“This is ridiculous,” Kit said. She stood in front of the sofa, to the right of Quinn seated in the center. Her gaze darted between his lap and the blue carpet she stood upon. She wrung her hands together in front of her waist. “I feel silly.”
Quinn looked up into her face. “Ridiculous is someone else being punished for your crimes. If you feel differently, we don’t have to do this.”
“This isn’t going to change anything for Tara,” Kit said, looking into his eyes.
Quinn nodded. “It won’t make things right for her but, it will help clear your head so you can focus on what you need to do to make things right.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
He patted his empty lap. “Lower you jeans and lay over my lap.”
Kit buried her doubts and trusted the blue eyes of the man she barely knew. Her fingers grasped the button holding her jeans in place and slipped it out of the eyelet. The zipper slid down with ease. She stole a glance toward Quinn only to discover his eyes looking straight ahead instead of at her white panties peeking out of her opened jeans. It felt like privacy and she tugged the jeans down to her knees. She knelt on the sofa beside him, slowly adjusting her weight and position until she rested on his lap.
He wrapped his left arm around her torso, encircling her into him. His right hand patted her silky undergarment. Kit felt safe and connected to him. Her eyes fluttered closed. She relaxed into his arms, trusting his strength and warmth. His hand felt soft and compassionate. Her heartbeat synchronized with the rise and fall of his even breaths.
“You’re not really a bad girl,” Quinn said, gliding his hand over her raised buttocks, “but you have been bad.”
Her bottom felt electrified by the proximity of his hand. She breathed agreement with his sentiment. “Yes.”
Kit felt him nod. His hand snapped through the air. Her breath paused. His open palm clapped against the fullness of her right buttock. Her flesh bounced. She blinked. He raised his hand. She exhaled. His hand slapped her left buttock. Ripples of his force washed over her entire body. Her buttocks tingled akin to excitement.
Quinn hardened his hand and quickened his spanking pace. The oft repeated impacts into her bottom jarred Kit. Her eyes stuck open and widened. He held her tighter to him. Her arms yearned to interrupt the volley of spanks falling. She squeezed her hands into balls and pushed them into the sofa cushion. Her legs shifted, eager to alleviate the growing discomfort with wild kicks in the air. Kit resisted the urges, surrendering herself to the moment and the swinging of his hand.
“Do you still feel silly?” he asked, taking a moment to feel the heat emanating from beneath her panties.
She nodded into the cushion. “Yes.”
He said, “That’s because you’ve acted like a naughty child, allowing someone else to take the blame for your actions.”
“I know,” she said. Her face flushed with embarrassment at the admission.
Quinn resumed the spanking. His hand flew faster. Kit grunted with each smack. Her legs moved up and down, transforming from twitching to kicking as the spanking’s intensity grew. Her buttocks began to burn on top of the irritated tingle from before. She attempted reaching back to protect herself from the onslaught only to be thwarted by his body and restraining arm. Her grunts turned to genuine expressions of pain. Tears welled in her eyes. His arm kept her restrained and helpless. Her cheeks dampened with tears and a sob wracked her body.
A few more spanks and she cried freely. Tears ran in streams from her eyes. Her legs continued to kick up and down, but the tension drained from her body. She shuddered in rhythm with the claps of his hand. The painful fire in her bottom became a strange comfort as she accepted her need for punishment. Jade’s voice echoed in her thoughts. Consequences aren’t just for other people.
Quinn stopped spanking. He kept her on his lap, held her body to him. His hand gently restrained her legs one at a time until she laid still, trembling only from the effort of crying. He said, “It’s over now.”
She cried into the cushion until there were no tears left to cry. He held her in silence. His fingers gently stroked over her glowing panties and the exposed flesh of her upper thighs. Her breathing slowed and tuned to his. The warmth and pain remained, but it dulled in the aftermath of her tears. The sensations emanating from her buttocks felt more like forgiveness than punishment.
Kit lifted herself up onto her elbows and twisted her head to look up at Quinn. “Thank you,” she said.
His lips turned upward and he nodded. “You’re welcome.”
He helped her up off his lap. She fastened her jeans back in place. He moved to the left side of the sofa and she sat on the right. She avoided his gaze, looking around the room at the pictures once more. He waited until her eyes finally met his again.
“You’re going to need a plan,” he said.
She nodded. “I’ve got a ship.”