The Birthday Paddling: A Haruka and Michiru Story

Michiru was roused that morning to a series of soft, gentle kisses on her face and neck. The turquoise-haired woman’s eyelashes fluttered, and finally opened, revealing her tall, toned lover.

“Mmmmh,” Michiru said hazily as she wrapped her arms around her golden-haired girlfriend’s neck.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Haruka whispered into her ear in the husky voice no woman could resist. “I left your gift on the nightstand.”

Haruka sauntered off into the kitchen, undoubtedly to start brewing a much-needed pot of morning coffee, as Michiru rolled over to examine the contents of the innocent-looking brown paper gift bag.

Michiru stuck her perfectly-manicured fingers into the bag and pulled out a glistening, silver seashell necklace—wrapped around a Purpleheart wood paddle.

The blue-eyed siren carefully unraveled the necklace from the paddle and put it on. She glided over to the mirror, paddle in hand, and gazed at her reflection.

The necklace suited her, as did the oval-shaped, dense paddle. And with her marine-blue satin and lace slip, she looked every bit the Goddess of the Deep Sea.

That is, if the Goddess of the Deep Sea was meant to administer punishments and not save the world.

Michiru bit her bottom lip to stop a smile from forming. Haruka always knew how to make her feel sexy and powerful.

“Love, this is wonderful,” Michiru said as she walked into the kitchen, lightly smacking her fresh new paddle into the palm of her hand. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to try that out?” Haruka asked coyly before taking another sip of her morning coffee.

“But Haruka darling, you haven’t even done anything wrong,” Michiru teased as she pulled her lover close.

“I forgot to take out the trash last night,” Haruka replied with a smirk. “I was late the night before, and I didn’t pay any attention to your lively, enchanting recap of The Bachelorette, episode 9,887,784.”

“One more word and I will spank you until your ass is as purple as this paddle,” the turquoise-haired girl said as she placed both hands on her lover’s cheeks and squeezed tight.

“Please?” Haruka asked with a charming wink. She played it cool, but she was secretly a bit terrified of the thuddy Purpleheart paddle.

The golden-haired racer was used to an open hand, a hairbrush, and the occasional belt, but a thick, hard paddle would provide a more intense sensation.

Michiru led her lover to the bedroom and motioned for her to bend over the bed. Compliant, Haruka did as she was told.

“Slip off your shorts, love,” Michiru said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Haruka said, a bit of a whine in her voice.

“Don’t worry, love, you’ll get your warm up, but I need to test this new toy on you first,” Michiru said as she administered a light smack.

“If it feels too intense at any point, say ‘seashell’,” Michiru told her exposed lover.

“I’m going to feel so silly saying tha–owwwww,” Haruka cried as the paddle smacked the fleshy part of her bottom a second time, harder than the first.

“Are you questioning my command?” Michiru asked teasingly as a third smack landed on Haruka’s bare cheeks.

The third smack left her lover squirming, and the turquoise-haired siren knew that any harder would be too much for her racer.

Michiru opened her nightstand drawer and wrapped her fingers around a solid steel butt plug.

“There are consequences for brattiness,” Michiru purred. “Open wide, love.”

The blue-eyed woman inserted the plug into Haruka’s open mouth and gently tugged on the blonde woman’s hair.

“Good girl,” Michiru said as she re-filled their lube shooter. “Now, spread those cheeks.”

At this point, Haruka knew better than to utter a word in protest. She placed each hand over a cheek and spread them as wide as she could, exposing her tight, pink hole.

Michiru carefully inserted the shooter and pushed. The blonde racer felt the cool sensation of her hole being filled with lube.

The sea goddess removed the plug from her lover’s mouth and slowly pushed it into her asshole. Growing wetter, she watched as Haruka’s hole enveloped the plug.

Michiru pulled her plugged girlfriend up into a sitting position on the bed, and opened her own legs.

“I want you to feel me, Haruka,” she said as she took the taller woman’s fingers and ran them over her pulsating clit.

Haruka rubbed the turquoise-haired woman’s clit, and then ran her fingers down to her opening. One finger slipped in, and then two, and Michiru gyrated in response to the incomparable sensation of her lover’s touch.

Haruka moved her fingers faster and faster, until her blue-eyed lover started to moan in ecstasy. Sweat coated Michiru’s forehead as she fondled her own erect nipples and begged Haruka to go even harder.

Soon enough, Michiru felt her legs tense and experienced the familiar hot, rushing sensation of an orgasm.

After she came, the turquoise-haired woman paused to catch her breath and kissed her lover passionately.

Haruka positioned herself across Michiru’s lap, offering her plugged bottom for a warm up spanking.

Michiru felt her lover’s dripping pussy through her satin nightgown. Well, there goes another gown, she thought as she started to smack with an open hand.

“You’re almost ready,” Michiru said as slaps rained down on Haruka’s bare, plugged bottom. “Your cute little ass is going to be as purple as this paddle when I’m through with you.”

A moan of pleasure escaped Haruka’s lips. Her mind wandered to her first day of kindergarten. Her classmates had drawn tulips, trees, and houses. She had drawn an elaborate spanking scene that had gotten her sent to the principal’s office.

For years after that, Haruka was embarrassed to tell anyone about her most secret longing. That is, until she met Michiru.

“Over the bed,” Michiru commanded. Haruka readily obeyed.

The Purpleheart wood made a hard, thuddy sound as it landed on Haruka’s tender bottom. Michiru wielded it as she did her Deep Aqua Mirror: with expert precision.

It was incredibly intimidating, and incredibly fucking hot.

During brief pauses in her sadistic, repeated smacking of Haruka’s behind, Michiru lovingly rubbed her lover’s tenderest parts.

“This, my love, is my favorite gift,” she said with a particularly harsh smack.

“Glad you like the paddle,” Haruka responded with a wince.

“I meant this. Us. The way we are together,” Michiru clarified with a small chuckle.

“Ah, well, that’s good to hear, because I’m beginning to regret this paddle.”

“But we’re only just getting started, my love,” Michiru responded slyly.

15 minutes later…

Michiru ran her smooth fingers along the marks on Haruka’s bottom. She smiled as she thought of her lover sitting in her car later that day, her bottom red and sore.

Haruka, positioned on all fours on their bed, had her ass raised high like a sacrifice.

Michiru slowly, carefully pulled out the steel plug she had inserted earlier and shot another dose of lube into Haruka’s stretched hole.

The turquoise-haired violinist caught a stray strand and placed it behind her ear. She never felt as hot as she did when she was wearing nothing but a strapon. Her nipples stood erect, and she could feel the dripping wetness between her legs.

“Are you ready for this, love?” Michiru asked, grabbing the fat, black dildo.

“Yes, ma’am,” Haruka responded, ready to take the impending pounding.

Michiru pushed the tip of the dildo into her racer’s asshole, and Haruka let out a soft moan. The sea siren placed her hands on her lover’s hips and carefully pushed the dildo in.

She slapped her lover’s bruised ass and pulled the dildo out. She repeated the pushing and pulling motions, admiring the way her blonde-haired lover could take a paddling and a dildo in one morning.

Haruka moaned and grunted as she felt the long, thick dildo plunge in and out of her asshole. Michiru’s motions grew faster, and she grasped tufts of her racer’s golden locks.

The sea goddess reached upward for her lover’s breasts and pulled her forward. Now on just her knees, Haruka placed her hands over Michiru’s and moved her body along with the motions of the dildo.

“Oh god,” Haruka moaned in pleasure. Michiru traced her fingers along Haruka’s stomach and reached down to massage her racer’s clit.

Haruka felt her entire body pulsating with sensation.

“Fuck,” she cried as her dark blue eyes rolled upward. “I’m going to come!”

Michiru continued to pump and rub until her racer experienced the ecstasy of orgasm. Haruka went limp as she came, and the two fell into bed.

The turquoise-haired violinist gracefully slipped off her strapon and wrapped her legs around her blonde lover. “And you didn’t even have to use the safeword,” she commented as she ran her fingers through the racer’s short hair.

“It’s a testament to your sense of perception, my love,” Haruka whispered.

The racer paused for a second. “But shouldn’t I have given you a birthday spanking?”

Michiru giggled and kissed the taller woman. “Well, I think we’ve just started our own tradition, darling.”

-END-

Haruka and Michiru’s Long Night

Haruka knew she was in trouble.

Michiru typically reserved her icy glare for Youma and anyone who interrupted her violin practices.

Tonight, however, the stare that could make even the most intimidating, tentacle-ridden monster cower in fear pierced Haruka’s heart.

“Michiru, please,” Haruka begged, imploring her turquoise-haired lover to soften her gaze. But it was no use—the damage had been done.

There had been an invitation. There had been a dark, crowded bar. There had been girls, lots of girls.

But most importantly, there was no Michiru.

“Haruka, if you haven’t noticed already, I’m rather upset with you, love,” Michiru replied, running her long, soft fingers through her racer’s short, golden locks.

The pair made their way to the bedroom of their swanky Tokyo penthouse. As Michiru bit down on Haruka’s lip in a rough but passionate kiss, the racer looked out at the beaming lights of a city that caused almost as much trouble as it offered fame, love, and friendship.

What would she do without Michiru, or this city, or the Youma they fought, or the races that made her feel alive? She didn’t want to think of losing her love, or the life they shared, but guilt racked her mind.

Michiru pulled Haruka close and started to unbutton her shirt. Haruka opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it.

I was tipsy. No, I was more than tipsy—I was drunk. I was flirting with those women at the bar. I couldn’t drive home. The bartender had to call Michiru. She had to end her rehearsal for tomorrow’s performance two hours early. Oh god, what did I do?

“Love, I know that I haven’t been very attentive recently,” Michiru cooed as she ran her pink lips down her lover’s chest and over each nipple.

Haruka could feel herself getting wet. She knew that Michiru would dominate her body and mind from the moment they met years ago. It scared her at first, that someone could rip apart her steely defenses, but it felt natural to her now. Almost like breathing.

“Michiru, I…” Haruka started to speak but her blue-eyed lover put a single finger over her lips and she knew then that talking wouldn’t do her much good.

Still fully clothed, Michiru sat on their bed and motioned for Haruka to join her. She obliged, and Michiru undid her belt buckle with the expert precision of someone who has done this more times than she ought.

Haruka stepped out of her pants and positioned herself across her lover’s lap. Michiru looked down at her racer’s striped briefs, lifted her hand, and smacked down lightly. Haruka, no stranger to this position, moaned and reached for their down comforter to clutch.

“I’ve been at rehearsals almost every evening for the past two weeks,” Michiru said as she rained soft smacks upon her lover’s bottom. “But if you needed attention, love, you could have just told me.”

“I’m sorry, Michiru,” Haruka replied, relieved that her stunning violinist lover couldn’t see her blushing face.

“I know, but I think you need this.”

And of course, the Guardian of the Deep Sea was right about this, as she was about most things.

Michiru gently pulled down her lover’s briefs, exposing her bare bottom. She tried not to giggle as she ran her fingers across her lover’s round backside. To put it bluntly, Haruka had always had a really, really nice ass.

“Haruka, dear, I’m going to need that hairbrush,” Michiru said, pointing to her plain wooden brush on the nightstand next to the bed.

Haruka groaned, but did as she was told.

“Now, darling, I’m going to need you to count out each stroke, up to 100, okay?” Michiru cooed.

“Yes, ma’am,” Haruka responded, resigned to her fate.

The first couple of dozen smacks were enough to turn Haruka’s posterior the color of her blushing face. The next couple of dozen strokes left Haruka reddened and wincing.

Michiru put the brush down momentarily and traced her finger along Haruka’s spine. When she reached the blonde woman’s rear, she took a moment to rub it tenderly.

Haruka smiled as Michiru’s fingers found their way to her lips. She slipped one finger in, and then two and was met with her lover’s wetness.

The racer moaned in pleasure and rubbed her throbbing clit on her lover’s perfectly-pleated skirt.

“Soon, my love,” Michiru laughed gently as she removed her fingers and re-positioned her golden-locked lover.

“48 *smack* 49 *smack* 50 *smack*,” Haruka muttered as the thwacks of the brush grew harder.

Haruka almost never cried, but this was different. The pain of being struck with a hairbrush she could live with, but hurting Michiru caused tears to well in her eyes.

After a good 75 swats, her bottom felt like it was on fire. Haruka clutched the comforter and gritted her teeth.

“76 *SMACK* 77 *SMACK* 78 *SMACK*,” she cried as the brush came down again and again.

“I know this hurts, Haruka, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy this,” Michiru teased knowingly.

The final strokes left Haruka nearly in tears, clutching her lover’s legs. The Guardian of the Heavens, the wielder of the Space Sword, would never allow anyone to see her so vulnerable. Anyone but Michiru.

Finally, it was over. Michiru dropped the brush, righted her lover, and planted a kiss on Haruka’s lips. Haruka smiled coyly and lifted Michiru’s skirt.

“You’re the only woman I’ll ever love, Michiru,” Haruka said as she knelt in front of the seated blue-eyed siren and licked her clit.

Michiru gasped as Haruka’s tongue glided over her most sensitive spots. Her mind wandered to the strapon in her dresser drawer, of Haruka licking and sucking on the black silicone dildo before bending over for Michiru to slip it into her tight asshole.

But for now, Michiru was content to experience the pure ecstasy of having her clit massaged by Haruka’s experienced tongue. Her moaning grew louder, her vision blurred, and her legs began to tense.

This was only the beginning of very long and much-needed night.

Sadie’s Wake Up Call

Sadie was fast asleep, her golden locks frizzy and matted against the pillows, her slim legs wrapped around the royal blue comforter she shared (or was supposed to share) with Abby. Her leggy tomboy was always a blanket hog, Abby mused, as she brushed her rosy lips against the younger woman’s cheek.

“Mmmmh—wha?” Sadie asked drearily as she swatted the brunette away. “Just a few more minutes.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if someone had gone to bed on time,” Abby scolded as she pulled the covers out from under Sadie. The blonde had snoozed through three cell phone alarms after pigging out in front of the television until well past 2 am the night before.

“Abbbby,” the pajama-clad blonde whined. Abby had to admit that Sadie looked rather adorable in her Pikachu-print fleece pants and white V-neck tee.

“No excuses, my little brat,” Abby said. Dressed in a curve-hugging pencil skirt and crisp white button down, she was ready for her very important Monday morning meeting with the museum’s director of living exhibits—that is, if Sadie would get her cute ass out of bed.

Abby was determined not to let her girlfriend miss another day of work—when she was on top of her game, the up-and-coming graphic designer was virtually unstoppable. And then there were days like today, when Sadie looked like a hungover college student.

“If you want to act irresponsibly, my love, you’ll have to suffer the consequences,” Abby said, returning to sit beside the green-eyed beauty with a hardwood hairbrush. On occasion, Abby liked to brush her own long, wavy locks with the menacing instrument in full view of her lover, as a playful reminder of who held the power over Miss Sadie’s backside.

“Stop, I’m up. I’m up!” Sadie cried as Abby pulled her into position over her knee.

“Too late, darling,” Abby replied in a tone that marked finality. She pulled Sadie’s pajama pants down, exposing the groggy woman’s pale behind. She gently ran the bristles of the brush over each cheek, stopping at a tiny black bruise on her lover’s lower right corner. “Do you remember the last time you were punished, Miss Sawyer?”

“When I threw a tantrum a couple nights ago because our Internet connection was slow,” Sadie said. She could feel her face turn hot pink in shame. Abby had thrown her over the desk in their bedroom for a bottom-burning paddling.

“Clearly, someone hasn’t learned her lesson quite yet,” Abby said with a smack of her open hand. Sadie sighed and prepared herself for a lecture and spanking—all before her morning cup of joe.

Abby swatted her girlfriend’s bare bottom swiftly. As the force behind the slaps grew in intensity, Sadie squirmed atop Abby’s lap.

By the hundredth strike, Sadie was trying desperately to cover her reddened bottom with her right arm, which Abby pushed out of the way with ease.

“You know better than that, brat,” Abby cooed into her exposed lover’s ear. She grabbed the hairbrush from her side and rubbed the wood against Sadie’s ass cheeks, as much to remind her who was in charge as to prepare her for the impending paddling.

“Owww,” Sadie moaned as the brush landed with a THWACK across her tender cheeks.

“What won’t you be doing anymore, love?” Abby asked, her eyes admiring Sadie’s gorgeous backside.

Sadie, who was feeling particularly non-compliant this morning, huffed in response.

“I see,” Abby replied with a series of thwacks on Sadie’s sit spot, which made the blonde gasp and become immediately regretful of her own defiance.

Abby brought the brush down again and again, raining hard swats upon Sadie’s backside until the penitent kicked and screamed.

“Okay, okay, when you tell me to come to bed, I’ll come to bed, I swear,” Sadie cried, her eyes wet with tears, which she was relieved Abby couldn’t see.

“And why is it so important for you to go to bed at a reasonable hour?” Abby asked with a crack of the brush.

“Because I can’t be late for work,” Sadie said, embarrassed at her own poor decision making and painful predicament.

“I’m swat going swat to swat give you swat five minutes swat to get dressed,” Abby said, wielding the wooden implement mercilessly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sadie replied. Now alert and highly embarrassed, the 26-year-old scurried into the bathroom without a single glance back at her put-together girlfriend.

Sadie shut the bathroom door and rubbed her bruised buttocks as she stared at the collection of red patches and darkened bruises in the floor-length mirror.

“No rubbing!” Abby called from the bedroom.

“Okay, Superwoman!” Sadie called back as she rolled her eyes. It seemed like Abby could see through anything sometimes, even layers of walls.

“What was that?” Abby asked, hairbrush thwacking loudly against her palm.

“Err—nothing!” Sadie responded, swiftly locking the door behind her, just in case.

Abby had left undergarments, black jeans, and a button down hanging on the shower rod for Sadie.

The blonde slipped into her clothes as quickly as possible, brushed her teeth, splashed her face with cold water, and ran her fingers through her head of matted locks.

“Ready!” she called, stumbling out of the bathroom. “Abby?”

“You might be ready, but I’m not finished with you just yet, babe,” the brunette woman replied mischievously.

“But I can’t take any more!” Sadie groaned. She knew she was being a royal brat, but she couldn’t be expected to be her best self without coffee.

“Get down on all fours on the bed,” Abby commanded, pulling Sadie’s pants and underwear down to her knees. “This will be quick.”

Sadie sighed loudly and did as she was told, raising her ass up and outwards like a sacrifice in front of Abby. Abby squirted a healthy dollop of lube onto the ribbed fuchsia butt plug and said, “You know, I was going to let you off with just a spanking this morning, but that was before you decided to be a disobedient little brat.”

“The next time I ask you a question, you’ll answer it, won’t you love?” Abby asked as she tickled Sadie’s tender anal opening with the tip of the 5″ plug.

“Yes ma’am,” Sadie sighed as she braced herself for penetration.

Abby eased the plug in gently, smacking Sadie’s ass as she pushed the silicone deeper into her hole. Sadie moaned as she felt each rib of the plug expand her tight opening.

“Get up,” Abby said with a smack of Sadie’s throbbing ass. “Pull your pants up.”

“You mean?” Sadie asked, her ass plugged and sore. She pulled her briefs and jeans, covering the anal toy.

“Yes, love, you’re still at my mercy for…oh, the next forty five minutes or so,” Abby winked as she held up the remote controller to the vibrating plug.

“Abby—on the train?! You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

Sadie didn’t know what would be worse: moaning on the train or sitting on one of its hard seats. One thing she did know for certain—she’d be getting her eight hours from now on.

-END-

Fifty Strikes of the Strap

Note: This strapping takes place before Sadie Saves the Dinner, Part I

Sadie leafed through her girlfriend’s November issue of Scientific American as a television newscaster droned on about death, despair, and traffic delays. The 26-year-old furrowed her brow and wondered how many more times she’d manage to sabotage her life before Abby left her for a woman who had at least some of her shit together.

Sadie had enough self awareness to understand why she did the things she did (having dead parents and a drug-addicted brother were huge factors in her poor decision-making skills), but she wanted so desperately to change—and fast—for herself, for her future, and for the love of her life. Abby’s magazine hit the floor with a thud as the tall blonde crossed her arms and re-positioned her body on the tattered leather couch. Sadie quickly slipped into a restless slumber wearing nothing but her hoodie and striped boxer briefs.

Sadie awakened to her brunette girlfriend gently stroking the tangles out of her short golden locks. Eyelids half-opened, she looked up at Abby and felt salty wet droplets fall onto her face and chest. The older woman was kneeling over Sadie, but her chocolate-colored eyes were overflowing with tears. Sadie hated to see her love so distraught, especially when she knew that her actions (or rather, inaction) were the reason behind the crying.

Awkwardly, Sadie wiped Abby’s cheeks with the sleeve of her heather grey hoodie. Clad in a lace purple skirt and flowing black silk blouse, Abby looked undeniably stunning. She was also undeniably pissed off.

“Sadie, I am so disappointed in you,” Abby scolded as she tugged on her own opaque black tights, her nail snagging a hole in the material over her right calf.

As Abby ran her fingers across the hole’s opening, her eyes cast downward, Sadie replied, “I fucked up…again. I’m sorry. It’s a thing I do a lot, apparently.”

Sadie knew she was going to be punished and wished that Abby would just get on with it already. She hated the moments leading up to a thorough spanking—she’d take double the strikes if she didn’t have to deal with feeling so guilty beforehand.

“Up,” Abby finally responded, and Sadie knew what that meant from experience.

Sadie stood to face her long-haired girlfriend, who harshly unzipped her hoodie and yanked her boyshorts down to her ankles. Abby glared at her blonde lover, sat, and threw the exposed brat over her lap.

Abby teased Sadie’s pulsating pink clit mercilessly as her free hand struck her round bottom with a loud SMACK. She raised her hand a second time and planted a series of twenty swift slaps on her bare buttocks. Sadie grunted and winced at the growing intensity of her punishment.

“No wincing yet, love,” Abby replied, sensing that the stinging sensation was rapidly progressing into a deep burning. “We haven’t even gotten started.”

She stroked Sadie’s reddening bottom with the tips of her fingers, then delivered a dozen sharp slaps to her right cheek before applying the same count to her left. As Sadie’s tender posterior deepened into a rosy shade of red, Abby asked, “Now, dear, do you remember when my parents got me that lovely embroidered leather belt a few weeks after we started dating?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sadie muttered, understanding what was in store. Abby had only used the strap on her once, a few months back, when she skipped work to smoke all afternoon. She wouldn’t have been caught if she hadn’t fallen asleep with her lit cigarette in hand, which burned a gaping hole in their old sofa, rendering it unusable. Sadie shuddered as she thought of just how sore her bottom was after that punishment—she couldn’t sit comfortably for an entire 24 hours!

“Good girl. Remember how you admired the butterflies?” Abby asked, mercilessly raining slaps upon Sadie’s throbbing ass.

“Mhh,” Sadie replied.

“What was that, you irresponsible little brat?” Abby asked, slapping each cheek with a harsh stroke.

“Yes. Yes, I remember, Abby,” Sadie cried out, more from embarrassment than pain. By now, her face was almost as red as her posterior. “There were all different kinds of butterflies on the belt. And I admired how strong the leather was. God, can we just get this over with? This is torture.”

“I’m sorry, dear, but I wish you’d thought of that when you left me at my parents’ house for three hours tonight and didn’t show up for dinner. Get up and lean over the couch,” Abby commanded.

As Sadie bent over to receive her impending strapping, she heard the older woman rustling around their bedroom for the belt. As Abby’s footsteps came closer, Sadie took a deep breath.

The belt-wielding brunette walked up behind her, her composure masking a deep anger, grabbed Sadie’s hips, and started massaging the naked woman’s shoulders. Sadie looked back and saw the belt wrapped across Abby’s skirt, a painful reminder of what was to come. As Abby’s long fingers rubbed the knots out of Sadie’s upper back, the blonde girl panted in pain and ecstasy.

“This is going to be pretty harsh, okay?” Abby reminded her lover. “But I think you can handle it.”

“Abby, I’m sorry,” Sadie responded, feeling more vulnerable than she had in quite some time.

“I know. That’s how I know you’re ready for this.”

Abby carefully unbuckled her belt and pushed Sadie’s smooth back downward, causing her defenseless bottom to jut high into the air.

“I’m going to slap you 50 times,” Abby said definitively. “And I want you to count each stroke.” She had never demanded that Sadie count out each stroke before, but tonight, Abby was intent on driving her message home.

“Ready?” Abby asked. Before Sadie could respond, she struck—hard.

“Owww! One,” Sadie said, her eyes glued to the scratches on the sofa, courtesy of Zane, their mischievous Persian cat. “Two, three, four, argh! Oww! Geez, Abby!”

Abby expertly unleashed her implement of choice upon her lover’s bruised bottom, pausing here and there to let Sadie take a few breaths. As the belt thrashed Sadie’s plump ass cheeks, the girl cried “35, 36, 37! God damn it! Who are you, Xena Warrior Princess?”

Abby paused to chuckle. She was still pissed off and confused, but her mischievous brat could make her laugh at even the most inappropriate of occasions.

“Nope, just a woman you completely fucked over tonight,” Abby replied with a crack of her belt.

“30…8. Urgh!” Sadie cried, kicking her long legs.

“What have I told you about moving those legs?” Abby asked. “Let’s try this again.”

“38,” Sadie said, rolling her brilliant green eyes but not daring to move. She thanked the gods that Abby couldn’t see her face.

“And don’t think I don’t know when you roll your eyes at me, brat,” Abby said with a half smile as she whipped Sadie’s defenseless bottom five times. The blonde whimpered, but her brunette lover was feeling anything but merciful tonight.

“39, 40, 41, 42, 43,” she said, her bottom throbbing from the assault.

Abby cracked her belt again and again until Sadie called “50! 50! Abby, stop. Pleeeease.”

The blonde collapsed onto the couch, yet neither of them felt the usual sense of post-punishment relief. Abby was upset and Sadie still felt like every bit the fuck up—but that didn’t stop the older woman from squeezing onto the couch next to Sadie and holding the slimmer girl in her arms.

Silently, the naked blonde clutched at Abby’s silk top, half worried she’d tear it to shreds but too sorry and sore to care. The brunette kissed the top of her lover’s head silently.

She hated how Sadie broke her promises. How she drank like a fish. How she shirked responsibility and found it so easy to walk away from the people who mattered most. It scared—no, terrified—her. And yet, here they were. Abby knew Sadie was good and kind and smart and funny.

But would Sadie ever see that in herself?

-END-