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meridian_roseThe Medium and His Mistress (1154 words) by meridian_rose
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Midnight Texas (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Manfred Bernardo/Olivia Charity
Characters: Manfred Bernardo, Olivia Charity
Additional Tags: BDSM, Flogging, Riding Crops, Verbal Humiliation, Aftercare, mentions Lemuel, hints at Olivia's past trauma, mentions Lemuel's past as a slave, submissive Manfred, Lemuel is fine with this arrangement, No Sex, just kink, first session
Summary: Olivia likes to be dominant. Lemuel can't appreciate some of her kinks given his past. Manfred is totally okay with being her submissive.
At AO3 and below the cut
"Are you sure about this?"
Manfred inclined his head. "I am."
"Tell me your safe word again," Olivia said.
"Amulet."
She nodded. They were both of them stripped down to their underwear, Manfred standing nervously by the bed in his black boxers. Olivia was wearing a red and black lace basque and matching thong. She'd pinned up her hair in a severe French Twist.
Olivia picked up a flogger. It had a black handle with a wrist strap, and twelve leather straps.
Manfred understood why Lemuel didn't want to participate in this particular activity. He'd been whipped during his time as a slave, had been dominated and chastised too often to wish to engage in submissive play. Manfred also understood why Olivia liked to dominate, to be in control.
Luckily for Olivia, Manfred was happy to be her partner, and Lemuel was content for them to have this time together. He'd made other arrangements and was sleeping elsewhere today because while Olivia could have come over to Manfred's house, all the toys were at her place.
Olivia held the flogger in one hand, dragged the leather cords over her other palm. "You deserve this punishment."
"Yes, mistress."
"Turn around. Hold onto the chair back."
Manfred did as he was ordered. His hands gripped the back of the padded armchair that had been positioned for this purpose. He closed his eyes, his breathing quickening in anticipation.
The cords caressed his shoulder. They were lightly hit against his back. Manfred's fingers flexed against the wooden frame.
The first real blow still took him by surprise. He jumped, startled.
"Remain still."
"Yes, mistress."
The flogger was brought to bear a second time, his back stinging from the contact. A third time. A pause. A fourth. Manfred swallowed hard, focussed on staying still. He lost count of the blows in the end, Olivia spacing them out unevenly so each one was unexpected.
"Turn around."
Manfred obeyed. Olivia discarded the flogger and now picked up a riding crop. His eyes widened.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, mistress." They’d talked about hard boundaries and discussed some of the implements but he wasn’t sure which she’d choose for this first session.
Olivia perched on the edge of the bed and tapped the crop against her free hand. "Kneel."
The red rug was soft at least.
"Come to me. Stay on your knees."
It was more awkward, if marginally less humiliating than crawling to shuffle over to her. Olivia put aside the crop. She reached down and stroked at his hair like he were a favoured pet. Then she cupped his chin and her nails dug into his flesh. She forced his head up.
"You displease me."
"Sorry, mistress," he choked out. She would punish him further. He was looking forward to it.
She released him so rapidly that his head jolted back down. Olivia glared at him. She picked up the crop again and patted her lap with her free hand. "Over my knee."
Manfred got himself into position. One shoulder was on the bed, most of his torso bent over Olivia's knees, legs oddly splayed out; he couldn't quite kneel and his toes were pressing hard into the carpet, heels pointing up and feeling strangely vulnerable. His buttocks were in the air just shy of Olivia's lap.
"Count the blows."
"Yes, mistress." He swallowed again, fear and excitement mingling as he awaited his punishment. He was hard. Did Olivia feel it against her thigh; if so would she'd punish him more or she was silently delighting or judging him for it.
The crop fell hard against his ass. "One."
Unlike the flogger the crop made a swish as it cut through the air so it was more expected when the next hit came.
"Two."
Olivia seemed to have read his thoughts for there was a swish and he tensed but the crop did not land, missing him by an inch judging from the breeze he felt. She was such a tease.
"Ow! Three." He'd been too much in his head and not enough in the moment and the third blow caught him by surprise and was harder than the previous ones. That was part of the attraction for him, being forced to stay present and aware of his physical body. It was grounding, a counterpoint to the times he was overwhelmed by his psychic abilities.
Olivia tapped the crop against his ass a few times. "Do you need to use your safe word?"
"No, mistress."
"Very well."
Manfred licked at his lips. "Four," he said and then, "five."
The crop was discarded.
"On your feet."
"Yes, mistress."
Olivia stood too. Manfred was taller than her but she could easily reach up as she did now. She wound one hand into his hair, yanked him towards her. "I am displeased with you."
"Sorry, mistress." This wasn't quite what he'd expected.
"You're pathetic."
That stung worse than the riding crop. Olivia let go of his hair, put one hand around his throat. Manfred held back on his safe word though it was a close thing.
Olivia made a small sound, almost like a sob. She let go of him. "That's enough," she said, her demeanour changing. She reached up and pulled pins from her hair, letting it cascade about her shoulders. Manfred watched her pull on a silk gown and tie it loosely about her waist.
"I wasn't ready for that," she said. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped after the crop. Now come here."
Manfred lay face down, one cheek against the pillow as Olivia bathed his back and patted it dry. She rubbed in a sweet-smelling ointment, a sort of massage that had him almost drifting off to sleep in contentment.
He understood that this wasn't solely for his benefit but part of the experience, aftercare that she had never had but sorely wanted. To shower him with affection was a substitute act.
He was brought back to awareness and semi-arousal when Olivia's hands dipped below the boxers, tending the flesh which had suffered the assault of the crop. This though felt more like something for his pleasure.
When she was done, Olivia wiped her hands on a towel. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to one shoulder, ran her fingers gently through his hair.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"We'll do it again?"
"In a while. If you want to. If you still trust me."
"I do. I didn't even use my safeword." If he had, he believed she'd have stopped, but that she'd reined herself in gave him more confidence that needing him to ask. "But we didn’t talk about verbal insults. I'm not so comfortable with those."
Olivia nodded, promised they'd prepare more next time. She lay down next to him and held his hand and for a long time there was nothing but companionable silence and the warmth of their bodies in such close proximity.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Midnight Texas (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Manfred Bernardo/Olivia Charity
Characters: Manfred Bernardo, Olivia Charity
Additional Tags: BDSM, Flogging, Riding Crops, Verbal Humiliation, Aftercare, mentions Lemuel, hints at Olivia's past trauma, mentions Lemuel's past as a slave, submissive Manfred, Lemuel is fine with this arrangement, No Sex, just kink, first session
Summary: Olivia likes to be dominant. Lemuel can't appreciate some of her kinks given his past. Manfred is totally okay with being her submissive.
At AO3 and below the cut
"Are you sure about this?"
Manfred inclined his head. "I am."
"Tell me your safe word again," Olivia said.
"Amulet."
She nodded. They were both of them stripped down to their underwear, Manfred standing nervously by the bed in his black boxers. Olivia was wearing a red and black lace basque and matching thong. She'd pinned up her hair in a severe French Twist.
Olivia picked up a flogger. It had a black handle with a wrist strap, and twelve leather straps.
Manfred understood why Lemuel didn't want to participate in this particular activity. He'd been whipped during his time as a slave, had been dominated and chastised too often to wish to engage in submissive play. Manfred also understood why Olivia liked to dominate, to be in control.
Luckily for Olivia, Manfred was happy to be her partner, and Lemuel was content for them to have this time together. He'd made other arrangements and was sleeping elsewhere today because while Olivia could have come over to Manfred's house, all the toys were at her place.
Olivia held the flogger in one hand, dragged the leather cords over her other palm. "You deserve this punishment."
"Yes, mistress."
"Turn around. Hold onto the chair back."
Manfred did as he was ordered. His hands gripped the back of the padded armchair that had been positioned for this purpose. He closed his eyes, his breathing quickening in anticipation.
The cords caressed his shoulder. They were lightly hit against his back. Manfred's fingers flexed against the wooden frame.
The first real blow still took him by surprise. He jumped, startled.
"Remain still."
"Yes, mistress."
The flogger was brought to bear a second time, his back stinging from the contact. A third time. A pause. A fourth. Manfred swallowed hard, focussed on staying still. He lost count of the blows in the end, Olivia spacing them out unevenly so each one was unexpected.
"Turn around."
Manfred obeyed. Olivia discarded the flogger and now picked up a riding crop. His eyes widened.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, mistress." They’d talked about hard boundaries and discussed some of the implements but he wasn’t sure which she’d choose for this first session.
Olivia perched on the edge of the bed and tapped the crop against her free hand. "Kneel."
The red rug was soft at least.
"Come to me. Stay on your knees."
It was more awkward, if marginally less humiliating than crawling to shuffle over to her. Olivia put aside the crop. She reached down and stroked at his hair like he were a favoured pet. Then she cupped his chin and her nails dug into his flesh. She forced his head up.
"You displease me."
"Sorry, mistress," he choked out. She would punish him further. He was looking forward to it.
She released him so rapidly that his head jolted back down. Olivia glared at him. She picked up the crop again and patted her lap with her free hand. "Over my knee."
Manfred got himself into position. One shoulder was on the bed, most of his torso bent over Olivia's knees, legs oddly splayed out; he couldn't quite kneel and his toes were pressing hard into the carpet, heels pointing up and feeling strangely vulnerable. His buttocks were in the air just shy of Olivia's lap.
"Count the blows."
"Yes, mistress." He swallowed again, fear and excitement mingling as he awaited his punishment. He was hard. Did Olivia feel it against her thigh; if so would she'd punish him more or she was silently delighting or judging him for it.
The crop fell hard against his ass. "One."
Unlike the flogger the crop made a swish as it cut through the air so it was more expected when the next hit came.
"Two."
Olivia seemed to have read his thoughts for there was a swish and he tensed but the crop did not land, missing him by an inch judging from the breeze he felt. She was such a tease.
"Ow! Three." He'd been too much in his head and not enough in the moment and the third blow caught him by surprise and was harder than the previous ones. That was part of the attraction for him, being forced to stay present and aware of his physical body. It was grounding, a counterpoint to the times he was overwhelmed by his psychic abilities.
Olivia tapped the crop against his ass a few times. "Do you need to use your safe word?"
"No, mistress."
"Very well."
Manfred licked at his lips. "Four," he said and then, "five."
The crop was discarded.
"On your feet."
"Yes, mistress."
Olivia stood too. Manfred was taller than her but she could easily reach up as she did now. She wound one hand into his hair, yanked him towards her. "I am displeased with you."
"Sorry, mistress." This wasn't quite what he'd expected.
"You're pathetic."
That stung worse than the riding crop. Olivia let go of his hair, put one hand around his throat. Manfred held back on his safe word though it was a close thing.
Olivia made a small sound, almost like a sob. She let go of him. "That's enough," she said, her demeanour changing. She reached up and pulled pins from her hair, letting it cascade about her shoulders. Manfred watched her pull on a silk gown and tie it loosely about her waist.
"I wasn't ready for that," she said. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped after the crop. Now come here."
Manfred lay face down, one cheek against the pillow as Olivia bathed his back and patted it dry. She rubbed in a sweet-smelling ointment, a sort of massage that had him almost drifting off to sleep in contentment.
He understood that this wasn't solely for his benefit but part of the experience, aftercare that she had never had but sorely wanted. To shower him with affection was a substitute act.
He was brought back to awareness and semi-arousal when Olivia's hands dipped below the boxers, tending the flesh which had suffered the assault of the crop. This though felt more like something for his pleasure.
When she was done, Olivia wiped her hands on a towel. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to one shoulder, ran her fingers gently through his hair.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"We'll do it again?"
"In a while. If you want to. If you still trust me."
"I do. I didn't even use my safeword." If he had, he believed she'd have stopped, but that she'd reined herself in gave him more confidence that needing him to ask. "But we didn’t talk about verbal insults. I'm not so comfortable with those."
Olivia nodded, promised they'd prepare more next time. She lay down next to him and held his hand and for a long time there was nothing but companionable silence and the warmth of their bodies in such close proximity.
