There’s always lots of kinky lesbian spanking and discipline to read here on SB!
While Leslie and Monica struggled with their desire for discipline, Erin was attempting to salvage some positive outcome from a dire situation.
“The first thing we’re going to do when you make bail, is get you into some addiction therapy,” Erin said. “The second…”
“Naw…” Jimmy shook her head, making her greasy bangs sway back and forth. “I don’t believe in therapy.”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” Erin informed her client. “It’s what you want a judge to believe. And that is there’s some reason why you shouldn’t go straight to jail.”
“I shouldn’t go to jail, because I’m not inherently guilty.”
“Erin works too hard,” Leslie sighed, sliding off the couch as the sound of Erin’s car purring out of the driveway made the windows vibrate for a few moments.
“She has to work that hard, or she goes crazy,” Monica said. “She’s an addict.”
“We weren’t even… we weren’t even done,” Leslie frowned as she pulled her sweat pants up over her sore bottom. “I mean, if you hadn’t come over, I’d be alone right now.”
“Maybe she wouldn’t have gone into work if I’d not been here.”
Leslie shook her head. “You know that’s not true.”
Monica understood Leslie’s reason for being upset. Being run out on mid-session was something that happened too often with Erin, who responded to the summons of her cell phone with all the enthusiasm of Pavlov’s dog to a ringing bell.
“Hey,” she said. “At least you can smear ice cream on your butt without getting in trouble for it now.”
“Okay, you two,” Erin said as she re-entered the room. “I have to go into work. I have a client emergency. Monica, do you mind staying with Leslie?”
It was late, but with Erin’s clientèle, that was not altogether surprising. Though she spent her time with Leslie and Monica strictly enforcing good behavior, in her professional life she endeavoured to convince judges and juries to forgive or disbelieve the worst behavior, and thanks to the phone call she’d received in the kitchen, it seemed as though the line between the two was about to become fairly blurred.
“No problem,” Monica agreed easily. “Any idea when you’ll be back?”
“This one’s a repeat offender,” Erin said grimly. “I could be some time. Feel free to sleep over if you like, Monica.” She dropped a kiss on Leslie’s head. “As for you, young lady,” she said in stern tones. “You and I will have a serious conversation tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Leslie said. “Go help the criminals.”
Recent polling has suggested that 60-ish% of Sappho’s Brats readers would likely get themselves spanked with a belt if they were left to their own devices post hand spanking.
18% would cut their losses and behave themselves, and 18% approve of cold dairy butt soothers. (Which is what they call a hidden niche market.)
A smaller percentage are interested in the lost art of ass sculpture, and an equal number are interested in the equitable distribution of spanking.
You can’t buy insights like this.
“Will you be throwing tantrums in the future, Leslie?” Erin walked over to the back of the couch, put her hands on either side of Monica’s shoulders and looked down into Leslie’s eyes with a stern expression which did not allow for any further complaining from Leslie.
“No,” Leslie said, shrinking down until she basically melded with Monica.
“Good,” Erin nodded. “Because if you ever, and I do mean ever behave that way again, I’m going to use a leather belt on your bottom – not just my hand.”
Leslie’s eyes widened. “B…but…”
“No buts about it, my girl,” Erin said firmly. “If I have to discipline you, I’m going to do so very, very thoroughly.”
Leslie let out a little sniff and nodded.
Monica cuddled her ex-girlfriend close, feeling less like a third wheel and more like a necessary buffer. Leslie seemed to be calming down quite quickly in her arms, soothed by the way Monica was stroking her back and bottom. There was nothing sexual in the touch, even when her fingers travelled over the lower parts of Leslie’s heated cheeks. Clearly Erin had decided not to make the punishment in any way enjoyable for Leslie. It had obviously been an effort to stamp out the rebellion before it started. And it seemed to have worked… until Leslie opened her mouth again.
“Just one minute,” Monica told herself, clutching a box of chocolates. She had decided that she was going to drop them off at Erin’s place, along with the apology note she’d written to both Leslie and Erin. “It’s just going to take one minute.”
Standing on Erin’s doorstep, she almost didn’t knock. Almost put the chocolate on the mat and the note in the crevice of the door and stole away like a burglar in the night. The impulse to knock was too strong though, and her knuckles were rapping on the door frame before she really thought about it.
She expected a long, awkward wait. Probably being greeted by a half-dressed Leslie or Erin. It only took a couple seconds though before the door was hauled open and Leslie’s tear stained face greeted Monica. The hot red head was naked from the waist down, but she didn’t seem particularly happy about it.
Later that evening, Leslie and Erin were curled up on the couch at Erin’s place. They had enjoyed strawberries and chocolate and a movie was playing while they cuddled and chatted, Leslie curled up between Erin’s thighs, laying her head against her lover’s chest.
“This is nice, isn’t it.” Leslie smiled up at Erin.
“Hm?” Erin glanced down. “Oh. Yes.”
Leslie’s smile fell off her face. “You’re not listening.”
Leslie pushed up to her knees and scowled down at Erin, who managed to look composed and languid at the same time. “You’re thinking about Monica, aren’t you.”
“I…” Erin couldn’t deny it. She wasn’t in the habit of lying, which meant she unfortunately defaulted to the truth more often than was strictly good for her.