HSN Exchange Fic: Please Be Careful With Your Aim (1/2), for susurrusnight
Title: Please Be Careful With Your Aim
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.
-
"How about this?" Quinn asked, holding up a pair of furry handcuffs. Rachel raised an eyebrow.
"Quinn. They're pink."
Quinn pouted and clinked the chain holding the cuffs together. She really, really liked the idea of chaining Rachel to a bed and having her wicked way with her - ooh, or even better, up to the ceiling! That could be awesome. She's found this really good clip online where a girl was suspended by her wrists from a beam while two guys fucked her. And the two guys things was pretty gross but she'd enjoyed the bit before the fucking, where the girl was dangling and helpless.
"I thought you liked pink?"
"Quinn, they're tacky. Put them back." Besides being tacky, Rachel thought, they were badly made - the links on the chain were only bent closed, not spot-welded, and they were pretty much only any good for the visual - they couldn't hold someone who was determined to get out of them. If you were going to restrain someone, you should do it properly.
Quinn pouted harder, and put the cuffs back on the rack, fingering a plaited whip that was hanging next to them. Hmm, how about that?
"Quinn." Rachel had come up behind her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on her shoulder - even though she had to stand on tip-toes to do it. "You've been looking at the stuff over here for a while. Something you want to try out?"
It was the first time they'd been toy shopping together (it was only the second time Quinn had been toy shopping at all, and it had taken Rachel a week of coaxing to convince her to go). Quinn wasn't quite sure how to tell Rachel that yes, she was really interested in everything on this particular stand, but Rachel was doing a good job of realising on her own.
Unfortunately, she didn't seem very convinced. She was fingering a paddle with a look of distaste on her face, and Quinn could feel the hope that had bubbled up in her when Rachel had first come over to her, looking interested, fading. She really wanted to try this, dammit, but if Rachel wasn't into it...
"This stuff is really cheap," Rachel was saying. "I mean, seriously, this paddle? It's fake leather stitched over, what, plywood?" She had the paddle in her hands and was bending it slightly, rolling her eyes. "I don't understand why anyone would buy this crap."
Quinn sighed and turned away from the stand sadly, resigned to the fact that her fantasies would have to stay just that, fantasies. It was a pity, because she did fantasise about it, a lot.
"It's fine, Rachel," she said. "I just thought it might be fun, that's all."
Rachel pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"It's not that, Quinn," she said. "It's just that this stuff really doesn't look as if it would stand up to being used - it's badly made, it's cheap, and I wouldn't bother buying it. There's a place near here that carries better quality merchandise - we could go there and have a look around, if you like?"
"We can?" She asked, eyes brightening, and Rachel nodded, smiling brightly.
"We totally can. I just want to pay for a few things," she said, hoisting her basket up, "and then we can walk over there - it's really not far."
Quinn followed her to the counter, reflecting to herself that if someone had told her, a year ago, that she would be here today? She would have laughed at them. A year ago, she was in her junior year, fretting that she'd chosen the wrong major. And Rachel, who had surprised everyone by ending up at Tisch (by choice, no less!) and not Julliard as they had all assumed she would, was in London gaining 'valuable cultural experiences that will expand my horizons and give me greater depth as a performer, Quinn.'
With Quinn and Rachel both at NYU, Steinhardt and Tisch respectively, they'd found themselves becoming good friends over the course of their freshman and sophomore years. Away from WMHS they were both mellower people; Quinn didn't have to keep up appearances quite so much, and Rachel actually had a group of friends who were just as driven as she was - she calmed down a lot with that outlet for her obsessive need to succeed. They got on well - really well, to their mutual surprise. Then Rachel left for London, and everything changed.
While Rachel was away, Quinn finally admitted to herself that her interest in other women was more than just aesthetic, and dated a few girls. Nothing serious, nothing that lasted longer than a few months, but it was enough to prove to herself that yes, she really was bisexual. If anything, she liked women more than she liked men. They were prettier, and softer, and understood her better.
And then Rachel came back from London and the first time Quinn saw her, walking into the start of semester LGBT meet-and-greet? Her jaw had, quite literally, dropped. Gone was the straightened hair and the short skirts and knee socks that Rachel had continued wearing even after highschool. Gone was the ramrod-straight back and the obnoxious aura of holier-than-thou confidence. In it's place was... something else. Quinn couldn't put her finger on it. It wasn't the clothes, although of course those had changed, it was something more subtle than than that - Rachel simply seemed more at ease with herself than Quinn had ever seen her. She was still confident, but it wasn't overt and out there - it was quiet and understated, and all the more powerful for it.
Rachel was wearing jeans and a ratty t-shirt for some band that Quinn had never heard of. She had a messenger bag with the strap slung crosswise over her body, Doc Marten boots (which had a Union Jack pattern on them), a watch with a wide leather band on her left wrist - and a tattoo on the inside of her right wrist. It was a stylised design, round, about an inch across - like a yin-yang with three parts instead of two. Quinn was almost too distracted by the sight of Rachel Berry with a tattoo to notice when Rachel spoke to her.
"Well. Fancy meeting you here," Rachel drawled.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. She could hear a faint trace of an English accent in Rachel's voice and whilst once she would have assumed she was adopting it for effect now she had a feeling that it was entirely unconscious.
"I could say the same," she said. "Is this something you found out about yourself on your great cultural voyage of discovery?"
"Hardly," Rachel said, shaking her head and pushing the tousled lock of hair that fell into her face with the motion behind her ear. "I've been involved with Queer Union since our freshman year. How did you not know that?"
"Oh," Quinn said, eloquently.
"Oh, indeed," Rachel teased. "But you! What are you doing here?"
Quinn blushed and looked at the floor, scuffing with the sole of her sandal at a smudge on the carpet.
"I, ah, realised that I'm bisexual last year. I didn't get involved with student activities or anything then but I figured this was the last chance I'd have so I should probably do it."
"Good for you," Rachel said, beaming at her, and took Quinn's hand, squeezing it warmly. "It can't have been easy."
Quinn flushed, both from the compliment and from the feeling of Rachel's hand in hers, warm and firm. Maybe it was the sudden change of wardrobe, maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other for almost a year, maybe it was her newly-awakened sexuality - but she realised with a start that she found Rachel attractive. Very attractive. And judging from the look in Rachel's eyes, and the way that her thumb was lightly caressing the inside of Quinn's wrist - the feeling was mutual.
"Do you want to go and get coffee?" Quinn asked, impulsively, flush deepening into an honest-to-goodness blush. "We have so much to catch up on."
"I'd like that," Rachel said, smiling slowly and sweetly. "I'd like that very much."
Coffee had turned into a dinner date had become a night at the theatre and before either of them had noticed, they were dating. The did notice eventually, of course - that was the night that Quinn had walked Rachel home after an evening at a free comedy event, and Rachel had smiled that same slow smile and asked if she would like to come inside. That had been two months ago, and Quinn could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had slept alone since.
Rachel finished paying for her purchases - some latex-safe lubricant and a water-proof vibrator (shaped, to Quinn's slight discomfort, like a cute translucent blue dolphin) and tucked the bag into her ever-present messenger bag. Smiling, she took Quinn's hand, lacing their fingers together the way she always did, and they walked out of the store, making their way towards the place Rachel had been talking about.
"It's called DeMask," Rachel said as they made their way to the store, which was about fifteen minutes walk away. "I think they were Dutch originally, or something, but it looks much more appropriate than the sort of thing they had at Babeland."
Quinn bit her lip, looking sideways at Rachel. Was she really up for this? She looked like she was, striding along as if she didn't have anything on her mind, the thumb of her free hand hooked into her belt loop as they walked. But was she just going along with this to please Quinn? She just didn't know.
The store was... a little intimidating. It had black awnings with the store name in elegant lettering, and the mannequins in the window were dressed in complicated rubber and leather outfits and wielding implements that Quinn had no name for and only a vague idea of how they might be used. Rachel still looked perfectly at ease but then, Rachel always did - Quinn had never seen her look intimidated by anything.
"Are you sure?" Quinn asked, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other and Rachel simply rolled her eyes and took Quinn's hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
"I'm sure. Now, come on. We look silly just standing outside like this."
Inside was even more intimidating that outside. There were rails of clothing, if you could call it that, made of deeply glossy rubber in black and dark, jewel-like colours. One rail held nothing but corsets, and Quinn's eyes almost popped out of her head when she saw the size tags on the smallest ones - could anyone actually squeeze their waist down into a fourteen inch corset?
"So," Rachel whispered into her ear, tucked up close against her, breath hot across her cheek. Quinn shivered slightly. "What takes your fancy?"
Quinn bit her lip thoughtfully, and headed across the store and down the stairs, to the area that was devoted to toys and tools. When they walked into the well lit little basement, gleaming with chrome and glass shelves, her eyes widened even further. She hadn't realised there were so many different ways to ... and dear sweet Jesus. That was a butt-plug the size of her head. That had to be just for show.
Ooh. Spikes!
She picked up a studded paddle, turning it over in her hands thoughtfully. That would sting, wouldn't it? She turned to Rachel, eyebrow raised. Rachel blinked at her, looking more than slightly surprised.
"That one? Really?"
Quinn looked down at it, and then back at her apprehensive girlfriend.
"Well, only if you -"
"No, no, it's fine," Rachel grinned at her. "If that's what you're into."
Quinn ran her fingers over the metal studs set into one side of the paddle - that would hurt, but you could always use the other side if you didn't want it to be too painful, so - it was multi-purpose. That was always a good thing - especially given the prices of things. Rachel had picked up a plaited whip - like the sort Indiana Jones used. It seemed supple and soft in the other girl's fingers, and Quinn raised an eyebrow at her. Well. That could be fun. You could make a really great cracking sound with those, right?
"You want that?" She asked, and Rachel gave her a surprised look.
"Really?" She said, still running her fingers over the whip, and Quinn recognised the look on her face - that was the look Rachel got when she really wanted something. Like, really wanted - solo, star billing, lead actress sort of wanted. "You'd trust -"
"Sure," Quinn said, nodding. "We can get it, if you want it."
"Cool," Rachel grinned, and went back to looking through the restraints with the whip looped over her wrist.
"Can I help either of you ladies?"
There was a young man standing on the stairs, cocking his head at them enquiringly. He had a pair of tight leather pants on, and a fishnet wifebeater that let his tattoos and pierced nipples show through. His head was shaved and he was wearing a thick leather collar around his neck with a large silver ring at the front that hung down into the hollow of his throat. Quinn found him a little intimidating, especially the way he was staring straight at her.
"No, I think we're fine," Rachel said to him, much to Quinn's relief.
He looked from Rachel to Quinn and then back again, and Rachel raised her chin slightly. He blinked, and then smirked, looking down at her hands and the whip she had looped over her wrist.
"Oh, the blacksnake, hm?" He asked, raising one eyebrow until his forehead wrinkled comically. "That's a serious piece of kit."
Rachel laughed.
"I think we can handle it."
In the end they bought the studded paddle, the whip ('blacksnake', Quinn reminded herself, liking the way the word sounded), a pair of padded handcuffs (Rachel had said 'see? Much better! And they're separate so you can attach them to bed posts or something or each other depending on what you want' and Quinn had been forced to agree that she was right) and a butt-plug. The latter item had been the subject of a small disagreement - the first one Quinn had picked out had been met by an extremely apprehensive look from Rachel..
("Quinn, sweetheart, don't you think that's a little... big, for a beginner?"
Quinn had looked from the toy to her girlfriend, and back again.
"But..."
"Quinn!"
"Maybe - a little?"
"How about this?" Rachel asked, picking up a smaller version of the same thing. "It's still a little big, but it's much more do-able."
Quinn pouted slightly - but if Rachel wanted the smaller toy, then that's what they'd get.
"Okay.")
The rest of the day was a bit weird. The bag in Quinn's hand (she'd insisted on carrying their purchases, although for some reason Rachel had ended up paying for everything - probably because the store assistant kept addressing all of his comments to her) felt heavy and obtrusive - she was sure everyone they passed knew what she was carrying, even though the bag was an anonymous plain purple. But she knew, and that was enough.
"Your place or mine?" Rachel asked her, using that sultry tone that Quinn rarely heard outside the bedroom, and running one soft hand up her arm.
"Um," Quinn squeaked slightly. "Mine?" She thought she'd probably rather try this in her own space, however comfortable she felt at Rachel's.
"Okay baby," Rachel said, leaning up to kiss Quinn lightly on the lips. "I'll see you after rehearsal - I should be there by eight at the very latest. e ready..."
"I will," she said, swallowing around her dry throat. Wow. This was real.
She was going to have to... She was going to have to go straight home and spend the next few hours watching her extensive collection of porn clips for inspiration.
By the time eight o'clock came around, Quinn had worked herself into quite a state - with the help of her porn, and her rather vivid imagination. She'd changed into a pair of leather pants, which she'd had for months but never worn because she'd never felt confident enough to wear them in public (Rachel wasn't 'public' though, and she had a feeling her girlfriend would enjoy them) and a midnight blue halter top that left her back almost entirely exposed.
Rachel came straight from her rehearsal, so she was wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing earlier that day - tight, tattered jeans, her DMs, a button-down shirt and the ever-present messenger bag. She blinked at Quinn's outfit before a slow smile spread across her face.
"Wow. You look amazing, Quinn."
"No talking," Quinn said, grabbing Rachel and pulling her into the room. Um, um, now what? There should be scripts for this kind of thing.
"Quinn, what do you think you're -" Rachel was frowning at her with a completely confused look on her face.
"I said, no talking!" Quinn said again, leading Rachel into her bedroom. "Now, um." Now, what? Right! "Take off your clothes."
Rachel gave her a long, thoughtful look, before shrugging slightly - Quinn wasn't even sure if she'd really seen the movement or just imagined it - and unbuttoning her shirt. Quinn twisted her fingers together in front of herself, nervously, but her eyes were riveted on Rachel's skin as it was exposed. God, she was glorious.
This wasn't what Rachel had expected, when Quinn had shown an interest in this sort of play. She'd thought that she would be the one in the dominant role - she hadn't realised that Quinn was thinking of their relationship dynamic in another way. She was more than a little surprised - but she was willing to go along with it if that was what Quinn really wanted - who knew, perhaps it could work. Rachel certainly never dismissed anything out of hand - she liked to think of herself as adventurous.
She unlaced and kicked off her boots, the movement practised and swift, before unbuckling her belt and skinning out of her jeans, leaving herself standing there in bra and panties. Her underwear was the only thing she'd changed since that morning - she was wearing a matched set in a deep burgundy satin that looked amazing against her skin tone. Quinn's mouth watered and she forgot that she was supposed to be doing anything, just standing there and admiring her girlfriend. Rachel stood quietly with her weight on one foot and her hands linked behind her back, the posture pushing her breasts out slightly.
Quinn stared. Rachel waited.
Finally, Quinn shook herself slightly, realising that she was in charge - and that Rachel was waiting to be told what to do. Woah. Rachel was actually just going to stand there, waiting for orders, before she moved? That was - a bit weird, actually. Still, this was what Quinn wanted, Rachel submitting to her every whim, right? Right.
"Bra and panties too," she said, still staring hungrily at her.
Rachel reached up behind herself, eyes still fixed on Quinn's and undid the clasp of her bra, letting it slip slowly down her arms before dropping it to lie with her rest of her clothes. Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them gradually down her legs, in a move that Quinn had only ever seen on a stripper (a movie stripper, she'd never been to a strip club, thank you very much!)
She stood up again, tilting her head a little to the side and linking her hands behind her back again. Quinn swallowed, and Rachel raised an eyebrow. Quinn cast her mind back to the porn she'd been watching earlier.
"I think," she said, "that little girls who've been naughty deserve to be spanked." Rachel's lips twitched and Quinn scowled at her. What? That wasn't funny. "Don't you think so?" She asked, aiming for coldly angry but afraid that she was only managing petulant.
"Yes, Quinn," Rachel said quietly. "Naughty girls deserve a spanking."
Rachel didn't know how she was managing to keep a straight face. 'Naughty girls deserve to be spanked'? Where was Quinn getting this drivel? It wasn't even that the question was such a bad one - but they weren't playing out a scene where Rachel was a naughty school-girl, nor had she actually done anything that would deserve a spanking. It was a good thing she was a good actress because Quinn probably wouldn't take it at all well if Rachel were to laugh in her face. (And yes Quinn's fears were not unfounded - Rachel did think that Quinn sounded rather more petulant than anything. It was actually rather cute.)
"Then get over my knee."
"You should probably sit down first," Rachel pointed out.
Quinn blushed and sat down, before patting her knee.
Rachel knelt down next to Quinn's lap, tipping herself up and over her thighs so that her head was hanging down on one side and she was balancing on her toes on the other. Quinn couldn't help but run her fingertips lovingly over Rachel's upturned, naked buttocks, and Rachel gave a little sigh of contentment. Quinn drew back her hand, and delivered the hardest spank she could to Rachel's ass.
Rachel shot forward, a bright red hand-print blossoming on her skin, and Quinn shook out her hand. Ow. That really stung - and if it stung her hand, how much more must Rachel's bottom be stinging?
"Quinn," Rachel's voice was pained and just a little accusatory. "Could you start off a little more gently, please? Let me get used to it?"
Quinn nodded, forgetting that Rachel couldn't see her, and took it a little more softly, although her hand was still hurting (it was quite nice, the warm heat in her skin). Rachel wasn't really making any noise, though, none of those moans and cries that the girls in the clips did. Quinn must be doing something wrong. She stepped up the force of her blows and although Rachel was making the odd pained grunt every now and then, she didn't seem to be enjoying it the way she was supposed to. Perhaps it was still too soft, after all she'd done what Rachel asked and started gently, surely she wasn't supposed to stay gentle. That wasn't how it worked.
When Quinn stopped her spanking, Rachel took a deep breath of relief - but she had a feeling the other girl wasn't done yet - there was that paddle (oh no. Spikes) and the whip (even Quinn wouldn't be silly enough to think she could swing it safely inside, so Rachel was safe from that one) to get through. But it was what Quinn wanted (she said), and as long as she was enjoying it, Rachel could put up with it - they could have a conversation about how this wasn't going to happen again later. Not with them in these roles, anyway.
Quinn reached over and took up the paddle, which she had placed with easy reach before Rachel arrived, and turned it so that the spiked side was facing away from the other girl's bottom. She swung it down and Rachel almost slid forwards off her lap with a guttural sound that could have been a word or just a noise of pain. Quinn wasn't sure. But reducing Rachel to noises rather than words had to be a good sign, right?
Fucking hell, Rachel was thinking. At least she wasn't using the spiked side - and if Quinn did decide to try that side out, that would be it - curtains, no encore. She could deal with this, though, and Quinn still seemed to be into what she was doing, so - Rachel took a deep breath, scrunching her face up and willing her muscles to relax. It was just pain.
After a few blows with the paddle, Quinn sighed and put it down. This wasn't working - maybe it was the whole over-the-knee spanking thing. It was such a lovely visual, the idea of a girl over someone's knee, helpless, able only to squirm and wriggle and take it, but Rachel didn't seem to be getting into it.
Rachel turned her head to look up at Quinn over her shoulder, a quizzical look on her face.
"Quinn?"
"On your knees in the middle of the room," Quinn said, and with what sounded distinctly like a sigh of relief, Rachel did was she was told, moving to kneel in the middle of the room. She sat back on her heels, gingerly, trying not to put too much weight on her sore bottom. She clasped her hands behind her back once more, sitting with her back straight, shoulders back, chest a little out. She was looking at Quinn with that same questioning look, and Quinn smirked and picked up the blacksnake. Rachel's eyes widened.
"Quinn, no!"
She actually looked scared, and Quinn grinned to herself. Finally! She shook the whip out, adjusting her grip on the handle. Rachel's eyes narrowed.
"Quinn," she said again, voice hard. "I said no - I mean it. You may not use that on me."
Rachel was despairing of this ever working. What possessed Quinn to think it could be safe to use that? Inside, with no room to swing it properly without it getting caught on things - and when, as far as Rachel knew, Quinn had never picked one up until today. What would happen if it wrapped around one of them and took out an eye? The reason whips make a cracking sound is because they break the sound barrier. No way was it going near her skin.
Quinn pouted, and swished the whip. Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but Quinn sighed and put the whip down. She supposed that the fact that Rachel was too scared to let her use the whip was good, even if she didn't get to play with it, right? Okay, so she'd already done spanking and paddling and Rachel wouldn't let her use the whip... what should she try next? Well, there was one more toy she hadn't used yet...
"On your hands and knees," she said.
Slowly, Rachel complied, trying to turn and see her as she did so. Quinn ignored her and picked up a small bottle of lube, spreading a little onto her first two fingers, and walking up behind Rachel. She put a hand on the small of her back, caressed her buttocks with the other hand, careful not to touch her with the lubed fingers, and then slid those two fingers into Rachel's ass.
Rachel shot forward with a squeak. The lube was still a little cold, and - two fingers at once, and Quinn hadn't trimmed her fucking fingernails. Just because they hadn't done this before, didn't mean that Quinn shouldn't have done some fucking research! Rachel would be damned if she was going to let this get any further. But then Quinn removed her fingers, and Rachel sighed with relief - okay, maybe she'd just wanted to try out WHAT THE FUCK?
"Quinn!"
Quinn had just shoved the butt-plug - with not nearly enough lube and nothing like enough preparation - straight into her.
Quinn smirked - that was more like it - she'd been waiting for that kind of response - but Rachel wasn't squirming and sighing end enjoying herself the way she was supposed to - she was yelling. That couldn't be good - Rachel yelling was never good.
"Take it out!"
There was another shriek.
"Slowly, Quinn! Fucking hell, you - never ever do that again!"
Biting her lip, Quinn eased the toy slowly out of Rachel, wondering what she'd done wrong - but she obviously screwed up somewhere. Actually, she had a feeling she'd screwed up everywhere and there were tears starting to well up in her eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen like this - and she really didn't know what she'd done wrong. And now Rachel was mad at her, and ... goddammit.
Rachel climbed back to her feet, wincing, and turned, fully ready to give Quinn a stern talking-to about boundaries and trust and the importance of doing your fucking research but the look on Quinn's face squashed any harsh words she had been intending to say. Her girlfriend looked absolutely distraught.
"Oh, baby," she said softly, gathering the sniffling girl up into her arms. "Sweetheart, it's okay."
"No it's not," Quinn said, sadly. "I got everything wrong and now you're mad at me."
Rachel smiled.
"Well, you're half right," she admitted, softly teasing.
Quinn blinked, confused.
"Half-right?" She asked, wondering what Rachel meant.
"You did get things rather wrong," Rachel said. "But I'm not mad at you. I just hope that you take this to heart as an example of why you should always research anything you intend to do as thoroughly as possible."
Quinn giggled, Rachel's typically verbosity serving to diffuse the situation neatly.
"I really did think I knew what I was doing," she said ruefully. "I mean, I've, ah, seen a lot of porn..." She was blushing hotly as she said that - she'd not admitted her taste in visual stimulation to Rachel before.
"Really?" Rachel drawled, raising an eyebrow as she stepped back a little to look Quinn in the face. "Well, now. That's interesting - perhaps we should sit down and peruse your collection together some time." She smiled slowly, a definite glint in her eye. "I'm sure I could find something of interest in your collection."
Quinn perked up. Rachel wasn't mad at her, and was interested in watching her porn with her? This was a much better ending to her rather disastrous evening than she had been hoping for, after the mess she had made of things.
"I don't deserve you, Rachel," she said quietly, blushing just a little and looking down at her toes.
"Of course you do," Rachel said, cupping her hand under Quinn's chin and pulling her face back up. "You just need to find a way to make it up to me." She waggled her eyebrows in a thoroughly comical manner, grinning lewdly. "And I know just where you should begin."
She turned around, and pointed to her poor abused bottom. "I believe that 'kissing it better' is generally what one does for boo-boos," she said teasingly, and Quinn grinned at her before sinking gracefully to her knees and resting her hands on Rachel's hips.
She leaned forwards and, just before her lips brushed the skin of her girlfriend's ass, murmured teasingly 'yes, Mistress."
Unseen by Quinn, Rachel grinned widely at the little whispered comment. That's much more like it.
PART 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.
-
"How about this?" Quinn asked, holding up a pair of furry handcuffs. Rachel raised an eyebrow.
"Quinn. They're pink."
Quinn pouted and clinked the chain holding the cuffs together. She really, really liked the idea of chaining Rachel to a bed and having her wicked way with her - ooh, or even better, up to the ceiling! That could be awesome. She's found this really good clip online where a girl was suspended by her wrists from a beam while two guys fucked her. And the two guys things was pretty gross but she'd enjoyed the bit before the fucking, where the girl was dangling and helpless.
"I thought you liked pink?"
"Quinn, they're tacky. Put them back." Besides being tacky, Rachel thought, they were badly made - the links on the chain were only bent closed, not spot-welded, and they were pretty much only any good for the visual - they couldn't hold someone who was determined to get out of them. If you were going to restrain someone, you should do it properly.
Quinn pouted harder, and put the cuffs back on the rack, fingering a plaited whip that was hanging next to them. Hmm, how about that?
"Quinn." Rachel had come up behind her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on her shoulder - even though she had to stand on tip-toes to do it. "You've been looking at the stuff over here for a while. Something you want to try out?"
It was the first time they'd been toy shopping together (it was only the second time Quinn had been toy shopping at all, and it had taken Rachel a week of coaxing to convince her to go). Quinn wasn't quite sure how to tell Rachel that yes, she was really interested in everything on this particular stand, but Rachel was doing a good job of realising on her own.
Unfortunately, she didn't seem very convinced. She was fingering a paddle with a look of distaste on her face, and Quinn could feel the hope that had bubbled up in her when Rachel had first come over to her, looking interested, fading. She really wanted to try this, dammit, but if Rachel wasn't into it...
"This stuff is really cheap," Rachel was saying. "I mean, seriously, this paddle? It's fake leather stitched over, what, plywood?" She had the paddle in her hands and was bending it slightly, rolling her eyes. "I don't understand why anyone would buy this crap."
Quinn sighed and turned away from the stand sadly, resigned to the fact that her fantasies would have to stay just that, fantasies. It was a pity, because she did fantasise about it, a lot.
"It's fine, Rachel," she said. "I just thought it might be fun, that's all."
Rachel pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"It's not that, Quinn," she said. "It's just that this stuff really doesn't look as if it would stand up to being used - it's badly made, it's cheap, and I wouldn't bother buying it. There's a place near here that carries better quality merchandise - we could go there and have a look around, if you like?"
"We can?" She asked, eyes brightening, and Rachel nodded, smiling brightly.
"We totally can. I just want to pay for a few things," she said, hoisting her basket up, "and then we can walk over there - it's really not far."
Quinn followed her to the counter, reflecting to herself that if someone had told her, a year ago, that she would be here today? She would have laughed at them. A year ago, she was in her junior year, fretting that she'd chosen the wrong major. And Rachel, who had surprised everyone by ending up at Tisch (by choice, no less!) and not Julliard as they had all assumed she would, was in London gaining 'valuable cultural experiences that will expand my horizons and give me greater depth as a performer, Quinn.'
With Quinn and Rachel both at NYU, Steinhardt and Tisch respectively, they'd found themselves becoming good friends over the course of their freshman and sophomore years. Away from WMHS they were both mellower people; Quinn didn't have to keep up appearances quite so much, and Rachel actually had a group of friends who were just as driven as she was - she calmed down a lot with that outlet for her obsessive need to succeed. They got on well - really well, to their mutual surprise. Then Rachel left for London, and everything changed.
While Rachel was away, Quinn finally admitted to herself that her interest in other women was more than just aesthetic, and dated a few girls. Nothing serious, nothing that lasted longer than a few months, but it was enough to prove to herself that yes, she really was bisexual. If anything, she liked women more than she liked men. They were prettier, and softer, and understood her better.
And then Rachel came back from London and the first time Quinn saw her, walking into the start of semester LGBT meet-and-greet? Her jaw had, quite literally, dropped. Gone was the straightened hair and the short skirts and knee socks that Rachel had continued wearing even after highschool. Gone was the ramrod-straight back and the obnoxious aura of holier-than-thou confidence. In it's place was... something else. Quinn couldn't put her finger on it. It wasn't the clothes, although of course those had changed, it was something more subtle than than that - Rachel simply seemed more at ease with herself than Quinn had ever seen her. She was still confident, but it wasn't overt and out there - it was quiet and understated, and all the more powerful for it.
Rachel was wearing jeans and a ratty t-shirt for some band that Quinn had never heard of. She had a messenger bag with the strap slung crosswise over her body, Doc Marten boots (which had a Union Jack pattern on them), a watch with a wide leather band on her left wrist - and a tattoo on the inside of her right wrist. It was a stylised design, round, about an inch across - like a yin-yang with three parts instead of two. Quinn was almost too distracted by the sight of Rachel Berry with a tattoo to notice when Rachel spoke to her.
"Well. Fancy meeting you here," Rachel drawled.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. She could hear a faint trace of an English accent in Rachel's voice and whilst once she would have assumed she was adopting it for effect now she had a feeling that it was entirely unconscious.
"I could say the same," she said. "Is this something you found out about yourself on your great cultural voyage of discovery?"
"Hardly," Rachel said, shaking her head and pushing the tousled lock of hair that fell into her face with the motion behind her ear. "I've been involved with Queer Union since our freshman year. How did you not know that?"
"Oh," Quinn said, eloquently.
"Oh, indeed," Rachel teased. "But you! What are you doing here?"
Quinn blushed and looked at the floor, scuffing with the sole of her sandal at a smudge on the carpet.
"I, ah, realised that I'm bisexual last year. I didn't get involved with student activities or anything then but I figured this was the last chance I'd have so I should probably do it."
"Good for you," Rachel said, beaming at her, and took Quinn's hand, squeezing it warmly. "It can't have been easy."
Quinn flushed, both from the compliment and from the feeling of Rachel's hand in hers, warm and firm. Maybe it was the sudden change of wardrobe, maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other for almost a year, maybe it was her newly-awakened sexuality - but she realised with a start that she found Rachel attractive. Very attractive. And judging from the look in Rachel's eyes, and the way that her thumb was lightly caressing the inside of Quinn's wrist - the feeling was mutual.
"Do you want to go and get coffee?" Quinn asked, impulsively, flush deepening into an honest-to-goodness blush. "We have so much to catch up on."
"I'd like that," Rachel said, smiling slowly and sweetly. "I'd like that very much."
Coffee had turned into a dinner date had become a night at the theatre and before either of them had noticed, they were dating. The did notice eventually, of course - that was the night that Quinn had walked Rachel home after an evening at a free comedy event, and Rachel had smiled that same slow smile and asked if she would like to come inside. That had been two months ago, and Quinn could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had slept alone since.
Rachel finished paying for her purchases - some latex-safe lubricant and a water-proof vibrator (shaped, to Quinn's slight discomfort, like a cute translucent blue dolphin) and tucked the bag into her ever-present messenger bag. Smiling, she took Quinn's hand, lacing their fingers together the way she always did, and they walked out of the store, making their way towards the place Rachel had been talking about.
"It's called DeMask," Rachel said as they made their way to the store, which was about fifteen minutes walk away. "I think they were Dutch originally, or something, but it looks much more appropriate than the sort of thing they had at Babeland."
Quinn bit her lip, looking sideways at Rachel. Was she really up for this? She looked like she was, striding along as if she didn't have anything on her mind, the thumb of her free hand hooked into her belt loop as they walked. But was she just going along with this to please Quinn? She just didn't know.
The store was... a little intimidating. It had black awnings with the store name in elegant lettering, and the mannequins in the window were dressed in complicated rubber and leather outfits and wielding implements that Quinn had no name for and only a vague idea of how they might be used. Rachel still looked perfectly at ease but then, Rachel always did - Quinn had never seen her look intimidated by anything.
"Are you sure?" Quinn asked, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other and Rachel simply rolled her eyes and took Quinn's hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
"I'm sure. Now, come on. We look silly just standing outside like this."
Inside was even more intimidating that outside. There were rails of clothing, if you could call it that, made of deeply glossy rubber in black and dark, jewel-like colours. One rail held nothing but corsets, and Quinn's eyes almost popped out of her head when she saw the size tags on the smallest ones - could anyone actually squeeze their waist down into a fourteen inch corset?
"So," Rachel whispered into her ear, tucked up close against her, breath hot across her cheek. Quinn shivered slightly. "What takes your fancy?"
Quinn bit her lip thoughtfully, and headed across the store and down the stairs, to the area that was devoted to toys and tools. When they walked into the well lit little basement, gleaming with chrome and glass shelves, her eyes widened even further. She hadn't realised there were so many different ways to ... and dear sweet Jesus. That was a butt-plug the size of her head. That had to be just for show.
Ooh. Spikes!
She picked up a studded paddle, turning it over in her hands thoughtfully. That would sting, wouldn't it? She turned to Rachel, eyebrow raised. Rachel blinked at her, looking more than slightly surprised.
"That one? Really?"
Quinn looked down at it, and then back at her apprehensive girlfriend.
"Well, only if you -"
"No, no, it's fine," Rachel grinned at her. "If that's what you're into."
Quinn ran her fingers over the metal studs set into one side of the paddle - that would hurt, but you could always use the other side if you didn't want it to be too painful, so - it was multi-purpose. That was always a good thing - especially given the prices of things. Rachel had picked up a plaited whip - like the sort Indiana Jones used. It seemed supple and soft in the other girl's fingers, and Quinn raised an eyebrow at her. Well. That could be fun. You could make a really great cracking sound with those, right?
"You want that?" She asked, and Rachel gave her a surprised look.
"Really?" She said, still running her fingers over the whip, and Quinn recognised the look on her face - that was the look Rachel got when she really wanted something. Like, really wanted - solo, star billing, lead actress sort of wanted. "You'd trust -"
"Sure," Quinn said, nodding. "We can get it, if you want it."
"Cool," Rachel grinned, and went back to looking through the restraints with the whip looped over her wrist.
"Can I help either of you ladies?"
There was a young man standing on the stairs, cocking his head at them enquiringly. He had a pair of tight leather pants on, and a fishnet wifebeater that let his tattoos and pierced nipples show through. His head was shaved and he was wearing a thick leather collar around his neck with a large silver ring at the front that hung down into the hollow of his throat. Quinn found him a little intimidating, especially the way he was staring straight at her.
"No, I think we're fine," Rachel said to him, much to Quinn's relief.
He looked from Rachel to Quinn and then back again, and Rachel raised her chin slightly. He blinked, and then smirked, looking down at her hands and the whip she had looped over her wrist.
"Oh, the blacksnake, hm?" He asked, raising one eyebrow until his forehead wrinkled comically. "That's a serious piece of kit."
Rachel laughed.
"I think we can handle it."
In the end they bought the studded paddle, the whip ('blacksnake', Quinn reminded herself, liking the way the word sounded), a pair of padded handcuffs (Rachel had said 'see? Much better! And they're separate so you can attach them to bed posts or something or each other depending on what you want' and Quinn had been forced to agree that she was right) and a butt-plug. The latter item had been the subject of a small disagreement - the first one Quinn had picked out had been met by an extremely apprehensive look from Rachel..
("Quinn, sweetheart, don't you think that's a little... big, for a beginner?"
Quinn had looked from the toy to her girlfriend, and back again.
"But..."
"Quinn!"
"Maybe - a little?"
"How about this?" Rachel asked, picking up a smaller version of the same thing. "It's still a little big, but it's much more do-able."
Quinn pouted slightly - but if Rachel wanted the smaller toy, then that's what they'd get.
"Okay.")
The rest of the day was a bit weird. The bag in Quinn's hand (she'd insisted on carrying their purchases, although for some reason Rachel had ended up paying for everything - probably because the store assistant kept addressing all of his comments to her) felt heavy and obtrusive - she was sure everyone they passed knew what she was carrying, even though the bag was an anonymous plain purple. But she knew, and that was enough.
"Your place or mine?" Rachel asked her, using that sultry tone that Quinn rarely heard outside the bedroom, and running one soft hand up her arm.
"Um," Quinn squeaked slightly. "Mine?" She thought she'd probably rather try this in her own space, however comfortable she felt at Rachel's.
"Okay baby," Rachel said, leaning up to kiss Quinn lightly on the lips. "I'll see you after rehearsal - I should be there by eight at the very latest. e ready..."
"I will," she said, swallowing around her dry throat. Wow. This was real.
She was going to have to... She was going to have to go straight home and spend the next few hours watching her extensive collection of porn clips for inspiration.
By the time eight o'clock came around, Quinn had worked herself into quite a state - with the help of her porn, and her rather vivid imagination. She'd changed into a pair of leather pants, which she'd had for months but never worn because she'd never felt confident enough to wear them in public (Rachel wasn't 'public' though, and she had a feeling her girlfriend would enjoy them) and a midnight blue halter top that left her back almost entirely exposed.
Rachel came straight from her rehearsal, so she was wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing earlier that day - tight, tattered jeans, her DMs, a button-down shirt and the ever-present messenger bag. She blinked at Quinn's outfit before a slow smile spread across her face.
"Wow. You look amazing, Quinn."
"No talking," Quinn said, grabbing Rachel and pulling her into the room. Um, um, now what? There should be scripts for this kind of thing.
"Quinn, what do you think you're -" Rachel was frowning at her with a completely confused look on her face.
"I said, no talking!" Quinn said again, leading Rachel into her bedroom. "Now, um." Now, what? Right! "Take off your clothes."
Rachel gave her a long, thoughtful look, before shrugging slightly - Quinn wasn't even sure if she'd really seen the movement or just imagined it - and unbuttoning her shirt. Quinn twisted her fingers together in front of herself, nervously, but her eyes were riveted on Rachel's skin as it was exposed. God, she was glorious.
This wasn't what Rachel had expected, when Quinn had shown an interest in this sort of play. She'd thought that she would be the one in the dominant role - she hadn't realised that Quinn was thinking of their relationship dynamic in another way. She was more than a little surprised - but she was willing to go along with it if that was what Quinn really wanted - who knew, perhaps it could work. Rachel certainly never dismissed anything out of hand - she liked to think of herself as adventurous.
She unlaced and kicked off her boots, the movement practised and swift, before unbuckling her belt and skinning out of her jeans, leaving herself standing there in bra and panties. Her underwear was the only thing she'd changed since that morning - she was wearing a matched set in a deep burgundy satin that looked amazing against her skin tone. Quinn's mouth watered and she forgot that she was supposed to be doing anything, just standing there and admiring her girlfriend. Rachel stood quietly with her weight on one foot and her hands linked behind her back, the posture pushing her breasts out slightly.
Quinn stared. Rachel waited.
Finally, Quinn shook herself slightly, realising that she was in charge - and that Rachel was waiting to be told what to do. Woah. Rachel was actually just going to stand there, waiting for orders, before she moved? That was - a bit weird, actually. Still, this was what Quinn wanted, Rachel submitting to her every whim, right? Right.
"Bra and panties too," she said, still staring hungrily at her.
Rachel reached up behind herself, eyes still fixed on Quinn's and undid the clasp of her bra, letting it slip slowly down her arms before dropping it to lie with her rest of her clothes. Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them gradually down her legs, in a move that Quinn had only ever seen on a stripper (a movie stripper, she'd never been to a strip club, thank you very much!)
She stood up again, tilting her head a little to the side and linking her hands behind her back again. Quinn swallowed, and Rachel raised an eyebrow. Quinn cast her mind back to the porn she'd been watching earlier.
"I think," she said, "that little girls who've been naughty deserve to be spanked." Rachel's lips twitched and Quinn scowled at her. What? That wasn't funny. "Don't you think so?" She asked, aiming for coldly angry but afraid that she was only managing petulant.
"Yes, Quinn," Rachel said quietly. "Naughty girls deserve a spanking."
Rachel didn't know how she was managing to keep a straight face. 'Naughty girls deserve to be spanked'? Where was Quinn getting this drivel? It wasn't even that the question was such a bad one - but they weren't playing out a scene where Rachel was a naughty school-girl, nor had she actually done anything that would deserve a spanking. It was a good thing she was a good actress because Quinn probably wouldn't take it at all well if Rachel were to laugh in her face. (And yes Quinn's fears were not unfounded - Rachel did think that Quinn sounded rather more petulant than anything. It was actually rather cute.)
"Then get over my knee."
"You should probably sit down first," Rachel pointed out.
Quinn blushed and sat down, before patting her knee.
Rachel knelt down next to Quinn's lap, tipping herself up and over her thighs so that her head was hanging down on one side and she was balancing on her toes on the other. Quinn couldn't help but run her fingertips lovingly over Rachel's upturned, naked buttocks, and Rachel gave a little sigh of contentment. Quinn drew back her hand, and delivered the hardest spank she could to Rachel's ass.
Rachel shot forward, a bright red hand-print blossoming on her skin, and Quinn shook out her hand. Ow. That really stung - and if it stung her hand, how much more must Rachel's bottom be stinging?
"Quinn," Rachel's voice was pained and just a little accusatory. "Could you start off a little more gently, please? Let me get used to it?"
Quinn nodded, forgetting that Rachel couldn't see her, and took it a little more softly, although her hand was still hurting (it was quite nice, the warm heat in her skin). Rachel wasn't really making any noise, though, none of those moans and cries that the girls in the clips did. Quinn must be doing something wrong. She stepped up the force of her blows and although Rachel was making the odd pained grunt every now and then, she didn't seem to be enjoying it the way she was supposed to. Perhaps it was still too soft, after all she'd done what Rachel asked and started gently, surely she wasn't supposed to stay gentle. That wasn't how it worked.
When Quinn stopped her spanking, Rachel took a deep breath of relief - but she had a feeling the other girl wasn't done yet - there was that paddle (oh no. Spikes) and the whip (even Quinn wouldn't be silly enough to think she could swing it safely inside, so Rachel was safe from that one) to get through. But it was what Quinn wanted (she said), and as long as she was enjoying it, Rachel could put up with it - they could have a conversation about how this wasn't going to happen again later. Not with them in these roles, anyway.
Quinn reached over and took up the paddle, which she had placed with easy reach before Rachel arrived, and turned it so that the spiked side was facing away from the other girl's bottom. She swung it down and Rachel almost slid forwards off her lap with a guttural sound that could have been a word or just a noise of pain. Quinn wasn't sure. But reducing Rachel to noises rather than words had to be a good sign, right?
Fucking hell, Rachel was thinking. At least she wasn't using the spiked side - and if Quinn did decide to try that side out, that would be it - curtains, no encore. She could deal with this, though, and Quinn still seemed to be into what she was doing, so - Rachel took a deep breath, scrunching her face up and willing her muscles to relax. It was just pain.
After a few blows with the paddle, Quinn sighed and put it down. This wasn't working - maybe it was the whole over-the-knee spanking thing. It was such a lovely visual, the idea of a girl over someone's knee, helpless, able only to squirm and wriggle and take it, but Rachel didn't seem to be getting into it.
Rachel turned her head to look up at Quinn over her shoulder, a quizzical look on her face.
"Quinn?"
"On your knees in the middle of the room," Quinn said, and with what sounded distinctly like a sigh of relief, Rachel did was she was told, moving to kneel in the middle of the room. She sat back on her heels, gingerly, trying not to put too much weight on her sore bottom. She clasped her hands behind her back once more, sitting with her back straight, shoulders back, chest a little out. She was looking at Quinn with that same questioning look, and Quinn smirked and picked up the blacksnake. Rachel's eyes widened.
"Quinn, no!"
She actually looked scared, and Quinn grinned to herself. Finally! She shook the whip out, adjusting her grip on the handle. Rachel's eyes narrowed.
"Quinn," she said again, voice hard. "I said no - I mean it. You may not use that on me."
Rachel was despairing of this ever working. What possessed Quinn to think it could be safe to use that? Inside, with no room to swing it properly without it getting caught on things - and when, as far as Rachel knew, Quinn had never picked one up until today. What would happen if it wrapped around one of them and took out an eye? The reason whips make a cracking sound is because they break the sound barrier. No way was it going near her skin.
Quinn pouted, and swished the whip. Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but Quinn sighed and put the whip down. She supposed that the fact that Rachel was too scared to let her use the whip was good, even if she didn't get to play with it, right? Okay, so she'd already done spanking and paddling and Rachel wouldn't let her use the whip... what should she try next? Well, there was one more toy she hadn't used yet...
"On your hands and knees," she said.
Slowly, Rachel complied, trying to turn and see her as she did so. Quinn ignored her and picked up a small bottle of lube, spreading a little onto her first two fingers, and walking up behind Rachel. She put a hand on the small of her back, caressed her buttocks with the other hand, careful not to touch her with the lubed fingers, and then slid those two fingers into Rachel's ass.
Rachel shot forward with a squeak. The lube was still a little cold, and - two fingers at once, and Quinn hadn't trimmed her fucking fingernails. Just because they hadn't done this before, didn't mean that Quinn shouldn't have done some fucking research! Rachel would be damned if she was going to let this get any further. But then Quinn removed her fingers, and Rachel sighed with relief - okay, maybe she'd just wanted to try out WHAT THE FUCK?
"Quinn!"
Quinn had just shoved the butt-plug - with not nearly enough lube and nothing like enough preparation - straight into her.
Quinn smirked - that was more like it - she'd been waiting for that kind of response - but Rachel wasn't squirming and sighing end enjoying herself the way she was supposed to - she was yelling. That couldn't be good - Rachel yelling was never good.
"Take it out!"
There was another shriek.
"Slowly, Quinn! Fucking hell, you - never ever do that again!"
Biting her lip, Quinn eased the toy slowly out of Rachel, wondering what she'd done wrong - but she obviously screwed up somewhere. Actually, she had a feeling she'd screwed up everywhere and there were tears starting to well up in her eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen like this - and she really didn't know what she'd done wrong. And now Rachel was mad at her, and ... goddammit.
Rachel climbed back to her feet, wincing, and turned, fully ready to give Quinn a stern talking-to about boundaries and trust and the importance of doing your fucking research but the look on Quinn's face squashed any harsh words she had been intending to say. Her girlfriend looked absolutely distraught.
"Oh, baby," she said softly, gathering the sniffling girl up into her arms. "Sweetheart, it's okay."
"No it's not," Quinn said, sadly. "I got everything wrong and now you're mad at me."
Rachel smiled.
"Well, you're half right," she admitted, softly teasing.
Quinn blinked, confused.
"Half-right?" She asked, wondering what Rachel meant.
"You did get things rather wrong," Rachel said. "But I'm not mad at you. I just hope that you take this to heart as an example of why you should always research anything you intend to do as thoroughly as possible."
Quinn giggled, Rachel's typically verbosity serving to diffuse the situation neatly.
"I really did think I knew what I was doing," she said ruefully. "I mean, I've, ah, seen a lot of porn..." She was blushing hotly as she said that - she'd not admitted her taste in visual stimulation to Rachel before.
"Really?" Rachel drawled, raising an eyebrow as she stepped back a little to look Quinn in the face. "Well, now. That's interesting - perhaps we should sit down and peruse your collection together some time." She smiled slowly, a definite glint in her eye. "I'm sure I could find something of interest in your collection."
Quinn perked up. Rachel wasn't mad at her, and was interested in watching her porn with her? This was a much better ending to her rather disastrous evening than she had been hoping for, after the mess she had made of things.
"I don't deserve you, Rachel," she said quietly, blushing just a little and looking down at her toes.
"Of course you do," Rachel said, cupping her hand under Quinn's chin and pulling her face back up. "You just need to find a way to make it up to me." She waggled her eyebrows in a thoroughly comical manner, grinning lewdly. "And I know just where you should begin."
She turned around, and pointed to her poor abused bottom. "I believe that 'kissing it better' is generally what one does for boo-boos," she said teasingly, and Quinn grinned at her before sinking gracefully to her knees and resting her hands on Rachel's hips.
She leaned forwards and, just before her lips brushed the skin of her girlfriend's ass, murmured teasingly 'yes, Mistress."
Unseen by Quinn, Rachel grinned widely at the little whispered comment. That's much more like it.
PART 2