Two Hundred Dollars: Bonus Chapter

?? Dollars

Note: I wrote this chapter as a bonus for the e-book, based on some reader input.

I had originally intended that it not be part of the canon and entirely apocryphal from the general THDCU. But then I started writing the sequel and I realized that continuing this arc might be the most interesting part of a second novel, since it involves Kent explaining exactly how he does consent and what he thinks his role is.

This chapter actually falls right in the middle of chapter 28 in the general arc of Two Hundred Dollars, so I'd have to call it "Chapter 28.5" or something. If you really care, you should read the first two sections of Chapter 28, then come back and read this. Then the chronology is perfect and uninterrupted.

Cheers and hope you enjoy it.

@XavierTorch

Sunday, November 20.

5:45 pm

Kent had himself completely dressed and ready for his dinner at the Andersons. He salivated at the promise of decently made food, but the prospect Bailey and Laura's little underwear game had him wound up.

He'd tested out Bailey's app on his phone and found it working perfectly. Every time he touched the volume up button, it silently counted a vote for Bailey, while the down button counted a point for Laura.

After a few experimental button pushes, Kent opened the app again and checked that the score had come through as three to two for Bailey, just as he had expected. He'd had no trouble finding the buttons while the device rested in his pocket, which made scoring straightforward and inconspicuous.

With a long exhale, he cleared the scores back to zero and wondered how he would make it through the next few hours.

I'm ready way, way too early, he chided himself. So nervous to make a good impression, and now I'm going to have to wait until-

His phone vibrated in his hand and he looked down to see a text message slide in from the top of the screen.

Laura had texted him, "You can come over right now."

"Still early u sure?" he sent back.

"Yes. Definitely."

The punctuation seemed excessive, but Kent imagined Laura's mother looking over her shoulder.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Kent typed out in politely matching grammar.

It took him a minute to void his bladder, wash his hands and head out the door. Snow had begun falling, putting a light and fluffy coating on the ground.

=============================

Kent arrived at Laura's house and noted the car missing from the driveway with fresh tire tracks leading out. The lights in the kitchen shone out onto the snow covered lawn, their warmth inviting him inside. Coming up the step, he saw movement through the sheer curtains in the window and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a muffled female voice called out, "It's not locked."

Opening the door, he shook snow off his jacket before passing the threshold into the house.

It looked the same as it had the night he'd slept over, but the dining room table had a centrepiece and the aromas coming from the kitchen warmed him from his nose down to his toes.

"Close it quickly," the soft, firm voice called from the kitchen, "Not heating the whole neighbourhood, dear."

"Yes, um, Mrs. Anderson," Kent could only see part of the apron wearing woman through the doorway into the kitchen.

He hung up his jacket in the closet by the door, took off his boots and walked over to the kitchen entrance.

Where is everyone else? Kent started to feel nervous.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson," Kent prodded hopefully.

"Nice to meet you, Kent," the short woman turned around to look at him, sizing him up from his toes up to his eyes.

I can see Laura in her, Kent noted, the height, the eyes, the little ball of focused energy intent on accomplishing something.

"Laura talks about you so much," Mrs. Anderson told him, "I thought it would be nice to meet you."

"Um, where is Laura?" Kent asked.

"She's just getting a few groceries with the others," the little woman said, turning to stir a pot.

"Ah, I just got a text from her-"

"From me, actually," Mrs. Anderson said.

"Oh."

"You see, Kent," she went on, opening the oven to check on a large turkey, "I've started having some concerns about my daughter and her friend."

"Bailey?"

"Yes, Bailey," Mrs. Anderson took out a baster and applied several squeezes of juice to the turkey while she talked. "It has become obvious to me that Bailey and Laura are up to something strange."

Kent gulped, not entirely sure where this woman intended to take the conversation.

"Don't think I didn't notice my daughter hasn't been able to sit down properly for a month or two now," the woman turned and glared at Kent.

Oh, shit.

"At first, I was very disturbed," she inhaled and closed the oven door so she could stand up, taking a spatula in her hand. "I thought she and Bailey were... well, that they had an affair going on between them."

Kent straightened, "Would that be a problem for you?"

"Oh, no, young man," she shook a spatula at him, "Don't go getting high and mighty with me. My husband and I come from ancient, old-fashioned folk. We've made great strides away from that line of thought, but I don't pretend to be perfect."

"Hm," Kent nodded, remembering to be circumspect.

"So there I was," Mrs. Anderson turned a chair so she could face Kent while sitting and waved Kent into the chair next to her.

This is the same place I sat for breakfast, he noticed.

"I'm sitting right here, for several nights, thinking that Laura's best friend, Bailey is -- for reasons I don't understand -- spanking my daughter so much that she can't sit properly."

Kent pushed his lips together hard, feeling the full stuffiness of the clothing he'd chosen for the night.

"But that's not what happened, is it?" she asked him. "Because I finally noticed that Bailey has the same symptoms. They're not spanking each other, are they?"

Technically, yes, Kent tried to keep a poker face. They have spanked each other.

"Are they?" the woman's voice sharpened.

But, in the sense she means, the girls are not primarily responsible for the spanking.

"No, ma'am."

Good, god, why did she invite me for dinner if she already knew this?

"When did this start?" Mrs. Anderson rattled off the question like an interrogator.

"About two months ago," Kent shrugged, seeing no point in keeping secrets now.

"And this, for some reason, pleases my daughter?"

That's an interesting conclusion you just made, ma'am.

"It's complicated," Kent replied and sucked in air. "But, yes. I never do anything that she doesn't want. It started between Bailey and me. Bailey told Laura about it and... she wanted to take part."

Mrs. Anderson inhaled and as she looked down at the floor Kent saw all of Laura in the discomfort and awkwardness of the woman in front of him.

This is Laura in eighteen years? Twenty? Mrs. Anderson doesn't look very old. Religious people have their kids pretty young, I think.

"Well, Kent," she said, "I don't know what to say."

"Look," he replied, wishing he could just get up and get out the door, his stomach having lost all interest in food. "If you'd rather I not come to dinner, I can just fake sick and-"

"Oh, no," the little woman shook a finger in his face. "I'll hear no such thing."

Well, then, Kent peered at her. What?

"So?"

"So," she glared at him, "How do I know you're not hurting my daughter? That you aren't coercing her somehow?"

"You could ask her, I suppose," Kent replied, knowing that any opportunity to include Laura in future spanking games had probably already disappeared. "From the very first time she came over, every time she seemed the least bit reticent, I've reminded her she can stop."

"You do seem honest," Mrs. Anderson peered into his eyes. "You're not even trying to lie to me."

"No point, now, ma'am."

"Fair enough," she agreed. "But my daughter still has trouble sitting down when you're done with her."

"Hard as this may be to believe," Kent said. "That's because she wants it that way. Sometimes she feels bad about things, I think, and this makes her feel better."

"We spanked her as a child, you know?" Mrs. Anderson blurted out.

"She told us," Kent fired back, keeping his voice as even as possible.

Laura's mother looked into his eyes, searching perhaps for some silent judgment, but Kent had passed the point where he could judge the woman in front of him. They'd raised Laura how they'd felt best, probably the way their parents had raised them, and he'd known enough humans not to expect anything better from them.

"What did she tell you?" Mrs. Anderson sounded wary.

"That you'd make her put her hands on her knees and stand still while you spanked her," Kent fixed his eyes on hers.

"And how does that look to you?"

Kent shrugged, averting his eyes.

"Be honest, now, Kent."

"A bit archaic, honestly," he levelled his eyes on hers again.

"Does it anger you?"

"It didn't, really," Kent replied. "At the time, we thought it was a bit funny. But it does seem a bit mean, now that you mention it."

Mrs. Anderson folded her hands in front of her, then steepled them nervously under her chin.

"What if I didn't let Laura out to visit you?"

Kent had already given up on ever spanking Laura again anyway, so he shrugged and said, "That's your call, but I live with Bailey, so you'd be taking her best friend from her, too. Also, I doubt it would work. It's hard to control people that way."

"I could still make it difficult for you," Laura's mother explained.

"Yes," Kent admitted, then turned his eyes hard on the woman in front of him, "You could make all three of us miserable, probably, by tormenting your own daughter."

Mrs. Anderson nodded, inhaled in frustration through her nose, and let her eyes wander as she looked for another approach.

"I need to know that you're treating my daughter right," she intoned.

Um, what? Kent stared. Like, spanking Laura is somehow still on the table?

"What's 'right'?" he asked, feeling his blood heat up. "Is it 'right' according to your religion? Because probably not. I bet your religion says only you can spank her, and only while she's a child. Unless beating adult women is okay, too. Is it 'right' according to you? I don't know. I only know what's right for me and what Laura tells me is right for her."

Mrs. Anderson stared back at him.

"And I do my best to make sure that Laura really means what she says," Kent added, feeling the pace of his temper taking over his speech. "That she isn't doing this because anyone made her and that she enjoys everything."

There, that's said! Kent thought. At least, if I lose this one, I'll lose it honestly.

"Young man," Mrs. Anderson spoke, and then froze.

"Yes?"

"I don't know what to do about you," she pinched the bridge of her nose and sat up straight. "But I do want to know what you're doing to my daughter."

"With your daughter," Kent offered the correction

"Really?" the woman raised an eyebrow, "I don't see you having trouble sitting."

Kent shrugged, "Not part of our game."

Mrs. Anderson hummed a faint acknowledgement.

"Still, I will know what you're doing."

This forced Kent to raise an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

What level of detail matters to this woman, I wonder? Kent didn't relish the thought of giving Mrs. Anderson a play by play of their antics.

"How do you spank my daughter?"

She wants me to describe what we do? Kent's brain stammered to a halt. That's getting into specifics that aren't really her business.

"It's, um," Kent stuttered. "It's really up to her -- and to Bailey. They decide how they want it."

"And?"

"Well," Kent went on. "Laura, she -- look, do you really want to know this?"

Mrs. Anderson gulped and nodded, "I think I need to know."

"Laura usually likes to put her hands on her knees when I spank her," Kent winced, knowing he should have walked out the door several minutes before. "Just like when she was a child."

But the woman in front of him didn't react in horror, didn't freak out in any way. She merely looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

"The way we used to spank her," Mrs. Anderson nodded. "That figures. It was what my parents-"

Kent inhaled and cringed, waiting for some reaction.

"I wonder how long she held all of that in," she added wistfully. "Well, then."

Shaking her head, Mrs. Anderson stood up and turned away from Kent. At first, it looked as if she intended to baste the turkey again, the way she leaned over. But, instead, she just stopped in mid-motion.

"Like this, is it?" she asked him.

Kent's brain froze up as he realized what she'd done.

She's in Laura's position, with her hands on her knees, Kent realized as he looked in horror. It's not really Laura's position, is it? It's her mother's.

"I," he stammered.

"Is this how my daughter is when you spank her?" she asked.

"Y-yes, sometimes" Kent counted himself fortunate that Mrs. Anderson didn't look over her shoulder at the terrified look on his face as he surveyed the black pants she wore, stretching across her rear.

She's basically the same shape as Laura, his brain pointed out to him. They're both pretty small women.

"Well?"

"I said 'yes'," Kent said. "That's how she poses for me."

"Poses?" she said. "I see. Well, get on with it."

"Get on with-"

"Kent," Mrs. Anderson explained. "I need to know what you're doing to my daughter and why she finds you so fascinating. And we only have a little time before they come back from the grocery store."

"So, you want me to, um?"

"Spank me, yes," she explained, "exactly like you do to my daughter."

"I don't think this is a good idea," he waved his hands frantically, his body starting to shake in panic.

"If you care about my daughter," the bent over woman explained, "and you want to continue to make her happy, you'll have to demonstrate to me that you aren't hurting her."

This isn't real, Kent decided, while also acknowledging that it had to be real. How do I get out of this?

"Okay," Kent felt his chest collapse as he failed to find any air to breathe.

"So how does it happen?" Mrs. Anderson asked, still sticking her ass out in his direction.

"Normally," Kent said, "She would make a mark on this white board in my room, to let me know what she wanted."

"I already let you know, though."

Stall, Kent's brain insisted. Find a way to stall until they get home.

"Then she'd decide, um," Kent's mind wandered desperately. "I guess, based on what you're wearing, that means I'd spank her ten times."

"I see."

"And she would, you know, count them out."

"Alright, then," Mrs. Anderson declared. "Ten times. Go ahead."

"You're sure you-"

"Yes, hurry up."

Christ almighty, Kent shook his head as he stood up, realization slowly dawning on him that sexual repression must run in the family. She's as bad as Laura. Why can't she just ask her husband to spank her? She's been thinking about this for two months?

That made Kent nervous as he considered all the ramifications of this incident.

What does this tell me about their marriage? And what if they walk in, or see us through the curtains?

He put his left hand on the small of Mrs. Anderson's back.

If she wants what I give Laura, I guess I'll do it exactly like that.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

She wants to know why her daughter has trouble sitting, then I'll show her.

Kent pulled his hand back and struck the woman's left cheek low, right where the curve of her ass met her thighs.

"Hm," she said. "I don't think you're making my daughter sore with that sort of thing."

"I kinda held back," Kent admitted, frowning. "You have to understand, this is pretty weird."

"I understand," she said, her voice almost clinically detached. "Try harder."

Someday, I will have some degree of control over the person I'm spanking, Kent thought. But that day is not today, and tomorrow doesn't look great either.

Kent swept his hand back and cracked it down on Laura's mother right cheek, making the woman jump a little.

"Ow," she said quietly. "That's one."

"You okay?"

"Keep going, dear."

When he'd started with Laura, Kent remembered that he'd gone easy, switching back and forth between her cheeks and striking different spots. Mrs. Anderson deserved, in his expert opinion, a similar concession.

Kent wound up and slapped his friend's mother on her left cheek, staying low.

"That's two."

I can do this, he thought. Standing behind her, not seeing her face, it's not much different from spanking Laura, really. Just put it out of your mind and do it.

He moved back to her right cheek and slapped her dead centre.

"Three," she said with a sigh, "Do you always take this much time?"

"They let me know what they want," he said. "Bailey and Laura both give little hints when they react."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," Kent replied. "For example, the way you just made fun of me for going so slowly? This would happen."

He gave her three shots in a row on her left cheek.

"Ooh!" she squeaked. "I couldn't even count that fast."

"You just count them now, then."

"Four, five and six," Mrs. Anderson said. "You think you're considerate, don't you?"

"I try my best," Kent moved his hand back to her right side.

Without waiting further, he slapped her again on the outside of her cheek.

"That makes seven," she said, "But I doubt I'll have as much trouble sitting down as my daughter does."

"I can fix that," Kent said, and delivered two hard spankings to the lower side of her right cheek.

"I see how this works," the woman nodded, still not looking back at him, "Finish up, now."

Kent shrugged and gave one last, hard slap to her left cheek, using a little more force than he had before.

"Ow!" she yelped. "And that makes ten."

She turned on him, arms folded across her floral apron, and glowered.

"This is what you do to my daughter?"

"With your daughter," Kent doggedly corrected. "And yes, that's an example."

"Always ten?" she said. "Or do you spank her harder? Because I won't have trouble sitting down like she does."

"Sometimes it's more," Kent's heart pounded in his chest as he made the admission. "In fact, it's pretty much always more."

"But ten at a time?" the woman peered at him. "You said, 'based on what I'm wearing'."

Oh, crap, I should not have let that slip out.

"She makes a mark," Kent said. "And if she's dressed like you are now, that mark means ten spankings."

"How else could she dress?" Laura's mother looked perplexed. Her voice turned acidic with sarcasm, "In snow pants?"

Kent rolled his eyes, "No."

"Well, then?"

"Well," Kent gulped. "If she, well, takes off her pants, or lifts up her skirt, it's only five spankings."

Mrs. Anderson glared the angry fury of a Mother at him.

"My daughter," she said, "takes off her clothes so you can spank her?"

Well, there goes that. I should just get my jacket and leave now. We may as well just get this over with.

"Yes," Kent sighed, glaring back with his temper loosened by the acknowledgement of his loss. "And sometimes she even does it without her underwear."