If you are new to the Mistress storyverse, welcome! Trinity and Graciela’s adventures began in Fire of Desire, a free Mira and Hana serial available on Governing Ana for a limited time only. You may remember Mira from Desire in Any Language or Mira’s Miracle, tales of a young woman discovering her sexuality and kink while studying abroad in Korea. She meets the Japanese diplomat, Hana Takahashi, who introduces her naughty love.
On their visit to a BDSM resort, Hana and Mira meet Nurse Trinity, who coddles and spanks Mira like the naughty girl she needs to be. After a rocky start, the three promise to keep in touch.
Unfortunately, things don’t go as well at their next meeting. Trinity seeks help from her former lover and Domme, Graciela. Graciela rules with an iron fist, and Trinity struggles with the changes in her life.
Trinity and Graciela’s adventures are available in the first two books, Mistress on Her Knees and Mistress, Please (coming soon!). Today’s installment is part three.
“There will be clear boundaries this time.” She knows me too well to listen to my words instead of everything I don’t say. Even over the phone, even standing an ocean apart, I can see her cocked head and furrowed brow.
“Gracie, you’ve said that a million times. I’m not going to–”
At the beeping of the front-door keypad, I interrupt the voice on the telephone. “Sorry, gotta go.”
“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” Silence. “Gracie!”
“Bye!” I click off before she can respond. She sputters something about an outrage, but I focus on the woman standing before me. Trinity bears a shiny silver package that must be Rachel’s latest take-home gift. From the flattish shape and the aroma of onions and oil, it must be her famous pa chon. She calls it “Korean pizza,” but the treat is more of a cross between a savory crepe and a pancake. The batter itself is dead easy. Scallions scrubbed clean and snipped into inch-long pieces, mixed with water and a special boochim karu, a white powder. I’ve tried to replicate Rachel’s signature snack, but my pa chon turns out limp, soggy, and disfigured. A gift from the chef herself is one to be savored.
Licking my lips, I draw Trinity close by pulling around her waist. “Maybe you should take cooking lessons from Rachel, too.” Trinity left in a huff this morning, too angry to talk reasonably about travel plans. She’s returned with a glint in her eye and bounce to her walk. To prove it, she takes out her signature sass. I pluck the package from her hands, unfold the foil to break off a piece, and pop the goodness into my mouth before setting the rest onto the armrest of the couch.
“Hey, those are for me, not for you!”
With our hands free, I bring Trinity close enough to squeeze once on each buttock cheek. She scowls, tugging away as a giggle escapes.
“What’s yours is mine,” I remind her, pulling her back. “And you’re mine.”
She catches her breath, and her second giggle contains an edge of nervousness. “Yes, Mistress of the Universe. Ego, much?”
“You’ll pay for that.” I cut off Trinity’s protest with a kiss, savoring each ripple of desire that shudders through her. “We missed your morning maintenance.”
“Aw, not now!” She reaches for the buttons on the left shoulder of my shirt, her cheeks flushed.
“Yes, Trinity. Now.” I step away until she meets my gaze. “You know the deal. You submit to–”
“Maintenance spankings,” she finishes for me. We’ve gone through this conversation so often that the words come automatically. “And no punishment.”
“Well, not no punishment,” I correct her, “but not much. And if there is any, it won’t be as severe.”
Trinity, rebellious Trinity, gives no more than an exaggerated sigh before sinking to her knees. “Please spank me,” she mutters. “And get it over with.”
I suppress a laugh. “So you want fast and furious? Fetch the bathbrush, please.”
Her jaw tightens and she opens her mouth, but she closes it once I clear my throat. “Yes, Mistress.” She disappears into my playroom and brings back my favorite long-handled wooden brush. The implement originally came as a two-piece set at the local E-Mart, a hand-held scrub brush that attached to the handle for shower use. After one too many incidents with the brush flying across the room, a dab of super glue did the trick.
When I accept the brush and bend her across the coffee table, I marvel yet again at how far she’s come in a few short months. Instead of daily knock-down fights about every insignificant detail, Trinity’s found peace with her submissive side and happiness in her new community in Korea. She’s made friends with Rachel and half the ahjummas in Remington Town, our apartment complex. Pierre, my client who longs for a babygirl to spoil, visits her as often as his schedule allows.
After years of heartbreak, break-up, and turmoil, we’ve found our new normal. She trusts me. Even when she doesn’t like the decisions I make for her, she obeys. She’s allowed herself to sink further and further into the depths of submission she fought all of her life, and I’ve never seen her more at peace.
“I’ll make this as brief as I can,” I promise, laying the brush against the back of her jean shorts. “Then we can do things you like.”
She gives an appreciative moan at the word “things.” “Not too hard,” she pleads.
“For that, I’ll add extra.” Snapping the bathbrush in rapid precision, I hold her back steady with my left hand. After the first impact, I step back to allow for more swing. She grunts in her effort not to cry out, but the brush flies strong and true. Her arms shake, and her knees buckle. “Hold still, Trinity-girl.”
Most of the time, I give her just enough pain to keep the inner demons at bay. She needs a reminder rather than breaking of her will.
Today, though, the brush nips and bites with force that takes us both surprise.
“Ow!” she cries. And again, with a hint of anger. “I said, ow!”
Instead of replying, I apply extra force with the last stroke. I misjudge my aim, though, and apply the full weight of the blow onto the joint between brush and handle. The wood cracks, the rounded brush flies toward the kitchen sink, and Trinity gasps.
“What did I do?”
Too well-trained to rise without permission, she turns her head while maintaining position. At the sight of the broken wood in my hand, she clutches her bottom and gives a desperate rub. “When did maintenance turn into punishment?”
My voice catches. “Trinity.”
She jumps up, alarm replacing pain across her face. “What did I do?”
“When we go back to visit my family…” I have trouble making the words come out. I’ve brought Trinity through the past few months and watched her settle down. How can I shake her world?
“You plan to introduce me to sex in a barn?” Obedient, she waits at the coffee table.
I go to her and wrap my arms around her waist. “We’re going to meet with Jessie.”