By two p.m., the neighborhood was a grid of heat, the air thick with cut grass, sunscreen, and the smokey haze of barbecue. At the far end of the block, three houses down from Beth’s, the white ranch house with perfect black shutters presided over a rectangle of turquoise pool. The only relief was found in the intermittent shade cast by a row of maturing birches, leaves silvered by the sun. Even the bugs seemed too lethargic to move.

Beth lay on a powder-blue deck lounger, damp hair sticking to the back of her neck. Her one-piece was navy, classic, cut higher on the leg than her ex-husband ever let her wear. Next to her, Karen lounged in a black halter bikini that was equal parts athletic and obscene, her skin a shade darker than Beth’s, golden from daily runs and deliberate exposure. Karen’s sunglasses flashed as she tracked the chaos at the deep end: four kids, indistinguishable in their shrieks, except for Karen’s son (tall, lean, cruelly handsome) who led every game and bent every rule. Beth’s daughter clung to the edge, refusing to dive. Beth tried to care, but the sun had melted her into something formless and empty of worry.

Ryan manned the grill, shirtless. His abs looked painted on. Every minute or so he lifted the lid, peering in at the burgers like they might rebel. The spatula was an extension of his hand. Every movement efficient, unhurried. Sometimes he glanced over his shoulder at the women, at Karen, then at Beth. The gaze wasn’t predatory. It was measuring. Calculating how to set the world in order if it came off its axis.

Beth closed her eyes. Tried to disappear into the crackle of sun and water, the sounds of other people’s joy. It almost worked. Then Karen’s foot nudged her ankle.

“Tell me about Thursday,” Karen said.

Beth’s eyes snapped open. She squinted, adjusting to the glare. “What?”

“Your last session with Ryan. I want every detail. Especially the ones you’re too embarrassed to say.” Karen’s voice carried no further than it needed to.

Beth’s face flushed instantly. She darted a glance at the pool. No one within earshot. Still, the command hit her hard, as if Karen had said it with a bullhorn.

“You want me to,” Beth lowered her voice. “Here?”

“Now,” Karen said. “Don’t make me wait.”

Beth’s heart started up, a fast and fluttery pulse. She sat up, arms crossed over her stomach, which was a reflex she hated. She forced them down, reached for the sweating glass of LaCroix beside her. “You already know how it started.”

“Humor me. I want your version.” Karen’s sunglasses didn’t reveal if she was smiling, but the muscles in her jaw suggested satisfaction.

Beth scanned the pool again, then the sliding glass door to the kitchen, then the hedges. Nowhere to hide. She tried to muster a laugh, but it died on her lips.

She took a deep breath, cold soda burning her throat. “He texted at noon. Said to come over. Said you were at swim team and he wanted to ‘review my progress.’” Beth could not bring herself to look at Karen.

“Keep going,” Karen said.

Beth’s thighs pressed together under the elastic of the suit. “I went to the house. You weren’t home, so it was just him.” Beth lowered her voice again. “He had me kneel in the living room. On the floor. Not the rug. The actual hardwood. He told me to put my wrists behind my back, and then he used rope. Tied me so I couldn’t move.”

"I love that feeling." Karen watched her without expression. “Were your ankles tied?”

Beth nodded, remembering the sensation. “Yes. Together. Then he made me hold still while he checked the knots. He was very…” She paused, choosing a word, “…thorough.”

"He's good."

A long silence, filled only by the squeals from the pool. Beth realized she was fidgeting, digging her fingers into the crease of her thigh. She made herself stop.

“Was it too tight?” Karen asked.

“No. It was perfect. I couldn’t get loose, but it didn’t hurt. Not yet.”

Ryan called from the grill: “Two minutes!” Beth jumped, pulse pounding. Had he heard? She doubted it, but her skin tingled, sweat beading in her armpits and the small of her back.

Karen leaned in, close enough that Beth could smell her skin, the hint of coconut from her lotion. “What happened next?”

Beth’s eyes darted to the pool. She dropped her voice to a near-whisper. “He left me there for a while. Didn’t say anything. Just walked around me, checking. I could hear him moving, but not see him. Then he came back with a bag.”

“What was in the bag?”

Beth’s breath hitched. “Three clamps on a chain. Metal. One for each nipple. One hung down adding weight.” She felt the memory in her chest and between her legs. A sharp, phantom pain.

Karen’s tongue flicked over her teeth. “Did he warm them up first?”

Beth shivered, “No. They were cold. He liked that they were cold.”

Karen’s hand moved to rest on Beth’s thigh, just above the knee. Her fingers tapped, slow and rhythmic. Beth’s body tightened in response, nipples hard under the thin spandex.

“He tapped one every time he walked by. So I couldn’t forget it.”

Karen smiled now, all satisfaction. “I know. He does it to me, too. Especially the clamps. He’ll tap them with a crop when he’s fucking me.” She made it sound casual, like discussing the weather. “He says the pain and pleasure compete, but the pain always wins.”

Beth didn’t speak. The memory of the clamps, the ache, the humiliation, made her whole body light up. She pressed her legs together tighter.

She turned to Karen, voice almost gone. “You really want every detail?”

Karen’s sunglasses came off. Her eyes were very blue, very direct. “Yes. And I want you to say it loud enough for me to hear, even if someone else can, too.”

A scream erupted from the pool. One of the boys had belly-flopped, sending a geyser of water over the deck. Beth used the noise as cover. “He put the third clamp on my clit. The very tip.”

Karen’s hand squeezed Beth’s knee, digging nails in just enough to hurt.

“He left them on for,” Beth’s memory failed, “I don’t know. Fifteen minutes? He’d check every few minutes. Add a little twist to the nipples. Or just tap the clit clamp, like he was testing it.” Beth’s mouth was dry. “It was so much I couldn’t think about anything else. Not even about how I probably looked. All I could feel was…” She trailed off, unable to finish.

Karen took over. “You don’t have to say it. I can see it.” Her hand traced higher, slow, until it rested in the crease where thigh met suit. “Did you come like that? With the clamps?”

Beth shook her head. “No. He wouldn’t let me. Not until he said so.”

Ryan’s voice, closer now: “You two want burgers or dogs?” He’d come to the edge of the deck, holding the platter aloft.

“Burgers,” Karen called, not missing a beat, her hand still on Beth’s thigh. “With everything.”

Beth stared at the pool, at the blue water, at her daughter’s face just above the surface. She felt exposed, like everyone in the yard could see what was happening, what had happened. But that was the point. Karen wanted her to tell it. To confess. To feel it all over again.

“I like watching you squirm,” Karen said, softer now, for Beth alone. “It’s adorable.”

Beth exhaled, a shaky, laughing sound. “Sadist.”

Karen smiled wider. “Only with the right people. The ones who appreciate it.”

Ryan called, “Ready to eat?” Was he talking about the burgers or something else? Had he timed it that way on purpose?

Beth realized her hands were shaking. She took another gulp of LaCroix to steady herself.

Karen squeezed her knee again, this time not letting go. “We’re not done,” she said. “After lunch, you’ll finish your story.”

Beth nodded, cheeks hot. She tried to watch her daughter swim, but all she saw was rope, clamps, and the promise of more.

She wondered if she’d ever stop wanting it.

Lunch was a rapid-fire parade of ketchup, sticky hands, and the parentally-approved chaos of children eating with wet hair and no shirts. Beth pretended to eat, but every bite stuck in her throat. The memory of rope and clamps chased her from the patio table back to the poolside, where she curled up in the shade of a faded umbrella and tried to look normal.

Karen waited a full ten minutes before joining her. The boys were wrestling in the grass, the girls cross-legged on a towel, quietly trading Pokémon cards. Ryan collected plates, then disappeared inside, visible only as a vague silhouette through the kitchen window.

When Karen dropped onto the lounger beside her, Beth flinched. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. She took a shaky exhale, gaze fixed on the ground.

Karen angled toward her. “You’re stalling,” she said. “Finish the story.”

Beth knew that arguing was pointless. It would only draw things out. Karen enjoyed the push and pull too much. She’d make Beth say it all, or die trying.

Beth swallowed. “He put the clamp on my clit last. He made me watch him do it.”

Karen’s eyes flicked downward, following the movement of Beth’s thighs as they pressed together. “Describe it.”

Beth bit her lip, face burning. “He teased me first. Fingers, then his tongue. Licked me until I couldn’t keep quiet, until I was begging him for anything.”

“Did he hit it?”

Beth shook her head. “Not at first. He just held me open. Stretched the lips. Used the tip of the crop, just touched, then pulled away. Never a real hit, just enough to make me jerk.”

“Edging,” Karen said.

“Yes. He got me right to the edge, then stopped. He did it over and over. Sometimes he’d tap the nipple clamps at the same time.” Beth felt herself flush again, heat prickling up her chest. “It was so much at once. I couldn’t tell if I hated it or if I needed it to keep going.”

“Both,” Karen said, a smile flickering at the corner of her mouth. “That’s how you know it’s working.”

Beth nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

Karen leaned in closer, voice a sharp whisper. “What did the clamp feel like?”

“Cold at first. Then sharp. It bit down on the tip, then started to ache. But every time he touched it, the pain shot up through my stomach. It was all I could think about. I kept trying to close my legs, but the rope wouldn’t let me.”

Karen’s hand landed on Beth’s knee. “Did you want to close them, or did you want him to do more?”

Beth couldn’t answer. Her fingers dug crescents into her own thigh. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever been more wet than that moment.

Karen’s voice was softer, coaxing. “It’s okay to say both. I always want to close my legs, but I never want them to let me.”

Beth shuddered, remembering. “After a while, the clamps got worse. The ache turned into this weird numbness, but if he touched them, like, even barely, it sent lightning up my body. He used the crop on my clit once. Just a tap, but it felt like… it felt like it would kill me.”

“Did you come?”

“He wouldn’t let me,” Beth said, voice breaking. “He’d bring me right to the edge, then stop. Sometimes he’d grab the clamp and twist it, right when I was about to come. Said I had to ask for permission every time, and I always forgot, so he’d start over.”

Karen’s hand slid a few inches higher on Beth’s leg. Her own face was flushed now, the cheekbones darkened by something more than sun. “Ryan’s good at that. Did he make you beg?”

Beth nodded, ashamed at how fast her thighs pressed together again. “Yes. He made me say exactly what I wanted. How I wanted him to fuck me. How I wanted him to do more.” She barely breathed the last sentence.

“Did you ask for it? The hurt?”

Beth hesitated, then: “Yes.”

Karen’s grip on her knee was possessive now, not comfort but ownership. “What did you say?”

Beth whispered, “Please. Use the crop. Please. More.”

A smile. “Good girl,” Karen murmured, almost to herself.

They sat in silence. The afternoon sun pulsed overhead. Somewhere, a sprinkler clicked on, spinning its hypnotic arc across the perfect grass. Beth realized she was shaking.

Karen’s hand squeezed her leg, knuckles white. “You’re soaked,” she said, voice low and hungry.

Beth didn’t deny it.

Karen’s thumb traced the line where Beth’s thigh met her suit, back and forth, each stroke deliberate. “Did you keep the clamps?”

Beth nodded.

“Wear them for me tomorrow. Under your clothes. Call me before you put them on.”

Beth’s body clenched at the thought. “Yes, ma’am.”

Karen sat back, sunglasses back in place, but the curve of her mouth gave her away. She leaned back in the lounger, exhaling with satisfaction. “You did well,” she said.

Beth felt drained, but good. Like she’d survived something. Like she belonged here, next to Karen, with the promise of more to come.

In the pool, the kids had started a new game: chicken fights. Beth watched her daughter lose to Karen’s son, tumbling backward into the water with a delighted shriek.

Karen never let go of her leg.

Beth lost the thread of time. It was the heat, or the story, or the relentless pressure of Karen’s thumb at the seam of her suit. Maybe all of it. She existed in a haze, skin buzzing, each sound and smell amplified. The chlorine, the sweat, the faint scent of Karen’s coconut lotion. Her body was alive and electric, every nerve tuned to the edge.

Karen didn’t say a word for several minutes. She just waited, fingers tracing idle patterns along Beth’s thigh. Eventually: “You left something out. The part with the paddle.”

Beth’s cheeks went red. Her voice caught. “Oh, yeah, that.”

“Yeah, that.” Karen’s grip tightened. “Tell me exactly what he did with it.”

Beth exhaled, shuddered, pressed her knees together. “He used the paddle on my breasts. With the clamps on. He’d hit one, then the other. The vibration would go through the clamp, all the way to the nipple. It hurt, but it also,” she hesitated, searching for a word , “it made them more sensitive. Like the pain just opened everything up.”

“Did you like it?” Karen’s voice was steady, but her pupils were wide.

Beth didn’t look away. “Yes. I liked it. I wanted more, even though it hurt.”

“Did you say that?”

“I begged,” Beth admitted. “I kept asking for more. For him to go harder. He liked that. He made me ask for it every time. He said I had to be specific. Where I wanted it. How many.” The memory made her dizzy. “Sometimes he’d hit the clamp itself, and it would bounce. The pain was sharp, then faded to this constant burn. I couldn’t stop moaning. It was embarrassing.”

Karen leaned back, her leg pressed firmly against Beth’s now. “That’s what it’s for. The moaning. It means you can’t hide.”

Beth’s voice dropped. “He also used the crop. He’d tap the clamps with it. Just the tip, like a whip. The metal would sting, then go numb again.”

“Did he do your clit, too?”

Beth nodded, almost imperceptible. “He was careful at first. Just grazed the clamp, let me feel the threat of it. Then when I asked for more, he did it. Quick, but hard. I thought I’d pass out.”

“But you didn’t,” Karen said. “You took it.”

Beth’s nipples strained against the swimsuit, clearly visible. Her body wanted more. She could feel her pussy clenching with every memory, every word.

Karen watched her. “You’re soaking through the suit.”

Beth looked down, mortified to see a darker patch spreading at the crotch. She tried to cross her legs tighter, but Karen’s hand stopped her.

“Don’t hide,” Karen said. “I like it.”

The children screamed, launching into some new game, oblivious to the private universe of pain and pleasure on the other side of the pool.

Beth found herself wanting to be back on the floor, bound, exposed, begging Ryan or Karen or both to take it further. She wanted the clamps again, the crop, the helplessness of not being able to stop any of it.

Karen’s hand moved higher, thumb just grazing the outer lips through wet fabric. “Tell me what you want right now,” she whispered.

Beth’s breath hitched. “I want you to clamp me. Here. Now.”

Karen’s smile was slow, dangerous. “There are neighbors.”

“I don’t care,” Beth said, surprising herself with how true it was.

Karen slid her hand under the suit, fingers unerringly finding Beth’s clit, which was already swollen, already begging for more. “You want clamps here?” She pinched gently, nails biting.

Beth nodded, eyes closed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Karen increased the pressure, rolling the nub between her fingers. “Say it louder.”

Beth risked it. “Please. I want you to clamp my clit.”

“Good girl,” Karen said. “Tomorrow, then. And you’ll think about this every second, won’t you?”

Beth whimpered. “Yes, ma’am.”

Karen withdrew her hand, leaving Beth hanging and empty, body buzzing with denial and anticipation.

They sat in silence. The world returned, slowly. Water, sunlight, the ritual violence of children’s games. The wet patch in Beth’s suit, cooling and sticky against her skin, a public mark of private ownership.

Karen’s voice was casual. “You’re going to keep telling me these stories. I want to hear all of them. Every time you’re punished, every time you come, you’ll report it. In person.”

Beth shivered, not from cold. “Yes, ma’am.”

She’d never felt more exposed, or more safe.

Karen’s hand squeezed her thigh, a promise of what was to come.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. At sunset, when the pool emptied and the yard filled with shadows, Karen took Beth’s hand and led her into the house.

Beth followed, already desperate for the next session, already thinking about every sensation to confess later.

Inside, the air conditioning bit at Beth’s overheated skin. She felt the wetness between her thighs cool instantly, the ache of denial replaced by a shiver. Karen guided her with a hand at the small of her back, the touch heavy with intent.

The kitchen was empty except for the two of them. On the other side of the glass, Ryan manned the pool deck, policing the kids with nothing but posture and the occasional word. Beth wondered if he’d been watching. She kind of hoped he had.

Karen poured herself a glass of iced tea. No sugar, all control. She turned, leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Finish it,” she said. “The story. You left out the best part.”

Beth’s mouth was dry. “Which part?”

“The end. What he made you do. After the clamps.”

Beth froze, then glanced away. “He… made me suck him off.”

Karen’s smile was slow, satisfied. “Did you want to?”

Beth nodded, shame and need fighting for dominance. “Yes.”

“Describe it.” Karen’s voice brooked no resistance.

Beth’s thighs pressed together, her body betraying her. “He put me on my knees. Still tied. He pulled the clamps, one, then the next, each time he tugged, the pain shot through me. He liked to watch my face when he did it. Said it made me look desperate.”

“You do,” Karen said. “It’s adorable. He does the same to me. Sometimes while he’s inside me, he’ll twist the clamp, or tug it, just to see if I’ll beg.”

Beth shuddered. “He made me open my mouth. Said if I was good, he’d punish me.” She could feel it, the humiliation and the helplessness of that moment. “He was hard the whole time. He kept saying what a good girl I was. How obedient.”

“Did you like that?”

Beth’s voice was barely above a whisper. “More than I should have.”

Karen moved closer, close enough that Beth could see the goosebumps on her arms. “What happened next?”

“He…” Beth’s cheeks burned, but she forced the words. “He fucked my mouth. Slow at first, then deeper. Every time he pushed in, he’d pull on one of the clamps. It hurt, but it also made me want more. I was dripping. I wanted him to fuck me for real.”

“Did you ask?”

Beth nodded. “I begged. I said I’d do anything.”

Karen’s hand slid up Beth’s arm, nails grazing. “Did you tell him what you wanted?”

Beth hesitated, then: “Yes. I told him to fuck my ass. I needed it. The clamps made everything so intense, I needed something bigger. Fuller.”

Karen’s eyes were dark, her chest heaving with slow, deliberate breaths. “What did it feel like?”

“Burned at first,” Beth said, her mind returning to that exact sensation. “But he used so much lube. And after a minute, it was just… pressure. Like being filled perfectly. Every time he pushed in, he’d pull on the clamp, then let it go. The pain and pleasure mixed up. I thought I’d come just from that.”

“Did you?”

Beth shook her head. “He wouldn’t let me. Not until he said so.”

Karen’s hand slid to Beth’s hip, fingers digging in. “How did it end?”

Beth was trembling now, her body so close to climax she could barely think. “He waited until he was about to come, then took the clamp off my clit. The pain was a shock, like a lightning bolt. The blood rushed back in, and I came instantly. Harder than I ever have.”

“Did you cry?”

“Yes,” Beth whispered. “I couldn’t help it.”

Karen’s hand squeezed her hip, then slid down to cup her ass. “He does that to me, too. Times the clamps for maximum effect. Sometimes I come so hard, I can’t stand after.”

Beth shivered. “I don’t want it to stop.”

Karen pulled her in, held her tight. “It won’t.” Her voice was equal parts promise and threat. “But you have to keep telling me everything. You can’t hide from it.”

Beth buried her face in Karen’s neck. “I won’t.”

Karen held her for a long moment, then stepped back. She grabbed a dish towel, pressed it into Beth’s hand. “Clean yourself up before anyone sees.”

Beth obeyed, dabbing at the wet line down her thigh. The feeling was almost as humiliating as the memory itself, but she didn’t mind. She liked it, needed the evidence.

Karen watched her the entire time, not breaking eye contact once.

When Beth was done, Karen smiled. “Good girl. Now go help with the kids. Act normal.”

Beth nodded, still shaking, but stronger now. “Yes, ma’am.”

She stepped outside, the sun hot and bright. Her daughter ran up, demanded a snack, then barreled back into the fray. Beth watched the water for a long time, body still buzzing, mind clear for the first time in awhile.

Inside, Karen watched from the window, satisfied. She made a note in her phone: “Order new clamps. Plan for Sunday night.”

Beth caught the glint of the screen, and the anticipation bloomed all over again.

There was more to come. There would always be more.

They sat on the patio in the waning sunlight, side by side on the faded blue lounger. Around them, the world resumed its perfect, suburban hum: kids shrieking in the pool, the wet slap of feet on concrete, Ryan’s low baritone drifting from the grill as he called for a last round of burgers.

But for Beth and Karen, everything had shifted.

Beth’s skin glistened, hair damp at the nape. She kept her hands in her lap, fingers laced, but her body vibrated with energy. She could still feel Karen’s touch on her thigh, the ghost of clamps at her nipples, the phantom ache of her ass. She ached everywhere, and loved it.

Karen’s breathing was shallow, her eyes dark and unreadable behind the sunglasses. Her chest rose and fell with the slow, deliberate rhythm of someone restraining themselves. The hand on Beth’s thigh remained, a constant pressure, a reminder.

Neither spoke for a long time. They didn’t have to. Everything that needed saying had been said.

When Karen finally broke the silence, her voice was low, so Beth had to lean in to hear it. “You’ve been such a good girl. Telling me everything.”

Beth’s cheeks flushed, but she met Karen’s gaze without flinching. “I want to be.”

“You are,” Karen said. “And you’re going to be even better. There’s so much more for you.”

Beth shuddered with anticipation. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Karen smiled. “I know.”

A moment passed, then Karen squeezed Beth’s hand, firm and possessive. “Remember: clamps tomorrow.”

Beth’s pussy throbbed at the thought. “Yes, ma’am.”

The world flooded back in: the sound of burgers hitting plates, the laughter of children, the endless drone of summer insects.

Ryan called from the grill, “Dinner’s up!”

Karen stood, stretched, and offered Beth a hand. Beth took it, let herself be pulled upright. She didn’t care who saw. She wanted them all to see.

They moved together toward the table, shoulders brushing, the new reality of their dynamic invisible to everyone but the three of them.

Beth took her seat next to Karen, who watched her with obvious pride. Ryan set a plate in front of Beth, then leaned in and whispered, “You did well today.”

Beth blushed, but her voice was steady. “Thank you, sir.”

She ate in silence, the food a meaningless backdrop. All that mattered was the next session, the next confession, the next chance to please.

And tomorrow: the clamps, the pain, the praise.

She didn’t know if she’d ever stop wanting it.

She didn’t want to.