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DISAPPOINTMENT AND FULFILMENT - a NSFW F/f short story by @fetchthestrap to welcome back the inimitable @spankingwishes2.

Reposts welcome as long as you accredit the author.

Pic courtesy of stablediffusionweb dot com.

Enjoy.

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Lacey had a moment in the taxi.

Studiously avoiding Mel's gaze, she stared out of the window and asked herself a series of questions she only partially knew the answer to. It wasn't bratting, and not what BDSM-lifestyle people would call "topping from the bottom". The question of whether she had deliberately antagonised Mel was clear. But why?

She'd not seen Mel all week and after a tough week at work waiting for her period to end and her hormones to settle, she'd felt a little put aside by what felt like, comparatively, Mel's radio silence. They'd messaged every day but Mel was not her usual gregarious, talkative self. It felt like Mel was waiting for her to say something or mention something but she couldn't imagine what that might be and was too proud or afraid to mention it directly. Lacey knew it was her own duplicitous insecurity, but she felt she needed attention. Attention seeking Lacey never ended well. She found herself oddly disappointed in her own emotional reactions.

The Saturday morning brunch with another couple from Greenwich Village at a new joint in the Meat Packing District had been good, running well past lunch even if neither of them had much to drink and usually Mel would move them all to a good bar none of them had heard of for daytime cocktails in that effortless hosty mosty way she always did. She was good at that. Lacey had always been slightly in awe of how raw cool Mel was. Like, lowkey sub zero cool. She always had the best restaurants and bars that nobody knew about, long before they hit the vox pops. She always knew the best up and coming tattoo places, the best little boutiques for the coolest clothes and the most obscure little gems of all night clubs in Queens and Harlem. They always seemed to be slap bang in the middle of areas, down alleys and behind scuffed and weathered anonymous doors that nobody knew about, and behind, invariably, was the sort of wonder that New York used to be famous for, and was now famous for killing off. It was always an "IYKYK" thing and Mel always knew, whilst Lacey never did.

Mel was a colossus of cool. An indefatigable, untouchable figurehead of fierce pride, unshakeable confidence and filmstar good looks. The embodiment of the power, strength and sense of self that all young girls wanted to be when they first realised or even suspected that they were gay. Most never got there but nearly idolised these rarefied qualities in those around them. Mel was all of that and more.

Lacey for her part was an immature latecomer, a slightly (she felt) awkward also ran, somehow both gangly and curvy in (she felt) all the wrong (she felt) places. An admirer of fashion but only on others. A lover of other people's taste in music. Too high maintenance (she felt) to ever be deserving of a partner like Mel. And yet, that first night at the house party in Long Island, she'd confidently started to talk to Lacey with an almost professional air that put Lacey at ease. It had been over an hour in the Uber back to Brooklyn in the traffic and they'd kissed passionately, lighting bright fires in the back of the car without a care in the world. It seemed so natural to Mel but was a very unfamiliar and alien feeling for Lacey, who kept glancing at the driver in the rear view, lest the South Asian man express any kind of disapproval that must surely stop the embrace in its tracks. As it was, the man was more interested in speaking to his family in loud, machine gun Urdu on his hands free and did not so much as give the girls a passing glance. Mel had seen her concern and taken her face in her soft, warm hands and gently turned her toward her mouth, breathing that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Mel had been referring to the driver, but it might as well have referenced Lacey's whole life. It felt different with Mel. She felt more confident, happier and less fearful of a recurrence of the emotional and mental bruises she'd endured before.

That first night with Mel had been astounding and been the most incredibly sapphic experience of her life to that point. It sounds a weird thing to describe as "incredibly sapphic" but Lacey found herself for the first time not comparing what was happening and how she was feeling to how it had been with her ex-boyfriend, before she came out proper. Her encounters with women until that point had always been passionate and fun but insistent in the need to compare in her head the arid and loveless mechanism of a straight intimacy she felt nothing for. The comparisons were positive. But she was still comparing. With Mel it was different. Barely even the same thing.

Mel had this way of just making Lacey feel relaxed, as if nothing else mattered. And truthfully, when they were together, nothing else did. Mel was much more experienced than Lacey was and had far broader sexual horizons, despite them being almost exactly the same age. It was testament to how easy Mel was to be with that Lacey felt little or no insecurity about this.

She'd given Lacey a playful slap on a naked bottom a couple of times while they were drunk and Lacey had reacted in a way she was not fully expecting herself. It would be too great an overstatement to say something switched in Lacey, but she nonetheless had felt a very curious compunction of curiosity. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she wanted it and that she needed it more than she wanted it.

Had Lacey always been turned on by BDSM and spanking? She would insist no, but her memories of those lurid and impossibly erotic scenes in her mind and in movies suggested this was not true. She'd been watching a moving at the age of thirteen at her Grandmother's house in Michigan where the heroine was tied up on a chair being interrogated. The orgasm had been impossibly fast and powerful. Weeks later she'd chanced across a Rammstein music video in her room on MTV where a very tall and powerful amazonian Snow White had spanked her seven dwarves and she'd found herself wishing fervently that the raven haired brutal beauty in the video would bare her bottom and beat her too. Again, the orgasm had been unerringly swift and decisive. Perhaps lost in the rush of complicated feelings and seemingly impossible choices concerning her sexuality and its implications on her life, these thoughts did not push her sexual consciousness much further down the track as they might have done for a heterosexual person. But they remained, unspoken and whispered in the far reaches of her sexual wardrobe, slotted away neatly in dark boxes to open at a later date when things were clearer. It had been a very confusing and befuddling time.

Occasionally Lacey would masturbate alone to videos online of Femdom women dominating submissive girls and occasionally the odd guy too. The college girl position of bending over a cushion on her bed and touching herself there, pressing her face into her duvet cover as she came between gritted teeth was powerfully visceral for reasons she knew but did not want to address head on.

The whispering grew louder and louder.

She'd drunkenly asked Todd to spank her one night after a night out and he'd just laughed at her in that callous, dismissive way that seemed to grab her by the ears and scream into her face that she was dirty, not enough for him, not good enough for him, a damaged piece of nobody. She'd been hurt by that and chosen to put it down to the drinks and not ask again. Her own mind seemed intent on trying to forget it had happened and in truth when she'd met Mel she'd been so caught up in the whirlwind of feelings and this incredible, incurable fixated lust, that the sotto voce murmurs from her emotional closet went largely unheard and unheeded. The tap on her bottom seemed designed to throw open the closet doors and go right to her darkest corners of her sexual self, and instead of feeling intimidated or dirty by it, Lacey just felt a need. The words had been uttered, the incantation had been spoken and it was out. Lacey had a weird feeling that Mel already knew about it all, all of it, and the tap to bring it all out was exactly what she intended.

She'd asked Lacey the next day whether she was "into" spanking and it seemed as though it was the most obvious question in the world, so matter-of-fact. Lacey had shrunk from Mel's judgeless, honest gaze and blushed in a way that only made her more embarrassed, eliciting a low chuckle from Mel. Their food had arrived right on cue and the discussion never progressed. Lacey never gave it any more thought until that evening Mel had fixed her with a stern look and instructed her to go over her knee. Lacey had all but melted into a jellied puddle. The play spanking had been short but sweet, hard but not unbearable. They'd had absolutely incredible sex after that and Lacey began to see how the spanking, the Dom/sub play text, pretext, role-play maybe... how it affected Mel. It seemed to make her even more powerful and strong and it clearly turned her on a great deal. Lacey found herself dreaming of being turned over Mel's knee and it became a semi regular occurrence. Mel was stern and powerful but never abusive or humiliating. There was a care in her discipline that Lacey craved like ambrosia. It was almost pastoral, even when Mel once introduced a leather belt to their play which added a fear and tension to a heady cocktail that was impossible to resist. It wasn't abuse, but it was not purely sexual either.

Well what was it then? Lacey assumed Mel knew but did not have the confidence to ask her.

Mel chose not to explain too much about it but coaxed some tidbits from Lacey about her fantasies and how it all fit together in her brain chemistry.

Back in the here and now, Lacey stared out of the rain streaked taxi window wondering why she was purposely but somehow also subconsciously trying to manipulate Mel into doing something that she was obviously more than happy to do anyway. With a jolt like a pothole in the road, she realised that it was her pushing boundaries so that Mel would do likewise. She turned away from the window with a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach to see Mel looking out of the opposite window with her top pulled up a couple of inches to reveal the belt around her jeans. Sensing Lacey was looking, she finally spoke.

"Is there a reason you are attention seeking today?" she asked simply.

Lacey made a face but chose not to respond, preferring to stare ahead and not at Mel and the thick length of brown leather around her waist.

"Flirting with the waitress in front of me. Being all cute when you see me seeing you. The little dramatic flourishes? Is there something you wanna ask me, babe?"

Lacey bit her lip and stayed quiet.

Mel gave a low chuckle and said nothing.

The car pulled up at Mel's building and they got out. Mel unexpectedly stepped into Lacey's path and grasped both her hands in hers. Lacey shied away and looked at the floor, trademark rouge blotting across both cheeks like ink on tissue paper.

"I know why. And I'm going to take care of it. Lemme go buy some beers and I'll meet you upstairs. Wait for me on the sofa."

Her voice was the texture of brushed velvet, little more than a low whisper but clearly audible over the rush of late afternoon Brooklyn life.

Lacey bit her lip and kicked her toes on the concrete, unable to make Mel's gaze. With that, Mel was gone in the direction of the Bodega and Lacey was being carried up the three flights of stairs on rubbery legs that did not feel like hers. Mel was back before she had time to compose her thoughts or any kind of words that might help. She held a hand up as the mini-speech rose in Lacey's throat and was halted emphatically.

"You've not been yourself lately. You're not in tune. I see that. I think you do too. Laura Scodolaria told me you've been off work two days this week on a personal day thing, but you never told me. How come?"

"Mel, I.... I mean.... I just needed.... you know." Lacey stammered.

Mel sat down on the couch next to her.

"It's a little too much sometimes isn't it. This life, this place, the job. All of it. But I hate when you shut me out. We don't work properly when you dont talk to me, babe." Mel's soft voice threatened even then to elicit tears from her partner, whose eyes stayed resolutely fixed on the floor.

"I'm going to punish you, but I need you to understand that you need to speak to me. Acting up and bratting is not gonna cut it. Speak to me. Tell me. Be honest." Mel informed her with a voice full of tenderness and love, quite distinct from the act she was promising.

"I.... I understand. I should have spoken to you. And I'm sorry about the waitress." Lacey began.

"She was kinda hot." Mel giggled.

Lacey looked up with eyes full of something pretending to be hope but was closer to white hot disappointment.

"So you're not going to spank me?"

Mel stood up and unbuckled her belt slowly without taking her eyes from Lacey's. she saw Lacey's eyes grow wide in something that lay between terror and acute interest.

"You betcha I'm gonna punish you and I'm gonna do it properly. This is my Daddy's belt. He used it on my brothers and he used it on me. Not all the time. Not abuse. But a whupping' when we needed it, yaknow. He damn near skinned me alive with with it the night I came out to him but I know he did it because he was disappointed I took so fu**kin' long... Honesty was a big f**kin' deal in my family...

....But he is gone now and it's mine. I've come to kinda realise that he used to keep my brothers and me in line from a place of care and love, although it sure as f**k never felt like it at the time. I wanted to throw this f**king thing in the Hudson when my mom gave it to me after his funeral. But I kept it around because I'm a better person for it being in my life. And I love you. So I wanna take care of you."

Lacey was floored. Mel had just used the L Word and it was a moment of vulnerability that she'd never seen from her partner. Lacey had never expected Mel to ever tell her that she loved her, even though Lacey had known for a few months that she was hopelessly in love with her taller, black haired, big city partner from Jackson, Missouri.

"I love you." Lacey blurted out.

Mel smiled serenely. "I know. Which is why I'm gonna spank you."

Lacey was being pulled in all directions. An insistent tugging at her heart and a plunging, diving feeling below that made her want to leap to her feet to kiss Mel but the look on her face stopped her.

"This isn't play. I ain't playing. This is a punishment. It's supposed to hurt. I'm not gonna stop until your ass is all tore up and you're crying real tears." she warned, with a darkness creeping into her eyes that Lacey hadn't seen before.

Out of nowhere Lacey began to cry. "I know. An' I know you are doing it because you love me. And I need it. I know I do, I need it all. I'm so disappointed in myself." she sobbed.

Mel nodded. "Yeah, you do."

Lacey looked up at Mel. "Any time you need to get me back on the straight and narrow, I'm okay with it. I trust you. If you think.... you know..... then it's okay. I'll do it." she sniffed.

"Well then." Mel said with a finality that echoed in the pit of Lacey's stomach. She walked slowly over to the back of the sofa and held out a hand for Lacey to join her. Lacey stopped crying but was shaking visibly. Unexpectedly Mel gave her a huge warm hug and a lingering kiss.

"I love you." Lacey nodded.

"Will it be now?" she asked, with a definite quiver in her voice as Mel put the six pack of Bud Lights in the fridge.

"Would you prefer to wait until after dinner?" Mel asked as she returned to the sofa.

Lacey considered it and decided that she wanted to get it over and done with, informing Mel of the same with a resigned nod. She pulled off her t-shirt to reveal a grey Calvin Klein sports bra, draping her shirt over the sofa in front.

"Pull your jeans down." the order was impossible not to obey.

Lacey pulled her jeans down to just above the backs of her knees and bent over the back of the sofa without Mel asking her to. Mel marvelled at her tanned skin and chocolate hair, almost unable to resist the urge to drop to her knees and go after her tattooed partner from behind but somehow managing. Lacey did not see how Mel was shaking, eyes wide and breathing shallow with adrenalin shrieking through her temples. Lacey was easily the most attractive woman she'd ever been with and it blew Mel's mind that Lacey had no idea how attractive she really was. The awkwardness and vulnerability were impossible to resist. Mel picked a cushion up from the sofa and put a firm hand over Lacey's shoulder to raise her just enough to slip it between her and the top of the sofa back.

Lacey was wearing the exact kind of nondescript black cotton panties that turned Mel on in ways she could never fully articulate, far more than lace or flowery underwear from expensive boutiques. Pressing the warm steel of the buckle hard into her hand, Mel doubled the belt and pulled it taught, luxuriating in the sound of the creaking leather and the shiver it elicited from Lacey bending over in front of her. She was so vulnerable. Mel could barely contain her sexual excitement and longed to touch her, for Lacey to touch her, to kiss her all over, to smell her skin and feel her hair on her face. To kiss her deeply as if the world was ending, but she somehow resisted the urge.

So much for this not being sexual.

Mel had tried to reason with it, this fire breathing dragon that stood astride of her sexual self, dwarfing at times her myriad other proclivities. How could it be sexual and not sexual at the same time? Why did such a brutal and painful thing bring her such satisfaction, and if it was truly sexual, then was she really doing it for Lacey's benefit? What kind of punishment was this obscure but powerful gratification?

Mel pulled Lacey's panties down to mid-thigh and deliberately let the leather brush against her goosebumps on her flank. Lacey visibly shivered but said nothing. She reached back without Mel asking and pushed her rolled up jeans and panties to just below the backs of her knees, opening her legs by a couple more inches as she did so.

Mel laughed "you little slut" in her mind, but said nothing.

"Hands on your head. Keep them there. If you get up or try to cover up I'll just go for longer and I don't wanna hit your hands. Clear?" her voice was stern now, with a river of slightly over-familiar steel running through the words. Lacey nodded and sniffed and Mel knew she was trying to antagonise her by not responding verbally, and she knew why as well. Lacey could get away with pretty much anything with Mel. She understood the game and that was about the hottest thing for Mel right about then.

Lacey was the most impossibly attractive sight Mel could dare imagine.

There she was, bending over the back of her sofa, jeans down to her knees and her black panties pulled down too, grey spots bra almost touching the sofa cushions and her hair scattered around the back of her head, with her long slender fingers entwined behind. Mel imagined she could smell and taste Lacey's arousal and came breathtakingly close to putting down the belt and setting about Lacey in that position, charging headlong with fingers and tongue. She wanted to f**k her so badly it hurt. She was going to absolutely ruin Lacey after she'd been whupped.

Anticipating Lacey's words, she gently stroked the tattoo in the small of her back with her fingertips eliciting another expectant shiver from her.

She made the leather creak again in her palm.

"Ask me for it." Mel blurted out, without expecting to say it.

"Please Mel. I need you to punish me. Deal with me.... as you see fit." Lacey asked, more submissively than either of them were expecting. Mel had never heard Lacey talk this way and neither had Lacey.

"I'm strapping your bottom because I love you, Lace. It's gonna hurt. It's supposed to. Cry it out babe. Cry out the bad water. And know that I'll be here for you any time you need me..... Or you need this."

"I need this. I'm sorry Mel. I love you so f**kin' much. I'll be honest in future. I'm sorry I disappointed you." She pressed her upper torso even further over, seemingly pressing her rear end out further for Mel to tend to. Her little earrings peered out from the mass of oaky hair as if not wanting to miss what was about to happen.

"I love you too, babe. You could never disappoint me. Now hold on. Are you ready?" Mel asked.

The time for talking was over. Almost.

"I'm ready."

#corporal punishment #thrashing #belted #strapping #discipline #domestic discipline #strapped #deserved it #sapphic #lesbian community #wlw post