Rachel's Upper Body [01] - Bench Press (Patreon)

It started as a fleeting touch. Amy's hand on Rachel's shoulder, the slender fingers seeming custom made to run down the sinews of her capped muscle. At the time Rachel hadn't thought anything of it. She was on the couch, her girlfriend coiled around her with the fact that she was due a workout some time today only vaguely on her mind.

The touch turned into the small tracing of a vein along Rachel's bicep, visible even at rest, and by then, all of Amy's attention was on her girlfriend's arms. She felt the ache in her core, her toes curl, a delighted shudder up her spine. Still, Rachel didn't notice. Then the grip hardened, and Amy's lips brushed against her ear with the words:

"We are going to fucking destroy your upper body today."

That was less easy for Rachel to miss, but she didn't move for a couple of moments. The flood of excitement and arousal left her brain briefly stalled. Heart fluttering, she took a deep breath. Slowly moved for the remote. Turned the television off. Rachel tilted her head to nuzzle Amy, and her voice was low, calm, but sultry. "What are we waiting for?"

Amy didn't hold in a quite undignified, horny grunt as she hurriedly stood, only to lean back down with a grab at Rachel's cheeks to come in for a long, messy kiss. She was panting softly as they broke apart, "Be down there in five?" It was a request, not an order. The orders would come soon. Rachel nodded, and her Amy hurried out of the room.

Rachel slipped off her fluffy socks, unbuttoned her pyjamas, and took a moment to feel the muscles in her shoulders and chest roll as she moved. She could feel her lats when she lowered her arms, sweeping up to her muscle capped shoulders, traps fairly small but well developed. The woman took these moments to appreciate how these muscles felt when they weren't screaming for mercy. That wouldn't last much longer. Soon Rachel found herself short of breath, too. She pulled on her signature workout gear, blue sports bra and shorts, neat white stripes - styled just like what she had been wearing when she and Amy had first met, and neatened her hair in the mirror, for what it was worth. Then it was downstairs to the Dungym - she loved the silly name even if Amy hated it.

Down there, a compact assortment of training machines and equipment awaited her. Weights, balls, bars, yes - but more - ropes, chains, whips, cuffs. The means to train her and to break her, over and over and over. But scarier still, her girlfriend didn't await her in that basement. Instead, it was the realm of Mistress Amy, ready for one thing only - to make Rachel suffer.

Rachel would never get used to the sheer excitement and arousal she felt as she opened that door, descended the steps and saw Mistress Amy. Today, she was stood by the weight bench, the bar loaded and ready.