Monday morning arrived in a pale haze, the kind of light that made everything look unfinished. Karen let herself into Beth’s house with the spare key she’d been given months ago for emergencies. This seemed to qualify. The living room smelled of stale wine and something else, despair, maybe. Or just neglect. Two empty wine bottles stood sentry on the coffee table beside a plate with the crusts of a peanut butter sandwich.

Karen moved through the house with the practiced stealth of someone who spent years waking up before dawn for swim practice. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening for any sign of motion. Nothing but the soft hum of the central air and, somewhere upstairs, the faintest suggestion of a human snore. Up the stairs, she paused. A child’s sock on the landing. Toys scattered like speed bumps. The door to the master bedroom was open a hand’s width. Karen pushed it and looked in.

Beth was a tangle of limbs on the bed, face-down in a pillow. She wore a stretched-out tank top and the kind of underwear that came in a pack of six. The sheets had been kicked to the floor. Her hair, chestnut, always a little wild even at her best, spread out over the pillowcase in unruly spirals. Her left arm hung over the edge of the mattress, fingers grazing the floor. The bedside lamp glowed in the daylight. On the nightstand, three more empty bottles and a box of tissues, half-spilled. She set a glass of water and two white pills on the nightstand.

Karen moved to the window. Pulled the curtains wider. Light flooded in.

Beth groaned. Turned away from the brightness.

"Time to wake up." Karen's voice was steady. Not gentle, not harsh. Just present.

Beth's arm dropped from her face. Her eyes cracked open, then squeezed shut again. "Fuck."

She pushed herself up on one elbow. Her hair stuck to one cheek. Mascara smudged under both eyes. She squinted at Karen, then looked away. "What time is it?"

"Eight."

"What day?"

"Monday."

“Huh,” Beth turned her head, blinked. Her eyes were puffy, the whites streaked pink. She took in Karen. Slowly.

Karen pointed to the table, “Water. Aspirin.”

“Thanks, I think,” she said, voice gravel.

Karen watched her try to sit up. Beth winced, pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. She drank the water in one swallow. The pills went down hard.

Karen said, “Rough night?”

Beth wiped her mouth. “I guess.” She looked at the bottles, then away. “Sorry for…whatever.”

Beth sat up fully. The sheet fell to her waist. She pressed both palms against her temples. "I don't... last night is fuzzy."

Karen leaned against the dresser. Crossed her arms. "You were drunk. Very drunk."

"No doubt."

“You cried for an hour. Said you couldn’t do it anymore. That you were failing. That you wished someone would just take over and tell you what to do.”

Beth pulled her legs up, curling her knees to her chest. The shirt rode up. She tugged it down with a sharp, embarrassed motion. Her face flushed. She pulled the sheet higher. "God."

"You made a pass at me."

The flush deepened. Beth's mouth opened. Closed. "I didn't."

"You did. Asked me to stay. Said you were lonely. Tried to kiss me when I helped you to bed. It wasn’t your most graceful moment."

Beth covered her face with both hands. Her shoulders hunched forward. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't remember any of that."

Karen leaned in. “No need to be sorry. It might have been interesting if you weren't stinking drunk."

Beth lowered her hands. She looked smaller, shoulders drawn in.

"We need to talk about the rest,” Karen said firmly.

“I’m fine. Just had a bad day.”

“You’ve had a lot of bad days,” Karen said. “In a row. Like, whenever the kids are at Toby's.”

Beth didn’t argue. She fidgeted with her hair, pulling it into a loose knot and letting it go.

Karen said, “Is this about Toby?”

Beth’s mouth tightened. “Not just the divorce. The kids. The house. I can’t keep up. Everything’s falling apart.”

“Have you talked to anyone?”

Beth shook her head. “I don’t want drugs. They’ll just sedate me. I need to get my shit together.”

“Drinking bottles of wine alone at night is not getting your shit together,” Karen said.

Beth’s eyes flashed, but she looked down. Her hands found the hem of her shirt, twisting the fabric.

Karen continued, “You’re too young and cute to be a divorcee drowning in wine.”

“Cute?"

"Yes. Very cute. When you're sober."

"Oh."

Karen let the silence hang. She watched Beth’s hands, the fingers pinching and worrying her shirt. The wedding ring still on her finger, out of habit or spite.

“I saw your closet,” Karen said.

Beth froze. “What?”

“When I put you to bed last night. You had some things hanging in the back.”

Beth’s face went red. “Oh.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Karen said.

Beth stared at the comforter.

Karen waited. Beth said nothing.

Beth pulled her knees to her chest. Made herself smaller. "Those are old. From before."

"I know what they are."

Beth looked up sharply. Met Karen's eyes for the first time.

"I have my own collection," Karen said. "Higher quality. More extensive."

Beth blinked. Processed this. "You?"

"Me. And Ryan."

"But you're so..." Beth gestured vaguely. "Together. Perfect."

Karen laughed. Short and genuine. "That’s why."

She stood. Walked to the window. Looked out at the unmowed lawn, the neglected flower beds. "In college, I swam competitively. My coach had two rules. Punishment for failures. Rewards for success. Clear expectations. Immediate consequences."

Beth watched her. Said nothing.

"I thrived under that structure. Personal best times. Academic excellence. Everything had its place, its purpose." Karen turned from the window. "Then I graduated. No more coach. No more structure. I floundered for two years. Couldn't keep a job. Couldn't maintain relationships. Felt like I was drowning on dry land."

"What changed?"

"I met Ryan. He recognized what I needed. What I was missing." Karen's eyes softened at the memory. "He gave me structure. Discipline. Accountability. Not because I was weak, but because I was strong enough to admit what I needed."

Beth's fingers had stopped picking at the sheet. She leaned forward slightly.

"We've been married twelve years," Karen continued. "Our kids are well-behaved. Our careers are solid. Our sex life is..." She paused. Smiled. "Exceptional. All because we maintain discipline. Daily routines. Clear expectations. Consequences and rewards."

"I need that." The words tumbled out of Beth's mouth. Desperate. Surprised them both. "I mean, I think I need something like that. Structure. Accountability."

"I know."

"Toby used to... we had something similar. In the beginning. The implements in the closet, they were ours. His and mine." Beth's voice cracked. "But he lost interest. Then the affair started and everything just... fell apart."

"And you've been trying to hold it together alone."

"And failing." Beth laughed, bitter. "Spectacularly failing. Can't keep the house clean. Can't control my kids. Can't stop drinking. Can't even remember making a pass at my neighbor."

Karen moved back to the bed. This time she sat closer. "What if you didn't have to do it alone?"

Beth looked at her. Hope and uncertainty both in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I could help. Give you structure. Accountability. Discipline."

"You would do that?"

"If you're serious about wanting change. If you're willing to commit."

"I don't know if I can. I'm such a mess."

"That's why you need help."

"But Ryan…"

"Knows. Supports the idea. He's discreet. Experienced. He wants to help."

Beth's eyes widened. She pulled back slightly. "Both of you?"

"If needed. The structure requires consistency. Some evenings I have commitments. Ryan could fill in."

"I don't know..."

"You don't have to decide now. Think about it. But Beth?" Karen stood. Looked down at her. "Something has to change. You know that."

Beth nodded. Pulled her knees tighter to her chest. "I know."

"Take a shower. Eat something. I'll be back in an hour."

Karen left. Beth heard the front door close. She sat in the messy bed, surrounded by evidence of her failures, and felt something she hadn't felt in months.

Hope.

Karen returned at nine. This time she knocked. Waited for Beth to answer. The woman had showered, changed clothes. Still looked fragile, but less destroyed.

"Hey," Beth said shyly, stepped aside. Her hands twisted together.

They sat in the living room. Karen pulled a notepad from her bag. Set it on the coffee table between them. "If we do this, we do it properly."

Beth nodded. Sat on her hands to stop them moving.

"Every morning, you'll swim laps in my pool. Seven o'clock. Thirty minutes minimum. Exercise helps with discipline. With mood. With everything."

"I haven't swum since high school."

"You'll remember. After swimming, you'll have a list of tasks. Household chores. Job applications. Whatever needs doing. I'll call each morning to set goals."

Beth leaned forward. Studied the notepad as Karen wrote. The handwriting was precise. Each letter perfectly formed.

"Evenings, there will be discipline. Assessment of the day's accomplishments. Consequences for failures. Rewards for successes."

"Every evening?"

"Starting tonight. Consistency matters. Especially at the start. Some nights I have book club. PTA meetings. Ryan will handle those sessions."

Beth's spine straightened. "Ryan?"

"We discussed it this morning."

"What did he say?"

"That you need help. That we should provide it. It’s what friends do."

Beth's fingers found the edge of the couch cushion. Picked at the piping. "He'd be... disciplining me?"

"When I'm unavailable. He's experienced. Discreet. Fair."

"I barely know him."

"You'll know him better. This requires trust. Intimacy. You can't hide behind politeness or distance."

Beth's face flushed. She looked at the notepad. Karen's schedule filled the page. Morning swim. House cleaning. Lunch. Job search. Dinner prep. Evening session.

"It's a lot."

"It's structure. What you're missing." She tore off the paper, set it on the table.

Beth kept staring at the schedule. Her fingers stopped picking. "When would we start?"

"Now."

Beth's head snapped up. "Now?"

"Yes. Your kids are at Toby's for a week. Gives us time to start new habits and routines."

Karen reached into her bag again. Pulled out a slender rattan cane. Set it on the coffee table next to the notepad. "First session needs to be memorable. Establish a baseline. Get your attention."

Beth stared at the cane. Her breath quickened.

"This is also punishment," Karen continued. "For the drinking. The neglect. The pass you made at me."

"I said I was sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix behavior. This might."

Karen stood. Picked up the cane. Tested its flex between her hands. "Stand up. Remove your jeans and underwear."

Beth didn't move. Her eyes stayed fixed on the cane.

"Beth."

The woman stood. Her fingers fumbled with her button. Zipper. She pushed her jeans down. Stepped out of them. Her underwear followed. Plain cotton. White.

"Bend over. Touch your toes."

Beth bent forward. Her shirt rode up, exposing her lower back. Her legs trembled slightly.

Karen moved behind her. Tapped the cane against Beth's ass. Light touches. Measuring distance. "Six strokes. You'll count them. You won't break position."

"Yes, ma’am."

The first stroke landed across the center of both cheeks. A line of fire that made Beth gasp. Her fingers pressed harder against her toes.

"One," she managed.

The second stroke landed just below the first. Harder. The sound sharp in the quiet room.

"Two." Her voice tighter.

Karen noticed the change in Beth's breathing. Deeper. Her thighs pressed together.

The third stroke was harder still. Beth's body jerked forward. A red line bloomed across pale skin.

"Three." Almost a whimper.

The fourth stroke landed where ass met thigh. Beth cried out. Her knees bent slightly, then straightened.

"Four." With a gasp.

The fifth stroke was precise. Crossed the previous marks. Beth's whole body shuddered. The scent of arousal, faint but present.

"Five." Barely audible. Karen could see wetness between Beth's thighs now. The woman's arousal obvious despite the pain. Or because of it.

Karen drew back for the final stroke. Put her strength behind it. The cane whistled through air.

It landed with a crack. Beth shot upright, hands flying to her ass. "Fuck!"

"You broke position."

Beth turned. Tears in her eyes. Hands still pressed to her burning skin. "I'm sorry. I couldn't…"

"You could. You chose not to."

"It hurt."

"That’s the idea."

They stared at each other. Beth's chest heaved. Her shirt had ridden up, exposing her stomach. Below, she was completely exposed. Vulnerable.

"I need more," Beth whispered.

"Tell me what you need."

"I need... I need you to not stop. To push me. To make me..." She trailed off.

"Make you what?"

Beth blinked. “I need…I need you to make me do it right.”

Karen nodded. “Good. Three more.”

Beth bent over. Karen gave her three more, spaced out, not as hard. Beth counted each one, voice steadier every time.

When it was done, Karen ran her hand over the marks. The skin was hot. Beth shivered, the pain bright, raw.

Karen’s hand lingered. She let her fingers drift between Beth’s legs. Beth gasped, knees shaking.

Karen circled her, pinched her nipple, then reached down again. Beth’s breath was ragged, but she didn’t resist.

Karen fingered her slow, then fast, thumb on the clit. Just as Beth was about to peak, the fingers withdrew. Her legs wobbly, Karen held her upright.

“Patience. Let it build.”

Karen set the cane aside. Moved closer. "Now you can stand. Show me."

Beth did, turning. Presented her marked ass. Nine distinct lines crossed the pale flesh. Already darkening toward bruises.

Karen's hand touched the marks. Gentle. Tracing each line. Beth hissed at the contact.

"These will remind you," Karen said. Her hand moved lower. Between Beth's thighs. Found wetness. "You're aroused."

Beth's head dropped forward. "I'm sorry."

"No need." Karen's fingers explored. Slipped between folds. Found Beth's clit. Circled it slowly. "This is part of it. Part of what you need."

Beth's hips pushed back against Karen's hand. Seeking more contact.

Karen's other hand moved around Beth's waist. Up under her shirt. Found a nipple through thin bra fabric. Pinched it gently.

Beth moaned. Her legs spread wider.

"You need permission," Karen said. Her fingers worked Beth's clit with practiced precision. "For everything. Including this."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please may I come."

"No." Karen's fingers stilled. "Not yet. Not today."

Beth whimpered. Her hips still moved, seeking friction that wasn't there.

Karen withdrew her hands. Stepped back. "Get dressed."

Beth turned. Her face flushed. Eyes dark with need. "That's it?"

"For now. Tonight, seven o'clock. Work your list until then."

Beth looked at the list, then at Karen. She nodded.

Karen picked up her bag. The notepad. Left the cane on the coffee table. "Keep that. We'll need it again."

She left Beth standing there. Half-dressed. Marked. Aroused. Confused.

But also, for the first time in months, focused on something beyond her own despair.

The front door closed with a click. Beth eyed the cane. She reached back, touched the welts on her ass. They hurt. Throbbed with each heartbeat. She exhaled. Deep

She'd never felt more alive.

Beth cleaned the kitchen with a rage she reserved for herself. She scrubbed the stovetop until her hands cramped, then re-bleached the sink, then wiped down every cabinet front. She vacuumed the living room twice. She folded the laundry and put every piece away, even the socks that belonged to her daughter, even the ones missing pairs. She stripped her bed and made it with hospital corners. When she finished, she walked the house, searching for flaws. She found three: a dusty vent in the hallway, a toothpaste crust on the kids’ bathroom counter, a streaked window in the stairwell. She erased them.

At seven, the doorbell rang. She opened the door and stepped back. Karen wore jeans and a white blouse, hair pulled in a tight ponytail. She held a gym bag.

“Hey,” Karen smiled.

Beth’s face burned. “Hi.”

Karen looked around. “Looks better.”

Beth shrugged. “It was gross before.”

Karen nodded. “You did it fast.”

“I… was motivated,” Beth said.

“See?”

Karen stepped inside, set the bag on the counter. She walked the kitchen, inspected Beth’s work with silent, slow turns of her head. She ran a finger along the tile backsplash, checked the trash can, peered into the fridge.

She said, “This is perfect.”

Beth felt a surge of pride. She bit it down.

Karen said, “Show me the rest.”

Beth led her through the house. They moved room to room in silence. Karen checked closets, opened drawers. She asked nothing, just looked, then nodded, then moved on.

In the master bedroom, Karen paused at the doorway. The bed was made. The nightstand was clear except for a glass of water. The windows were open to the evening air. Beth stood in the center of the room, hands knotted at her sides.

Karen circled the bed, then sat on the edge. “You worked hard,” she said.

Beth nodded.

“Are you ready?” Karen said.

Beth’s mouth went dry. She nodded again.

Karen patted her lap. “Come here.”

Beth hesitated, then crossed the room. She stood before Karen, eyes on the floor.

Karen said, “Take off your pants.”

Beth slid them down, then her underwear. She let them drop, stepped out, and left them in a puddle.

“Shirt too,” Karen said.

Beth pulled her shirt over her head. She wore nothing underneath. She trembled beneath Karen’s scrutiny.

Karen patted her thigh. “Over my lap.”

Beth obeyed. She draped herself across Karen’s knees, her ass high and white against the dark denim. Her hands clutched the bedspread. She braced.

Karen laid a hand on Beth’s back. The palm was warm, the pressure firm. Beth felt her body relax. She let her head sink into the mattress.

The first smack was sharp, but not hard. It made a crisp sound. Beth flinched, but did not cry out.

Karen spanked her slow, regular, each blow landing square on the lower curve of Beth’s ass. Beth felt the heat rise. The soreness from the cane came alive, then doubled. She whimpered, muffled in the bedspread.

Karen kept the rhythm. Her hand was steady. She paused only to stroke the red skin, to spread the heat with her palm, to trace the welts with her fingertips. Beth shivered at every touch.

After a minute, Karen stopped. She reached into her bag and pulled out a paddle. It was thick, black leather, cut in a rectangle, with a wrist strap at the end.

She let Beth see it. “This will hurt more,” Karen said.

Beth nodded, face pressed to the blanket.

Karen raised the paddle. The first strike was duller than the hand, but heavier. It landed with a slap and a thud. Beth jolted. The second hit was lower, just above her thigh. The third landed on the same spot as the cane’s stripe. Beth gasped.

Karen gave her ten, slow and even. By the sixth, Beth was breathing hard. By the ninth, she was moaning into the bed. The pain was everywhere.

Karen set the paddle aside. She ran her hand over Beth’s ass, over the welts and the new, dark marks. She squeezed, gentle but firm. Beth squirmed at the contact.

Karen slipped her hand lower, between Beth’s legs. Beth’s cunt was slick, the lips flushed and open. Karen pressed two fingers inside her, slow. Beth arched her back. She felt herself clench around Karen’s fingers, felt the heat spike at every movement.

Karen worked her fingers in, then out, then up to circle Beth’s clit. Beth jerked at the touch. Karen did it again, then again, faster. Beth’s hips bucked.

“You like this?” Karen said.

Beth nodded, face wet with tears and sweat.

Karen said, “Say it.”

“I like it,” Beth whispered.

Karen fingered her harder, the heel of her hand grinding into Beth’s clit. Beth lost her grip on the bed. She reached back, clawed at Karen’s thigh, desperate for something to hold.

Karen stopped, pulled her hand away. Beth whimpered at the loss.

Karen said, “Have you ever licked a cunt?”

Beth shook her head, desperate. “No.”

“Want to learn?”

“Yes.”

Karen stood, unfastened her jeans. She stripped them down, then the panties. Her pussy was shaved, the lips neat, the clit small and bright. She sat back on the bed, legs apart.

“Come here,” Karen said.

Beth got on her knees, crawled to Karen. Her face was inches from Karen’s sex. She hesitated, but the smell was sharp, intoxicating. She leaned in and pressed her tongue to the slick slit.

Karen grabbed a fistful of Beth’s hair, held her in place. “Slow,” she said.

Beth licked, timid at first. Karen corrected her, pulling her closer, guiding her head. Beth tasted salt, then sour, then a sweetness she couldn't place. She pressed her tongue deeper. Karen moaned, spread her legs wider.

Beth licked up and down, then around the clit, then back down again. Karen rocked her hips, grinding into Beth’s mouth. The hand in Beth’s hair tightened.

“Good girl,” Karen said.

Beth licked harder, desperate for praise. She sucked at the clit, tongue moving fast. Karen’s thighs trembled. She pushed Beth’s face deeper, smothering her.

When Karen came, she didn't scream.Just shuddered, then went still. She let go of Beth’s hair, stroked her head, soft.

Beth stayed there, mouth pressed to Karen’s cunt, waiting for permission to move.

Karen said, “You can stop.”

Beth pulled back. Her face was wet. She licked her lips with a smile.

Karen smiled at her, a slow, satisfied smile. She pulled Beth up onto the bed, wrapped her arms around her.

They lay together a moment. Karen stroked Beth’s hair, let her head rest on Karen’s shoulder.

“You did well,” Karen said.

Beth closed her eyes. She felt the throbbing in her ass, the ache in her thighs, the raw need in her cunt. She felt pride, sharp as the pain.

Karen said, “Tomorrow, you’ll do it again.”

Beth nodded.

Next day, Beth woke sore. Every movement reminded her of the cane and the paddle. In the pool at seven. Back home she showered, standing under the spray until her skin stung. She dressed in a loose tee and shorts, no bra. The welts and bruises showed under the thin cotton, faint stripes across her thighs and ass, a pink glow at her waist. The denied climax pulsed through her body.

She spent the day on tasks. Dishes, dusting, more laundry. Grocery shopping for the first time in weeks. At the checkout she caught herself smiling at nothing, like an idiot. She forced it away, then let it come back.

She ate dinner alone at the counter. The house was quiet. She checked her phone: 6:59. Ryan was due at seven.

At seven sharp, the doorbell rang.

She opened the door and found Ryan on the porch. He wore a windbreaker and gym shorts. His arms were crossed. He looked her up and down, then smiled. “Evening.”

Beth stepped back to let him in. “Hi,” she said. Her voice sounded small, but it was steady.

He glanced around the entryway, noticed the cleaned floors, the stacked shoes by the mat. “Looks good,” he said.

She shut the door behind him. “Thanks.”

He moved through the house, hands in his pockets, not rushed. He stopped in the kitchen. “You ate?”

She nodded.

He looked at her again, this time slower. “You’re nervous,” he said.

Beth shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He smiled. “That’s what Karen said you’d say.”

She flushed. “She tell you everything?”

He said, “She tells me what matters. She said you took your discipline well.”

Beth shifted her weight. “I tried.”

He gestured at the living room. “Let’s sit.”

She followed him in. He took the armchair; she sat at the edge of the couch.

He said, “I want to check your marks.”

She hesitated, then stood and slipped her shorts down. She turned around, bent forward just enough for him to see. He whistled low. “Well done, Karen.”

Beth said, “I asked for it.”

He nodded. “She has a good read on you.” He gestured for her to pull the shorts up. “Come closer.”

Beth sat on the ottoman. She looked at her hands.

He said, “Tell me about yesterday.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

He said, “The discipline. What it felt like. What you needed.”

Beth fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “It hurt. But it was, I don’t know. Good. Like I could stop thinking.”

He watched her face. “Did you come?”

She went red. “No.”

“Did you want to?”

Beth nodded.

He leaned forward. “You have to be honest. If you’re going to do this, you say what you need.”

Beth looked up at him. “I want to be good. I want to do better.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I asked. Did you want to come?”

She swallowed. “Yes. I wanted to come.”

He smiled. “Good.” He leaned back. “Tonight, we’re going to focus on that.”

She stared at him.

He said, “First, the discipline. Then, if you’ve earned it, the reward.”

She nodded, slow.

He stood. “Strip.”

Beth stood, peeled her shirt off. She let her shorts fall, then her panties. She stood naked in the center of the room.

He walked around her, studying the marks. He touched her ass, traced a cane welt with his finger. She shivered.

He said, “I won’t hit those again. Not yet.” He let his hand slide up her back, then down her arm. “Sit.”

She sat on the ottoman, legs together.

He went to the entryway and returned with a bag. He set it on the floor, pulled out a bundle of black leather straps, a length of rope, and a riding crop.

Beth’s pulse jumped at the sight of the crop.

He knelt at her feet, secured her ankles with the leather cuffs, buckled them tight. He spread her knees, then tied her wrists behind her back with the rope. He tested the knots, then stood.

He said, “Lean back.”

She leaned, supporting herself with her bound arms. Her chest lifted. He took the crop and ran it over her breasts.

He said, “You need to count. Ten on your tits, then ten on your cunt. If you lose count, we start over. It’s about focus.”

Beth nodded.

He flicked the crop. The first strike hit her left nipple, a sharp, clean snap. Beth jerked, then caught her breath. “One.”

He hit the right. “Two.”

He alternated, left then right, each strike precise. By four, her nipples stood out, red and hard. By six, she trembled. By eight, her eyes watered.

He paused, ran the crop over her chest, then down her stomach to her cunt. He tapped between her legs, then struck.

The first hit landed on her mound. She flinched. “One.”

The second was higher, just missing the clit. “Two.”

The third, fourth, fifth, each landed with a whistle and a slap. She counted, voice cracking.

At ten, she panted, legs shaking.

He set the crop aside, knelt again. He spread her lips with his fingers, examined the skin. He pressed two fingers inside her, slow, then faster. She was soaked. He found her clit, pinched it. She gasped.

He said, “Do you want to come?”

She nodded, desperate.

He pulled his hand away. “Not yet.”

He untied her wrists, then bent her forward, hands on the ottoman. He pressed her chest to the cushion, her ass high. He picked up the crop.

He said, “Now your ass. Same count.”

She braced.

He whipped her, low and fast. Each strike landed just below the curve, on fresh skin. She counted, voice louder with each. At seven, she started to cry. At ten, she sobbed, but stayed still.

He knelt, spread her ass with both hands. He licked her, once, slow. Fingers gathering her moisture, he rubbed the tight hole. He pressed a finger in. She tensed, then relaxed. He fingered her ass, then reached under to rub her clit.

She moaned, loud. He worked her, two fingers in her cunt, one in her ass, thumb grinding on the clit. She bucked, desperate for release.

He stopped.

She sobbed, “Please.”

He said, “Patience.”

He rolled her onto her back, lifted her legs, held them open. He fucked her with his fingers, fast, then slow, then fast again. He pinched her nipples, twisted them. He slapped her cunt with his palm, then rubbed it.

She was wild now, begging, wordless.

He alternated, bringing her to the edge, backing off. Repeatedly.

Finally, he let her rest. He stroked her hair, wiped her face. He untied her wrists and ankles.

After a minute, she sat up, still panting.

He said, “You did well.”

She smiled, weak. “Thank you, sir.”

He said, “Show me.”

Nodding, she knelt before him, unzipped his shorts, pulled out his cock. It was already hard. She stroked it, then took it in her mouth.

He held her head, controlled the depth. She gagged once, but he didn’t stop. He taught her the rhythm he wanted. She sucked, tongue working, eager for praise.

He let her finish him. He came in her mouth. She swallowed it all, then licked him clean.

He pulled her up, kissed her forehead. “Good girl,” he said.

She beamed, pride and pleasure blooming in her chest.

He dressed, gathered the bag.

He said, “You’ve got your list for tomorrow.”

She nodded.

He left her there, naked and marked, kneeling on the rug. She listened to the silence, the echo of her own pulse.

________________

Beth was dressing for dinner when Karen’s text arrived. “Kids at sleepover. Six. Dinner. Here. No underwear” She stared at the phone, the simple words. Beth stared at the screen. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. What did one wear to dinner with the couple who controlled your orgasms? “Yes, ma’am,” she replied.

She walked the three houses in a loose cotton dress. She wore nothing underneath, as instructed. She liked the feel of it, the swing against her raw ass and the ghost of last night’s marks. The fabric brushed against nipples still tender from Ryan's crop. Against skin that remembered every strike.

Karen opened the door before Beth could knock. She looked like she had just finished a workout, face flushed, hair in a quick bun, arms still slick with sweat.

“You’re early,” Karen said. Her tone was approving.

Beth giggled. “Didn’t want to be late.”

Karen led her in. The kitchen was a shrine to neatness: granite counters, knife block, everything wiped clean. The oven was on. The smell of roast chicken, garlic, rosemary.

Ryan was at the dining table, sleeves rolled up, carving a wooden chess set with a paring knife. He nodded at Beth, a quick up-and-down. “You look lovely,” he said.

Blushing, Beth sat where Karen pointed. She looked at her hands. “Thanks for having me.”

“You’ve been good this week,” Karen said. She was checking the oven, using a single oven mitt. “You stuck to the schedule. No drinking. Tasks all met.”

Beth’s face warmed. “It helps to have you checking.”

Karen looked over her shoulder. “It helps to have consequences.”

Beth glanced at Ryan. He was smiling, not mocking. “Yes,” Beth said. She meant it.

They ate at the kitchen table. Chicken, roasted carrots, potatoes with skins on. Beth ate slowly, careful not to spill. She watched Karen pick apart a drumstick with perfect efficiency, no wasted movement.

Ryan spoke first. “Karen tells me you’re feeling more yourself. You think that’s true?”

Beth hesitated, "Ah, slowly.”

Karen stabbed a carrot. “That’s a start.”

Beth nodded. “I've got a ways to go.”

Karen put down her fork. “You need structure, rules. You do best when someone sets them.”

Ryan said, “We like structure, too. Helps with work, with kids, with everything.”

Beth risked a look at Karen. “It sounds weird. I dunno. But it’s…better. I don’t fuck up as much.”

Karen was quiet. “You like being told what to do.”

Beth’s stomach flipped. She couldn’t look away from Karen’s eyes.

“Say it,” Karen said.

Beth swallowed. “Yes, I like when you tell me what to do.” A shiver ran through her body.

Ryan set down his knife. “The discipline this week, did you like it?”

Beth nodded.

He said, “What did you like most?”

Beth’s mouth went dry. “I don’t know.”

Ryan pressed: “The pain, the obedience, or the after?”

She hesitated. “All, mostly obedience. I didn’t have to think.”

Karen smiled at Ryan. “Told you.”

Beth kept eating. She could feel their approval .

Karen leaned in. “Ryan said you really enjoyed the anal play.”

Beth went red. “He told you?”

“He tells me what matters,” She said.

Karen asked, “You liked it?”

Beth nodded, eyes on her plate. “No one ever did that before.”

Ryan said, “Never?”

Beth shook her head. “Toby wasn’t interested.”

Karen touched her hand. “Toby is a fool. You should have what you want.”

Beth whispered, “I want it.”

Karen’s hand squeezed. “Good.”

Dinner finished, the plates were cleared. Beth stood up. “Let me do the dishes.”

Karen looked at her. “You can. But first things first. Take off your dress.”

Beth hesitated. Then she slipped it over her head. She stood naked in Karen’s kitchen, the air cold on her skin.

“Hands on the counter,” Karen said.

Beth did as told. She watched the window, saw the darkening yard, the patio light flick on.

Karen spanked her fast, with just her hand. Each strike landed square, hard, and efficient. Beth counted them off in her mind. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. At twenty-five Karen stopped.

“Good girl,” Karen said.

Beth’s eyes stung, but she smiled. She moved to the sink and started the dishes, naked.

Ryan sat at the table, still watching.

Beth stacked plates. The hot water steamed, made her skin prickle. She could feel every welt. The chicken grease clung to her fingers.

Karen walked past, brushing fingers along Beth’s ass. Then Karen sat in Ryan’s lap. Beth tried not to look, but the mirror on the microwave caught the image: Karen, straddling Ryan, her white blouse unbuttoned at the top. He kissed her neck, hand on her ass, fingers squeezing her nipples hard. Beth felt herself throb, moisture gushing.

She tried to ignore them. She focused on the fork tines, the crusted cheese, the way suds clung to the glass. It didn’t work. She glanced over her shoulder.

Ryan had Karen bent over the opposite counter, her black dress hiked up, thighs parted. He spanked her, slow and deliberate, his hand landing with muted slaps. Karen didn’t flinch. She looked over her shoulder, met Beth’s gaze, and smiled. A feral, wicked smile. The slap of hand against skin. Karen moaning, "Yes..."

The sound of a zipper. Karen gasped, then grunted. Ryan fucked her from behind, unhurried, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip. The sound of skin on skin, the roughness of it, made Beth’s knees weak. She scrubbed harder, desperate to keep her balance. Her hands trembled. She rinsed a plate twice, then set it down crooked. Her cunt was soaked, dripping down her thigh.

As she finished the last glass, Karen came up behind her, still breathless. She pressed her body against Beth’s, one hand sliding down between Beth’s legs. Her fingers found Beth’s clit, rubbed slow circles, the pressure perfect.

Beth moaned, helpless. The water ran over her hands, plates forgotten. Karen’s other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up.

“Don’t stop,” Karen whispered, tongue flicking Beth’s earlobe. “Finish the dishes.”

Beth tried to obey, but her vision blurred, hips rocking back against Karen’s hand. She managed to rinse a fork, then dropped it in the sink as Karen’s fingers worked faster.

Ryan watched from across the room, his cock still slick from Karen. He smiled, indulgent, as if he were grading a particularly promising student.

Karen slid two fingers inside Beth, thumb circling her clit.

Just as Beth teetered on the edge of climax, Karen pulled back, pressing her lips to Beth’s ear. “Patience. We’re just getting started.”

Beth moaned in pleasure. She belonged here, she realized. She wanted to stay forever.

“Your turn,” Ryan said.

Beth looked at Karen. “My turn?”

Karen said, “You did the dishes. You get dessert.”

Beth blushed. “I don’t know what that means.”

Karen sat on the counter and spread her legs wide. Ryan stood behind Beth, pushing her to her knees. His hand pressed her head forward, her tongue found Karen’s clit, circled it once, twice, then licked up the length of the slit. Karen shivered. Beth trembled.

Ryan stood behind Beth, hand on her neck, holding her steady as she ate Karen out. Karen braced herself on the counter and let her head fall back.

Beth’s tongue was learning. She licked slow at first, then faster, flattening her tongue to cover the clit. Beth shuddered. The kitchen light buzzed above her head.

Karen came in a rush, her thighs squeezing Beth’s face. Beth didn’t stop. She licked until Karen couldn’t stand, sliding down the cabinet, shivering.

Karen kissed her, open-mouthed. Beth was dizzy with desire.

Ryan leaned down, whispered, “You did well.”

Beth nodded, out of breath.

“That's just the beginning.” Karen whispered in her ear. She led the way, her hand never leaving Beth’s wrist. The descent down the stairs felt like a slow slide into something elemental, a shedding of the polite, suburban world above. The playroom was a part of the basement, behind a keypad-locked door.

It was nothing like Beth imagined. She’d pictured something crude, industrial, cement floors, metal pipes, a dungeon. Instead, the space was warm and wood-paneled, more like a gentleman’s library. Cabinets lined one wall, neatly arranged with implements in ascending order: leather paddles, canes, crops, and whips, each displayed like a work of art. There was a padded bench in the center of the room, a spanking horse off to one side, and a heavy leather armchair facing everything.

Beth’s mouth went dry.

Karen gestured to the center of the room, where a suspension rig hung from the ceiling, sleek stainless steel, with padded cuffs and adjustable lengths. “There,” Karen said, her voice even.

Beth obeyed, knees weak. She stood naked and shivering, the air cooler down here, her nipples already hard from anticipation.

Ryan watched from the armchair, legs crossed, hands steepled. He surveyed Beth with the same intense focus he’d used on her in the kitchen, as if she were a new species to be classified.

Karen worked with brisk efficiency, guiding Beth’s arms overhead and securing her wrists in the cuffs. She adjusted the rig so that Beth’s toes just barely touched the floor, the rest of her weight supported by her arms and shoulders. The stretch was delicious, pulling Beth’s body taut and helpless.

Karen stood back to admire her handiwork. “Perfect,” she said.

Ryan nodded in approval. “She looks beautiful.”

Beth blushed, but the compliment sent a wave of warmth through her chest.

Karen selected a flogger from the wall, its tails soft and supple. She stroked it over Beth’s back, letting her feel the weight and texture before the first strike. Beth flinched at the contact, but it was more sensation than pain, a spreading heat that radiated through her skin.

Beth gasped as the second blow landed, a little harder. The third and fourth came in quick succession, each one building on the last, her back and ass glowing with warmth. By ten, Beth’s whole body hummed, strung between pain and pleasure.

Karen paused, then ran her hands over the marks, soothing the sting. She kissed the welts, her tongue flicking over the raised ridges, then nipped lightly at the base of Beth’s neck. The intimacy of it made Beth shudder.

Then the flogger was gone, replaced by a riding crop. Karen tapped it against Beth’s thigh, a warning. The first strike landed on the inside of her thigh, sharp and precise, and Beth yelped.

Beth whimpered as Karen worked methodically, moving from thighs to ass to back. Each strike was a lesson, a punctuation mark. Beth’s world narrowed to the rhythm of the blows, the sound of leather on skin, and the steady commentary from Ryan’s chair.

“Her ass is turning a beautiful shade of red,” Ryan observed. “The muscles twitch with every stroke.”

Karen smiled over Beth’s shoulder. “She’s very responsive.”

“Her cunt is dripping,” Ryan said. “Lovely.”

Beth moaned, humiliated and aroused beyond reason.

Karen set the crop aside and knelt behind Beth, spreading her legs wider. She traced a finger along Beth’s slit, then slid two fingers in at once, slow and deliberate. Beth gasped, the sudden fullness almost too much. Karen fucked her with expert precision, curling her fingers to hit the spot that made Beth see stars. She brought her close to the edge, then stopped.

Beth sobbed. “Please, ”

“Not yet,” Karen said, withdrawing her hand.

She reached up and stroked Beth’s cheek, wiping away the tears. “You’re strong. You can take more.”

Ryan stood and approached, his presence looming. He cupped Beth’s chin, turning her face up to his.

“Don’t come until we say,” Ryan said, voice low. “Understood?”

Beth nodded, desperate.

He whispered in her ear, “You’re doing perfectly.” He kissed her hard, deep. Fingers pinching both nipples as she moaned into his mouth. Karen resumed the flogging, this time faster, harder, the tails snapping around Beth’s body and licking at her skin. Beth’s nipples throbbed with each impact, sending shocks of pleasure straight to her core.

As Ryan teased her front, Karen alternated between spanking and fingering, never letting Beth settle into one sensation. She edged Beth mercilessly, bringing her to the brink again and again, then backing off.

“Do you want to come?” Karen whispered, her breath hot against Beth’s ear.

Beth nodded,

Karen laughed, a soft, cruel sound. “Not yet.”

Karen knelt again, this time licking Beth’s pussy while spanking each cheek with her free hand. The combined sensations were almost too much, Beth bucked, the restraints held her in place.

Karen pulled back yet again, then stood and kissed her, sharing the taste.

Ryan moved closer, his hands finding Beth's nipples, teasing them with gentle pinches and flicks, while his fingers did the same to her pussy, exploring her wetness.

Beth sobbed, then laughed, then sobbed again. She floated above herself, watched her body jerk and strain.

Karen moved in front. She held Beth’s face, stroked her cheek, then kissed her, open and slow.

“You’re doing perfect,” Karen said.

Beth nodded, tried to thank her, but the words tangled.

Ryan said, “Ready?”

Beth nodded again.

Karen took down the flogger, picked up the crop.

She tapped it against Beth’s thighs, then hit her pussy once, quick. Beth screamed.

Karen did it again. The pain radiated up her spine, into her skull. Her whole body pulsed.

At the fifth, Beth thought she might pass out. She didn’t. She just hung there, empty, waiting for what came next.

Karen knelt, licked Beth’s cunt, sucked the clit hard. This time she didn’t stop.

Beth came, all at once. It tore through her, a wave of heat and shaking. A week of denial burst through all at once. She cried out, lost her words, lost her self.

When it was over, she sagged in the cuffs, breath ragged.

Karen kissed her thighs, then stood and held her up. “Good girl,” she whispered.

Ryan took a step forward and kissed them both, his hand stroking Beth’s back, gentle now.

Hanging there, suspended and trembling, Beth was spent, still hungry for more.

“Good girl,” Karen whispered, kissing Beth’s forehead.

Ryan stroked her cheek. “You were perfect.”

Beth closed her eyes, floating in the aftermath, knowing there was still so much more to come.

They left her hanging for awhile. Not in neglect, never that, but as an exercise in endurance, a lesson in patience and receptivity. Beth’s arms ached, her back tingled with the ghost of the flogger, her pussy still pulsed with aftershocks. She drifted in and out of awareness, mind empty, body a locus of sensation.

Eventually, Ryan returned. He pressed a hand to her lower back, steadying her, and with deft, gentle movements, began to lower the suspension rig. The pressure shifted and Beth’s toes found the floor, her legs trembling with the relief and exhaustion of blood returning. She sagged, grateful, until Karen unfastened her wrists and helped her upright. For a moment, Beth leaned into Karen, cheek against her shoulder, wanting to cry and laugh and sleep all at once.

But there was more to come.

“Table,” Ryan said, voice low.

Karen guided Beth to the padded surface at the center of the room. Beth’s body moved automatically, muscle memory already forming after so few sessions. She bent at the waist, her breasts flattening against the cool vinyl, arms splayed to either side. Karen spread her legs and tied each ankle to a table leg, the position obscene and inescapable.

Ryan moved to the head of the table, his cock already hard. He stroked himself as he watched Karen finish the knots.

“Open your mouth,” Ryan said.

Beth obeyed, tongue out, eager for the taste of him. He slid his cock into her mouth, slow at first, letting her savor it. She hollowed her cheeks, took him deep, choking a little as he hit the back of her throat. He pulled back, letting her breathe, then plunged in again.

Behind her, Karen worked with precision. She inspected the welts on Beth’s back and ass, running cool fingers over the raised skin, then selected a new implement from the wall, a tawse this time, heavy and split-tipped. She brought it down on Beth’s ass, a flat, punishing blow that made Beth moan around Ryan’s cock.

The next stroke landed square across her thighs. Karen alternated between soft caresses and brutal strikes, never letting Beth anticipate what would come next. Each impact sent a shockwave through Beth, her body converting pain to pleasure with terrifying efficiency.

Ryan fucked her mouth with increasing urgency, hips rolling in a relentless rhythm. He watched Karen work, eyes glazed with lust.

When Beth’s ass was a latticework of strips, Karen put the tawse aside and knelt between Beth’s spread legs. She licked the bruised skin, then moved lower, tongue lapping at Beth’s soaked pussy. The sensation was overwhelming, Beth arched her back, desperate for more, but the restraints held her in place.

Karen’s tongue was merciless, flicking over Beth’s clit, then plunging into her cunt, then circling her asshole. Beth shivered at the new sensation, gasping for air as Karen tongued her rim.

“She’s ready,” Karen said, voice thick with arousal.

Ryan withdrew from Beth’s mouth, stroking her cheek. “Are you ready for more?”

Beth nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Yes, sir, please.”

Karen lubed two fingers with spit and Beth’s own arousal, then pressed them against her anus. The pressure was insistent, but Karen took her time, working slowly, easing Beth open. She twisted her fingers, scissoring gently, and Beth felt herself relax around the intrusion.

Ryan moved behind her, hands gripping her hips. Karen rubbed the head of his cock against Beth’s asshole, smearing pre-come and lube, then held it firmly.

“Breathe, push back,” Karen murmured, her fingers gliding over Beth’s back. The initial burn was intense, but gradually Ryan’s cock pressed into the tight opening. “Slow, take your time,” Her hand caressing Beth’s ass while the other found its way to her own pussy, coating her fingers, bringing them to Beth’s lips.

Beth eagerly sucked Karen’s fingers and began to move in slow circles around Ryan's cock, gradually taking him deeper with each motion. Finally, with a long, deep breath, she pushed back, feeling Ryan fill her completely. “Oh, God, that’s…” Beth trailed off, words disappearing.

Ryan seized the flogger and struck Beth’s ass as he thrust into her. The sting intertwined with the fullness, heightening every sensation. Beth was losing words, losing self. She only knew sensation: the burn of the flogger, the fullness in her ass, the taste and smell of Karen’s pussy.

Ryan fucked her ass with slow, deliberate thrusts, each one driving Beth higher. Karen reached underneath, fingers finding Beth’s clit and rubbing it in tight circles. The dual sensation was too much, Beth screamed, her body convulsing as she came, the orgasm so intense it left her dizzy and blind.

Ryan fucked her harder, his own orgasm building. Karen moved to straddle the head of the table. She pressed herself onto Beth’s mouth, grinding against her tongue. Ryan fucked Beth’s ass, driving her forward. Beth moaned into Karen’s pussy. Karen shuddered, grabbed Beth’s hair, held her there.

“Harder,” Karen ordered.

Beth did, devouring Karen’s cunt like it was the only thing keeping her alive. She flicked her tongue over Karen’s clit, sucked the lips, pushed inside as deep as she could. Karen rode her face, hands in Beth’s hair, moaning with every thrust.

Ryan grunted, then exploded inside Beth, hot and sudden. He didn’t stop, he kept fucking, prolonging his own pleasure, drawing out every last drop. When he finally pulled out, Karen came, soaking Beth’s face with a delicious gush.

They left Beth tied to the table for a moment, both of them catching their breath. The room smelled of sweat, sex, and leather. Implements hung on the walls, silent witnesses to the aftermath.

Karen untied Beth’s ankles, then gathered her into a warm, enveloping hug. Ryan wrapped them both in a blanket, the three of them collapsing onto the padded bench.

Beth was spent, every nerve ending tingling. But she had never felt more alive. She curled into Karen’s side, letting herself be held, letting herself belong.

She didn’t need to ask when she’d see them again. She already knew.

Tomorrow.