Two Hundred Dollars Ch. 02

189 Dollars

Tuesday rolled through Kent's life and his classes began to eat up more time. His Physics professor had created one of those "group" projects which always resulted with Kent doing a whole lot of work while a bunch of other people tagged along. The debates about how to start the project had extended well through dinner time and he didn't want to waste money eating on campus, so he got back to the apartment ravenously hungry.

I should probably get a bicycle, he thought, but knew he wouldn't spend the money and, besides, he couldn't ride it through the winter anyway.

Vibrating between angry frustration at the idiots assigned to his project group and a lightheaded dizziness from his hunger, Kent stomped down the stairs, ignored the small living room at the bottom of the stairs and turned down the long hallway. He passed the small cove where the landlords had squeezed in a washer and dryer, went down the long hallway to the kitchen at the back of the apartment. Kent rushed to the fridge, breathing a sigh of relief when he found the glass container of leftover spaghetti, covered in a thick layer of meat-laden tomato sauce. Kent popped the plastic top off it and shoved it quickly into the microwave.

"Hey," Bailey called out softly from behind him.

Kent closed the door and punched up two minutes.

"Hey," he turned to her with a heavy sigh.

"You okay?"

"Hungry," he replied blearily. "Long day."

"Oh, cool," Bailey spoke curtly.

She paused on the threshold of the hallway and kitchen, before stumbling forward. "I'm just getting some water."

"Right," Kent said as he slipped past her toward the small table.

After she left, he sat down heavily at the table and wolfed down his meal. He considered a beer, but knew he had work to do, including a whole group project to carry on his shoulders, and summoned just enough willpower to leave the beer where it stood, taking water instead. Besides, beer deserved saving for the weekend.

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Four hours later, having laid out the ground work for the "group" project, prepped for his Friday chem lab and taken a good hack at a math assignment, Kent began to relax a little and took a moment to breathe.

He could, if he wanted, just call up Netflix on his computer and watch something from his room, but he decided he needed to get out of his little box of a bedroom. Stepping into the hallway, he felt a great relief and his shoulders dropped about fifty pounds of tension. He turned to the living room where he'd hooked up his thirty five inch screen and stereo to the apartment's Internet connection.

Taking a seat on the room's sole couch, he turned his back to the apartment and faced the television.

"Hey, Kent," Bailey called from behind him.

"Hey, Bailey," he replied.

"Looking better?"

"Things aren't as shitty as they were four hours ago," he smiled. "Assholes, y'know?"

Bailey perked up and disappeared back into the hallway while Kent searched for something he hadn't watched yet. Moments later, Bailey returned, hopped over the back of the couch and sat on his right.

"What are ya gonna watch?" she asked as he flipped through movie listings.

"Not sure," he replied.

A long pause ensued.

"I, uh, just put a mark on the board," she said, looking straight ahead at the screen.

Kent thought about it for a moment.

"Not sure about that," he warned her. "I've had a day and a half, here."

"So...?"

Kent looked at her sideways. "I might still be a bit frustrated."

"I think you're fine now," Bailey placed her hand on the inside of his thigh. "Maybe it'll take your mind off things?"

Kent became conscious of how closely she watched him as he inhaled, exhaled and forced himself to relax. Kent wondered if she could feel the bulge she'd started in his pants.

"Go back to my room?" he asked and started to stand.

"No, it's okay," she said. "Right here is fine."

"In the living room? What if someone -"

"Carson's out," she said quickly. "And we'll hear the door open if someone comes down."

Kent looked over his shoulder. Through the living room's doorway, which didn't have an actual door, he could see up the stairway to the exterior door. Bailey turned and looked up that way at the same time.

"I'll keep my jeans on," she said, "Don't worry. The couch is facing away, right? Besides, the first place you spanked me was a living room, wasn't it?"

He nodded in acknowledgement of her last point. A different living room had started this journey a great many months ago. She reached across to his left thigh, grazing the front of his jeans as she padded over and laid herself across his lap.

"Just like the first time," Bailey soothed, and Kent tasted a bit of desperation in her voice.

"Are you worried about having to do two tomorrow?"

"No," Bailey pushed her hips down into his groin, his erection poking through uncomfortably. "Doesn't matter to me."

Kent shrugged. "Alright. How you want it?"

"Um. Left and right. Back and forth."

He squeezed her left cheek and she lifted her hips, pushing back against his hand and shifting her body away from him.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

He slapped at her denim-clad rear with some hesitation, aiming for a spot dead centre of her protruding form. Kent moved his hand to the right and struck again, a little lower this time.

When he came back to the left, he laid a third slap on her.

"Oh," she said in response to that. "I forgot to count."

She dropped her hips down into his groin again and sighed. "You'll have to start over. I'll remember to count."

With that, Bailey lifted her hips again. "Go ahead."

Perplexed by her behaviour, Kent lost focus, relaxed a little and struck her left cheek good and hard, nice and low where she sat.

This time, Bailey groaned out, "One."

He went to the right cheek and slapped her low there, too.

"Two," she moaned. "Going after my seat again."

"Should I pick a different spot?"

Bailey sniffed a little. "They're yours to do."

"Even though you're picking which side?"

"If you want to do them all on one cheek, do it," she snapped. "If you want it so I can't sit down, do it. It's your money."

Kent exhaled hard and laid a hard slap on the lowest part of her right cheek.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Three."

He came at her right cheek again and again, striking the same spot in rapid succession.

"Four! Five! Six!"

"That better for you?" he asked, a little harshness in his voice.

"At least you're not whining about your day like a goddamn sissy," Bailey pointed out.

"I still have you over my lap," he pointed out coldly.

He slapped her right cheek again.

"Seven!"

And again.

"Eight! Jesus!"

The screen door clicked open, far up the stairway, and someone starting turning the door knob. Bailey sat bolt upright next to him and the two of them stared at each other in panic, but the door didn't open.

"I, uh, locked the door after you came in," Bailey said while they listened to Carson fiddling with the lock.

"When?"

"When you were all hungry and cranky."

"Oh."

Carson got the door open and came down the stairs. "Hey guys."

"Hey," they answered.

"Whatcha watching?"

"Haven't decided yet," Kent replied over his shoulder and pretended he cared about navigating through the menu.

Carson looked thoughtful for a moment. "Nah. Too late for me anyway. I'm going to bed."

He sauntered off down the hallway and into the washroom.

Bailey threw herself over Kent's lap the moment she heard the door close. "Two more quick ones," she whispered impatiently.

"Now?"

She ground herself into his lap. "Now. Wherever you want, just do it."

With a smirk, Kent laid two more slaps on that low spot again.

"Nine, ten," she hissed. "Goddammit."

"You said 'wherever'."

"Yes," Bailey hissed, but still lay across his lap.

She pushed his hand down off her ass, onto her thigh, so she could rub the sore spot.

"As long as your hand is still there," she snarked, "why don't you do something useful?"

"Pardon?"

"It's sore?" she offered. "You could... rub it?"

"Oh. Uh, sure."

He slid his hand up her thigh to the lower part of her cheek and started making gentle circles where he'd spanked her hardest.

Bailey winced as he did so.

"The jeans chafe too much," she said.

Kent took his hand away as Bailey lifted her hips up and undid her jeans from underneath. He heard her unzip as well.

"There," she said, "Try now."

He put his right hand back on her rear.

"No," she chided as she folded her arms under her head and faced toward the television. "Underneath, or you'll skin me alive with the denim."

"Oh," Kent replied.

With the jeans undone, he could see the waistband of the red, lacy panties she had once lent to Laura. With her upper body on his left, he had to slide his left hand between the panties and her snug jeans, just managing to reach down to the sore part of her right cheek. It felt hot to his fingertips.

Bailey let out a soft, "Ah" as his cool fingers sunk into her flesh and started massaging the rough spot.

"Nice," she remarked, wiggling her hips a little, which both ground into his manhood and also moved against his grip on her ass cheek.

Out in the hallway, Carson opened the door of the washroom, eliciting a twitch from Bailey. Her attempt to rise served to let him know his time inside her pants had come to an end. Kent withdrew his hand and Bailey sat up. For just a moment as she knelt next to him, he saw the entire front of her panties, in all their translucent, pubic hair revealing glory. She kept herself trim too, with a neat little line of hair along the cleavage of her lips.

Bailey, her eyes on the hallway, only gave him a moment to look -- and probably didn't even see his gaze -- before she zipped and buttoned up her pants.

"You'll fix the white board?" she reminded him.

"Of course," he replied, "Or you can."

"Naw," Bailey said, inhaling as she adjusted her pants. Then she recited, "I make the tick marks. Then the spankings. You fix the numbers. Right?"

Kent tilted his head side to side, acknowledging that he had established that rule. "Sure."

"Okay. Later."

Bailey threw a leg over the back of the couch, straddling it rather roughly in Kent's opinion, before she scissored her legs over it and left the room.

Kent adjusted the crotch of his pants as he stood and turned off the TV. He returned to his room, knowing he wouldn't find the right kind of movies on Netflix.

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Bailey had already unbuttoned her jeans before she'd even closed her bedroom door. She leaned her back against the door and locked it behind her back, panting uncontrollably as she dropped her pants to the floor.

Goddammit, Kent, she thought, making me work so hard for this.

She'd wanted her spanking the moment he had come home, but she'd read his body language in the kitchen and decided against it. Something hadn't rung quite right in his attitude. Kent had worried, even hours later, that he might have too much anger in him, but that hadn't concerned Bailey. With the jeans on, an extra hard slap or two wouldn't have bothered her too much.

No, something else in his demeanour had blocked her desire.

So she'd waited.

Bailey reached back with her right hand and gently traced her fingertips over her sore cheek. Even her own fingers felt cool against the harshly treated flesh, despite the heat now washing over her entire body.

And then, she thought, he laid those weak-ass spankings on me. Too scared he might still be too angry.

She sighed in frustration, and plopped herself down in her chair, hard and fast so she felt it against her bare skin.

But I made him start over, and insulted him for being such a whiner.

The insult had come out sharp and honest because Bailey had meant it. She'd let her sexual frustration boil over because his grumpiness had initially prevented her from getting a proper spanking from him.

But, then, finally, he did it right.

Bailey savoured the soreness in her one cheek, so unbalanced, as she slouched in the chair and reached for her pillow. When she pushed the stiff corner of it against her clitoris, it occurred to her that she didn't play with herself this way very often, but felt confident it would work today.

She remembered Kent taking charge then, making her earn her dollar for the day, going after that one spot again and again. Following that, when she undid her pants, his timid hand sliding under jeans -- not even trying to get under her panties like she'd expected.

Bailey inhaled a stuttering breath as she slumped farther down in the chair, using her hands to force the pillow corner into her genitals.

She thought about his cool fingers, squeezing and sinking deep into her reddened flesh as a moan escaped her lips.

He's probably jerking off now, too.
His erection had poked her multiple times through the whole sessions, and she'd repeatedly prodded him so she could feel it, especially while he was rubbing her ass.

Another juddering breath entered her lungs as the pillow pushed her panties between her lips into her vagina.

And you looked, she thought, a sense of delicious exhibitionism seizing her. I know you looked when I got up on my knees. You saw me through my underwear.

The pillow didn't do the trick anymore. She didn't much like touching herself, preferring the slight emotional distance of the pillow, but she threw her shyness aside and slid her fingers under her panties as she closed her eyes.

It took only a few seconds of pushing down on her clit before her body starting shaking and she exhaled.

Haaaa!

Her body seized up so hard that her lungs emptied of air. Her body had assigned every bit of energy available to the pulsations inside her vagina, twitching away, expelling minute amounts of fluid that wet her panties and fingertips.

The orgasm tapered off and she felt her hand trembling as the muscles in the rest of her body relaxed. Bailey drew in a desperate, gasping breath as she recovered from oxygen deprivation.

How much longer, she wondered, could this go on? I can't even masturbate without -

She shook it off and went to look for a pair of pyjamas to put on, thinking she ought to at least brush her teeth before bed and maybe shouldn't be flashing her butt around. But when she opened the drawer, she saw the little spiral bound notebook first and took it out.

Sliding the pencil out of its place in the metal spiral, Bailey opened to the first page. She could have tracked everything on her laptop, but that seemed so much less personal. She kept track in this little book instead.

"2018 09 25 Tu," she wrote on a new line.

On the other side of the margin line, she wrote "$1" and, not quite daring enough to scribe the word "spanking", instead added, "10sp", followed by a short note, "living room".

It wouldn't let anyone else figure out what she and Kent had done, but she could easily recount what had transpired by reading down the few lines on the first page.

Bailey looked back at the ledger for the night Laura had come over. That whole affair had almost made her throw the page out and re-do everything to add a new column for who got spanked. Instead, she'd just put Laura's name in the date column, on the next row, and marked down her spankings there. Looking at it now, she felt contented with the format.

In her head, naturally, Bailey told herself that she needed to keep track like this so Kent couldn't cheat her out of her money.

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Wednesday evening, while the sun hung low and orange in the sky outside his window, Bailey came to Kent again, casually walking into his room and making her mark under the "$188". She closed the door behind her and waited for him to turn around, admiring in the meantime the way the oranges and reds in the sky lit the space in the absence of artificial lighting.

"How do you want it this time?" he asked.

"Your way," Bailey looked him in the eye and nodded at his chair, currently blocking the place she needed to stand.

Kent pushed his chair aside as he stood and waved her into place. She put her hands on the desk and bent over, maybe just a little more than the forty-five degrees she'd done before.

His hand, somewhat charitably, came to rest on her left cheek, instead of the beleaguered right.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Not yet," she said. "I want it underneath."

"Alright," Kent removed his hand, waiting.

Bailey waited, too.

After a moment, Kent said, "Soooo?"

"My... fingers are stiff," she said. "Can you... do my pants?"

Bailey took a deep breath, waiting for his hands to come around her waist and undo the button on the front of her jeans.

"Is your wardrobe entirely tight denim?" he asked, fighting with the button until it popped open.

A gasp came from her as he undid the topmost part of her zipper, releasing the pressure around her waist. She felt the rear of the waistband come away from her body.

Any moment now, he'll realize.

Kent placed his hands on her hips and pushed her jeans down. She heard him suck in his breath suddenly.

He knows, she felt a delicious thrill go up her spine.

"No underwear?" his surprise made it sound like a question.

"Oh, yeah," Bailey tried to make it sound natural, but had to face the wall, knowing her eyes couldn't carry off the pretenese.

Once her jeans passed her cheeks, nothing could really stop them from falling. She squeezed her knees together just enough to catch the waistband there, but knew he could see a lot of her.

Kent let out a low whistle. "Have you seen how red your cheek is?"

"It's nothing," she denied airily.

He murmured a slight disagreement and his hand came to rest, once again, on her left cheek.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Four," she said. "Bare ass, right?"

"Right. All on the left side."

"Wherever you like," she pointed out, willing him to take more charge, "But if you want to... even things up, go ahead.

His hand moved lower on her cheek and she shivered, because she already knew what her right cheek looked like and she wanted him to make the left match.

The first slap came in low and hard, a high-pitched snap echoing in the little room.

"One," she moaned, thinking, please do this right.

The second one hit the same spot.

Oh, yes.

"Two."

The third one came in higher, harder and shook her body. Her knees trembled, lost their grip and Bailey let her jeans fall to her ankles.

"Mm," Bailey's voice stayed light. "Three."

His hand swept back, striking her directly on the lowest part of her cheek.

"Four," she groaned low and hard.

She exhaled softly, imagining Kent still standing there, looking at her body, knowing how red her right cheek looked, wondering if the left matched.

Delicately, aware of his gaze, she reached down with only a slight bend in her knees and pulled up her jeans. She kept the waistband tight to her skin, feeling his gaze the whole time, right up until she covered herself again and zipped up.

"One eighty seven," Kent breathed softly.

"Yeah," she said as she turned around. "Long way to go."

She didn't let the smirk reach her face until she slipped out of the room.

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Early the next day, the sun barely risen and the smell of coffee permeating the apartment, Kent passed Bailey as she left the kitchen for her first class.

"Oh, uh," she stammered. "I might be out late tonight. I have a bunch of stuff to do."

Bailey nodded at Carson's door, just a step or two away, and Kent understood her need to speak in a slightly obtuse fashion.