "Not that any of them amounted to very much. I've never met anyone I really fancied, well, not until recently." Jude looked at Karen and gave a rueful smile.

As Jude told her story Karen was seeing a very different woman to the self-confident Domme who she had met at the club. Jude was brutally honest with herself and expected no less from others. "I've had enough bullshit in my life. If people can't handle the truth that's their problem," was the way she put it, but she was also a deeply caring person and her brusque manner concealed a heart that had had its fair share of knocks and bruises. As they sat side-by-side Karen could feel the walls between them crumbling.

"So, how did you find out you were a Domme?" Karen asked. Somehow Jude's openness made such questions possible.

"Ironically it was Sharon who got me into it," Jude confessed. "We were mucking around and she asked me to smack her bottom. I was a bit dubious at first. After all, you see enough domestic violence cases in my line of work, but there's a world of difference between the D/s lifestyle and smacking your partner around. She was the one who got us involved in the club and, once we met others like ourselves... well, I've never looked back."

And then, suddenly, there was a silence. Karen looked at their empty glasses and then up at the clock. It was nigh on eleven; they had been talking for over three hours but the time had just flown by.

"Yeah, it's late, we ought to get going," Jude said, spotting her looking at the clock. "Can I give you a lift home?"

"It's only round the corner in Ashfield Street so it’s hardly worth it," Karen replied, "but thanks anyway."

Feeling slightly awkward, the two women got up and made their way out into the car park. Karen followed Jude over to her car and waited while Jude opened the door. Then Jude turned back to Karen.

"Look, I've had a great evening. Seriously, you're...." Jude started before she realised that words would never do it, and she leaned forward and kissed Karen full on the lips. To her slight surprise, there was no resistance and Karen responded as the kiss turned into a clinch, a clinch that went on and on and on until some 'look at the lezzies' jeers from a group of passing lads made them self-conscious and they broke apart.

"As I said, my house is just around the corner," Karen suggested, amazing herself at just how bold she was being.

"I thought you'd never ask," Jude replied as she relocked her car and, taking Karen by the hand she led them off to Ashfield Avenue.

Karen let them in to the house and led Jude through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. However, as soon as the kettle was filled and switched on, Jude took hold of Karen again and they fell into another clinch. Unheeded, the kettle boiled and switched itself off again as the two women held each other tight. Passion met passion, need met need and, with their lips locked together and Jude's hands exploring her body, any doubts that Karen might have had left just melted away. A hunger, a hunger she had never experienced before last Friday, filled her body and she knew with certainty that only Jude could satisfy it. She broke away from the kiss.

"Upstairs?" She asked breathlessly.

"Lead on." Jude replied and together they made their way up to Karen's bedroom. As soon as they got there Karen started to disrobe only to find that Jude was helping, that Jude was effectively undressing her. As ever Jude was taking command but this is what she wanted and, as her skirt and blouse were whisked away and Jude's busy fingers started on her bra strap she surrendered as she knew she always meant to.

"I see you're wearing tights again," Jude said in mock severity. "I may have to spank you for that."

"Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry, Mistress," Karen kept up the joke as Jude bundled her onto the bed and tugged at the offending garments.

"Sorry? So you should be," Jude said as she tossed the panties and tights into the washing basket. And, with Karen now naked, Jude scrambled to shed her own clothes and, moments later, was snuggled up in bed next to Karen.

At first there was nothing Mistress/sub about it. At first it was just two women sharing the pleasure of skin on skin, expressing physically the empathy they had shared all evening. Karen felt a bit clumsy and inexperienced but Jude assured her that she was doing fine and, as long as she just did what came naturally all would be well. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was Jude but, clumsy or not, Karen had never felt this free, this uninhibited. It seemed that whatever she did it was all right by Jude and her normal shyness slipped away to reveal the playful kitten within. Sometime later, as they surfaced for air and lay together side by side Karen turned to Jude and asked mischievously "Well, are you going to smack my bottom?"

"You, young lady, have a lot to learn about respect for your betters. Now, get out of bed this instance."

Karen jumped out of bed and stood to attention, even giving Jude a mock salute.

"Go to the kitchen and fetch a wooden spatula. Do you have such a thing?" Jude asked and Karen nodded assent. "Well bring it here and you had best hurry up about it. Every second you keep me waiting is a smack to that pretty little tush of yours. One... Two... Three...."

Karen dashed off down to the kitchen and, still stark naked, rummaged in the cutlery drawer until she found a plain wooden spatula just as Jude had asked for. She rushed back upstairs and stood beside the bed holding it out.

"Twenty nine... Thirty... Thirty-one... Hmm... let me see. Yes that will do nicely. Now, get on the bed and lie sideways across my knees."

Jude sat up and Karen passed her the spatula before getting onto the bed and arranging herself across Jude’s lap. The anticipation of what Jude was about to do to her was making her tingle all over; there was a delicious thrill of being ‘naughty’. Once she was in position Jude rubbed the flat of the spatula against the rounded flesh of Karen's buttocks.

"And what are you being punished for?" she asked.

"Lack of respect?" Karen queried.

"What did you say?" Jude's voice was suddenly stern.

"Lack of respect, Mistress," Karen essayed.

"That's better," Jude conceded, "but I think five extra smacks might help you remember your manners next time. But that's not all you're being punished for. Cast your mind back, see if you can't bring it to mind."

Karen quickly thought back and remembered Jude's comments from before.

"For wearing tights, Mistress?"

"Yes, indeed. I never, ever want to see you wearing them again. Come to think of it that goes for bra and panties as well. If I find you wearing them again then your punishment will be far more severe than a mild spanking. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"So, just to make sure you've got the message, what must you not do?"

"Not wear tights, bra or panties, Mistress,” Karen replied.

“That’s right. Now then, thirty-one strokes for the thirty-one seconds it took you to fetch the spatula and five extra strokes for lack of respect is thirty-six strokes in all. I want you to count and thank me after each one.”

As Jude laid into Karen’s buttocks she was careful to keep it light and playful; she didn’t want to overplay her hand again but, for all that, the blows were hard enough to make Karen give little squeaks of pain and, as the count moved into the twenties there was a breathlessness about her voice that spoke of how much they were getting to her. Under the guise of rearranging her victim Jude slipped her hand between Karen’s thighs and was pleased if not surprised to find that her arousal was manifest. She left her hand there as she went back to work and was not surprised when Karen started moving so that the knuckle of Jude’s thumb was rubbing directly against the centre of her pleasure.

By the end of the thirty-sixth stroke, Karen was shamelessly humping Jude’s hand and for a moment or two afterwards Jude left it there, amused at the uninhibited butterfly that had emerged from the shy chrysalis that had been there before. Then, with Karen very close to the edge, she removed her hand and lightly smacked Karen’s bottom.

“There, thirty-six strokes. And has my naughty little girl learnt her lesson?” she asked lightly, as if unaware of the state that Karen was in.

“Please, please, Mistress Jude,” Karen half sobbed, “please don’t leave me like this.”

“Like what?” Jude asked innocently. “You’ve had your punishment. Now, it’s getting late. I think it’s time we stopped playing around and went to sleep. Don’t you agree?”

Karen was astounded at what Jude was suggesting. She had been so close, so close to the edge and now Jude was suggesting that they just roll over and go to sleep. Surely not. She rolled off Jude’s lap and snuggled up next to her.

“Please, Mistress Jude,” she said as sweetly as she could. “Please, I need….”

“What do you need?” Jude asked, running her fingertips up the inside of Karen’s thigh but stopping tantalisingly short of their goal. “Tell me, tell me what you need.”

“I need… I need….” but Karen simply didn’t have the vocabulary. She reached down and grabbed Jude’s hand and pulled it into her crotch. “Please, please rub me some more.”

“Like this?” Jude asked playfully as her fingers described slow circles around Karen’s pubic mound. “Is this what you want?”

“Oh, yes!” Karen breathed as the tension inside once again began to build.

“But why should I? What’s in it for me?” Jude demanded. “I think I’ll stop right now.”

“No! No! Don’t stop!” Karen begged. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything? Are you sure?”

“Yes, anything, just please don’t stop again.”

“How about next weekend, I’m not on shift next weekend. We'll go to the club together and afterwards you come and stay at my place. From Friday evening until Sunday evening you’ll be my sub; how does that sound? Will you do that for me?” Both women realised that they had reached a tipping point and, for a moment, Karen was tempted to say no but the sensations that Jude was producing between her legs were so delicious and, after all, it was only for a weekend.

“Yes, Mistress,” she said at last. “I’d love to.”

“Well then, roll on your back and put your arms over your head,” Jude ordered. “You’re not to move unless I say so.”

Karen did as she was told and Jude set to work using all her skills, all her knowledge, all her experience and let Karen know just what it meant to be properly loved.