"Do you trust me?" Maria asks. It's a ritual with her, something that she needs to know, something that Natasha doesn't understand. Of course Natasha doesn't trust her; the list of people who Natasha trusts is a very short list indeed. Natasha doesn't have to trust her to know that she's not going to fuck up. There's no trust involved in knowing that Maria knows how to be safe. The only thing she needs to trust is that she herself will keep it together- as much as she's supposed to be keeping it together, which is not much at all.
"As far as I can throw you," Natasha returns, which is as close to a yes as Maria is ever going to get. Maria must realize this, because she just nods.
"Let's begin," she says, and then she grabs Natasha by the hair, yanking her head back and kissing her hard before shoving her away.
Maria slams her up against the padded wall, body behind hers so that she'll stay there, crushed against it. She slips her knee in between Natasha's legs, angling it up so that her thigh is pressed up hard against Natasha's pussy, the pressure frustratingly good, and Natasha bites her lip.
"Like that?" Maria asks, grinding against her, and Natasha moves for just a moment, hips giving her away as she presses down for more.
Then Maria pushes her hard into the wall once and is gone, leaving Natasha to get ready, mentally and physically. She puts her hands flat against the wall, straightening, bracing herself for whatever Maria's about to serve up. Her heart is beating faster, and she calms herself, shutting her eyes.
"Hit me," she says, the only words she's allowed other than red, yellow, and green. No sooner than she's said it, the flogger falls, slapping loudly against her back, and she hisses at the pain. She doesn't do warm up; warm up is boring, warm up is a waste of time, warm up is a separation between her and the chemical cocktail that comes with the good pain.
Maria's good at this, very good, was good from the very beginning, only seems to improve. She does it two-handed; Natasha's only seen it once, the day she came early and caught her preparing. It doesn't matter how she does it, just as long as she keeps doing it, fast and smooth and hard enough for Natasha to get lost.
Maria's on fire today, and Natasha wonders what set her off. She doesn't know if it's good things, bad things, what Maria's motivations are; she doesn't know because she doesn't care and Maria doesn't care to tell her. They match like that, their mutual inability to give much of a fuck about anything surrounding this, their complete inability to care enough to apologize for desire, no matter what that desire is for.
The point is that Maria's hitting her just right, opening up on her, and Natasha rounds her shoulders, asking wordlessly for more, presenting herself for more pain. She's going off to the good place now, the one where she can get away from her own head, away from her thoughts, away into nothing.
"Hit me," she grits out, wanting more, needing more. "Fucking hit me."
Maria's apparently too gone herself to care about the challenge in it, to make Natasha beg for it. Instead she just goes harder, the tails loud as they whip through the air. Natasha lets her head hang, taking it, taking all of it, the harsh slap as the floggers hit her, the way the pain builds in her little by little, accumulating underneath her skin, blooming slowly.
And then she's done, she's there, she's gone. She doesn't know how much longer it goes on after that, but eventually Maria is gone; Natasha can hear the twin thuds as she puts down the floggers. Natasha sags, letting the wall take her weight, but she's not alone for long. Maria is right behind her, against her, the pressure of her body against Natasha's sore back making Natasha cry out.
Maria reaches around her, her fingers finding Natasha's clit immediately, and Natasha moans as Maria strokes her. She wants it, has wanted it, can't help but want it. "Come on," Maria says through clenched teeth, pushing her fingers inside, fucking her quickly. "Come on, give it up for me. Now."
Coming on command is a nice thought, but it doesn't actually happen that way; still, Natasha takes barely any time after that, swearing as she comes. She's barely finished when Maria turns her around and pushes on her shoulders, leading her down, trapping her against the wall. She unzips her pants, shoving them down enough to give Natasha access. Maria grabs her head, holding her face against her cunt, already dripping wet. Maria doesn't need much at all, just needs Natasha's tongue right on her clit, right where she can grind against it. Natasha lets her do it, lets her take what she needs; she's feeling quite agreeable at the moment.
Maria comes loudly, still working against Natasha's face; when she finally lets go, Natasha tips her head back, resting it against the wall. She's utterly wrecked, totally spent; Maria looks the same way, exhausted and satisfied.