Chapter Text
In the silent hours of darkness, that’s where Kara does her best thinking. The quiet, the overwhelming plentifulness of it, the pin drop that can be heard from West Avenue three blocks away. The rare mewling of the cat sat on the roof of a car downstairs. In these hours where daylight is a distant promise, Kara takes long strokes of paint to the canvas and does her best work.
“Good,” Mistress appraises tonight’s work with a hum across the flat of her shoulder blade and leaves a brief kiss there. “Take this off.” The back of her vest strap is briefly tugged. It’s an order, a sharp instruction to do as she is asked. It makes her blush, but nonetheless Kara does as she’s told until she is topless and hunched over the paint.
Mistress sighs in approval and that’s enough to make the muscles along her spine loosen. It always takes a moment to adjust, always a few deep breaths to soften against those searing green eyes that burn into her skin with want and approval. It’s strangely freeing being vulnerable like this, having her power taken away until she has no choice but to do what’s asked of her.
In the silent hours of darkness, in the overwhelming quiet with Mistress hovering over her with a glass of red wine–always that half empty glass of Merlot that never makes it to the last drop. This is the place where her hands seem to work again.
“You’re trembling.” Mistress notes and softly moves the blonde hair from Kara’s shoulder.
“Multiple sclerosis does that.”
“Is it that?” Mistress asks fearlessly, completely unphased by the bane of Kara’s existence. “Or is there something else you’re not sharing with me?”
“Do we have to talk about this?” Kara replied, slightly offset and nervous.
Mistress arched over and dipped into the valley of collarbone that belonged to her in these hours. Her lips were plump and warm, that kind of heat that lingered like a map of where she had been from one night to the next. Kara closed her eyes and still felt the tingle on her belly and the ache down her spine, all routes well-travelled over the last week or so.
“You will tell me everything, every detail, answer every question I ask.” Mistress’s hand slips along the side of her slim gut. “You’ll learn to do it without hesitation if you want to make it onto the client list.”
There was the threat; the caveat that was dangled over her head nearly every night they found themselves in one another’s company. This was the trial period, the three months where Mistress would train her out of bad habits and decide if there was any benefit for them continuing with this strange therapy. It felt weird calling her that, felt odd the way the word Mistress rolled off her tongue, but Mistress told her to do it, and so Kara did.
“I feel nervous, that’s why I’m trembling. That and the MS.”
“Okay. There’s no shame in that.”
“It feels shameful,” her head hung like elastic, her voice almost a whisper. “It makes me feel out of control.”
“Who makes the rules in this room?” Mistress encouraged.
Kara drew a breath and nodded, relaxing into the hand around her waist. “You do Mistress.”
“And why do I make the rules?”
“Because I ask you too.”
“I’d say that puts you in a position of power and control, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” Kara softened, realising her trembling hands had stilled and fell in line with the rest of herself. It was strange how Mistress did that, how she made her body feel like it was hers again. “You’re right, sorry, I’m overthinking again.” Kara offered and sat up straighter with a swallow.
“You have a beautiful mind, I like it when you overthink. Please try not to stop on my account at least.”
“I’ll give it a shot.” Kara murmured and closed her eyes as two lily-white hands took their time slipping up her stomach towards her breasts. It was torture waiting to find out where the destination was, how long the journey would be dragged out for, but nonetheless she stayed still and watched them slip around her ribcage.
“Raise your arms.” Mistress instructed.
“I can’t–” Kara stopped, sighing and clarifying herself. “I don’t think I can do that.” Her voice was a nervous sound.
“Try, be my good girl and do it just for me.” The lips dragging along her neck crooned.
Twenty-three when she was diagnosed. Who the hell is diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis at twenty-three? Who the hell has to deal with that during the reckless years? Kara Danvers apparently. It was fitting, of course she would inherit it from Mom and of course, Alex would get away just fine. Typical fucking Alex.
Kara swallowed and felt guilty, it’s not exactly Alex’s fault she got lucky. She shouldn’t hate her for this. Shouldn’t wish she was the one dealing with trembling hands and blurring vision and that horrible tightness that creeps around her throat in the morning when she tries to get the words out. She does though, in the early hours of the morning when the sky is still violet and she can’t sleep, those are the moments she wishes it was Alex.
She hates herself for that.
“Hey!” Mistress reminded her of her presence abruptly. “Until you’re paying me for my time you’re on my clock, and I think I’ve been most gracious reminding you of the rules Kara Danvers. You can slump and get caught up as much as you want but all I ask is that you tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Lena.” Kara immediately winced and realised what she’d done. “Mistress,” she softened and kept her eyes closed. “I don’t think I can tell you.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it’s bad. Like, really bad.” She mumbled and felt terrible already.
Mistress’s hands were removed from her belly, slowly she walked around and slipped into the space between Kara and the canvas. It was a tight fit but Kara couldn’t complain, it meant Mistress was close enough to be inside her personal space, the soft smell of her perfume calming her already.
“I guarantee you I’ve heard worse pretty girl.” Mistress gently moved a piece of hair behind her ear and slapped away the arm that moved to cover her breasts. “I didn’t say do that.”
“Sorry.” Kara half smiled and thought for a moment. “I was blaming Alex again, for a second I wished it was her.”
“Reasonable enough.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that, all the therapists say it’s me projecting on to my sister… whatever the hell that means.” She grumbled with a roll of her eyes.
“Do I look like a woman who gives a damn about what I’m supposed to say versus what I actually think?”
“That you don’t Mistress.” Kara leaned forward into the hand that slipped into the back of her hair.
“Good girl.” The praise came and Kara wasn’t sure what to do with it, she wasn’t used to that part yet; it made her clench to begin with though just like Lena promised during their platonic sessions, she slowly she unfurled into the comfort of it. Whatever this was, she liked being Mistress’s good girl. She liked it a hell of a lot. “I’m pleased that you told me what was on your mind even though you found it hard. I think how you’re feeling is valid and important, and the first step towards getting somewhere more productive with your thought process is working through the thoughts and feelings you’re having right now… even if it is you projecting. Whatever the hell that means.” Mistress beamed that wide sparkling smile that had the crux of Kara’s world during these sessions hanging from the corner of each lip.
“I think I’m done with painting tonight. I’m not going to get much more work done.” Kara gulped and settled herself, entirely on fire beneath the heat of that dominant stare.
“You still have an hour and a half left of my time, what else would you like to do?” Mistress prompted.
“An hour and fourty five minutes. You were fifteen minutes late.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing Mistress. Sorry Mistress.” Kara mumbled and kicked herself for reminding her, after all, she wasn’t a paying client. Not yet at least. Lena Luthor was here of her own volition.
“Take off your underwear and kneel by the sofa for me. Do it now.”
Kara shivered into the instruction, whatever these games were… they helped. Strangely, somehow, they made her feel more in control. Whenever she was with Lena her hands seemed to shake a little less, her breathing came easier, the words rolled off her tongue without thought – the truth at least. How she actually felt. Not the convenient lies she told the other therapists so they got off of her back.
“Now, Miss Danvers.” Mistress leaned down and released a half-growl.
“Yes ma’am.” Kara did as she was told and stood up millimetres from her face, trying desperately to hide her smirk. She dropped her jeans and panties right there, desperate to see some flicker of desire, of human emotion in Mistress’s face again. Making her resolve crack always felt like a tiny victory. Mistress persevered and remained staunch, but Kara swore she saw the slim glimmer of an invisible smirk form.
There was already a pillow set neatly on the floor beside the old leather arm chair. It makes Kara’s senses step away from her, the mere fact that Mistress had already pre-thought about it and set out the pillow in the knowledge Kara would kneel right there, just for her.
Slowly, she knelt and made her spine straight.
“Beautiful posture,” Mistress praised and smoothed a hand along her shoulder blades.
Kara couldn’t see her, only hear, and she sounded divine. Kara imagined her smouldering green eyes burning holes into the back of her like magnifying glasses beneath the midday sun, she could practically see that crystal-white smirk and tightly wound jaw thoughtfully winding around.
“Can I see you?”
“Are you going to be a good girl?”
“Well… as good as I can be?” She almost apologetically acquiesced.
That made Mistress laugh a light airy noise, she sighed eventually, tisking as she did. It made Kara feel small and manageable, which she never thought could feel so arousing as it actually does. Slowly Mistress takes her seat in the armchair in that mid length chiffon black dress, crossing one leg over the other gracefully, which saddened Kara just a little bit because the thought of Mistress’s underwear was such a tempting thought.
“Eyes, on me up here.” Mistress commands and Kara does as instructed immediately. “Good girl, now, raise your arms and hold out your flat hands for me, steady as you can.”
Kara bit the inside of her mouth and wanted to roll her eyes, she didn’t though, well aware Mistress would take her over her knee and spank her sore. It was the most terrifyingly intriguing thing that had ever happened to her the first time Mistress did that just a few weeks ago, the way she lifted up Kara’s dress and warmed the skin beneath her bare hand, making Kara count out each strike like a naughty little girl.
Slowly Kara rose her arms in the air, the left was manageable, the left arm was a begrudging enemy that Kara could conquer most days and wrangle under her control. The right one however? The right one was an earthquake, a twitching, shaking, uncontrollable mess. Her fingers refused to fully straighten and the muscles in her arm quivered under the strain of trying so desperately to be still. Before she could hang her head in the shame of it, Mistress’s fingers came under her chin and kept her right there. The other hand slipped around her shaky hand, holding it so gently.
“Don’t.” Mistress warned with a whisper. “You’re doing the look you do when you’re embarrassed and you have nothing to be embarrassed for. This isn’t a flaw in character, just a flaw in the caps on your nerve cells… have you been taking your medication?”
“It makes me lethargic.” Kara mumbled quietly.
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“I’ll take it, I promise.” Kara gulped and stared her Mistress head on. “I’ll start taking it when I’m supposed to.”
Mistress released a displeased noise and fluttered her eyes to the notepad on the coffee table where she scrawled notes during their sessions. Slowly, her eyes came back and looked Kara up and down. “You’re going to send me a text message every day in the morning and evening to tell me you’ve taken your dosage. Every day, otherwise you’re going to be in trouble. Am I understood?” She leaned in on the last part and whispered it millimetres from her face.
“Yes ma’am.” Kara gulped.
“Good girl.” Her face turned into a sincere brief smile. She released the trembling hand and cupped her cheek with it instead, thumb brushing over her cheek. “This will pass, chronic doesn’t mean constant. It will get better. You will feel better.”
Kara closed her eyes into the words and rested her face against that soft manicured hand. “If you say so,” she sadly chuckled, because the good episodes would only last for so long before she was right smack bang here again.
“I do say so.” Mistress’s voice became firmer. “You are still a beautiful woman. An accomplished artist. A wonderful friend, so I’m told. You are still entirely Kara Danvers. MS is just in the cliff notes.”
“Uh, yeah, sure… because potential partners really find chronic episodes of blindness and uncontrollable tremors as a cliffnote qualities.”
“Really, we’re doing this again?” Mistress rolled her eyes.
“It’s the truth.” Kara slumped with a chuckle and forgot herself, staring at her Mistress with a steely unconquerable gaze. “I'm undesirable like this.”
“Kara,” Mistress sat up straight after a moment and cocked her stare. “I want you to get up and go to the bedroom, I want you to lie down on the bed and spread your legs open and wait for me. I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to show you just how beautiful you are and give you back some of this confidence you’ve lost.” She reeled it off so smoothly, as if she was proposing a coffee date or an instruction to go and write a letter to the universe, the same way the other smug therapists suggested. “Of course, if you don’t want to do that, I want you to go and put your clothes back on and tell me what your limits are so that next time we meet I can tailor something that fits within them.”
Kara blinked and became entirely lost.
Did she just?
Is this?
Does she want to?
Lena Luthor, Mistress extraordinaire, just told her to go and spread her thighs so she could fuck her. Lena Luthor wants to fuck her. Kara swallowed until that information finally sticks somewhere in the back of her head, she blushed bright red and remained on her knees for a moment while Mistress smirked that cocky smirk, already well aware what Kara had chosen long before she herself did.
“Anything for you, Mistress.” Kara bit the insides of her lips and shifted to stand up, setting her hands on Lena’s knees for leverage against her stiff hips.
Ever the gracious gentlewoman, Lena stood and helped her up until eventually they were face to face, chest to chest, entirely invading one another’s space. Lena looked her up and down with a smouldering glint in those green eyes, her raven hair pulled back which meant Kara could see every tiny tension in the muscles of her face. “I am so going to look forward to having you, pretty girl. Now, go and wait for me. Think about how attractive and delicious I find you while you lie there, because believe me, I am going to savour every second of you.”