Tagging → Senay Seine, Tamara Wells, & Arthur Kline
Time Frame → Present Day [10.20.13] & Summer 2007
Location → The Wells Residence || Philadelphia, PA
General Notes → Lady in training. [A few weeks after this para]
Good times for a change.
See, the luck I've had
Can make a good man
Turn bad.
It should have been easy. She knew better. Years of practice and instruction taught her to be mindful. She should have been more steady. She should have been more careful. She knew better.
After removing the cuff from around it, Senay flexed her wrist, careful not to cause herself any more pain. She was no baby when it came to getting hurt, but she needed her wrist to heal. Already, she was tired of being disappointed in herself for letting the slight injury happen in the first place. She was trained better than that.
"Don't flick your wrist so hard, sweetheart. You'll break something. It's all about control, Mistress. Keep steady."
Simple as the instruction was, Senay had trouble following it, her wrist continually flicking in rapid jerks each time she attempted to swat with the frayed whip Tamara was showing her how to use. They had started with the paddle and Senay preferred that to the whip. She also preferred her own clothing to the leather outfit she was borrowing from Tamara. The little shorts and bustier didn't cover quite as much as Tamara's catsuit, but Senay got more and more comfortable each time she reaffirmed her stance and raised the whip.
The older woman sat in a high backed chair in the middle of her bedroom, the commanding piece of furniture taking up the space a bed would normally occupy. The arrangement of the room seemed strange with the chair as the centerpiece while the bed sat made and neatly situated in a corner. But Senay took it as just another one of Tamara's business-related quirks.
Senay gently reared back the whip, mindful of Tamara's critique as she gave a quick snap, watching the black strands fly in front of her, each end landing on a part of the broad, brown back just within the object's reach.
She earned a groan that time. The sound bellowing out from the man on his hands and knees whose name she wasn't sure of. Something with an A. Andrew? Aiden? She couldn't remember. He was the same man she'd met before but the nerves that rose in her the moment she picked up the whip made sure she wouldn't so much as remember her own name.
"Very good," Tamara praised, pushing from her seat to stand behind Senay. She mimicked the teenager's stance, placing her hand over Senay's and showing a way to refine her technique. "You don't have to be gentle. But if you don't follow through you're bound to hurt more than just Arthur here. Be careful, Mistress."
Senay had earned the nickname during a previous training session with Tamara. After her first experience with Arthur where she unexpectedly took Tamra's place, Senay had found an interest in the work and found it to be more interesting than spending her evenings holding a trash can near her mother in case she decided to purge any of what she overindulged in during the day.
Senay took another swat at Arthur, full lips tugging into a smile as she watched his fingers curve around the rug situated beneath him. The rug was for spills, according to Tamara. A fact Senay didn't understand until she hit Arthur again. He shivered. On top of the movement, he groaned so loudly, so deeply that Senay could only watch in awe as he went through the little show of coming in the silk boxers he wore.
She was getting better. A fact confirmed by the pool of white dripping down his thigh and settling between Arthur's legs on the rug. It wasn't easy, and her wrist was a little sore, but she did it. And she'd' have two hundred dollars to show for her efforts when all was said and done. Senay had already done the calculations and she knew that if she worked another week for Tamara, she and her mother could last another month in their apartment.
Another week wouldn't be a problem. Maybe she'd even get her own whip.
She knew better. But last night with Paul had gotten a little intense. He paid for two extra hours and as she tried to make him come for the third time, Senay could feel the pain in her wrist worsening with every swat of her hands against Arthur's person. His back, thighs, ass. His skin red and raising beneath her touch. All of it made her work harder. She chased his pleasure and satisfaction and she sure as hell wasn't leaving until she got it.
When he finally came for her, she winced from the pain while he bellowed from it. But still, she smiled, and she purred her pride, and she collected her money, and she stopped for a wrist wrap on the way home, and she iced her sprain, and she knew she'd see Paul again on Tuesday. The riding crop would be simpler to handle by then. Easy.
