Two Hundred Dollars Ch. 17

132 Dollars

Laura slipped into her bedroom just after ten o'clock, her teeth brushed and her flannel pyjamas on.

"Good night, mom," she called out. "Good night, dad."

"'night sweetie," her mom called back. "We're at the soup kitchen tomorrow, remember."

"Of course," she replied softly, closing the door and turning off the lights.

I paid my debt, she comforted herself, paid it ahead of time. I even took a shot at cleansing Bailey of her sins. I've done my duty.

The pyjamas, besides consisting of soft, freshly laundered flannel, also had a nice, stiff centre seam and a little extra hard nub where that met the inseam. Pressed over top of a standard issue pair of underwear, Laura knew it would work almost perfectly.

The rounded, wooden arm of her sofa chair still felt a bit too hard, even with all that in the way. Once her eyes adjusted to the faint light from her old digital clock, she compensated, as she always did, by folding a t-shirt over itself several times and laying it over the wood.

Finally, with the stage set, she put her right knee up on the chair, her left foot on the ground, and settled just enough of her weight on her crotch that the crotch point of her pyjamas nudged gently against her clitoris.

Can't go too hard, too early, she reminded herself as she braced herself with her hands on the back of the chair arm.

Instead, she gently slid her hips forward, running the hard length of the chair arm between her lips.

The sensation didn't match exactly with how Kent had felt when she'd sat in his lap, but it still felt good.

I wonder if I could sit on Kent like this? Would he let me straddle him, rub against him?

She waited a moment for the little preacher in her head to pipe in some fire and brimstone, but he remained silent.

I took my punishment and he knows it, Laura reminded herself.

As she stroked the chair with her body, the image of Bailey's bare cheeks came unbidden to the fore of her mind.

Yes, I spanked her, Laura let out a sigh of half regret, it's what I had to do, wasn't it? It wasn't my plan, but it probably worked.

Bailey had sounded a lot friendlier on the walk home and Laura had forced herself to accept that the most preposterous outcome of her friend's rationalization really had fixed their friendship.

Laura felt anew the anger that had flowed through her from the irritating Preacher in her head. She admitted that the pretentious little man had a purpose after all.

You make me feel bad and angry, she told him, and sometimes that's just perfect.

The silence from the mental version of her old pastor allowed her to move past the memory of Bailey-over-her-lap to something better.

Ah, yes, she let herself sink into a more arousing recollection, the sensation of Kent gripping her breast in his hand. The right breast, always the right because he has to stand on my left side and reach across and underneath.

The nature of the game with Bailey and Kent meant a lot of spanking, and Laura counted that acceptable, delightful and sinful all at the same time. To spank her, he had to use his right hand. To use his right hand, he must stand on her left. And this evening, she'd made sure his left hand formed a nice cup for her breast.

Laura moaned softly, feeling again the sensation when Kent had softly pinched her nipple through her sweater.

Normally, when pleasuring herself, she kept both hands on the chair to support herself, insurance again jamming the hard wooden arm into her crotch if her legs started to wobble as she neared orgasm.

This night, though, she kept her right arm on the chair and drew her left arm up to push against her breast, flattening it against her chest without curving her fingers.

Oh, I can't, she whined in her head, I can't touch myself.

So there is a shame too deep, is there?

She cursed her inner demons and forced her left hand into a cup, holding her breast against her body a bit more tenderly.

That's how Kent did it, she remembered, still rolling her hips back and forth, just held me in his grip the first time.

Try as she might, Laura couldn't play with her nipple, not the way Kent had done. With her breast in her hand, she could tell herself it was just a hug, just a thing people did when they felt cold. It felt good without going too far.

Only a matter of time, harlot, unless you choose a different path.

I'm kinda locked on this path, now.

Squeezing her breast in one hand, supported herself with the other, Laura began madly humping away at the chair, letting the seam of her pyjamas dig past her lips and grind more directly into her clitoris.

Impulsively, the right hand abandoned the chair, too, swinging around her back to grip at the lowest, sorest part of her right cheek, the place Kent had spanked her when she'd been over his arm.

Letting out a groan, Laura squeezed herself, remembering the sharp crack of Kent's hand against her rear.

Oh, god!

Her orgasm crashed across her, weakening her knees and dropping too much of her weight onto her genitals. Involuntarily, her hands left her body and she braced herself against the chair. The excessive force had not stopped her orgasmic twitching, but had diminished it somewhat.

Ow.

Laura waited the last pulses out before gingerly extricating herself from the chair. She let out a sigh as she discarded the t-shirt onto the surface of her dresser.

A little too warm now, she realized, and undid the buttons of her flannel top.

The room had just enough light that she could see herself, eerily underlit, in the mirror over her dresser.

I wonder if Kent wants to see me nakeder, she thought, eyeing her cleavage through the gap in her pyjamas. I could probably make him a deal.

She grimaced as she rubbed her pubic bone.

Came down a bit too hard, didn't we? Laura rubbed gentle circles over the sore spot. Erections aren't that hard, are they? I mean, they call it "wood", but it's not really that hard, right? Can't be. I'm sure it would be fine.

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Kent woke up late on Saturday morning, contentment flowing through him as it never had, knowing his ease would overwhelm any desire he had to accomplish anything school related until some time past lunch.

He knew the girls hadn't kept him up all that long on Friday. In the general scheme of things, getting to bed around eleven o'clock shouldn't have hampered him. But once Bailey and Laura had thrown in all that sexual tension, plus the anticipation of Bailey's return and their eventual climactic ending, his body had felt thoroughly used up, his soul in a state of bliss. Throw in a nice hot shower after all that, and he'd slept well and deeply.

Ten o'clock rolled around and he hadn't quite mustered the energy or the will to lift his head. Instead, he lay on his left side, gazing languidly at the door, watching the sunlight from the high window above and behind his head move across its surface.

The door, no one having closed it, never mind locked it, glided silently open. Bailey stepped through and shut it behind her. Their eyes met, sleepily, and his gaze slid down the long beige night coat she had wrapped tightly about her narrow frame.

"Hey," she murmured, her eyes softly narrowing as she carefully walked the floor.

Kent noted that he'd fallen asleep well back from the edge of the bed, which meant he didn't need to move to make room for Bailey. She untied her robe and slipped it off, revealing a long, loose t-shirt that covered her just past her cheeks. From Kent's point of view, he saw only long pale thighs.

"Cold," she pouted plaintively.

Don't think I didn't notice, Kent got a glimpse of the tips of her nipples pressing against her shirt before she slipped under his bed sheets and backed into him.

He summoned enough energy to arrange his arms, one under her neck, one around her waist, and Bailey completed her self-envelopment in his embrace.

"Warmer now?" he muttered, maintaining a hard edge of sarcasm.

"Soon."

"Hm."

Kent listened to her breathing, felt the soft rise and fall of her belly under his hand, the restful pace of someone at peace with herself.

So that really solved her problems? Getting spanking by Laura fixed her?

Night time events often seemed absurd once the sunlight shone on them, and Kent had learned much earlier in life not to judge midnight by the standards of the high noon. Even taking into account all of the skew he had learned to apply, he still had trouble believing that Laura had spanked Bailey last night in exactly the same place she lay tucked against his body twelve hours later.

He had nothing else beside that to talk about, however, and it seemed Bailey had nothing to contribute either. So they lay in what he took for mutual, contented silence, and he listened to her breathe, felt her heart beat, and held her under his warm blanket.

Bailey shifted her upper body, sharp shoulder blades pushing against his chest, her bare legs moving slightly against his, making every little hair on his legs stand on end. As she rotated her body against his, turning to face him, her shirt twisted and drew upward, her bare cheeks brushed against his thighs briefly before they rotated away underneath her body.

Kent lifted his chin so Bailey could nestle her nose against his throat, then adjusted his embrace to hold her as they interlocked their legs.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mm-hm."

No matter how exhausted the rest of his body might feel, and never mind the contentment in his mind, his penis had its own motivations, and Kent felt an erection growing. Still pointed downwards, it pushed against his shorts and into Bailey's trim little triangle.

She murmured in appreciation and gently pushed back, stroking herself against him.

Kent felt a little nip as her teeth caught a bit of the flesh over his throat. Her nibbles travelled their gradual way up to his chin, her head arcing away from his as her teeth did their work.

Their eyes met for a moment and closed. Their heads turned so their noses wouldn't meet.

Kent felt Bailey's lips lightly brush against his.

That wasn't a kiss, though, was it? Kent noted. More like a... a... pre-kiss. It's the thing you do when you're ready to kiss and then you really get into it.

Bailey's lips slid sideways across his to his cheek, then back again.

Any second now, Kent waited anxiously. It'll kick in right... about... now?

Her lips brushed past his again, mysteriously vacant of passion.

Am I doing this wrong? I've kissed girls before. I know how it works. Why isn't this working? Why can't I kiss her?

Bailey tucked her head down under his chin again.

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

What the fuck is wrong with me? Bailey wondered, her panic-widened eyes hidden in the hollow of Kent's neck. Why can't I kiss him?

She closed her eyes and pushed her hips into him.

That part works just fine.

Bailey noted the awkwardness she had created by pushing her body into his erection, trapping it while it still pointed downward. His growing stiffness tried to elevate his penis, but it only pushed again the lower part of her lips.

It pushes hard, though, and I like that.

Kent's right hand reached around her and grabbed her cheek, knowing exactly how hard and where she liked to be squeezed, almost pinching the sorest parts.

He nailed that, she realized with an appreciative moan, but we can't manage a kiss?

She knew, instinctively, the problem had to lie with her. Somehow, her insecurities about her body prevented her from pushing her relationship with Kent any further. Bailey's decided her problem must live inside her somewhere.

Pulling away from Kent, she reached down to pull his shorts away from his body, letting his erection spring upward. Immediately slamming their bodies together again, she felt pressure in all the right places.

"On top, on top," she urged, rolling onto her back and pulling Kent after her.

We'll just skip out on kissing. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.

Kent slid into place between her legs, pushing his erection against her bare lips.

"No panties," Kent breathed into her ear, his shoulder and chest looming over her face.

"Yeah," she answered, spreading her legs and locking them around his back.

Why haven't we done this before? she wondered. So... open. Wide... open.

Kent did some good work, softly twisting away at her, delving in with the length of his shaft to find all the good spots. Occasionally, she lifted her hips upwards, telling him she wanted it a little harder, but mostly she moaned in his ear to let him know when he found something good.

Clever, too, she thought. He knows the good spots, but he doesn't just grind away at them.

Bailey looked down her body, past her night shirt, whose hem had lifted above her navel when they'd rolled.

She considered just lifting her shirt up, letting him see her, all of her. The arithmetic came into her head without prodding. Naked, it took less than four hundred spankings to clear her debt. Fully clothed, over a thousand.

He's seen everything else. I've seen - Oh!

Down below her belly, the head up his erection poked over the waistband of his shorts every time he thrust against her, a clear drop of fluid shining on the tip.

I've seen all of him. Why can't I show him all of me?

Even while her hips moved against him, though, her hands couldn't move to the hem of her shirt.

Can't, can't, can't.

Bailey couldn't even imagine it. She couldn't envision Kent's reaction. That whole side of her mental fantasy just stopped between her neck and the bottom of her rib cage. She imagined it like one of those pirate maps from old movies, "Here there be dragons."

I'm a blank slate, flat and boring.

If Kent sensed any of the mental battle inside her, he didn't show it. Instead, he bit her neck and she felt her body go limp as her vision blurred. An insensate moan issued involuntarily from somewhere deep in her soul as she gave herself over to the coming orgasm.

Kent knew he'd done something right and he bit harder.

He's leaving a mark, some part of Bailey noted in helpless dismay, everyone will know... they'll know...

Some other person, inside her body, let out a screech. Her body went from limp doll into some kind of frightened, drowning animal, her arms and legs desperately clinging to Kent to save her from the impending tidal wave.

No! she wanted to shout, the built-up tension inside her reaching levels normally reserved for pain.

Kent pushed down, hard enough that she felt abrasion on the sore parts of her cheeks, rubbing against the bed sheets.

Her throat seized up as orgasm crashed across her, a distant part of her glad that some force had come along to prevent her from screaming, since her willpower alone wouldn't have managed. Kent didn't stop driving, though. Did he know he had her in the middle of an orgasm? Did he understand the over-sensitivity she felt then, even as he made it worse? Bailey thought he did, and pushed her anyway, because that's how the two of them had always worked.

The spasms faded and Bailey gasped for breath.

"You?" she asked. "You now?"

"Okay," he grunted. "Okay."

"Come on," Bailey humped her hips up against him.

She thought she might try to bite him, return the favour and give him something to explain to his friends, but he moved away to line himself up differently against her, changing the angles for his own needs.

This is where he needs it? she noted. I feel like I should remember.

Looking down, Bailey saw his tip poking up in the air at about a forty five degree angle against her pussy. She knew enough physics to make a stark realization.

That's going to create the optimal trajectory for a projectile, assuming we can ignore air resistance.

Bailey decided it safe to ignore air resistance.

"That's it, that's it," she encouraged softly.

Kent's eyes met hers, just for a moment, and his body seized up, forcing his eyes closed. He grunted just as she looked down, so she caught his first volley launching over her body, landing a wet line from her right shoulder, down over her covered breast to the hem of her shirt.

A second grunt fired semen over her breast bone, and a third played out as a strafing shot across her lower rib cage, decorating both her flesh and the gathered up hem of her shirt.

This would be easier to clean up if it were all on my skin, Bailey kept her frown internal, using her hips to milk out the last of Kent's orgasm over her belly in a small puddle.

Gingerly, with a wince, Kent rolled off her and lay on his side, friction and gradual shrinkage withdrawing his former erection into his shorts.

"Hoo," he sighed.

"Yeah," Bailey agreed with his sentiment and examined the front of her body.

He'd laid three distinct streaks on her thin body, two lengthwise and one across. Where it touched her skin, especially the puddle extending from her navel down to to the upper edge of her pubic hair, she grew cold.

"You, uh, have a shirt I can borrow?" she asked.

"Oh, sure," Kent jolted, starting to rise, "The second drawer-"

Bailey quickly braced his shoulder with her closest hand. "No, it's alright, I'll get it."

She carefully rose up and sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. Removing her shirt, while keeping it away from her body, she pulled it over her head and used it to wipe up the semen threatening to drip down into her pubic hair. Bailey didn't want to have to scrub that out later.

I'm naked now, she noted. Naked, in a room with Kent. If I turned around now, he'd see me. See my little breasts. What would he think? Would he say anything?

But she didn't turn around, deciding that she wanted Kent as horny as possible the first time he saw her naked chest.

These little bumps need all the help they can get.

"Just throw it in with my laundry," Kent offered, "I'll take care of it later."

Nodding, she dropped the rolled up bundle of shirt in the hamper at the end of his bed and stood up.

Still naked, still with Kent.

She felt a certain delicious thrill, feeling his eyes on the back of her body, tracing over the red and pink spots on her cheeks from the night before. Leaning over just a little, she opened the second drawer of his dresser and leafed through the stack of neatly folded shirts.

He can see me, she thought happily. And I know he likes my butt. He's willing to give up a couple of spankings to see it. It's my breasts I'm not so sure about.

She selected the longest shirt she could find, a simple white number with a Laurentian University logo on it.

Shimmying into it and feeling it fall comfortably down far enough to cover her crotch, she turned to look at Kent.

"Who went to Laurentian?" she asked.

"Cousin," he answered. "Pretty proud of himself. I guess he wanted me to go up there with him."

Bailey crawled back into his bed and pulled the covers up, keeping her head below the level of his.

"That's a long way north for you," she observed quietly.

"Yeah," Kent pulled her into the warmth of his embrace, as they fell into a contented silence and, eventually, slept.