Two Hundred Dollars Ch. 25

49 Dollars

Stunned out of all sexual arousal, Bailey laid herself flat out on Kent's bed, absently noting the way the bed sank as Kent sat down beside her. Considering himself tacitly invited by her longstanding appreciation of his massages, his hands moved to her sore cheeks and began rubbing gentle, healing circles.

"I'd never thought of it that way," she told him in a quiet voice. "I'm the good girl and Laura's the bad girl."

"Really?" Kent didn't pause in his ministrations, "It seems obvious. More so now that you're wearing white underwear."

"Since when is it obvious?" Bailey squeaked out, "Just this weekend?"

Laura had made out a few obvious statements in that regard, about her sinfulness and such, but only in the last few days.

"No, before that," Kent replied slowly, his hands pausing and resuming. "You've always felt like you were doing something wise and smart, making a fair trade, right?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"And Laura has always been about something else," Kent said. "Repaying you for getting her out of whatever trouble she got in, like the spankings counted as the punishment she deserved for whatever that was."

"But now it's just punishing her for, y'know, her orgasms," Bailey pointed out.

"Right," Kent agreed. "Orgasms are bad. Spankings are for bad girls. So if she gets spanked, it works out."

"Bailey, spankings good," Bailey intoned, "Laura, spankings bad."

"Uh huh," he went on. "Although I'm never sure if the spankings are for the last orgasm or the next one."

"What?" Bailey twisted around.

What the fuck are you talking about?

"When I spank her," Kent stopped, his grip tight on the muscles she'd tensed up in order to turn and state at him. "I think sometimes I'm spanking her to punish her for the orgasm that happens after the spanking."

"That can't be a thing," Bailey dismissed it with a twist of her hand. She turned to Kent with a worried look, "Can it?"

"Not my religion," Kent took his hands off her butt to wave his hands defensively.

"Or anyone's, I bet."

"There are billions of people on Earth," Kent pointed. "I doubt any two of them believe the exact same thing."

"Hmph," Bailey didn't feel like agreeing.

But what does that mean for Laura? I'm going to have to talk to her about this, won't I?

Bailey, looking across the floor at her discarded panties, decided she would pay a lot more attention to the colours from now on. She would have to talk to Laura, though, as it seemed like a decent friend ought to have a few words and make sure the air had cleared.

What should I do? She's so happy right now, like I've never seen her.

Bailey spared a glance at the white board, realizing only forty nine dollars remained of her original two hundred dollars.

Not much longer, at this pace.

And what then?

For me. For Laura.

What then?

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

Kent knew that the cumulative effect of his encounters with Bailey and Laura had warped his entire outlook on sexuality. He knew, for instance, that when he came back to the apartment on Tuesday, he'd find Bailey and she'd ask for more spankings. The conclusion read out so clearly in his mind that he didn't feel the need to rush things.

When we started doing this, I'd make sure to make a bit of noise coming in, hoping she'd hear me. Now I know better.

Instead, Kent slipped in quietly, walked past his bedroom and hit the kitchen, an ardent need to quench his thirst with a glass of cool water. Feeling a little perplexed about his thirst relative the weather, he opened the freezer and dropped a pair of ice cubes in his glass. He didn't hear Bailey come out of her room until he'd filled his glass from the jug of filtered water in the fridge.

"I haven't talked to Laura yet," Bailey fretted as she came in.

"About what?" Kent poured himself a glass of water from the filtered container in the fridge.

"This whole good-bad thing?"

"Oh," Kent sounded surprised as he closed the fridge. "Now you're worried about that?"

Bailey shrugged and ticked her chin down the hallway, "Kinda. But she's cramping right now, so..."

Kent nodded his understanding, "Maybe in another day or two."

"Right," Bailey agreed hesitantly. "I made four marks on the board, though."

"Going pretty hard, aren't we?"

"I don't like being in debt," Bailey turned her nose up, then looked around the kitchen.

"Here?" Kent asked.

"Should be fine," Bailey pulled one of the chairs from the kitchen table in the middle of the open floor. "Sit down."

"O-kay," Kent replied slowly, setting his glass down on the table behind his chair. "What are we doing?"

Bailey stood on his right side and unbuttoned her jeans. Kent looked, well past the point where he wanted to pretend he didn't want to stare. She pushed her jeans and panties down all at once, letting him get a brief look at her pussy before she leaned over. He took her weight, feeling her body press down over his lap until her hands could reach the floor on his left.

"Comfortable?" he wondered aloud.

"Good enough," she said. "Do them fast, though. I don't know what kind of time we have."

"Fast?"

"Well," Bailey wiggled uncomfortably. "You don't have to. It's your dollar."

"Uh-huh."

Kent surveyed the cheeks before him. The balancing out he'd done the day before, hammering her left cheek to match the right, had almost faded.

"I can go fast," he said. "But it's going to make you extra sore."

"Whatever," Bailey huffed, the awkward position making it difficult to breathe, "I haven't been able to sit down properly for days."

Kent squeezed her right cheek, "Should we go with that, then?"

Bailey didn't answer, leaving Kent in a quandary.

What does she want here? Am I supposed to go hard on her seat or have we actually crossed the threshold where she doesn't want it anymore?

He stalled, massaging her cheeks with both hands, feeling her tense and shiver under his grip.

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

I'm kind of ripping him off here, Bailey realized. I know what he wants to do, and it's his money. If he wants to spank me low, I should let him.

She also knew how rough the last few days had gone for her, sitting down gingerly everywhere she went. Some of her lectures were held in the old halls, the ones with hard, wooden or plastic seats.

I should tell him to go ahead. Dare him or taunt him or something.

But part of her whimpered inside, too.

The conflict inside Bailey welled up out of her chest, constricting her vocal chords.

I want the debt gone. This is the only way past it. I already made the marks, but I can't handle what he deserves to get from me.

"Gah," she said out loud and pushed herself upright.

She slid her jeans and panties all the way to the floor and put a leg over Kent so she could straddle him.

"Look," she said, "I want to do my four dollars, but I can't take it low. I need at least a day where I can sit down."

The sympathy in Kent's eyes shook her right down to the base of her spine.

"I see," Kent gulped.

I need to make an offer, something to salve the way I'm stealing from him.

"You remember with Laura?" Bailey asked.

"Specifically?"

"Oh," Bailey looked at the ceiling and sighed. "I wish I had some whipping cream."

"Oh?"

"She looked so pretty," Bailey moaned sadly, remembering her friend's curves, "her nipple all hard while you were sucking on it."

"I remember," Kent inhaled sharply as she felt him harden underneath her.

"How about that, then?"

"How about what?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You do the spankings high," Bailey said slowly. "But I, um, well ... here!"

She used her right hand to lift one side of her shirt up and exposed her breast to him, pressing it toward his face.

"Suck on your nipple?"

"Uh-huh," she breathed, watching his lips move toward her.

"Too bad there's no whipping cream."

Bailey squeaked, feeling his breath over her skin.

If only we had some. If only, if only.

Her eyes frantically looked around the kitchen, brainlessly hoping to find some whipped cream lying around.

Even a can of the fake stuff would be fine right now, she thought, imagining the sound it would make if she sprayed a little floret over her breast.

Her eyes lit on the glass of ice water behind Kent.

Who drinks ice water in the middle of November?

Bailey didn't care, reaching past Kent to dip her fingers in the water and bring those wet digits back to her chest. She shivered and jerked as the coldness touched her sensitive areola, dripping down her flesh, in little dots, making her nipple harden.

That's got him, Bailey realized her triumph as Kent's lips wrapped around her nipple, tacitly accepting the deal.

Kent's hands, already squeezing her cheeks, swung out into the air.

Oh, god. He's doing double spa-

The first two spankings came down on her cheeks simultaneously.

"One, two," she moaned.

Once before in her life, when she'd made out with her last boyfriend, he'd tried kissing her nipples. Still hating her stupid, skinny body, she'd only felt mortification, as if the boy had set out with the intent to mock her body.

But not Kent, she noted, looking down at his closed eyes. He's into this. Into me. He loves doing this. There's nothing wrong with me.

The second pair of spankings cracked down and Bailey stared at Kent wide eyed.

There's nothing wrong with me.

"Three, four," she said, feeling nothing of the spankings as her mind spun in circles.

Through his eyes, there's nothing wrong with my body at all. Holy shit.

The spankings went on and when they got to the end Bailey had the vague feeling that she'd counted them correctly because Kent hadn't stopped at any point. But her mind had gone elsewhere.

This is so nuts. The guy who spanks me for money is the guy who makes me feel the best? How fucked up is this?

She could have tried for an orgasm, feeling his tongue circling around her nipple as his palms bounced off her ass cheeks, but Bailey only let it go on. At some point, Kent stopped spanking her and started squeezing her cheeks instead.

"You need to come, baby?" she asked him, pushing down into his lap.

His suckling became ferocious at this prompting and she put her hands on the back of his head, pulling him tightly to her breast.

My nipple might end up sore in the morning, Bailey thought, a perverse sense of pride glowing at the ache in her flesh. I thought my tiny boobs would make me useless for this sort of thing, but Kent's really going full out.

"It's alright," she whispered, "Go ahead and come."

He vacuumed up far too much flesh into his mouth, pulling at her breast as his fingertips sank hard into her cheeks. For her part, she held on tightly to his head and gyrated in his lap. He grunted in to her chest and she felt his orgasm exploding underneath her.

Messy pants for him, not my problem.

After a moment, spending himself empty, Kent released his grips upon her body.

How much debt do I have left? Bailey tried to do the math. Forty five dollars now? I have to get rid of it. Fast.

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

The soreness of her flesh got Bailey to thinking more deeply on Wednesday morning.

I can't keep doing this, not at this pace

Easing her way through her breakfast, she decided to take her scrambled eggs back to her bedroom rather than let Carson see the way she had to sit down.

When was the last time I could just drop myself down into a chair?

She assured herself that it hadn't always felt like this. At some point in the past, she and Kent had taken long enough breaks between spankings that she could recover.

My butt hasn't felt like continuously since September, has it?

Grimacing for her mental anguish, she took a bite of her toast.

I want to get this done, though. Not after Christmas, not after my next period. Now.

The mission had become more difficult with Laura's absence. Having to go until at least Friday night, probably Saturday, entirely solo made things harder on her own butt.

At least Laura was good at sharing, she winced as she realized how badly she wanted to use her friend just to spare her own flesh.

So what's my problem, here? Bailey tried to firm things up in her mind. I want ot burn through my debt, but I can't take another spanking right now. Or at least not a lot of them.

Looking up at the ceiling, she acknowledged she could probably pay another dollar, maybe even two, before the pain just overpowered her. But she also knew that two dollars at a time wouldn't get her anywhere important.

So if not spanking, what?

She felt a hard wall press up against the front of her body, in that way that bumping your nose against something in the dark made your whole face light up with instinctive, spinal reflex fear.

I'm not willing to do most of the things men pay women for, Bailey twisted her lips before taking another mouthful of eggs.

Always mindful of her own internal accusation of prostitution, Bailey steered herself away from anything even close to a purely sexual exchange.

I'll give him handjobs, but not for money, she frowned, so that's not going to help me. I'm not going to blow him for money either.

She hook her head, realizing that making a list of all the negatives couldn't help her here.

What does he want that I can make money from? she wondered. I'll take off my clothes, even pose for him. So I guess being a stripper is okay after all.

Bailey mentally saluted Laura for getting that out in the open. The question lay with Kent as to whether or not he would pay just to look at her. She couldn't imagine making that offer without the context of a spanking.

How awkward will it be if he doesn't respond eagerly? Bailey shivered. But pictures... maybe he'd pay for a picture.

Even then, the pictures had always related to the spankings immediately preceding them.

I can either make up something entirely new or I can find a way to make the very few spanking I can take worth way more than usual.

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

Laura lay on her bed, curled up on her side, facing away from her bedroom door.

Ugh. Sometimes you get cramps and sometimes the cramps get you.

Such is the trial of woman.

The preacher had gone silent for days after the brutal morning of spanking on the weekend, and she'd thought him gone for good. The reality, however, lay elsewhere. Her oncoming period, and the pain that occasionally struck with it, had kept the nasty little man away.

So Laura had eked through her early week and, as Wednesday came and her muscles started to relax, the preacher had returned, his internal voice gone silky smooth as if he stalked around her room behind her back and merely whispered his invective.

Know you not the gluttony of your sins? Surely, this is the path to damnation? Not only for your own weakness, but for your encouragement of your friends.

They'd be doing this without me, and you know it.

It would be nothing compared to the awfulness you have invoked.

Flashing before her eyes, she saw her own breast, covered in whipped cream, Kent's mouth moving down to vacuum it from her flesh.

Laura whimpered.

That was pretty bad, actually.

You know, and yet you continue.

I gotta be me.

"You alright, sweetie?" her mother called down the hall. "You want some tea?"

"Thanks, mom," she called back. "Yes, please."

A kettle clicked on.

Count on mom to know when my period is.

With her thoughts straying from her debauchery, the preacher went silent once more.

He and mom don't really get along, do they?

It made Laura wonder why the nasty little minister had followed her here all the way from back home. If her parents didn't push their religion on her these days, why did the voice of their old preacher still echo inside her head?

Ugh. Two more days, she thought hopefully, two more days and I can see Kent and Bailey again.

Of course, Laura knew she could go over and see them any time she wanted. She just wouldn't be able to have fun with them until this was over.

You're planning it now? That only makes it worse.

I know. I know. I'm a very, very bad girl.

At least you admit your state of sinfulness and-

And I need a good, hard spanking.

That is not-!

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

"Okay, look," Bailey came into his room Wednesday night, the moment Carson stepped out.

"Look?" Kent asked, observing Bailey's wide-eyed glare, noting the way her lips pressed together.

She's looking a little belligerent and wary, Kent noted, is she upset about something? Is all of this finally wearing her out?

"There's only so much my butt can take, right?"

"Right," Kent spoke slowly, wondering where she led him.

It's always up to you, Bailey. Take a day off. Take a week off, if you want. Kent peered at her. In fact, why are you in such a hurry?

But he didn't question her out loud. The hectic pace at which she and Laura had burned through Bailey's debt had kept all of their hormones pumping for days now, and he'd grown addicted to the state of constant intoxication.

If she wants to rush, it's her ass on the line.

"So here's the thing," she said. "There are only so many things I'm willing to do for money."

"Like getting naked and taking a spanking," Kent confirmed.

"Right, I'm not-," Bailey paused. "I don't do, well, y'know."

"Prostitution?" Kent spoke the word for her.

"Exactly."

She means she won't even do hand jobs for money. I get it. I suppose this counts as the clearest we've ever communicated on that part of her boundaries. Bailey's never really had to discuss her limits, though, has she? Because she always tells me exactly what she's willing to do at any give time.

"So?" he prodded.

Bailey took a deep breath, "I want to do nine dollars."

"Nine!?"

"Hold on," she held up hand.

"I'm listening," Kent lowered his voice a little, but the worried tension still came through.

"I'll be naked," she said, holding out his favourite kitchen implement, "And you'll use the spatula."

Kent peered at her. Using the spatula meant half as many swats as spankings, but it wouldn't work out evenly if she wanted to pay nine dollars.

"And," Bailey paused. "Remember, the blindfold?"

"I'm blindfolded?" Kent turned his head aside doubtfully.

"Not you-"

"You're blindfolded?"

"No," Bailey looked up a the ceiling, then held out her hands with her wrists overlapping. "You can tie up my hands."

"Oh," Kent felt his breath catch. "Naked and tied up?"

"Just the wrists," Bailey warned, her voice faintly tinged with panic.

"The pose?"

Bailey shrugged, "However you like. But tying me up - and using the spatula - means it's just three sets."

Kent steepled his fingers, "So just nine swats at your ass?"

Bailey nodded.

"Deal."

She turned away from him and he watched as she carefully made nine marks on the whiteboard.