Two Hundred Dollars Ch. 22

"Well," Kent said. "Let me thank you for not forcing me to compete with a solid piece of oak."

Laura snickered and broke out in giggles again.

"I mean, that's a pretty high bar, so I'm glad I'm competing from the other side."

Doubled over in giggles, she heard the shower cut off and saw Bailey step out of the shower.

She didn't even take off her bra, or close the door. She's probably still worried we'll do something without her.

Bailey reentered the bedroom, briskly towelling herself off.

"What did I miss?" Bailey asked, seeing Laura's uncontrollably embarrassed giggling.

"Laura's masturbation technique," Kent supplied helpfully.

"Ke-ent!" Laura cried out, reddening and giggling more.

Oh, I'm losing my mind. What even happened to me? I was in the choir. The choir! And now I'm taking pictures of my friend's butt covered in semen.

"She told you?" Bailey looked shocked. "She never told me."

"We never really talked about that," Laura defended.

"And?" Bailey turned to Kent.

Kent put his index and middle finger on the wooden section of the arm rest and pushed downward, splitting the fingers until they straddled the wood.

"Oh?" Bailey looked surprised. She turned back to Laura, "Is that why you asked about the rolling pin?"

"I was competing with a rolling pin?" Kent wondered anew.

"I never used a rolling pin!" Laura defended. "Ew. We make food with that. It was just an example."

"Well," Kent said. "The important thing is that we're here to educate you, right?"

"Yeah, thanks," Laura had never felt so grateful for the relative darkness of candlelight.

"We make food with a spatula, too," Bailey pointed out, pulling her panties back on. "You didn't have a problem with that."

"Well, not that spatula," Kent pointed out, nodding toward the doorway and, by extension, his backpack in the living room.

"You brought that spatula?" Laura asked in fright.

"Of course, we never use a spatula at all, really," Kent continued with a vague look in his eyes, ignoring her. "What are spatulas for, anyway?"

"Cake batters," Laura said. "Stuff like that. Did you bring it?"

"Huh?" Kent shook himself and looked at Laura. "Yeah, why? You gonna make a cake?"

Bailey threw herself down on the bed, lying on her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows to face Kent. "She obviously needs a harder spanking."

"You want a cake?" Laura desperately offered, her hands splayed out palms up. "I can bake a cake."

Oh, don't say it. Don't say it.

"She's been a ba-a-ad girl," Bailey went on, heedless of Laura's plea. "And the spankings make it okay."

Laura felt herself redden, standing there in her underwear in the middle of her bedroom. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, closed her eyes, and folded her arms. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Kent watched her.

It's not even mockery. It's worse. It's kindness, for god's sake.

"What do you want, Laura?" he asked, his voice the silky opposite of Bailey's sandpaper coarseness.

She put her hands on her face, her palms cooling her warm cheeks, and sighed.

"I need you to spank me," she sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I think I'll feel better after you do."

"All right-" Kent started.

"And!" she added. "I'm making a cake first. Or at least cupcakes."

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

Laura disappeared out of the room and Bailey turned to look at Kent, lounging comfortably in Laura's incredibly uncomfortable chair.

"Can we just admit," Bailey asked, "how much weirder this just got?"

Really, Bai? This is the threshold for weirdness?

"Sure," Kent shrugged, "I suppose we can say that. But I don't really have units or benchmarks for weirdness, so I can't say by how much."

Bailey hummed a non-response and turned to the white board lying at her side, "Should you fix this now?"

"Yeah."

She tossed it across the room to him.

"What was that?" Kent said. "You owed me one hundred thirteen when I came over. You paid me twenty nine back in cash and you've done seven dollars since."

"Seventy seven dollars," Bailey solved for him.

"Sounds right," Kent said, wiping the board and changing the number. "Though I don't think the night is over."

He cocked an ear toward the doorway, hearing Laura rummaging around.

"It doesn't take that long to find a spatula in an otherwise empty backpack," he pointed out.

"No, it sounds like she's-" Bailey cut off as the distinct sound of a blender started up. "She's baking cupcakes."

"That's weirder, too," Kent held up a finger, "But not significantly so."

"Should we-?" Bailey started.

"Hey!" Laura called down the hallway as the blender stopped. "You guys coming out?"

Bailey and Kent glanced at each other, shrugged simultaneously, and roused themselves.

"I kind of thought we'd hit the end of the night," Bailey admitted.

"Laura has other ideas," Kent gallantly waved Bailey ahead of him through the door.

"Are you just letting me go first so you can look at my ass?" she paused to look at him.

"Yes," he nodded amicably. "Although it looked better all splattered."

Bailey's eyes narrowed and she continued through the door into the hallway. When they reached the kitchen, they found Laura working under the fluorescent glow of the kitchen lights under the cupboards. She had already mixed up a bowl of chocolate batter and started the oven warming.

"Actually making cupcakes," Kent commented, not knowing what else to say.

"Felt right," Laura announced cheerfully and held up the bright red spatula.

"How did she do that so fast?" Bailey wondered.

"Just flour, eggs, milk and cocoa powder," Laura replied as if Bailey were a particularly stupid child. "A little baking powder and sugar and we're all done. Lickety-split."

She carefully used the spatula to dole out twelve evenly distributed lots of batter into a muffin pan, wiping the last of the batter off the spatula to even them off.

"There," Laura announced. "See? Easy."

The tray went into the oven next and she rinsed off the spatula.

"Should be good enough, right?" Laura asked as she handed the clean spatula to Kent.

"You want it with the spatula?" he confirmed as he took it from her.

Laura took the white board from his left hand in exchange, "Only seventy seven left."

"Well past halfway," Bailey put in, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

"Yeah," Laura sighed "You erased the marks, though. Does this mean we start counting from one again?"

"Naw," Bailey said. "We're going for a record, remember?"

Laura quietly put four tick marks on the board.

"Four dollars?" Kent felt his jaw drop.

"That's eight with the spatula, right?" Laura said. "But you have to spread them around. That's the deal."

"Right," Kent said. "Where do you want me to do it?"

"Here," Laura said, and turned around to grab the corners of the oven to brace herself. "And Kent?"

"Yeah?"

"Make it really fast, okay?"

"Really fast?"

"Yes."

"With the spatula?"

"Yes."

"All eight of them?"

"Yes, do it already!" she yelled at him.

"Okay, okay."

I've never seen Laura like this. The guilt over her orgasm must really be weighing on her mind.

With her demand still ringing in his ears, he started laying into her right cheek, delivering four hard strikes all around the flesh unprotected by her scant black panties.

"Sixty! One!" she shouted with a pause for a wince, "Sixty two. Sixty three!"

"Fast enough for you?" Bailey taunted, taking a spot leaning against the counter next to the oven.

Laura let out a faint hiss and whispered, "Perfect."

Kent went for her left cheek next, landing a second array of evenly distributed strikes.

"Sixty four-five-six," Laura muttered. "Sixty seven!"

She stood straight up, grabbing her cheeks with both hands and rubbing them.

"Feel better?" Kent asked.

Laura turned to face him, her lips pressed together in thought before she finally spoke, "Yes, actually."

"Four more dollars," Bailey announced.

"Are you trying to get rid of it all in one night?" Kent asked her.

"No way can my butt take that much," Bailey waved him off.

Laura closed her eyes and sighed, pressing her cheeks against the oven door. Kent guessed that the outside of the door might still be cold and she did it to soothe her cheeks.

"You need some ice on that?"

"Maybe," she answered.

"Uh-huh," Bailey quipped. "Well, I'm not the Spatula Queen, over there, so I'll-"

"Spatula Queen?" Laura rose up indignantly.

"Yeah, exactly-"

"You should curtsy when you address me," Laura intoned gravely.

Bailey gave Laura a half-squint, "No."

With a roll of her eyes, she turned to Kent, "I'm still gonna call her the Spatula Queen, too. Even in front of other people."

"You wouldn't!"

"They'll never know what it means," Bailey pointed out haughtily, "they'll think it's a joke about cupcakes."

"I keep wanting to put on an apron," Laura remarked. "It's weird baking in my underwear. Well, that would be weird anyway, but you know what I mean."

"We won't get the bonus dollars if you put anything else on," Bailey reminded her.

"I know," Laura sighed. "Still."

Kent thought for a moment, then looked her in the eye, "How much does the apron cover?"

Laura levelled a hand across the tops of her breasts, "From here," she put her other hand just below the crotch of her panties, "to here."

Kent smirked and looked over at Bailey, who snickered in response.

"What!?" Laura asked, looking back and forth between them in a panic.

"He's thinking of letting you switch," Bailey laughed. "Can't you see?"

"Switch?"

"Your underwear," Kent said. "In exchange for the apron. Just so you'll be comfortable in the kitchen, you understand."

Laura stuck her chin out, shaking slightly, "Oh, gee thanks. Always thinking of me."

"Always," Kent nodded sharply. "But you're not allowed to switch back."

Laura darted a look over at Bailey, "Should I?"

"Your body," Bailey rolled her eyes. "Not mine."

"Well," Laura looked down at the floor thoughtfully, "it'll be different, at least."

Kent watched as Laura gave one last look at Bailey.

She's checking. Making sure she's not stepping over some invisible line that'll come back to bite her later. I didn't realize how complicated this whole thing is between them. And now all three of us are in so deep.

"Fine," Laura said and promptly turned on her heel to open a drawer.

Pulling out a floral, pink and yellow apron, and with the ease of years of practice, she did the ties up behind her back first and then around her waist.

It covers her a little farther down than she said, Kent noted, but we can let that go since it's so much narrower at the top then I expected.

"Now the underwear," Bailey prodded.

"Getting there," Laura protested, fiddling with the apron to try to stretch it properly across her breasts.

"Uh-huh."

Laura slid her panties off first, stepping out of them by turning her knees outward so she didn't accidentally flip the front of the apron up and show too much of herself to Kent. She set the panties on the back of a chair at the breakfast table. She reached behind her body to unhook her bra. Even through the apron, with Kent standing directly in front of her, he could see the impression of her breasts fall slightly and loosen as they lost their support.

Last, Laura slid the bra forward, down her arms under the apron. This she carefully laid it aside over top of her panties.

"That's a lot of sideboob, Spatula Queen," Bailey noted.

Laura gulped in reply but kept her body directly facing Kent.

"He's already seen your boobs," Bailey added.

"I know," Laura's eyes darted around before they focused on Bailey. "Isn't it your turn with the spatula?"

"Haha," Bailey replied, "I still prefer the hand."

"Do you?" Kent asked.

"Yes," Bailey said as she picked up the white board and made her four ticks. Taking Kent by the hand, she pulled him into the living. "C'mon. Over your lap."

"All sixteen of them?" Kent asked in shock, paused, and felt the need to clarify. "Over my lap?"

Bailey pushed Kent onto the couch and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, before she knelt at his side, sitting on her ankles. She opened her eyes, panting and appearing slightly delirious as she wearily looked up at he ceiling.

Kent waited patiently, his hands folded over the waistband of his shorts. Bailey's eyes lowered until he found her staring at his shorts.

"You getting hard again?" she whispered.

"Yeah, a little."

"Good," she breathed.

Laura came to sit down on the knee high coffee table in front of them, crossing her legs to keep Kent's prying eyes out, since the apron did nothing for her from his angle.

"Christ," Bailey whispered and, not making eye contact, laid herself over his lap, keeping her cheeks high in the air.

That's a lot of altitude she's got there, Kent noticed, she's really bending at the hips and keeping every muscle in her ass really tight around her curves. She's got to want it bad.

He didn't completely understand what Bailey felt, but he knew women could stay horny after an orgasm when men usually needed a break.

On the other hand, between Spatula Sideboob Queen over there and the Bailey's ridiculous need for bare-ass spankings, I'm not doing all that badly either.

Kent put both of his hands on Bailey's lower back and started stroking her cheeks with his fingertips, drawing a soft moan from her lips even as she pushed her hips back even farther.

"You're already pretty red, Bai," he told her quietly, sinking his fingertips into her cheeks.

"I'm fine," she murmured back, just as softly. "Come on."

"Alright," Kent kept his left hand on her lower back and set his right on her left cheek, for she'd pushed her cheeks so far back and away to his side that he could reach either one easily as long as he aimed for the upper part of her cheek.

She's not letting me get at her seat, but I guess that's okay. If she's really going to make it through all sixteen, she can have it wherever she wants. The only question is how hard to go. I've really focused on the low side of her cheeks so far tonight, so I guess she'll need it pretty hard up high if she's going to feel it.

Still, Kent felt a bit of trepidation. What, he wondered, would happen if all of this had worn Bailey out? She still looked misty-eyed and horny, but how long could that last?

Start hard. I have to in case she wants it that way. And if it looks like it's too much, change angles and use that as an excuse to dial it down a little. If I start out too soft, she'll think it's pity and then we're all in trouble, aren't we?

He moved his hand to the outside of her left cheek, the easiest place to strike. It should even give Bailey some satisfaction because, as much as she had locked her body in place, striking sideways should give her some movement. She braced herself, inhaling, and he brought his hand back down.

A satisfying crack echoed through the room, and Bailey moaned as her body wavered.

"Sixty-eight," she enunciated each syllable clearly and then ducked her head back down.

That wasn't a protest, so I must be doing this right.

Bailey's body, laid out for him in profile, radiated heated into his lap and abdomen.

He struck her again, same spot.

"Sixty nine," she muttered, then added a whisper, "Kent, dammit."

"You alright?"

"Do it, already," she pleaded, her tips twisting in some unclear agony. "Do it."

'Spank' do it? Or some other 'do it'? I hope she means spankings, because I don't know what else I can 'do' here, given our relative positions.

He landed two more hard slaps to the side of her nearest cheek.

"Seventy, seventy-one," she moaned, turning her hips toward him to offer the farther cheek.

As Kent spanked her, he began to realize the method to the madness of the twisting of her body.

Wherever I put my hand, she turns her body to bring her other cheek toward it. She doesn't really want my hand on her ass at all. But we have to finish the spankings, don't we? What happens if we cut them short and she's burned off less money than Laura? The horror...

"Seventy five," she announced in a panic when he'd finished four on her right side.

He spared one glance for Laura, who watched her friend's cheeks in wide-eyed shock. Laura had uncrossed her legs, planting her feet on the floor as she leaned forward, heedless of how much the dim light from the kitchen played between her thighs to show the trimmed little bit of hair she maintained between her legs.

When Kent paused, however, Bailey moaned in protest and Laura looked up to meet Kent's eyes, the flick of her eyebrows asking Kent why he'd stopped. He nodded at her apron and the view she'd accidentally given. Laura's knees twitched, starting to come together in embarrassment, but she held them in place by force of will alone, daring him to stare.

Kent smirked in reply and returned his focus to Bailey.

"Come on," she grunted at him.

Instead, he placed his palm between her spread and taut cheeks, letting his fingers wrap around, underneath, so his fingertips gently touched her lips.

Bailey moaned, pushing her hips back into his hand. He withdrew his hand and slapped her left cheek, drawing forth the screech of a cat in heat.

"Seventy six."

Again, he prodded her with his fingertips, not intruding but only stroking, and then added a slap to her right cheek.

"Seventy seven," her words came through a desperate sob.

Back and forth he went, poking lengthwise along her lips, deeper and deeper with each spanking, listening to her count, until his last spanking shook the room.

"Eighty three!" Bailey called out, and pushed up against his left hand, still resting on the small of her back.

Kent kept that hand in place, keeping Bailey down, and pushed the fingers of his right hand harder against her panties, spreading her lips and gaining access to her clitoris, hardened and poking against him.

A muffled moan loosed from her mouth as she buried her face in the hard surface of the couch.

This must be the least comfortable place to have an orgasm, but here we are and she needs it now.

At a guess, Kent felt that Bailey wanted some restraint, so he held her down with his left hand, fingers splayed, as hard as she could while her body twisted against his hand. Her genitals, he also took under advisement, didn't require that much force.

Always safer to go gentle anyway. Worst case scenario? She'll think I'm teasing her and have to beg for it harder.

Bailey didn't need harder. The gentle tickling, the force of his hand on her back and the pressure on her sore cheeks worked just fine. With little more effort, fortunate given the awkward bend of his wrist, her moans increased in volume. She started to buck against his left hand, requiring him to hold her down even more strongly, the palm of his right hand against her vagina squeezing in the opposite direction.

This is what she wants? To be held down? All right, then.

Locked in place, his fingers working her clit, he saw her reach her limit. A long, groaning climax ensued, Bailey's vocal chords expending their energy into the hard cushion of the couch as Kent held her body in place, continuing to stroke her lips as muscle spasm after spasm shook her body from end to end.

"Okay, okay," she begged, her voice mewling. "Enough, enough."

Kent stopped his stroking, carefully holding her body in place until he felt she had regained her own stability and started to sit up. He watched Bailey's face as she came into view. A few strands of reddish hair, tacked with sweat, spread over her brow and draped across her closed eyes. Her cheeks had reddened worse than her ass and her chest rose and fell in rapid, panicked breaths over which she clearly tried to exert control.