A Quiet Few Hours - Part 2 - A Different Night (F/f)

[joanneb1980]

A Different Night

I hadn’t seen Rachel in a while, and when I got her message, my stomach flipped just a little — the way it always does before we meet.
This time, she said simply:
“Dress sharp. See you 8pm.”
Sharp wasn’t our usual vibe, but I wasn’t about to ask questions. I slipped into a fitted black dress that hugged my curves — simple but elegant — and paired it with a leather jacket and ankle boots. I wanted to feel in control, but also a little vulnerable, because that’s what I always felt with Rachel.
She opened the door wearing a dark green silk blouse and black trousers, her hair loose and perfectly styled. She smiled — but it wasn’t quite the same smile as before. There was something different in her eyes.
The wrestling started as always, but this time, Rachel seemed… sharper. Less playful. She charged with more purpose, and I had to be quick on my feet to keep the upper hand. I pinned her down like I usually did, but she squirmed harder, biting back a grin that was more challenging than amused.
“You’re different tonight,” I said, leaning over her.
She smirked. “Maybe I’m just getting better at this.”
I caught the glint in her eye — a little spark of mischief. It was exciting, but also made me wary.
After our usual bout, we moved to the spare room. The sleepsack was still there — shiny black, waiting like always. But Rachel took her time this time, her touch lingering, her smile teasing as she helped me into it.
“Ready to be good for me?” she whispered, zipping me up slowly, her fingers brushing my neck in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.
I nodded, heart pounding.
She locked the padlock at the bottom and then sat on the bed beside me, her eyes gleaming with a playful torment.
“Try begging this time,” she said, voice soft but commanding.
I hesitated.
“Jo,” she smiled cruelly, “I’m not unzipping you until I hear the magic words.”
I groaned, struggling weakly as she traced teasing circles along my jawline.
“Please, Rachel,” I whispered, “please let me out.”
She leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“Good girl. But I think I’ll keep you a little longer.”
Time stretched. I lost track of minutes — maybe hours — as I lay there, unable to move except for my head and the small shifts I could manage. The helplessness was familiar and comforting in a strange way. But Rachel’s presence was a mix of soothing and teasing torment. She stayed close, whispering nonsense or light taunts, her fingers occasionally brushing my skin just to keep me on edge.
At one point, she ran her nails lightly down my neck, making me squirm even though I knew I couldn’t escape.
“Stop pretending you don’t like this,” she teased.
“I’m not pretending,” I whispered.
She laughed softly. “I love having this much control over you. More than you probably realize.”
That surprised me.
“How much do you like it?” I asked, voice small.
“More than the helplessness,” she admitted, eyes locked on mine. “It’s about the power — the teasing, the slow unraveling. Watching you squirm, begging, knowing I can keep you there as long as I want.”
Her honesty struck a chord.
“It’s not cruel,” she said softly. “It’s caring, in a twisted way. I want you to trust me enough to let me do this — to hold that control. It’s my way of showing I’m here, fully present.”
When she finally freed me hours later, I was equal parts relieved and oddly craving more.
We settled into the living room with a glass of wine each — something we’d never done before after a session like this. The contrast of softness and intensity made the moment feel charged.
“So,” Rachel said, swirling her glass, “what is it, really? Why do we keep doing this?”
I hesitated, then found the words. “It’s not about the sex. It’s about control. Or losing it. Feeling safe when I have no choice. It’s the quiet. The surrender.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I like the power part. The teasing, the control. It’s… addictive.”
We laughed softly.
“It’s strange,” I said. “How this... unspoken thing between us feels so big.”
Rachel smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Maybe next time, you get to torment me a little.”
I grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

[wannabetiedup]

A bit of a twist here, and again a great account of your experience.

I wonder how close it came to breaking the rules of trust and consent for you? Or am I over thinking? It seems that you were taken aback by her decision to hold you longer than anticipated.

[RopeBunny]

Nice story, some good descriptions especially at the end, talking over the why of what they do.

Thoughtful stuff.

[Sian91]

I like this story. I’m not exactly into formal wrestling, but if Julie and I have a “play fight” it’s usually me ends up pinned down getting my hands tied behind my back.