50 Reps - Rachel & Amy (Short)

Been lacking on the stories lately and I've had quite a few people interested in more, so I've managed to write a little! Let me know whether you like this, what you like most, and if you want to see more like this.

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"Forty.. five! Forty... six!" Rachel barked out her rep count, her voice increasingly shrill and pained. Her push-ups were slow, shaky and desperate, but she kept her back and legs straight, her screaming core tight, and most importantly, she kept pumping her body up and down. She blinked sweat from her eyes and looked up to the delightful sight of Mistress Amy pacing in front of her. The taller woman crouched, her legs long and slim. Her deft, gentle fingertips traced a line under Rachel's chin, around her cheek, and into her sweat sodden hair.

Then she gripped, and pulled. Hard. Rachel yelped. Her body trembled, but she pushed up again with a cry of "Forty seven!!" Sweat dripped from her chin.

"Pathetic!" Amy roared, her voice so harsh and sharp it hit Rachel like a slap. "Why should I bother training you when you can't do fifty push-ups. Now - push!!"

"Yes, Ma'am!! F- f-orty.. eight!!" Her elbows and knees were twitching and buckling. Veins snaked down her shoulders, biceps and forearms and she was grunting with every breath. Her chest muscles bulged against her stained sports bra, pec definition patterned up to her collarbones. Cast in shadow but shimmering with her sweat, her painful over-pump was clear. But she wouldn't stop. Not with Amy's gaze on her like that. Rachel stubbornly tensed her stomach, breathed out, curled her fingertips into the floor and lowered.

The next rep took even longer, so long, in fact, that Amy apparently got bored, stood up, and paced to Rachel's side out of view. "F-forty.. nine..." Rachel's teeth were chattering, her body quaking. So close, she was so close... she could make it, she had to believe that, even though she knew it wasn't true.

Amy's foot stamping between her shoulder-blades wasn't a shock, but a thrill. The hard motions ripped at her overly exerted muscles and made her cry out again, tasting the salt if her sweat as her face bumped the floor.

"Something wrong, slave?"

"Not at... all... Mistress..." Rachel panted. To keep some kind of dignity, she tried not to literally squirm underfoot. She grit her teeth, closed her eyes tight, and pushed against her own and Amy's weight combined.

It was fruitless, but Rachel pretended it wasn't because Mistress had given her an order. She was used to push-ups with Amy's weight - they were even practicing her planches with her Mistress balanced on top. But after the last three hours torching the poor girl's upper body, this workout was simply squeezing the last dregs of moisture out of a ragged cloth. She pushed, and started to scream until her ears rang, until she saw black spots in her eyes and felt a vein throbbing in her neck and until she had nothing left to give, nothing less. Amy would adjust her force, giving Rachel a few inches of progress only to force her back down painfully slowly. This went until Rachel's arms lay limp by her sides and she sobbed to the floor.

Amy took her foot away, sat cross legged beside her and left her for a few moments. Once the sobs subsided, she gently stroked the girls hair. Rachel's loud, heaving gasps eventually steadied, and she stirred.

Rachel could barely talk, floods of joint endorphins and pain overwhelmed her. Yet at the same time, she couldn't have held the words back if she had tried -

"That all... you've got.. Mistress?"

Amy stood without a word. She pressed the sole of her foot to Rachel's obliques - like trampling hot, corrugated metal. She gave her a shove. Her muscle packed girlfriend was like a sack of bricks, but obediently took the signal to roll on her back and expose her shuddering, uneven ab muscles. The girls eyes were locked together, wide and hungry.

"Warm up's over, babe.