Two Hundred Dollars Ch. 05

"You wanted me to change panties after every spanking."

"Wait 'til we get back," Kent answered. "I'm starving."

"I hear that," Bailey hitched up her jeans quickly. "Getting lightheaded."

They moved up the stairs, zipping up their jackets tightly and left the apartment.

"How much was your stuff?" Bailey asked as the cold air hit her face.

"Four fifty," he answered. "But I didn't use all the potatoes."

"We'll split it anyway," Bailey confirmed. "Just make sure we share the rest."

"Right."

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They walked across the street and, with a polite nudge, Bailey got them headed for the small park that allowed them a shortcut to the grocery store. She didn't care to cut through the place late at night, but as long as she had Kent and they had daylight, she didn't mind.

Walking felt awkward and she couldn't figure out why. They kept bumping into each other when they moved, as if they'd only learned how to use their feet yesterday. Bumbling along like this, trying to figure which one of them owned the clumsiness, they came to a narrow spot in the path she'd chosen.

Kent stopped there, letting her go first, but after she passed through, he stayed behind, causing her to stop and look back at him, perforce catching him staring at her ass.

Bailey's eyes widened and felt a shiver.

"Here?" she asked.

"What?" Kent's eyebrows rose.

"It's cold," she pointed out.

"And you're standing still," he replied, making a palms-up gesture in her direction.

She looked around in a partial panic. No one else visibly lingered in the park, at least from her vantage behind the trees that lined the narrow path. Could she do this? A thrill rode up her spine. Yes. Yes, she could.

Quick as possible, she unbuttoned her jeans and nervously turned around, pushing them down only as far as they needed to go.

"I-"

"Fast, just one, okay?" Bailey felt panic leeching into her voice.

"Alright," Kent's voice sounded breathless too.

Anxiety and surprise had exactly the right effect on Kent. He struck her right cheek, dead centre, with a hard slap. The silence of the late October afternoon amplified the sound throughout the entire park and, as she pulled her jeans sharply back up over her cheeks, she realized the coldness of her flesh had amplified the stinging pain as well.

She gasped out, "Six."

With both of them panting, they continued on their way to the grocery store.

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Kent had to give Bailey credit for one thing: she could smoothly transition from the absurdity as asking for a spanking in a public park to carrying on a normal conversation in a heartbeat.

Although the logical part his brain had trouble cranking back up after an event like that, he spent most of the journey to the store and back trying to figure out how he'd ended up delivering that slap.

Indeed, he had paused to let her travel through the narrow space between a series of cedar bushes. Then she'd turned back to him and complained about the cold. He had made a little gesture with his hand, a sort of upturned-palm pushing-you-forward sort of motion which Bailey had somehow interpreted as an indication he wanted to spank her.

Maybe that's just the mood she was in?

Either way, Kent recognized that he had consumed half the spankings she'd promised him for the night and he didn't want to use up anymore until they got back to their apartment.

That said, when they got back to the apartment, Bailey went down the stairs first, carrying a small bag of freshly baked rolls. Kent followed her, carefully holding the container with its pre-roasted chicken with both hands. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, she handed over the rolls as she shucked off her boots and immediately stripped out of her jeans.

"Deal's a deal," she pointed out.

"Right," Kent breathed, his eyes unavoidably drawn to Bailey's long, bare legs.

She walked down the hallway to her bedroom without removing her jacket, it's hem only half-covering her cheeks, and closed her door.

Kent shook himself and, still clasping both chicken and bag of rolls, moved down the hall towards the kitchen. As he passed Bailey's room, she opened her door and came out again. Their eyes met, briefly, before he noticed that she'd discarded her jacket and changed her panties. The black, wide-cut pair she held in her hand, while a lacier blue pair graced her body.

With a slight exhale and an upward tic of her chin, she walked past him, to his bedroom and carefully hung the black pair up with the others on his white board.

"Alright, then," Kent realized he'd been standing in the hallway, staring, and decided to continue to the kitchen.

Bailey disappeared back into her bedroom.

As Kent quickly laid out plates and utensils at the little table, a couple of tea towels for the still warm pots with vegetables and potatoes, Bailey came out again, now wearing the lacy, red panties she'd once lent to Laura.

"Huh?" he asked, holding an extra large metal spoon he'd taken for the vegetables and a wooden spoon for the mashed potatoes.

"I was supposed to change every time, right?" she asked. "So I had to change twice."

"Oh."

Bailey looked at his hands and inhaled.

"You won't run out of panties?"

"Should be okay," she said as she took a seat at the table. A shiver raced through her body when her bare flesh touched the chair.

They took turns serving the food onto their own plates and started eating.

"Good idea with the buns," Kent pointed out.

He felt something different inside him though, eating this way, with Bailey partially naked across from him. He ate slowly, more carefully, as if the sexual tension in the air used up so much of his energy that he couldn't devote very much to feeding himself.

Bailey, he noted, seemed to eat the same way, although he'd never really paid attention to the way she ate before. A small part of his mind noted that it made sense. Even as they made small talk about school projects and holidays and such, she knew she had to be ready at any moment.

Kent took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't eat anymore without breaking the tension.

"Should we do a couple?" he asked.

"Mm-hm", Bailey nodded in quick, jerky motion like she'd been waiting for him to ask, and stood up. "Where?"

The kitchen didn't leave them a lot of room for options, with the table crammed into the only space available. Bailey stood at the end of the table and braced herself against it, her upper body over top of the central plates of food.

"Good?" she asked.

"Hm."

She looked back over her left shoulder at him, nervous with anticipation, "What?"

"Maybe put your knee up?"

"Where?"

Kent pointed at the kitchen counter on her right. She inhaled as she looked over that side of her body, then shifted over and lifted her right leg up to set her bent knee on the counter.

"Good now?" she sounded irritated.

"Perfect," Kent said, taking a moment to admire how much of her he could see with her legs ninety degrees apart.

Her orientation pulled the red lace taut against her cheeks from where it flowed smoothly underneath her body. From this position, her left cheek didn't really recommend itself as a target, but the right she flexed and exhibited temptingly.

Kent laid his hand on her tightly clenched rear, feeling her shiver with trepidation.

When he struck her, she shrieked loud enough people might hear outside. "Seven!"

He pulled his hand back and slapped her left cheek again, eliciting a louder, "Eight!"

"Good," he announced, and returned to his seat.

Bailey exhaled with relief, still bent over their table of food, and slowly righted herself. Her shoulders relaxed then, and she quickly popped off to her bedroom. When she returned, bouncing and visibly more at peace with herself, Kent saw that she had switched to a black thong.

With a bit more energy and dedication, they dove into their food. Conversation flowed more freely as well, as if the spanking had broken open a dam of awkwardness across the table.

At the conclusion of dinner, they cleaned up the table, put away the food and started on the dishes. Kent started washing while Bailey walked back and forth across the small space and packed up the food. He glanced over just once as she leaned over the table to wipe it clean, burying the thin strand of material between her cheeks, then went back to focusing on his dishes, knowing he only had four spankings left this evening.

With most of the work done, Bailey started drying dishes off the rack. The very last thing he washed was the wooden spoon, which, as the drying rack lay empty, he handed directly to her. She dried it with the dish towel and their eyes met.

Kent raised a confused eyebrow, wondering what she meant by staring at him like this. Bailey replied by looking down at the wooden spoon and back at him. She sucked in her lips, bit down on them and gave a jerky little nod as she handed the dried spoon back to him.

"I-" he started to say, but she had already put her hands on the counter and stuck her hips out.

He hesitated, but moved around behind her. They'd done a lot of spankings over the past few weeks. Some he had delivered on her bare ass, some over her pants. Sometimes she bent over, sometimes she lay in his lap.

But he had always used his hand. Now, out of nowhere, Bailey offered him this.

"You sure?"

"Mh-hm," she nodded.

Kent had no real idea how much the spoon might hurt. While it didn't have a lot of heft to it, the tiny size of its surface would mean that it would focus all of his energy into a very small amount of her flesh.

He touched it to the thickest part of her rear, in the middle of her right cheek, figuring that if the force applied turned out way more than he expected, at least she had the most padding there.

Bailey inhaled and held her breath, which Kent took for all the cue he could expect.

With a careful backstroke which barely bent his elbow, he drew the spoon back and, with a quick flick of his wrist, brought it down on her cheek.

A puff of breath escaped through Bailey's mouth, followed by a slight snort through her nose.

"I'm not counting that," she said. "If I wanted pity, I'd go somewhere else."

"Fine," he said, wound up harder and slapped with the spoon.

This time she hissed, sucking air in through her teeth.

"Ha," Bailey exhaled after a moment, "Nine."

"Wow," Kent remarked.

"What?"

"The mark it left on you," Kent admired the little red ellipse.

Bailey tried to twist around but grew clearly frustrated that she couldn't get a good look. "I need to see," she said urgently and hopped off to her bedroom.

Kent followed her, still carrying the spoon, and found her with her right side facing the mirror she'd left leaning up against the wall, examining her cheek.

"That is a weird mark," she said. "Normally, it's just this sort of generic redness."

"Yeah," Kent admired both the mark and the protruding hip pose she'd adopted to examine it.

"Well?" Bailey asked.

"What?"

She nodded at the wooden spoon, "Do the other side?"

"Oh, right, yeah," Kent said.

Bailey rotated so her left side faced the mirror. Kent concluded, based on the intensity of her gaze, that she wanted to see everything happen. He consequently came around the far side of her body and reached over her back to lay the wooden spoon on her left cheek. As he touched her skin, she inhaled and bit her lip, her eyes entirely focused on her own body.

Trying to match the same force he'd used before, he wound up and brought the spoon down on her cheek with a loud, sharp smack.

Bailey winced, closing her eyes and groaning as her knees partially gave out.

"Ten," she whispered.

A tense moment followed, as she opened her eyes slowly and looked at the mark he had left.

"Good for now?" she asked.

"Mh-hm," Kent nodded, watching her looking at herself in the mirror, turning side to side.

Bailey straightened finally, eyeing the wooden spoon.

"Well," she said, "that was... different."

"Yeah," Kent turned it over in his hand, "I think I prefer the bare hand, though."

Bailey nodded, snatching the spoon from him a little too quickily, "I'll just put this way, then."

"Sure," Kent watched her walk past and followed her out of the room.

"Later," she waved over her shoulder.

By the time he got back to his desk, walking slightly awkwardly, Bailey came in behind him. She hung her sixth pair of panties up on his board and consequently had changed into a lacy blue pair.

"This is my last pair," she said. "And I'm not walkin' around naked."

Kent checked the clock in the corner of his computer screen, "I still got a few hours."

Bailey nodded, biting very slightly at her lower lip. "Right."

She walked out of the room, giving him a delightful view of the two angry red ovals on her cheeks.

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Bailey sat down at her desk very carefully. She counted herself fortunate that Kent had used the spoon on her upper part of her rear. By leaning forward, the sore flesh didn't touch the seat of her chair.

Reaching back with her right hand, she let the coolness of her fingertips sooth her tender flesh. She couldn't say for sure if the sudden, stinging shock of the spoon did more for her, or if the coolness after the pain did the trick, but a surge from inside her rushed down her spine and she squeezed her thighs together.

She pushed her left hand down between her legs and felt her eyes blur. Bailey didn't care right then that she'd left the door open. Kent surely meant to wait at least an hour or so before collecting the last of his due.

Her body started to slouch and, unaware of her fragile state, she let the sore spots on her cheeks touch the fabric of her chair.

"Ha!" she whispered, sitting bolt upright.

Dammit, she cursed inside, feeling the spell break. It's better to wait anyhow. What if he came by and saw me playing with myself?

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Bailey had so deeply ensconced herself in her homework that she felt a pang of surprise when Kent showed up at her door.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little slow and his eyes bleary.

A faint smile lay across his lips as he leaned his right shoulder against her door frame.

"Oh, hey," she felt her heart flutter, her eyes involuntarily tracing down the muscles of his right arm to his hand.

She counselled herself to patience, waving him into the room with a tired arm. He nodded in thanks, passing behind her chair as she rotated in the opposite direction, always enjoying the thrill of having him out of her sight, somewhere behind her. For a moment, Bailey listened to the swish of his jeans as he walked, until he reached her bed and leaned back on it.

"You busy, too?" he asked.

"Yeah, got a lot to catch up on," she agreed. "This shit never ends."

Kent, propped up on her bed with his arms behind him, looked up at the ceiling and puffed out his chest through his white t-shirt in a long, heavy sigh.

"Yeah, that."

"You still bitching about that group project?" she scolded him.

Kent laughed, "I was about to. But, thanks."

Bailey smirked, "Better."

"Christ, how long until we're done?" he asked, looking at the ceiling again.

"Assuming you mean school," she replied. "We've got three more semesters."

Kent rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"For the other thing," she said. "We have two more spankings. If you, y'know, have stopped feeling sorry for yourself."
"Alright, alright," Kent acquiesced, patting his lap. "Get your ass over here."

In his lap, Bailey tried not to wilt. And the lights are still at full brightness.

She had needed full lighting to do her homework and Kent hadn't thought to dim the lights on his way in. On the other hand, he'd seen her in her panties all day long, so she shouldn't let it bother her that much.

Bailey put her hands on the bed to his left, then climbed up with her knees on the other side of his body. She arched her back and lifted her hips up as high as she could, bending more than ninety degrees at her waist, feeling her muscles stretching down the back of her legs.

This left everything from her knees up to her lower back tight. It meant her muscles wouldn't offer any give when he spanked her.

Kent's right hand caressed her cheeks, raising frail little hairs down her legs and up her spine. His fingertips found the spot on her right cheek where the spoon had left its mark. Then his palm rested there too, his fingers splayed out.

She mostly suppressed a moan when she realized he'd chosen that as his target.

Kent inhaled as if to speak, probably intending to ask, as he always did, if she considered herself prepared, but he must have remembered the arrangement by that point: she got a discount in exchange for yielding to him the element of surprise.

Waiting patiently, she steadied her breathing, feeling his hand move away from her flesh. He could strike any time, so she kept her head turned away and closed her eyes, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling without any attempt to steel herself for -

His hand slapped her rear without warning, shaking her whole body and the bed with it.

Bailey groaned without thinking about it. "Eleven," she muttered, mostly into the pillow.

In her mind, his hand hovered in the air behind her, looking for a place to lash out. If only she'd thought to angle the mirror properly, she'd be able to watch it happen.

But I don't want to watch. It's supposed to be a surprise.

The last strike landed at the exact same place, with the same amount of force, taking out the last of his payment from already reddened flesh.

"Twelve," she moaned, lowering her hips and stretching her body out so her panty-clad not-so-private parts settled over the erection that strained at his jeans.

Kent, perforce, rested his hand on her abused right cheek, gently rubbing it in circles. Bailey let the motion move her whole body, exaggerating the effect so that she ground against him. Even through his jeans, she felt where his manhood pressed at her, shifting herself around with the motion of his massage so the stiffness poked her where she needed it.

Given the strength of his 'massage', mashing her body down into his lap, it seemed perfectly reasonable to let out a low moan of approval. They could both pretend it had to do with the massage and not the fact that the stiffness of his jeans, backed by his rock hard penis, rubbed against her lips over her clitoris.

She parted her legs just a little, not so obviously, but enough to make a better poke.

It's not my pillow, but it'll do.

"Mm-hm," she encouraged gently, and pushed her face down into her pillow.

Bailey felt her orgasm on its way, no more or less avoidable than an ocean wave cresting and breaking across a beach. Even if Kent stopped all motion now, her body would probably carry through.

But he didn't stop. Instead, his pressed even harder into her sore flesh, grating at the reddest part of her cheek, grinding their genitals together at this unorthodox and altogether pleasurable angle.

Bailey moaned into her pillow as her body seized up. If Kent still thought she made such noises out of appreciation for the massage, he had to be dumber than a sack of textbooks. Heedless of how obvious her orgasm had to be, she rode out the pulsing of her vaginal muscles and eventually turned her face aside from the pillow.

Alongside her own panting, she heard Kent taking deep, relaxing breaths.

"Mm," she murmured, indicating with a twitch she wanted to get up.

He seemed to have figured this out already, as he'd eased up on the massage, and he let her stand.

"Good for the night?" he asked.