Two Hundred Dollars Ch. 15

Laura's Day

2 Dollars

November 1

If you sit in a Comparative Religions class long enough, you start to realize that there's nothing particularly special about the religion to which your parents raised you. Every single religion out there teaches that it owns the only path to god, or heaven or nirvana or whatever.

Laura had figured out this sometime in the previous year, and had chosen to continue studying religions, hoping the education would free her mind just a little more.

"Hey, Laura," a small voice called out to her as the class broke up.

She turned to see a tall, quiet girl approach her.

"Mel, how are you?" she greeted her classmate.

Melanie swept a few stray strands of black hair out of her face as she held her backpack tightly against her chest and closed with Laura.

"That party last night," Melanie said.

"Yeah, are you okay?"

Melanie nodded, "I'd never met that guy before, but it seemed okay. I mean it was a party at Connor's, right?"

"Connor's a good guy," Laura agreed. "He said he didn't know how that Frankenstein guy got in. He didn't know him at all."

With a sniff, Melanie went on, "That was really creepy. I've never had anyone... try that before."
"Yeah, I'm glad Kent caught him," Laura said.

"Yeah!" Melanie gasped out. "You know... Kent?"

Laura nodded, "I, uh, run into him. He's a friend of a friend."

Well, Laura thought, I could probably just call Kent a 'friend' at this point and be done with it, but whatever.

"Could you tell him 'thanks' for me?" Melanie said, then shivered. "I can't imagine-"

Laura put a hand on Melanie's forearm, "Don't imagine, okay, Mel? We look out for ourselves and we look out for each other, right?"

"Right," Melanie agreed. "Just... just thank him for me."

"No problem," Laura said.

Melanie lowered her backpack long enough to embrace Laura and the two quickly parted ways.

That was rough, Laura thought, I really don't know what to say.

Her parents had sheltered her like crazy since infancy, as per the teachings of their church.

It's not the worst part of the church's teaching, but I missed so much growing up...

Laura walked home, knowing the turn that took her towards her house instead of the apartment where Bailey, Kent and... a completely different version of herself lived. Her heart skipped a beat just looking down the street that led towards their basement digs.

That's the park where he spanked her, right out in the open. Maybe I could get Kent to spank me like that, if it didn't upset Bailey too much.

She let out a sigh.

If only Bailey hadn't gotten so upset about my solo session with Kent. I'm sure he'd love to do it.

Her breath shuddered.

Even if there's no money at stake. But that would still run afoul of Bailey's feelings. And why shouldn't it?

Laura couldn't quite bring herself to start calling Kent 'Bailey's boyfriend'. Their relationship didn't work the normal way, assuming 'normal' relationships even existed. Whatever Bailey felt for Kent, she wanted a certain, very specific level of exclusivity.

You don't try to steal your best friend's boyfriend. That's just not done.

And since Bailey had confided in her that she and Kent had taken things a little further down the road toward a relationship, it got Laura thinking about Kent.

Has Bailey actually, you know, seen him? Or is it top of the clothes stuff they're doing?

So many questions occurred to her that she should have asked that morning, but she'd wanted to tell Bailey about how Kent had groped her.

Dumb. Bailey's story was way more important. I should have let her have her moment.

Arriving at her house, she unlocked the door. While the lock made it very likely she'd beaten her parents home, she couldn't know for certain.

"Mom? Dad?"

Silence greeted her and she locked the door behind her. Prudent girls did that sort of thing and her parents had lent her a strong fear of strangers since childhood.

And Frankenstein monsters aside, that makes sense doesn't it? Also, it gives me time alone.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Touching yourself is wrong.

Laura shook her head.

It's a sin, a descent into hedonism and a path away from goodness. It's a sign of weakness.

Several portraits of Caucasian Jesus beamed down at her beatifically.

Ugh, this is why there are no pictures in my room.

Laura had told her parents she liked a spartan, simplistic feel for her bedroom; a simple lie.

Lying is a sin, too. Lying to your parents to avoid the gaze of the Saviour is even worse.

She shook her head, Only if you're into Kant and his Categorical Imperative. If I need to lie to make my life better, then I can lie. I only have to lie because my parents won't let me have this little bit of freedom.

Declaring a desire for blank walls meant that the lack of Jesus in her room didn't look too suspicious to her parents.

The longer I don't go to church, the less guilt I feel.

Laura closed her bedroom door behind her and looked at her bed. In her mind, she visualized Connor's guest bedroom, with all its hanging fabrics and dark wood. In the corner of her room, she kept a little, cloth sofa chair with a lamp over it for reading. She'd discovered a more important purpose for it a few years ago. While fabric covered most of the surface of the chair, its arms had a rounded, smooth length of polished wood running their entire lengths. If she put a thin piece of clothing over the wood, like the folded t-shirt she laid over it now, and put one knee on the seat of the chair, as she did next, the hardness of the wood became perfect.

With one foot on the floor, Laura settled the weight of her upper body on her crotch, pushing against her lips and her vagina.

I'm not touching myself, she said sharply, apologizing to someone non-specific, so it's okay. It doesn't feel wrong.

But it's wrong. You should do something else. Do your homework. Clean the house. Go get a snack. This is sin!

But it's fine, she told the stupid church elder in her head, I can do whatever I want.

She gently humped along the chair arm, sliding her body against its length, softly nudging her clitoris.

A thumping came down the hallway and Laura heard the door lock shaking.

Dammit. Caught!

She stood up immediately, blood draining from her face.

It's fine. It's fine. You're not caught. Nothing is wrong.

She put the t-shirt back in her dresser and comported herself. Her mother would expect her to help with dinner soon.

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

Lying in bed that night, Laura didn't consider getting up. A fine thing if her parents heard her humping the chair in the middle of the night!

I can't touch myself. I can't touch myself.

She remembered Halloween, letting her thoughts drift for a moment, and saw the shocked look on Kent's face when she showed him Dakota's little toy. Oh, it had hurt, but the pain ranked as nothing next to the excitement it brought her, the pride in showing him something new.

God, why do I want him to do that so badly?

It's because you're a bad person.

I'm not a bad person.

You're weak because you want this.

It's pleasure. What's wrong with it?

You didn't earn it. You don't deserve it.

Ugh. Shut up.

Maybe, if things turned out well enough, she could find a way to include herself again on Friday. Or maybe just get a moment by herself with her chair.

That's what makes the spankings okay.

Because that's what your Mother and Father did when they caught you touching yourself?

I didn't even know what masturbation was. I wasn't even at puberty.

You were old enough to know better. And they punished you.

I didn't know better, and they punished me.

She sighed, trying to shut down the internal dialogue she constantly had with the little Mormon preacher she carried with her everywhere she went.

The spankings did feel good in a sense, because they came through a bit like punishment. So whatever guilt her orgasms gave her she could get Kent to wipe away. But getting spanked like that didn't feel solely like punishment.

You're enjoying it, too, so it doesn't count. You're not supposed to enjoy yourself.

Why not?

That enjoyment is only for marriage.

No, it isn't.

You're a sinner and a fraud. You're stealing pleasure from your Saviour.

My Saviour isn't here. Look at the walls.

Silence, then, from the preacher.

Some time later, she fell into a peaceful sleep.

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

November 2

Laura warmed her hands over around her tea cup, glad that Bailey had time to come over. Friday nights ought to be spent at parties and such, but Wednesday had run so late, she didn't have a whole lot of "party" in her at the moment. Tea on a cold night, however, came through perfectly.

Bailey had kept quiet, though, and Laura wanted to prod her a little. She'd stolen Bailey's moment, really, with her little boob-groping interruption, and Bailey deserved a bit more time to talk about her encounter.

"So? What happened last night?"

It turned out, however, that Kent and Bailey hadn't picked up where they'd left off. They'd just done what sounded like platonic spankings and talked.

They talked about me?

Laura set Bailey straight, making sure to look her right in the eyes and make sure her friend understood that she'd never, ever felt forced to do anything with her and Kent.

"Was that all?" Laura asked, because she sensed something else wrong with Bailey's attitude.

Bailey grumbled, sipped her tea and blew out an exasperated breath.

"I did thirty over top, okay?"

"Okay."

Go on, tell me the rest.

"Then I offered him, y'know, some free ones."

That's generous. You must be feeling some intangible level of debt over the bra and panty set. Have you even shown him the whole thing yet? I should ask, but maybe later.

"Free ones?"

"Yeah, I pulled down my pants and everything."

"And then?"

"He said 'no'. Just turned me down with my butt sticking out at him."

That sounds awful. Rejection is one thing, but rejection when you're basically naked, exposed emotionally and physically -- sexually even. That's the worst kind of hurt. You should be crying right now if you were the type to cry. But you never do, not even in front of me.

Silence stretched between them.

I should say something soothing, to let you know it's okay to cry.

But Bailey looked angry. Not 'anger that covers vulnerability' but some other kind of anger.

Free ones.

Laura peered at Bailey harder.

"How many 'free ones' did you offer him?"

"Does it matter?"

Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you know it matters, Bailey.

"How many?"

"I guess I offered eight. You know, as a gift."

If you pulled your panties down, which I suspect you did, that works out to exactly two dollars.

"Eight."

"Eight," Bailey confirmed.

I have to fix this. She's still angry about that day I stopped by. She's still trying to fix it on her own, and she can't. Kent won't even let her because he has his own rules. We have to talk this out, somehow, and make it better. I can't have my friend angry at me.

You see the trouble this is causing. Your masturbation led to this punishment. And that led to all this further debauchery. And the debauchery will ruin your friendships and your life.

Shut up, shut up, shut up. I can fix this.

Laura walked past Bailey and called down the stairs to her mother.

"Bailey and I are going out for a walk. We'll be back in an hour or two," she called down the stairs.

"Where are we actually going?" Bailey asked.

You want debauchery, stupid preacher man? I'll give you debauchery.

"L.C.B.O.," she told Bailey.

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

Having procured a bottle of an Irish Cream not named after her friend, they left the liquor store with her ill-intended gains in a plain, brown paper bag.

Laura unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a slug straight out of it.

I'm going to need this to get through the next couple of hours.

She offered it to Bailey, who glared at her wide-eyed, appeared to start objecting, then took the bag and took a shot of her own.

"Good," Laura said. "We need a plan."

"We do?"

"We're going to your place, hoping that Kent is home."

"Oka-ay," Bailey looked worriedly at Laura.

"I have a proposal for the two of you," she explained.

"Do I get to hear it first?"

Laura nodded, "I'm going to ask Kent if I can borrow twenty bucks."

Bailey coughed. "What? Why?!"

"Then I'll have my own debt and you won't get upset at me anymore," Laura said.

"Laura, c'mon," Bailey pleaded. "That's silly. I don't have a problem with you joining in."

You're right it's stupid. What's dumber is the thing you're pretending to be angry about.

Outwardly, Laura shook her head, "But you're getting closer to him, and I'm going to start getting in the way."

"No, no," Bailey waved her hands and sighed, grabbing for the bottle.

She took another drink and handed it back to Laura.

"It's okay when you're there," Bailey said, "And it's okay when you're not. Really."

I don't know. I don't know if you mean it. You're still angry about me intruding on your debt. That can't just be because of the debt, or your rules, or any of that. It's about you... you and Kent.

"We still need a plan," Laura said. "Right?"

"Sure," Bailey agreed, probably believing that she had way-laid Laura's idea of self-imposed debt.

You haven't, though, do you know that, Bai? You haven't. I'm still going to try to fix this and make you see how dumb you're being.

"How many can your butt handle?" Laura asked. "You haven't had a break since Halloween and you did, what, thirty more last night?"

"We could do two each," Bailey said, "maybe we could add a third, but I'm not really sure."

"How?"

"How?" Bailey echoed.

"Pants down, panties off, what?"

"Pants down for the first one," Bailey said. "Then panties off for the second."

"That's good," Laura took another swig from her bottle. "Ooh, should we undress each other? I think that really does it for Kent."

"Yeah, yeah," Bailey agreed with a smirk.

They continued quietly discussing their plans for the next two blocks.

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

By the time they reached the apartment, Laura felt the alcohol and the two of them had to navigate the stairs with some care.

A wave of fresh sobriety flowed through her the moment she saw Kent.

I do not want to be too drunk to feel this. The spanking justifies the orgasms.

Further sins cannot make up for previous sins.

I understand religion better than you do. Everyone internally decides their own justifications. The spankings work if I think they work.

She stumbled through the conversation with Kent about as well as she had managed the stairs, but became more aware when she heard Bailey speak.

"We know what we're doing," her friend said, "And we decided ahead of time anyway."

"Mostly," Laura had to pipe up, honesty forcing the word from her lips.

"Mostly?" Bailey questioned her.

Oops, shouldn't have said anything at all.

She suffered through the two Canadians making fun of her pronunciation of "detail", thinking that a bunch of people who pronounced it "lef-tenant" shouldn't mock anybody else.

Watching Bailey sit in Kent's lap, she wished she'd gotten there first, wished he'd find a way to squeeze her breast like he'd done before.

See how you wish for sin? This isn't mortification of the flesh at all, but more debauchery.

If the spanking hurts a bit, it still counts.

"She's really looking forward to this," she heard Bailey issue a mocking whisper to Kent.

"Shut up!"

"So you've resolved all your problems? I don't want to come between you."

Oh, I have a solution to Bailey's problem, and I can't ever be drunk enough to pull it off, but for the sake of our friendship, I'll try.

She giggled uncontrollably.

"Almost all our problems," she told Kent, "But we can get to that later."

Bailey glared a mine shaft's worth of drilling through to the back of Laura's skull.

Friend of mine, you can't stop me now.

She quizzed Kent and Bailey then, wanting to know what secret Bailey had kept from her the last time, on Halloween.

This inspection sounds brilliant. He'll look at me afterwards and tell me how red I am, tell me how hard he punished me. I'll have proof. It'll count for sure.

You are only delighting in your participation in the pushing of this man into further sin. This means nothing! Nothing!

It hadn't fit into the plans she and Bailey had made, but a quick conversation in the hallway straightened it out.

"We'll just do three, then," Laura whispered. "You're okay with that."

"Yeah, sure, are you?"

"Yeah!" she said, a little too loudly. "I wanna do this 'inspection' thing. Does he spank harder for it?"

Bailey jogged her head, "You can get him to, if you invite it."

So the more I push him, the harder he'll spank, the better I'll feel.

This will not straighten you out with your Saviour, harlot!

Oh, fie on you! Laura pushed the preacher from her mind.

She and Bailey posed for Kent and she heard Kent's assurance that her cheeks showed no signs of his Halloween spankings.

So everything I see in the mirror later will be fresh from today.

Watching Bailey get her spanks, Laura kept her fisted hands in her lap, pushing down between her legs. Her knuckles didn't have the right shape or hardness, but they pressed tightly against her lips and she could feel the wetness inside.

Later. I'll take care of myself later.

When her turn came, she wanted to make sure Kent did her just as hard as Bailey did. She needed to get her cheeks up nice and high, but since she stood shorter than Bailey, she didn't see how. She looked around Kent's room, hoping to find a couple of textbooks or something she could stack.

But who buys textbooks anymore? Oh!

Her eyes lit upon the stepping stool.

Perfect!

Bent over, she wanted to make sure Kent understood the strength of her invitation.

"You'll really be able to see a difference?" she asked him. "When you inspect us?"

That brought on the very best of Kent, and she taunted him whenever it looked like he might waver.

She counted the spankings, feeling the pain shaking through her body.

As you deserve, woman of sin!

Cleansing me of my guilt.

She closed her eyes, hearing the preacher curse her weakness, and counted through the numbers.

Harlot! Woman of the Devil! Sinner! Repent!

I'm taking my punishment. I'll be fine. I'm earning the next sin, too.

That is not how it works, vile creature!

When the spankings stopped, the voice left her head and she stood up.