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Lottie had always considered herself to be rather observant, intuitive and intelligent, but she hadn’t needed to be any of those things at all to figure out that Jackie was so pissed at her.
It was in everything, her posture, her silence, the almost imperceptible edge to her breathing. Lottie could see it in the way Jackie’s lips had stayed pressed into a flat, stubborn line, not the slightest curve of amusement or warmth to be found. Fully pursed, fully unimpressed. Her eyes darker than usual, narrowed just slightly at the corners, not in anger, exactly, but in a way that made her feel miles away. Cold.
They’d left Shauna’s place about half an hour ago, after one of Jackie’s infamous, inescapable weekly bonding nights, the ones she insisted were “important for team morale,” though Lottie was pretty sure Jackie just liked having an excuse to micromanage everyone’s weekend. Tonight was no different, the entire day eaten up by back to back shitty horror flicks that Van had picked out with absolute glee, none of which anyone but Van had the patience or taste for.
They’d mostly spent the time sprawled around Shauna’s living room like bored camp kids, gossiping, laughing too loudly at inside jokes, playing those dumb, nostalgic little games that Jackie always tried to pretend she was too mature for until she got way too competitive.
But whatever Jackie was feeling now hadn’t come from nothing.
On the way home, she hadn’t said a single word. Not a greeting as Lottie slipped into the passenger seat, wiping droplets of rain off of her face. Not a passive-aggressive jab. Not even a sigh.
The silence was so loud that Lottie might’ve convinced herself Jackie had stopped breathing entirely if not for the tight rise and fall of her chest as she stared straight ahead, completely focused on the road, which wasn’t like her at all.
Usually Jackie was a little reckless behind the wheel, radio blasting overplayed pop hits from a year ago, turning up the volume just to be obnoxious, elbowing Lottie in the side whenever something especially sugary came on. She’d sing over it, pitchy and unbothered, reciting mundane thoughts about whatever new lip gloss she hated or dissecting every bit of drama from Shauna’s expression that night.
But now? Nothing.
Just the faint swish of windshield wipers pushing away the drizzle and the low hum of the car’s heating system. Jackie’s hands were clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles tight and pale, gripping the studded leather cover like she needed to feel something sharp.
Lottie stared for a second too long at those little rhinestones pressing into her palms, how unforgiving they must’ve been, and couldn’t help imagining how mad she’d have to be to hold on that tightly without even flinching. It made her chest ache a little. Not with guilt, exactly, but something close.
Still, Jackie’s face had gone oddly soft. Not slack, just… unreadable. She didn’t look mad anymore, but Lottie knew better than to trust the surface.
Whatever this was, it hadn’t passed, and part of her was itching to ask, to just blurt it out and cut the tension, but something in Jackie’s expression made her hesitate. There was a faint curve to the corners of her mouth. Not a smile. Not even close. But something else. Something like knowing. Or maybe just leverage.
Whatever it was, Lottie understood enough to stay quiet.
She let her body melt lower into the passenger seat, her shoulders shrinking down like a kid trying not to be noticed. Her eyes stayed trained on the window, on the way the streetlights blurred across the rain-streaked glass. The sidewalk looked wet and endless, the whole city kind of grey and tired.
She didn’t look at Jackie. Not once. And that was rare for her. She simply couldn’t stand the look on her face. The way she couldn’t quite understand what it meant. It was the unknown that worried her.
Jackie just drove. The silence would’ve been deafening if not for the rain, loud and relentless, slamming against the roof like it was trying to break through. It echoed in the quiet cabin of the car, harsh and steady, and Lottie was almost grateful for it.
The shitty weather had become a kind of buffer, something to muffle the awful heaviness pressing down on her chest, the swirling sickness she couldn’t quite swallow.
Her stomach was tight. She’d barely moved. Every few minutes her eyes would flick toward Jackie, just to check if she’d say something, anything, but she never did. Just kept driving, her jaw locked and her grip still unrelenting on the wheel.
The drive didn’t last much longer, though it somehow felt endless. The blur of slick grey streets and dim, watery headlights outside Lottie’s window slowly morphed into the familiar view of their shared townhouse, the one they’d spent so many early mornings and late nights stumbling back to, the one that had once felt warm and unshakeably theirs.
Now, in the gloomy overcast, it looked foreign. Still. Like something out of a memory instead of a life.
The porch light above the door flickered weakly as they pulled in, casting a dull yellow glow over the small awning that managed to keep the steps dry, just barely. The rain had only gotten worse, thicker now, colder. Litres of it pounded the windshield with no sign of stopping.
Lottie sat up slightly, her hands bracing on her knees, unwilling to open the door. A part of her dreaded stepping out into the downpour. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was being alone with Jackie.
Really alone. Inside. No more road, no more in between space to stretch the silence thin. Just the two of them, contained and cornered, whatever this tension was inevitably breaking open.
“Get out.”
The words hit hard and fast, sharp and clipped. Jackie’s voice, low but not raised, didn’t leave room for argument. She didn’t even glance over. She just threw her seatbelt off, yanked the keys from the ignition, and was out of the car before Lottie could form a single word in response.
The slam of the driver’s side door echoed through her, made her flinch.
And Lottie just sat there. Motionless. Staring after her like her spine had fused to the seatback. She watched through the fogged glass as Jackie moved across the driveway, the rain soaking her instantly. The way her jeans clung tighter with every step, plastered to her skin, the white shirt she’d worn turning nearly translucent, revealing the soft pink curve of her bra underneath, the way the cotton stuck to her like it had always belonged there.
It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.
Jackie moved like slow motion, like some cruel, beautiful mirage. Lottie’s chest ached with something she didn’t have a name for, and before she could stop herself, her hand had already reached for the door handle.
By the time she stepped out, Jackie was already inside. The front door had been left wide open behind her like an unfinished sentence.
Lottie’s shoes hit the pavement with a slap, her clothes drenched within seconds. She sucked in a quick breath at the chill of it, her thin jacket useless against the cold. Every step toward the threshold felt heavier than the last, her heart thudding dully in her ears.
She stood just outside the door for a long second, the rain still pounding against her shoulders, dripping from her hair and eyelashes. She stared inside, into the warm, dry hallway where Jackie had disappeared. The light was soft. Too soft. It felt like it didn’t belong.
She knew whatever was going to happen tonight, whatever had already been set in motion, was waiting just a few steps ahead. There was no taking it back, no pretending it hadn’t shifted between them the moment that car ride began.
With a final breath, deep and uneasy, Lottie crossed the threshold and pulled the door shut behind her with a quiet click. The sound echoed louder than it should have.
One thing Lottie knew better than anything was not to bring mess into the house.
It was one of Jackie’s oldest, most unspoken rules. No mud on the floor, no coats thrown over chairs, no clutter visible to the eye. Not if Jackie could help it.
And by the sopping wet pile of her clothes on the floor, her jeans heavy with rain and her thin shirt clinging to it like a second skin, Lottie knew well enough that she should probably follow suit.
She peeled each piece off slowly, fingers cold and clumsy, letting them fall in a soggy heap on top of Jackie’s already discarded clothes. The layered fabrics hit the floor with a thick, wet squelch, the sound oddly final. She hesitated only briefly before slipping out of her underwear too, until she stood completely bare in the dim hallway, her skin chilled from the draft and the rain.
She wrung out the ends of her hair absentmindedly, twisting them until little rivulets of water dripped onto the hardwood floor, though she’d been aiming for the doormat. Then, almost shyly, she peered around the corner of the foyer.
In her own home.
The kitchen light was on, humming quietly, casting long amber shadows across the tile. But Jackie was nowhere in sight. No sound. No movement. Just that eerie stillness that always seemed to settle in the house after an argument that hadn’t yet found its words.
As Lottie padded toward the stairs, naked and dripping, she felt that familiar pinch in her stomach. Not quite dread. Not quite thrill. Something in between. The fear and the smidge of excitement always came as a pair when it came to Jackie, like her silence was always filled with the unknown, and Lottie never quite knew if she’d be met with affection or punishment.
Her bare feet were quiet against the stairs as she climbed, and the moment she reached the landing, she could hear it: the faint shuffle of movement above her. Footsteps. Measured. Deliberate.
She knew this house better than she knew most people, knew where every floorboard creaked, where the heat vent in the hallway whined, where the drywall bowed slightly by the window. She also knew that Jackie was in the bedroom, just by the placement of the soft shuffling in the floorboards.
Probably changing. Drying off her hair that she’d spent far too long fussing over earlier, layering it with product and curling the ends just right. Lottie had been watching the whole time, quietly admiring how obsessive she got with details. With control.
She stepped quietly into the bedroom, expecting to see her immediately but it was empty. No sign of Jackie except for the faint trail of damp footprints on the hardwood, leading toward the bathroom.
Lottie exhaled and walked toward the big closet, the one Jackie had fallen in love with the second she saw the house. “It’s the size of a bedroom, Lot, I need this.” And she had needed it, insisted on it, really, her clothes and shoes and seasonal accessories perfectly arranged by color, by type, by mood.
Lottie moved inside the closet and grabbed the softest thing she could find, one of Jackie’s oversized shirts that still smelled faintly of her body spray, and a loose pair of old cotton bed shorts, faded and familiar.
She stepped back out into the bedroom with them folded against her chest, figuring Jackie was still in the bathroom behind the closed door. She placed the shorts down gently on the bed, and had just begun to unfold the shirt when it was snatched from her hand.
In one sudden motion, she was pushed down onto the edge of the duvet, her body jolting slightly from the surprise of it. Her hands shot out to steady herself, palms pressing into the quilted comforter as her thighs met the edge of the bedframe. Her mouth parted in surprise, chest rising as she stared up at her girlfriend.
Jackie was standing in front of her.
Wearing one of her own shirts now, thin and soft and clinging to her damp skin. The sleeves slightly rolled, the hem barely skimming her hips. Beneath it, a pair of delicate black panties, semi-sheer, lace curling against her hips in little scalloped edges, but Lottie had barely registered any of that.
What she noticed most was the towel in Jackie’s hand, damp but still warm, and the expression on her face, softer now. Much softer than it had been in the car.
For a moment, it almost fooled her.
Jackie stepped closer and began gently rubbing the towel through Lottie’s wet hair, her movements calm, careful, oddly nurturing. Her touch was firm but never rough, drying the strands with a kind of practiced care.
Lottie’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, savouring it despite herself. Despite the ache of not knowing what this meant. Despite knowing better.
Because Jackie always got like this right before she turned cruel, right before she bit. She’d get sweet, cooing almost. She’d make Lottie feel safe, seen, even spoiled. And then she’d say something that carved her open with surgical precision. That was her pattern. That was what she did.
And Lottie, stupid and soft as she was for her, fell for it every time.
She opened her mouth, desperate to say something, to ask if everything was okay, to apologize, to fix whatever she had broken between horror movies and truth or dare. Something simple, even. “Are we okay?” Maybe even just her name. Jackie.
But before she could speak, Jackie pressed her thumb firmly to her lips.
“If I wanted you to speak,” she said, calm and cold, “I’d have told you to.” It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was laced with that same condescending sweetness she was so good at, like honey with something rotten buried underneath.
That “I’m above you, you’re my pet” kind of cadence that made Lottie’s breath hitch. It was warm, in the cruelest way, and somehow, it made Lottie feel even smaller.
She looked up at Jackie, eyes wide, lips parted around the pad of her thumb, too stunned to do anything but stare. Her heart fluttered unevenly in her chest. Her brain couldn’t catch up fast enough.
Because Jackie only ever acted like this, superior, commanding, when Lottie had deserved it.
So she knew, without question, that she’d fucked up somewhere. Somewhere between cheap horror movies and a stupid game of truth or dare, something had shifted. And Jackie hadn’t forgotten.
Lottie sat completely still, hands loose at her sides, as Jackie continued to tenderly work the towel through her damp hair. Each motion was slow and deliberate, the fabric catching lightly at the ends before Jackie twisted and patted them dry. The air between them was quiet, thick with something unspoken, and Lottie didn’t dare break it.
Her gaze stayed fixed on Jackie’s face, tracing the fine lines of concentration in her brow, the slight parting of her lips as she focused. There was no pretending otherwise. Lottie was staring. Drinking her in like she didn’t know when she’d be allowed to again. Her eyes, wide and soft, carried that same quiet plea they always did when Jackie’s mood was unreadable.
Jackie noticed. Of course she noticed. She always did.
She felt the corner of her mouth threaten to curve upward, the smallest flicker of amusement and control bleeding into her expression. Because Lottie was looking at her the way she always wanted her to, like a wounded animal who only recognized her as her owner, as her saviour. Like she was the only person in the world who could make the air feel safe again. A lost thing, big brown eyes glassy with devotion and that quiet, gnawing desperation she never bothered to hide.
Devout. Undying. And all for her.
When she finally decided the job was done, Jackie let the towel fall from her hands. It landed beside the bed with a damp thud, spreading a dark patch on the hardwood. On any other day, the sight of it lying there would’ve bothered her, mess out of place, order disrupted. But today wasn’t normal. Not in the slightest.
And that was the point.
Because Jackie loved it when Lottie looked at her like that, those big puppy dog eyes looking like she’d been left out in the rain, shivering, needing only one person to bring her inside. She loved being the person Lottie reached for in her mind, the saviour, the anchor, the one thing standing between her and that cold, indifferent distance. But more than that, Jackie loved being on the other end too.
The thing that made Lottie’s stomach twist, that kept her guessing with every breath. She loved being the fear that tightened her chest, the deep, restless knot of uncertainty that made her tread carefully even in her own home. She loved that she could cradle and burn her all in the same breath, and that Lottie would always come back for more.
Jackie stood there for a moment longer, just watching her, letting the tension settle like dust in the air, because she knew Lottie could feel it, and that was exactly how she wanted it.
She took Lottie by the hand without a word, her grip firm but not rough, and led her around the bed like she was placing her exactly where she belonged. Lottie followed without resistance, her bare feet silent on the hardwood until Jackie guided her onto the mattress. She was laid down sideways across the thick duvet, the soft fabric cool against her skin, the overhead light turning it into an almost staged moment.
Before Lottie could even wonder what was about to happen, before her mind could catch up, Jackie was on top of her.
Her thighs straddled Lottie’s hips, the pressure grounding and immovable, her body caging her in completely. Warmth radiated through the thin panties she wore, seeping into Lottie’s chilled skin. Jackie’s hands roamed in slow, deliberate sweeps up and down her torso, each pass as if she were reacquainting herself with something she already owned.
And really, she did.
It was possessive in a way that should’ve made Lottie bristle, but instead it tugged at something deeper, something twisted. Because that possessiveness was laced with comfort too, the kind that blurred the line between being cared for and being claimed.
Jackie’s lips curved into a smile, slow and sure, the kind that didn’t need to announce itself. The faint sheen of somehow still present lip gloss on them caught the light, making them look almost wet. And that smile was simple on the surface, but it carried a wicked, hungry weight underneath. It was self assured in a way that left no doubt, she was in control. Always had been. Always would be.
It had never been up for debate.
Her head tilted slightly as she looked down at her, studying her face for the smallest flicker of reaction. Her gaze drifted lower, to where goosebumps rose in little ridges along Lottie’s abdomen, her skin tightening under the slow drag of Jackie’s palms. Jackie replaced them with the lighter touch of her fingertips, teasing over the prickled surface, the change in pressure making Lottie shiver.
Her skin was cold, and Jackie’s warmth seeped in like an intrusion, coaxing a deeper reaction.
She didn’t speak. The silence was intentional, thick, pressing down on Lottie until it felt heavy in her chest. Jackie’s eyes stayed fixed, not on her face now, but on the bare expanse of her chest. Her hands moved upward, slow enough that the anticipation alone was its own form of control, until they reached just beneath her breasts.
She stopped there. Didn’t touch where Lottie wanted her to. Didn’t give her the satisfaction of contact. Instead, her fingers barely grazed the lower curve of flesh, enough to make the ache worse, to let the want sharpen into something almost painful.
And Jackie could tell. That knowledge alone made her smile deepen. Because watching Lottie want without getting, watching the quiet strain in her breathing, the way her body betrayed her, made it so much better.
She let out a soft sigh, almost indulgent, as her eyes drank in the sight of Lottie trembling beneath her. It was a subtle tremor at first, just the faintest quiver along her stomach, but Jackie could feel it through the press of their bodies, and it made her thighs instinctively tighten on either side of Lottie’s hips. The shift was deliberate, not to pin her harder, but to remind her of the weight above her. The control.
Whether it was from the fact that Jackie sat astride her in nothing but a pair of black lace panties and a shirt that clung in all the right places, thin fabric molded perfectly to the still damp lines of her body, or from the lingering chill still seeping out of Lottie’s rain soaked skin, Jackie didn’t know, and she didn’t care.
Because both possibilities pleased her. Both fed into the same quiet, gnawing satisfaction curling in her chest. She could feel the heat between them building slowly, mixing with the remnants of the cold until it was impossible to tell which was which. The contrast made Lottie’s nakedness feel all the more exposed, her vulnerability all the more palpable.
Jackie’s gaze swept over her with unhurried precision, cataloguing every little shift, how her breathing hitched just slightly when the lace covering Jackie’s pussy brushed against her belly, how her thighs flexed in the smallest, involuntary response.
She let her hands gently cup Lottie’s breasts, the warmth of her palms sinking into her chilled skin, shaping around her like they belonged there. Her eyes finally flicked up to meet hers, those irresistible brown eyes that stared back at her without a shred of disguise. Shameless in their adoration. Heavy with a devotion that was almost pathetic in its depth. And threaded through all of it, that flicker of fear Jackie loved feeding, loved spreading until it took root in the deepest part of her.
“I’ll give you three guesses,” she murmured, voice silk over steel, her head still tilted with that air of quiet amusement, like she already knew she’d win. Her thumbs grazed upward just enough to make Lottie ache before she added, “If you’re wrong,” she didn’t bother finishing the sentence. She didn’t need to.
Instead, she reached up and pinched Lottie’s nipple between her fingers, sharp enough to pull a hiss from her, giving it a slow, deliberate twist that dragged the sting out longer than necessary.
Lottie jerked beneath her weight, hips shifting like she was trying to get away but couldn’t. “What the hell?” she muttered, her voice thin, not much of a question at all, more an involuntary reaction, a slip of breath under the pressure.
“Start guessing, baby,” Jackie purred, the pet name soaked in mockery. Her thumb swept over the hard peak she’d just tortured, a fleeting stroke of softness that almost felt like kindness, though it was only there to make the next burn sharper.
“Guess what?” Lottie asked softly, the sound barely more than a breath, eyes squeezing shut like she could brace herself that way. She knew what was coming. She always knew.
Jackie’s fingers pinched again, this time harder, meaner, twisting until Lottie’s back arched against the duvet. Her free hand moved up without breaking rhythm to tap pointedly on the side of Lottie’s head, the gesture somehow both taunting and impatient.
“Think about it,” she snarled, voice dropping low, all the false sweetness burned away for just a moment. Her fingers held, still poised to twist again, perfectly willing to make good on the unspoken threat.
“Okay, shit, um,” Lottie sputtered out quickly, her voice shaky, trying desperately to force her sluggish brain into forming a coherent thought through the haze of cold, arousal, and the sharp ache in her chest where Jackie’s fingers still lingered. Her skin felt hot and tender there, the sting radiating with every slight movement. “Was it at Shauna’s?”
Jackie didn’t speak, but her fingers slackened their grip around her nipple, just slightly. That tiny reprieve told Lottie she was on the right track, but not there yet. She swallowed hard, her lips parting as she tried to breathe past the weight of Jackie straddling her, her lace covered heat pressing against her bare stomach.
She wracked her brain for anything, anything, that might have been a misstep in Jackie’s eyes. Her mind scrambled back through flashes of Shauna’s living room. The couch, the drinks, the way the night had blurred at the edges from too much wine and too little caution.
“Alright…” she muttered, her voice breathless, pausing to think as hard as she could while having Jackie’s body bearing down on hers. But thinking was nearly impossible when every breath reminded her that Jackie’s panties were brushing her skin, that every tiny shift brought friction she didn’t want to acknowledge in the middle of this interrogation.
Then it came to her.
The moment they walked in. Nat had practically launched herself into her arms, legs wrapping around Lottie like a koala, laughing into her neck. The warmth of it, the ease, the fact she hadn’t even thought about Jackie watching, and-
“Was it… Nat? When we got there?” she asked, her voice going small and meek, scared to be wrong.
Jackie’s answer was another vicious twist, sharper than the last, her nails biting into sensitive flesh. Lottie gasped, hips bucking against Jackie’s weight out of instinct, groaning low as the pain flared through her skin. Jackie didn’t even flinch, relentless, patient in her cruelty.
“Guess again,” Jackie grinned, wicked and calm, her free hand now dragging lazily up and down the slope of Lottie’s stomach and between her breasts, barely touching but making her squirm all the same.
Again, Lottie searched her mind, panic buzzing at the edges, until something clicked.
She thought back to the start of Truth or Dare, the way she’d been sandwiched between Nat and Shauna on the couch. Nat’s leg had been slung over her lap, innocent enough. But Shauna… Shauna had been on her other side, their arms linked, bodies pressed close in a way that Jackie would never read as harmless.
She could almost see it through Jackie’s eyes now: Shauna leaning into her, wrapping herself around her casually, like she had the right. And Lottie, stupid, oblivious, hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even thought to.
And then the dare. Van telling Shauna to kiss someone that wasn’t Nat. Shauna, with her usual lazy disregard, had leaned over and pressed her lips to the corner of Lottie’s mouth, barely anything, barely even looking at her, before pulling away like it meant nothing.
But Jackie had been there. Jackie had seen.
Lottie’s throat went dry. She let her gaze lift to Jackie’s warm hazel eyes, only to find no warmth there at all, just the simmering smugness of someone who knew she’d been right all along. “Was it Shauna?” she asked quietly, her voice so small it barely carried.
Jackie’s expression shifted, disappointment curling at the edges, but mostly triumph. She finally released Lottie’s nipple, the skin throbbing from her touch, and shifted her weight on Lottie’s hips. The movement was subtle but deliberate, her lace covered heat dragging against bare skin just long enough to make Lottie’s breath hitch before Jackie settled into a more comfortable position, still on top, still in control.
“Boo. Was hoping you’d guess wrong.” Jackie sighed, her voice light but laced with that cruel, lingering satisfaction. Both of her hands drifted lazily over Lottie’s abdomen and breasts, slow and deliberate, her palms molding to every curve like she was memorizing her shape all over again.
She wasn’t even looking at Lottie at first, just letting her gaze wander idly down her body, like this was hers to touch, hers to play with.
She always thrived in moments like this, when the balance tilted entirely in her favor. That small, knowing smile stayed fixed on her lips, the kind of expression that made Lottie’s chest feel tight. Jackie wasn’t rushing, and that was somehow worse; she was taking her time, enjoying the weight of control.
“But I didn’t…” Lottie’s voice came out soft, almost pleading, her words feather-light like maybe, just maybe, a little tenderness would soften Jackie’s edge.
The hopeful quiver in her tone was nearly invisible, but it was there, threaded through her breath. She knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t work, but the instinct was impossible to kill.
“No,” Jackie hummed, almost in mock sympathy, tilting her head as if she were mulling over something. “But you still fucked up.” The words were deliberate, clipped, each syllable carrying weight. She punctuated them with another vicious twist of Lottie’s nipple, her fingers squeezing together with pinpoint cruelty.
“Jesus!” Lottie gasped, her whole body arching up beneath her in startled pain, hands instinctively gripping at the sheets. “Can you, like, be gentle?” She sounded almost offended, but there was a hesitance in it, a carefulness that kept her from crossing into real defiance. She knew exactly where that would get her.
Jackie’s grin widened like she’d been waiting for that exact response. She leaned down slowly, her hair brushing against Lottie’s temple, her lips just ghosting over the sharp line of her jaw.
Her breath was warm and steady, dragging out the tension as her mouth trailed downward, messy, slow, deliberately imprecise, the barest suggestion of a kiss that never quite landed.
“Mmm,” she purred, the sound vibrating against Lottie’s skin as her lips hovered by her ear. “Sluts don’t get to make requests, do they?” Her tone was low and dripping with smugness, the question not really a question at all.
Then, like the words themselves weren’t enough, she sank her teeth into Lottie’s jaw, not soft, not playful, but hard enough to leave her skin aching, like Jackie couldn’t resist marking her.
Lottie whined, the sound fragile and trembling, a soft cry spilling out of her as Jackie’s teeth stayed locked around her jaw. The bite wasn’t brutal enough to draw blood, but it was unyielding, sharp enough to make Lottie’s breath catch in her throat. Jackie lingered there just to savor it, the helpless, shaky noises she coaxed out of her, every muffled plea and sharp inhale only feeding her satisfaction.
“Shhh,” Jackie whispered, low and almost sweet, though the command was anything but gentle. She finally eased her bite, the tension in her jaw loosening as her mouth slid away. Her lips dragged along Lottie’s throat in a slow, deliberate path, brushing warm against her pulse point before trailing further down.
Jackie’s hands didn’t stop moving, roaming with an idle sort of ownership, cupping and kneading as she went. She let her mouth follow the downward path over the soft swell of Lottie’s bare chest, pausing just enough to let her breath fan over a nipple before drifting on. The slow descent down her abdomen was almost teasing, the faint press of lips here and there making Lottie’s muscles twitch involuntarily.
By the time Jackie reached the smooth skin just above her groin, Lottie’s shudder was instinctive, her hips giving the smallest, unconscious shift toward her. Jackie’s mouth found the edge of her pubic hair, brushing over it with deliberate slowness, close enough to make Lottie’s breath hitch, but not close enough to give her what she wanted.
And then Jackie stopped. Completely.
The air between them thickened as Jackie lingered there, her lips close enough to make the heat radiate, but unmoving, withholding. She could have given in right then, could have buried herself in Lottie and eaten her out until her legs shook, until she couldn’t think straight. She knew exactly how to make it unforgettable, how to ruin her for anyone else. But that was the problem.
If she gave her that, Lottie wouldn’t learn her lesson. She’d just keep misbehaving. So Jackie didn’t. She stayed there, almost cruelly still, letting the anticipation burn until it became something sharper than want.
Jackie stayed there, her breath ghosting over Lottie’s skin, the warmth maddening in its nearness. She let the silence stretch until it felt suffocating, until every tiny shift of her lips made Lottie’s thighs tense like she was bracing for something that wouldn’t come.
Then Jackie moved, slow, deliberate, and entirely in the wrong direction. Her mouth trailed sideways instead of down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Lottie’s hip, her tongue just barely catching the skin. Another kiss followed, lower this time but still not where Lottie needed her, and then another, soft and maddening, each one like a breadcrumb leading nowhere.
Her hands joined in, palms smoothing down the tops of Lottie’s thighs only to squeeze firmly and push them slightly apart, an almost mocking invitation she had no intention of following through on.
“Love it when you whine,” Jackie murmured lazily, her voice dripping with smug amusement as she looked up at her from between her legs. “So pathetic.” She let her nails scrape gently over the tender skin of Lottie’s inner thighs, her touch light enough to make her flinch.
And still, she didn’t give in. Instead, Jackie pressed one final, deliberate kiss to the crease where thigh met hip, so close it made Lottie gasp, and then pulled back just enough to leave her aching and empty.
Jackie pulled herself off of Lottie completely, the sudden absence of weight making Lottie’s chest rise a little faster. Jackie straightened to her full height, and for a heartbeat she didn’t move, just stood there and looked at her.
Her gaze traveled slowly, greedily, drinking in every curve, every exposed inch, the faint pink flush in Lottie’s cheeks and chest from the rough treatment. There was something predatory about the way she stared, like she was cataloguing all of it for later use.
“Lay over the bed,” Jackie ordered at last, her voice calm, almost casual, but threaded with steel. “I’ll be back.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, and Lottie knew it. She moved without thinking, shifting to her feet, feeling the mattress dip and creak under her weight as she positioned herself across it, her stomach flat across it. Her arms folded under her head, her cheek pressing to the cool bedding, trying to focus on breathing evenly even as her pulse skipped.
Before she could say anything, not that she had much to say, Jackie was already gone, crossing the room with a sure, unhurried stride. She disappeared into the closet, vanishing behind the partially closed door.
The sound of quiet shuffling followed, deliberate and faint, like she was taking her time. Fabric rustled, a hanger scraped faintly, and then there was a sharper, muffled clink, something solid being picked up or adjusted. Lottie’s stomach tightened instantly. She knew that sound, even if she couldn’t quite place the exact item yet.
Her mind flicked through the possibilities, none of them good. She wasn’t stupid. Jackie’s moods, her tells, her patterns, Lottie had learned them all, and right now they pointed in one direction, punishment.
Guessing right hadn’t earned her mercy before, and it wasn’t going to now. Jackie would find a way to make her pay for what she’d done, or rather what she’d failed to do. Somehow. Some way. And if the deliberate slowness in that closet was anything to go by, Jackie was going to enjoy every second of deciding how.
It didn’t take long for her to return, but she made sure every second of silence stretched just long enough to keep Lottie’s nerves burning. When she finally emerged, her expression was unreadable, not that Lottie could see much from where her cheek was smushed into the duvet, cool and steady, but in her hands were two items that told Lottie everything she needed to know.
She hadn’t been able to decide which one she wanted to use more. And Jackie, being Jackie, wasn’t about to deny herself. Lottie had already earned her punishment, so both would be put to use.
The first was familiar, almost expected, Jackie’s strap-on. The sight of it made Lottie’s stomach clench, a flush creeping down her chest. The leather straps were broken in, softened from use, but still held their shape perfectly. At the center sat the silicone cock, thick and unforgiving, its girth something Lottie had learned not to underestimate. The pale pink color, almost an off-white, was almost innocent in appearance, a sharp contrast to how merciless Jackie could make it feel inside her.
But the other item, the one that made her heart race faster, was something different. Something dangerous. Jackie held it up with a little tilt, like she was showing it off: the paddle. The thick slab of wood was smooth, polished, and cruel, with the hollowed out heart shape cut right through the middle. Lottie’s breath hitched because she knew exactly what that meant. Each swing would not only sting like fire, it would stamp her, leaving sharp little heart-shaped welts blooming across her skin like a brand.
They’d bought it together, in some dimly lit boutique tucked between expensive shops downtown. Jackie had coaxed her into the place with a sly grin, dragging her by the hand between racks of leather and shelves lined with toys that made Lottie’s face heat instantly. They had laughed at half the things in there, teased one another about what they would or wouldn’t dare try. But when Jackie had picked up that paddle, had held it between her hands like she already knew it belonged to them, Lottie hadn’t been able to refuse.
They hadn’t used it yet, though. Until now.
Her body remembered too vividly the last time Jackie had spanked her, even with just her hand. The sound had been sharp, echoing in her ears long after the sting bloomed across her ass. The marks had deepened into ugly purple bruises that lasted for days, so tender she could barely sit without wincing. Jackie had been attentive after, of course, rubbing soothing cream into her raw skin with a mock kindness, teasing that she looked like she had a diaper rash as Lottie hissed and whimpered under her touch.
This paddle would be worse. So much worse. She could already imagine the thud of it, the sting slicing through her flesh, the hollow whack ringing in her ears. Jackie wasn’t going to be gentle, not when she had both of her toys ready.
There was no escaping it. Not this time. And judging by the way Jackie’s lips curled just slightly at the corner as she tossed both items onto the bed beside Lottie, she knew it too.
Lottie turned her face toward the headboard, pressing her cheek into the soft blanket like it might ground her, like it might spare her from Jackie’s full attention. She knew it wouldn’t, Jackie always saw everything, but still she couldn’t help it. Her body was strung tight, every muscle coiled with anticipation, bracing for that first sharp crack of the paddle against her skin or the sudden, ruthless stretch of Jackie slipping into her without warning.
It was always like this. Always balanced perfectly on that razor’s edge between dread and hunger, between fear and desire so consuming it almost hollowed her out from the inside. Her chest ached with it, that unbearable contradiction of wanting to flinch away while at the same time aching to pull Jackie closer, to beg for more.
It wasn’t just sex, it never had been. It was something rawer, heavier, the kind of need that sank its teeth into her bones and refused to let go. Jackie’s power over her rattled through her ribcage, tangled itself around her heart until it felt like she was suffocating. Every time she thought she might drown in it, some part of her welcomed it instead.
Because she craved Jackie. Not just her touch, not just her body, but all of her, the cruelty, the care hidden beneath it, the sharpness in her eyes when she punished her, the softness that only came after. She craved Jackie whether she was gentle or merciless, whether she kissed her like she meant it or used her like she was nothing. No matter how Jackie had her, Lottie wanted it.
And now, with her cheek pressed to the bed, her breath shallow and her skin prickling with goosebumps, she waited. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, every beat whispering the same thing in her head, over and over.
Please. Please. Please.
Jackie gave absolutely no warning before the first blow landed, the paddle smacking dead center across the swell of Lottie’s ass with a sharp, echoing crack that cut through the room. The sound alone was violent, but the sting was worse. It bloomed instantly across her skin, a deep, biting burn that sank beneath the surface, spreading like fire through her nerves.
Lottie’s whole body jolted forward, tightening up even further as if she could curl away from it. A sharp cry tore from her throat before she could stop it, breaking high and raw, and she buried her face against the bed like that might muffle the sound enough, might keep Jackie from hearing how much it hurt.
But Jackie always heard. Always. In fact, she purposely made sure to listen for it.
Lottie could already feel the heat rising where the paddle had kissed her flesh, the angry welt forming almost immediately. It throbbed under Jackie’s gaze, the skin screaming with every second that passed without another blow. She didn’t need to look to know Jackie was watching it blossom into that perfect shape, heart edges etched in fire, the kind of mark that would linger for days.
What she hadn’t expected was the sound. A breath, soft and slow, like Jackie was sighing in satisfaction. Almost tender, almost reverent. A quiet coo slipped out of her, so faint it might’ve been mistaken for something affectionate, and somehow, that made it worse.
Because Lottie knew what that sound meant. Jackie wasn’t just enjoying punishing her, she was admiring her, admiring what she had made of her in one motion. The mark on her body wasn’t just pain, it was Jackie’s creation, Jackie’s possession carved into her skin. And even though Lottie’s ass still burned, even though tears stung at the corners of her eyes, some treacherous part of her swelled with pride at having been claimed like that.
Her breath came in shaky gasps, caught between a whimper and a moan, her chest pressed tight against the mattress as she clutched at the sheets. She hated the way Jackie’s quiet delight made her shiver. She hated that she wanted more.
Jackie teased the paddle over Lottie’s already sore skin, dragging the smooth wood lightly across the curve of her ass, letting it rest just long enough to make her flinch before pulling it away again. The false gentleness of her palm pressed to the small of Lottie’s back kept her pinned, steady, almost comforted, though both of them knew there was no comfort in it. It was control, plain and simple, Jackie’s way of keeping her in place, reminding her who held the power.
“Count.” Jackie’s voice came low, calm, almost melodic, but there was no mistaking the command in it.
Lottie sucked in a shaky breath through her nose, her face buried deep into the mattress, her lungs tight with the anticipation of another strike. She gave a small, jerky nod, forehead pressed hard against the fabric, and that was all the answer Jackie needed.
The paddle lifted from her skin, the absence of its weight almost worse than the blow itself, and she knew Jackie was winding up. Her body braced on instinct, muscles coiled, heart thundering in her ears.
The crack of wood meeting flesh rang out again, louder than before, the sound sharp and merciless in the quiet of the room. Lottie’s whole body lurched forward, her chest flattening harder against the bed as her hands clawed at the sheets beneath her.
Tears slipped from her eyes before she even realized they were there, dampening the fabric where her cheek pressed. She sobbed once, high and small, her voice muffled as she bit at the bedding to keep from screaming.
“One!” she choked out, hiccuping as the word cracked in her throat. It came muffled into the mattress, thin and trembling, but Jackie would hear it all the same.
She had expected the sting, how could she not? The paddle was polished oak, thick, heavy, unforgiving. And she’d known the carved heart in the center would bite into her flesh, crueler than a flat surface, etching its shape into her skin like a brand.
But she hadn’t anticipated the weight of it. The sheer, blunt force Jackie was putting into each swing. It wasn’t just pain, it was punishment made physical, punishment heavy enough to rattle her bones. And paired with the sting, it became unbearable in a way that made her toes curl against the hardwood, her breath catch, and her voice crack with every broken sound that slipped out of her.
And still, deep inside, beneath the tears and the ache, was that sharp, humiliating need for the next strike.
Each smack had landed sharper, crueler, heavier than the one before it, as though Jackie was deliberately pushing her to the edge of what she could endure. By the fourth or fifth strike Lottie had already been trembling uncontrollably, the muffled numbers falling from her lips slurred by tears.
By the seventh, she was openly sobbing, barely able to get the word out before another hit crashed down across her raw flesh. And by the final blow she was undone entirely, her voice a wrecked, hoarse cry that dissolved into pleading, half formed promises, apologies, soft “please, Mommy, please” that she knew wouldn’t stop the rhythm.
And she hadn’t wanted it to. Not really. That contradiction tore her apart more than the paddle itself, the undeniable way her body betrayed her, the low ache blooming hot between her thighs, the humiliating slickness she could feel despite every ounce of pain searing through her ass.
It was the same sick truth every time Jackie punished her, her chest ached with shame, her throat burned with the sobs that shook her, her pussy aching and wet, and still she wanted more. Needed it.
By the time Jackie finally stilled, her body collapsed forward into the bedding, muscles giving out. Her cries came softer now, ragged and breathless, her jaw slack against the duvet. Drool had spilled out onto the fabric beneath her mouth, dampening the comforter where she’d been crying into it for so long. Her entire lower body felt numb, no longer even skin, just heat, throb, and raw sensation that made her legs twitch uselessly against the mattress.
She could hardly believe she’d counted them all out. Her voice was shredded, cracked and thin, and still echoing in her ears like a ghost, each number spoken through tears she couldn’t stop. Her body was a wreck, her pride torn apart, but her chest swelled with a sick sort of relief, the kind only Jackie could give her, through breaking her first.
Jackie finally let the paddle drop onto the nightstand with a dull thud, the weight of it gone but the threat still heavy in the room. Her hands immediately replaced it, pressing warm and deliberate against Lottie’s bruised skin. The shift from cruelty to tenderness was seamless, like Jackie could flick the switch whenever she wanted, monster one moment, caregiver the next, from captor to saviour in the blink of an eye.
Her palms rubbed slowly over the ruined flesh of Lottie’s ass, fingertips grazing carefully along the darker patches where the welts were already blooming.
The bruises stood out bold and angry, purples and blacks swelling into the shape of her strikes, some stamped with the lighter heart imprint right in the center. Jackie traced one of those absently, almost devoutly, as if admiring the art she’d left behind.
And still, she wasn’t unfeeling. She never was. Jackie leaned over her trembling form, her lips close to Lottie’s ear as her free hand dragged slowly down her spine, not soothing but deliberate, reminding her of every shudder. She pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her neck, just at the base where it made her flinch, before pulling away, her voice curling sharp and certain. “Poor thing,” she whispered, low and condescending, the words biting through Lottie’s sobs like razors.
Her touch wandered lazily up and down her back, fingertips trailing not to reassure, but to keep her raw and aware, as if to say she wasn’t done with her yet. Jackie had always loved this part as much as the punishment itself, not the soft coddling, but the aftermath of even one portion of it, where she could watch Lottie squirm under the false edge of tenderness, small and exposed in a way that was almost more satisfying than breaking her in the first place.
She hated seeing Lottie reduced to sobs that shook her body, hated it and loved it, because in the same breath it thrilled her, that she was the one who could cut her apart and then linger there, savouring the ruin.
And Lottie craved it, even if she didn’t want to admit it. The pain meant nothing if Jackie didn’t hover after, didn’t mark the silence with the suggestion that she still owned every piece of her. After a punishment like this, so brutal, so bone deep, Lottie would ache for it, ache for Jackie’s cruel little games, for the reminder that it had all been worth enduring only because Jackie said so.
And Jackie would always be there, not to fix, but to keep her undone, wrapping her in arms that felt less like rescue and more like restraint. Jackie knew how to make it hurt in just the right way. She always knew.
Again, Jackie pulled back, her hands leaving Lottie’s skin altogether. The sudden absence of touch only made the silence ring louder, punctuated by Lottie’s uneven hiccups and the damp sound of her sniffling into the mattress. Jackie bent down, retrieving the strap-on she’d tossed aside almost twenty minutes ago.
The leather was cool in her hands, the buckle straps stiff as she threaded them into place over her hips, tugging each one snug. The ritual itself always stirred something in her, and tonight, with Lottie’s body trembling in front of her, it felt even sharper. She glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of the bruises she’d left blossoming across pale skin, heart shaped welts already deepening to purple. The thought of thrusting into her from behind, of watching those marks flex and shift with every impact, made her exhale through her teeth.
But it wasn’t just the bruises that had her so wound up, it was the sound of Lottie herself. Those raw little sobs, the breathy catches between them, fragile and broken in a way that made Jackie’s chest tighten even as it made her pulse quicken. She loved that contrast, the way Lottie could still be so heartbreakingly soft even while enduring every ounce of what Jackie had given her.
By the time the last strap was cinched into place, Jackie was already wet beneath the harness, her body buzzing with want. She ran her hand once more over the thick silicone shaft, almost testing the weight of it, before shifting her gaze back down to Lottie’s still shaking form.
Jackie’s hands closed around Lottie’s hips, her thumbs digging lightly into the soft curve of her love handles as if she were testing how easily she could hold her there. Her grip was firm, grounding, and possessive all at once, the kind that reminded Lottie she wasn’t going anywhere, not until Jackie was done with her.
With a slow shift of her wrist, Jackie guided the silicone shaft down, pressing the flushed tip between Lottie’s thighs until it nudged against her soaked cunt. She held herself steady like that, her other hand keeping Lottie pinned in place, savoring the way the girl’s body twitched and trembled beneath her. Her pussy was already wet, open and slick from everything that had come before, her ass exposed and flushed red and purple with the sting of punishment, every part of her begging silently to be taken.
Jackie teased her with a faint roll of her hips, letting the blunt head slip against her entrance without quite pressing in, her cock hovering just close enough to drive the anticipation higher. She could feel Lottie shifting beneath her, her thighs parting as though instinctively searching for more, her whimpers caught somewhere between want and dread.
Before Lottie could even draw breath to form a plea, before she could murmur mercy, or beg forgiveness, or cry out for Jackie to wait, the strap on pushed forward. Jackie drove the length inside her in one deliberate motion, the silicone spreading her open and sliding deep until every inch was seated in her cunt.
Jackie’s pace was measured, intentional, her body pressing flush against Lottie’s ass as she tested the full length of her, savoring the way Lottie clenched down around her cock and let out a ragged, strangled cry into the mattress.
She held herself there for only a moment, buried to the hilt, savouring the way Lottie’s body clenched so tightly around the toy it almost seemed to tremble on its own. Her nails dug into the soft give of Lottie’s hips, sharp crescents biting into her skin, before she pulled back and slammed forward again with a brutal force that rocked the mattress.
The sound of it filled the room, skin meeting skin, the slap of it almost obscene, undercut by Lottie’s broken cries muffled into the sheets. Jackie didn’t let her adjust, didn’t ease into the rhythm. She was merciless, driving into her again and again, each thrust harder than the last, the thick length stretching her until her body shook beneath the strain.
Her grip on Lottie never softened. She held her in place like she was nothing more than something to be used, tugging her hips back against her cock every time she tried to pull forward, forcing her to take every inch. Each time Jackie withdrew, she did it slowly, making Lottie feel the ache of emptiness for only a heartbeat before she shoved back in, harder, deeper, until the headboard scraped against the wall.
Lottie’s sobs only seemed to spur her on. Her shoulders quivered, her back bowed tight, the muscles straining as if trying to outrun the bruising pace Jackie had set. Jackie’s chest pressed flush against her back for a moment, her weight pinning her down, before she straightened and dragged Lottie onto the cock again with raw, unrelenting strength.
It was cruel in its steadiness, the way Jackie didn’t falter or slow, didn’t give her a single break. Every thrust carried that same punishing intent, leaving no doubt that this was as much discipline as it was desire.
“Please,” Lottie begged, the word breaking apart in her throat, something caught between a sob and a moan. Her voice cracked, wet from tears and spit, her face pressed so hard into the mattress that the sound barely carried, though Jackie caught every note of it.
Jackie only laughed, sharp and cutting, the sound dripping with mockery. It wasn’t warm or playful, it was cruel, teasing, the kind of laugh that reminded Lottie exactly where she belonged. She adored this part, the begging, the useless pleading that spilled out before Lottie could even think it through. It was pathetic, raw, instinctual, like watching a dumb dog whimper and cry for something it didn’t even understand.
And Jackie thrived on it. Every crack in Lottie’s voice gave her this sick rush, a wave of superiority that rolled down her spine and settled deep in her gut. It made her feel bigger, stronger, untouchable. Watching Lottie grovel without even knowing what she was asking for, it was like she’d been born for this, a pet rather than a person, a body to be used and a voice to cry out for her.
Jackie leaned forward, her fingers pressing into Lottie’s hips as she pulled almost all the way out, her cock slick and shining with Lottie’s arousal. She paused there, dragging the tip against the swollen, oversensitive flesh, teasing her with the empty ache that always made her tremble. Then, deliberately slow, she pushed back in, inch by inch, stretching her wide and forcing her to feel every ridge, every drag, until Jackie was buried inside again.
“Please won’t save you, baby,” Jackie whispered finally, her voice low, her breath hot against the back of Lottie’s neck. Her words were almost tender, but the intent underneath was sharp as glass. She drove her hips forward in a brutal thrust that knocked another cry from Lottie’s throat, then slowed again, savouring her misery.
“Just take it.” Jackie murmured, punctuating each word with a punishing snap of her hips, her cock at a standstill inside of Lottie once she stopped speaking, almost like a reminder. A warning, even.
Lottie couldn’t help the way her body betrayed her, aching for Jackie even through the raw stinging across her ass, the skin swollen and burning every time Jackie’s hips drove into her. Each thrust landed like a cruel echo, the collision forcing her bruised flesh to throb harder, a pain that had no escape, no pause. It was impossible to ignore, every movement pressed punishment deeper into her, made it linger, made it pulse.
Her cries had softened into something smaller, fractured but steady, almost soothed by the steadier rhythm Jackie had taken on. She wasn’t merciful, she never was, but she was deliberate, letting the pace become cruel in a different way, a relent that wasn’t gentle, but calculated. Lottie’s cheek was mashed against the damp patch she’d drooled into the duvet, her breath hot and wet against the fabric, each thrust shoving her forward just enough to make her arms shake as she struggled to keep herself up.
And the sounds spilling from her, she couldn’t stop them, couldn’t silence them if she tried. Broken little whimpers melted into moans, the edges blurred, each one higher, needier, until the pathetic quality lingered only as a ghost. Jackie adored it. She always had.
She knew exactly when Lottie’s body gave in, when the misery twisted into something unbearable in another way, something Jackie could twist the knife in later with a mocking laugh and sharp words. Her whiny little slut, she’d call her, knowing Lottie would fold under it every time.
The arousal was swelling in her stomach now, fast and dangerous, like something she couldn’t contain. The heat bloomed low and deep, curling around her cunt, a sharp, stinging pleasure that mingled with the ache until she couldn’t tell them apart.
It was relentless, every thrust was a match against kindling, and her body burned hotter, the tingling like a hive stirred into chaos, buzzing and alive, furious and unstoppable.
The feeling coiled tight in her belly until it felt unbearable, the kind of ache that made her muscles twitch, her toes curling into the sheets as if there were anywhere to hide from it. Jackie’s thrusts only made it worse, striking that same spot over and over with ruthless precision, each collision into her bruised flesh forcing another wave of pain and pleasure to crash over her until the line blurred completely.
Her whimpers had broken apart into sharp little cries, fractured moans that sounded almost desperate, almost pleading, though she couldn’t form the words anymore. She didn’t need to, Jackie could feel her body trembling, see her back arching, hear the wet, needy sounds spilling out with every thrust.
“Go ahead,” Jackie murmured, not gentle, not coaxing, but edged with command, like she was daring her to hold back. Her nails dug into Lottie’s hips, pulling her back into the thick silicone again and again, until the rhythm was merciless, until there was no pause to breathe.
The tension inside her snapped without warning, her body convulsing under Jackie’s grip as heat tore through her in a violent rush. She moaned, loud, ragged, broken, her thighs shaking, her cunt clenching down hard around the strap as her orgasm ripped through her. It wasn’t soft or sweet, it was overwhelming, something that wrung her out until she could barely remember how to breathe.
And still Jackie didn’t let up. Even as Lottie collapsed forward into the sheets, sobbing into the drool soaked fabric, Jackie’s thrusts stayed steady, unforgiving, dragging every last twitch and spasm from her body until she was nothing but raw nerves and bruised skin, trembling under the weight of it.
She kept her pace, still ramming herself into Lottie, even as her orgasm had started, not bothering to try and ease the feeling for her, or help her ride it out. Her fingers pressed into the soft flesh, not harshly now, but with a kind of possessive steadiness, like she was holding her exactly where she belonged.
Lottie’s body trembled beneath her, chest heaving, cheek still pressed into the damp patch on the sheets. The sobs had quieted, thinning into broken whimpers, each one dragged out of her with every push of Jackie’s cock against her sore, tender body.
Jackie only leaned forward, her belly brushing Lottie’s back, lips grazing along her shoulder as if she were savoring the taste of her sweat. The small, almost fond smile on her face contrasted sharply with the bruises darkening beneath her hands. She loved the sight of it, Lottie undone, used up, but still clinging to the rhythm, still aching for more.
Her hands drifted slowly, deliberately, over the curve of Lottie’s waist, sliding lower to her stomach, spreading warmth where the paddle had left fire. Every stroke of her palm was half possession, half comfort, as though she couldn’t decide if she wanted to soothe or claim.
When Jackie pulled back again, her gaze lingered on the mottled purple rising across Lottie’s skin, the faint shape of hearts glowing darker in the low light. She moved with unhurried control, thrusts deliberate, savouring each sound she pulled from her girlfriend. Lottie was falling apart under her, and Jackie treated it like something precious, something beautiful.
She knew she could drag more out of her, wring her dry, leave her trembling and hollowed out in the best possible way. She could push until Lottie’s body forgot how to resist, until the only thing left was the helpless rhythm of her cunt clenching down around her cock. The thought of it made her move slower, cruelly measured, like she was savouring the inevitability of Lottie breaking apart again.
She loved her like this, loved the fight in her, that stubborn edge where Lottie tried to prove she could take whatever Jackie gave her. It wasn’t real defiance, not really. It was the desperate little game they always played, Lottie straining to show her strength, Jackie proving she already owned it. Watching that pride melt away into sobs and whimpers was intoxicating, addictive in a way Jackie could never quite get enough of.
Her hips ground forward with deliberate weight, forcing Lottie’s already sore body to arch into the mattress. She could feel the shiver in her thighs, the way she was straining to keep herself steady, even as every thrust stole more air from her lungs.
Jackie’s hand slid up from Lottie’s hip, across her waist, and settled just below her ribs, holding her still, her palm spread wide, claiming her, forcing her to take every inch.
Lottie’s sounds were a mess now, no longer the sharp cries from earlier, but broken, unrestrained moans that spilled out before she could bite them back. Her cheek rubbed against the damp patch on the sheets, arms tucked beneath her head like she was bracing herself against drowning. Her skin was flushed, fever-hot under Jackie’s touch, the tear streaks sticky on her cheeks as her breathing caught and hitched in time with every thrust.
Jackie’s eyes drank it in, the trembling shoulders, the red welts and purple bruises across her ass, the desperate clutch of her cunt around the cock she could barely handle. And beneath it all, the unmistakable signs of another orgasm swelling inside her, building fast, unstoppable, no matter how tired she was.
Jackie wanted it, demanded it, the way she always did, because nothing was more beautiful than breaking Lottie down until her body betrayed her.
She knew Lottie’s body like her own by now, every fragile point where her strength gave out, every spot where pressure turned into desperation. Jackie had memorized exactly how far to take her, how to wind her up until the only thing left was the collapse. And she always took her there.
She always drained her until there was nothing left but the trembling little bundle that clung to her chest afterwards, sobbing herself into sleep like she was a child. Jackie lived for that collapse. It was cruel, maybe, but it was also the deepest proof of trust she’d ever been given.
Maybe she did enjoy it too much, the pathetic little sounds, the broken, needy clinging. Not even punishments could match it sometimes. There was something about seeing Lottie unravel from sheer overstimulation, when there was no lesson, no discipline, just pure surrender. And now, with her body marked up and her pussy still spasming around Jackie’s cock, she was more undone than ever.
Jackie kept her pace deliberate, thrusting slow enough to savor, hard enough to leave no room for Lottie to recover. Her hips slapped against the tender flesh of Lottie’s ass, the sharp sting meeting the ache of bruises already blooming across her skin.
With every pull back, Jackie glanced down, watching the way her cock gleamed wet in the low light, strings of arousal clinging to her before being buried back inside. The sight alone made her breath hitch, Lottie’s body giving so much, dripping and open, the perfect mess that Jackie had made her into.
The bed creaked faintly beneath their rhythm, Lottie’s muffled whimpers filling the space as her cheek dragged against damp sheets. Her thighs trembled each time Jackie bottomed out, her legs spreading wider, instinctively giving more even as her body begged for relief.
Jackie’s hands gripped tight at her hips, almost reverent in their steadiness, holding her open, holding her together, while she pushed her closer and closer to another edge.
And Jackie couldn’t look away. Not from the wet gleam coating her cock. Not from the bruises she’d painted across Lottie’s skin. Not from the way she was falling apart piece by piece, giving herself up with every helpless sound that left her throat.
“Just like that,” Jackie breathed, the words slipping out ragged, almost pious, though her grin stayed sharp. She was so close herself, just from watching Lottie take it, over and over, every inch sliding into her sloppy cunt, squeezing tight like she was built for no one else.
Every thrust had her cock glistening wetter, every sound out of Lottie’s throat twisting Jackie’s stomach with a hunger she never wanted to tame.
She told herself maybe she’d let up eventually, let Lottie rest, curl her in after, kiss her face and remind her she was safe. Maybe. But that wasn’t now.
Right now, her body was hers to use, to ruin if she wanted, and Jackie never needed a reason to push her there. The punishment didn’t even matter anymore, it was about control, about watching the way Lottie broke beneath her.
And God, she looked beautiful like this. Motionless except for the jolts of her body being driven forward with each slam of Jackie’s hips. Her ass raw and bruised, her hair sticking to her tear streaked face, her body trembling but still taking it. Jackie bit back a moan, almost dizzy from how good it felt to see her like this, completely wrecked and still open for more.
But she could feel the line creeping closer, the moment where it would stop being delicious and start being too much. She wasn’t cruel enough to miss it. Jackie leaned down over her, voice cracking sharp against the air.
“Tell me what you are.” Her thrusts stayed deep, punishing, her fist tangling in the dark curls until she had Lottie’s head yanked up off the bed. She wanted to see her face, red and damp and ruined, lips trembling as she fought to get the words out.
Lottie gasped like the air had been knocked from her lungs, arousal tangled with humiliation in her chest. The violence of it, the way Jackie pulled her up like she was nothing but a doll, it stole her voice for a second. She swallowed hard, jaw quivering, before she dared to whisper through the jagged edge of a moan.
“I’m a… I’m your slut.” It broke out of her more like a plea than a statement, the words trembling, and Jackie’s laugh was instant, low, mocking, soft enough to feel like a knife dragged slowly across her skin.
She cooed down at her like she was stupid, like she didn’t even know the truth until Jackie pulled it out of her. That was enough. More than enough. Jackie let her go and yanked back, pulling her cock free in one smooth, cruel motion.
The emptiness hit Lottie instantly, a sharp ache rushing through her as her cunt clenched around nothing.
A groan tore out of her throat, raw and pitiful, her body collapsing back down into the sheets like she had nothing left to give. Her cheek pressed into the damp patch again, chest heaving, her limbs heavy and trembling against the mattress.
Jackie hovered above, breathing hard, watching the wreckage she’d made of her as she glanced down at the cock attached to her groin by its straps, still glistening under the dim light that slid through the curtains.
She paused for a long moment, simply watching as Lottie rolled weakly onto her back. Her chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven pulls, her lips parted as though she couldn’t quite get enough air.
Her face was blotchy, flushed, streaked with tears, and the sound of her breath kept hitching like she might still break down into sobs again at any second. Even like this, especially like this, Jackie thought she was the most beautiful thing she’d ever ruined.
Her gaze caught on the delicate line of Lottie’s throat, the way it worked as she swallowed hard, tendons straining for just a second. Jackie stared like she wanted to bite it, like she wanted to leave her mark there, and the thought hit her instantly, curling low in her stomach.
“C’mere,” she murmured, her voice softer than before, though still threaded with command. She reached for Lottie’s hands, fingers curling around them, pulling her gently upward. It was almost sweet, the way she steadied her, until she let her go and watched her sway on trembling legs. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her. Jackie smirked, sharp and smug. She was so far gone. So ruined she could barely stand on her own.
It was admirable, in a way. That Lottie would still try. Still stand there with her eyes glassy, body wrecked, and not argue, not fight. Jackie tugged her wrists, coaxing her down, guiding her lower and lower until her knees touched the hardwood with a dull sound. She sank down obediently, boneless and pliant, as if her body had given up on resisting altogether.
Jackie tilted her chin with the edge of her fingers, forcing her head up just enough to drink in the sight of her ruined little face. Her lashes clumped with tears, cheeks sticky and pink, lips still wet from where she’d bitten them raw. Exhausted. Wrung out. Perfect.
She let her thumb and forefinger press into the softness of Lottie’s cheeks, just enough pressure to part her lips. Her mouth opened helplessly under the grip, jaw slack, and Jackie wasted no time.
She pressed the head of her wet cock against her trembling bottom lip, smearing her arousal across it, feeling the warm puff of Lottie’s breath against her palm. She didn’t even give her the chance to think, she never did. She just gave her the weight, the expectation, the inevitability.
And Lottie knew better than to keep Jackie waiting, knew better than to let hesitation cost her. She parted her lips obediently, opening her mouth enough to take Jackie’s cock past them, her tongue flattening against the tip almost on instinct. She suckled softly at the head, like she couldn’t help herself, like it was second nature.
Maybe it was her way of soothing her own ragged nerves, grounding herself in the act. Or maybe it was her way of proving she was good, good enough to please, good enough to show Jackie she could do what was expected of her without needing instruction.
Jackie’s hand stayed curled against her temple, steadying, almost gentle in a way that bordered on encouraging. The touch was light but unyielding, the kind that reminded Lottie that she was being held, being guided, even as she debased herself.
Jackie’s chest swelled with a certain fondness as she looked down, catching Lottie’s eyes peeking up at her through damp lashes. Wide, glossy, desperate. Always searching her face for approval, silently asking if she was doing a good job.
It was pathetic. It was adorable. It was hers.
Jackie couldn’t help but linger in that sight, the soft suction of Lottie’s lips around her cock, the hollow of her cheeks pulling in gently, the wet sounds filling the room. She hadn’t even been told to start yet, and here she was, already working, already showing off. Jackie’s smile deepened.
“Go ahead,” she murmured, her voice low but threaded with command. She gave a single nod, her hand gliding from Lottie’s temple up to her crown, slipping into the thick curls of her hair. Her fingers closed in a firm grip near her scalp, not cruel but steady, and Jackie guided her mouth lower, pressing her further down the length of her cock. She didn’t need to say more, the direction was clear.
She watched the way Lottie’s brows furrowed at the stretch, at the slow drag of being coaxed deeper. It wasn’t unfamiliar, Lottie was no stranger to this, no stranger to being on her knees for her, to swallowing her whole, like she was born to do it. Jackie knew exactly what her girlfriend was capable of. But she also saw the way exhaustion clung to her tonight, dulling her movements, softening her pace.
Had she not been so wrung out, so utterly fucked already, Jackie knew Lottie would have taken every inch without hesitation, worked her cock like she could feel it, with all that desperate hunger she normally carried. But tonight she was slower, weaker, her body faltering in its usual eagerness. And Jackie, though she loved to tease, loved to push, found herself almost indulgent in her mercy.
She’d already done quite a number on her. She couldn’t really hold it against her for not being at her absolute best tonight. Jackie’s smirk softened into something fonder, even if her grip stayed firm. She’d let her be imperfect. She’d let her be tired. She’d let her rest when it was over.
Jackie didn’t let Lottie linger for long. Her grip tightened in those dark curls, and with a steady pull, she pushed her cock deeper into Lottie’s throat. The sound that tore out of her was sharp and wet, a muffled gag that made Jackie’s stomach twist with heat. She watched her eyes flutter closed for a moment before forcing them open again, glassy and pleading as she looked up at her.
“Don’t look away,” Jackie muttered, her voice low, almost a growl. She slowed her thrusts just enough to give Lottie time to adjust, savouring the way her throat worked around her length, the way drool was already starting to drip down her chin.
Lottie tried. God, she tried. Her hands clutched weakly at Jackie’s thighs for balance, nails digging into her skin. Her body shifted slightly with each push, trembling but never pulling back. Jackie could feel the fight in her, the way she forced herself to hold on, to take what she was given.
Jackie’s hips rolled with more force now, the rhythm measured but merciless, sliding her cock deep until her tip nudged against the back of Lottie’s throat again and again. Each time, Lottie gagged, her breath catching on the intrusion, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth.
Jackie loved it, the helpless mess of her. The way she was too tired to do this perfectly, but still desperate to be good for her. She pulled back for a moment, watching a strand of spit stretch from her cock to Lottie’s swollen lips. Her thumb brushed it away, then she tapped her cheek with the same hand.
“Wider,” she said, tone sharp but laced with something warmer underneath. “Show me how good you take it.” And Lottie obeyed without a word, her lips parting once more, mouth slick and trembling, ready to be filled all over again.
Lottie let out a muffled breath, shuddered and tired, before taking Jackie fully into her mouth again, her lips tightening around her shaft as it was eased into the back of her throat once more. The sound of it was wet, unsteady, her throat flexing as she tried to adjust to the weight of it pressing so deep. Her eyelashes fluttered as though she was trying to keep focus, tears already welling again at the corners of her eyes.
She knew Jackie wanted her to clean her mess off of it, every bit of saliva, cum, and tears that clung to it. She knew she’d be expected to swallow. So she did, her throat tightening around the silicone as she dragged her lips down slowly, the movement deliberate, obedient. The taste was nothing but the acrid mix of sweat and salt from her own body, but she worked at it without complaint, desperate to prove she could do it, that she was good.
Her mouth grew tighter around the shaft as Jackie began to slowly pull out, careful but firm, ensuring that Lottie’s tongue and lips worked over every inch as it left her. Each inch gleamed in the dim light, wet and glistening with spit, catching the trembling flicker of her tears as they streaked down her flushed cheeks.
By the time she reached the head, Lottie was already softly crying again, the quiet little noises in her throat stuttering around the cock as her tears spilled over. Her chest shook with exhaustion, her body trembling with each careful swallow.
The sight of it only made Jackie more aroused, her cock stuffed down Lottie’s throat while she fought the urge to break into another sob, trying so hard to keep herself together. Maybe that made Jackie a pervert, maybe it made her cruel, but she didn’t care. It was perfect, watching her girlfriend reduced to this shaking, beautiful wreck of a person, obedient even through the tears.
When Lottie finally made it to the tip, her lips sealed tight around the head, Jackie drew herself completely out of her mouth. A soft, wet pop filled the air as her cock slipped free, a string of drool clinging from Lottie’s bottom lip to the swollen head. Jackie’s thumb reached for it automatically, brushing the strand away with almost tender precision, smearing it against Lottie’s damp chin.
Then, without a word, Jackie began to unfasten each buckle of the harness around her waist. The leather straps loosened one by one, the sound of metal clasps clicking sharp in the quiet room, until the whole thing sagged and fell to the floor with a heavy thud. The silicone cock rolled limply against the hardwood, slick and shining in the low light, while Jackie reached down again for Lottie.
She took both of her hands in hers, pulling her carefully up onto the bed. Lottie’s body felt fragile, boneless in her grip, her legs wobbling and buckling the moment she tried to stand. Jackie guided her with practiced ease, steadying her with a firm hand at her waist until she collapsed onto the mattress. Her body slumped immediately, shoulders folding inward, her hair falling messily into her face as she struggled to catch her breath.
Jackie held her hands a second longer, watching the tremor still running through her fingers before finally letting go. Lottie curled them back against her own chest instinctively, small and defensive, like she didn’t even realize she was doing it. And Jackie just stood there, breathing heavy, her gaze locked on the sight of her, wrung out, ruined, yet still so completely hers.
She made sure Lottie could actually hold herself upright before she slipped away, moving into the bathroom with the kind of quiet efficiency that had become routine after nights like this.
Her bare feet padded softly against the tile as she crouched down in front of the small linen closet, pulling it open with a little creak of the hinges. Inside, everything was neatly folded in stacks, though a few towels were uneven at the edges from being rummaged through so often. Jackie reached for a washcloth, fingers brushing briefly over the soft pile before tugging one free.
She let the faucet run until the water cooled, soaking the cloth beneath the steady stream. The sound of it filled the silence, a strangely domestic rhythm, and she wrung it out until it was damp but not dripping. It was always this part, the calm, the coming down, that made her chest ache a little, though she’d never admit it out loud.
When she returned, Lottie hadn’t moved much at all. She looked like a wounded deer caught in headlights, body slack, head drooping like the weight of it was simply too much. Her limbs hung heavy at her sides, and she sat, melted into herself on the edge of the bed, every bit of her posture screaming exhaustion. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, mouth parted just enough to let her breath escape in uneven little pulls.
Jackie stopped again at the closet near the bedroom door, her eyes scanning for what she’d need next. Loose clothing, nothing tight, nothing pressing against the mottled bruises that painted her skin. She had plucked an old band tee from the shelf, one that had once belonged to Nat but never quite made its way back after a beach day. It was soft from too many washes, worn thin in the collar, the perfect kind of comfort.
Alongside it, Jackie snagged the familiar green bottle of aloe, its cap sticky from use. The thing was half empty now, a quiet record of how often nights like this ended with her smoothing it over Lottie’s skin. Punishments varied, but this ritual never did.
She gathered everything into her arms, the shirt, the aloe, the cool washcloth, and returned to her girl. Lottie hadn’t lifted her head, her hair falling forward to curtain her damp face. Jackie set the items on the bed beside her before reaching out, rubbing her hand gently over Lottie’s shoulder, enough pressure to stir her but not jostle. Her voice, when it came, was low and tender, stripped of the earlier cruelty that had filled it.
“Head up, sweetheart,” she coaxed softly, thumb rubbing absent circles against her skin.
Lottie obeyed slowly, tilting her face toward Jackie, her eyes red rimmed and glassy. They were barely open, hazy with exhaustion, but still carried that wounded softness, irritation lingering at the edges from all the crying she’d done. Jackie gave her a small, informal smile, nothing smug, nothing sharp. Just Jackie, steady and sure.
She bunched up the t-shirt in her hands, guiding the neckline over Lottie’s head with careful precision. The fabric slipped down over her messy hair, catching briefly at her jaw until Jackie eased it lower. She guided Lottie’s arms into the sleeves one at a time, as if she were dressing a toddler, her touch patient, even cautious. The weight of the cotton fell over her body, hanging loose and swallowing her frame.
It was something so special to Jackie, a privilege she never took lightly, this moment of softness after everything, when Lottie was too wrung out to resist, too pliant to hide. Dressing her when she was this far gone felt intimate in a way even the roughest sex didn’t. It wasn’t about power now, not really. It was about care. Control softened into something gentler, something quieter. Jackie didn’t doubt Lottie could have managed it herself if she needed to, but she didn’t see the point in letting her.
Once the shirt was comfortably draped over Lottie’s torso, Jackie leaned in to fuss over the little details. She reached behind her girl, gently tugging strands of long hair free from where they’d gotten trapped inside the collar. Her fingertips ghosted over the warm skin of Lottie’s neck, smoothing the fabric flat before she slid her hands up to cradle her cheeks. She tilted Lottie’s head just enough to force that soft eye contact, thumbs brushing over the faint, damp heat left behind from earlier tears.
Lottie blinked slowly, squinting once as though to rouse herself from the haze she’d fallen into. Her big brown eyes fixed on Jackie like nothing else in the room existed, glassy and swollen but so achingly tender.
It was as if recognition finally clicked, the sudden realization that Jackie was there, holding her, tending to her. Her whole expression softened, melting into Jackie’s palms with the kind of relief that seemed to lift some of the weight from her bruised and sore body.
“There’s my girl,” Jackie cooed, her voice unguarded now, warm with the kind of affection she usually kept tucked beneath sharpness. She let herself baby her girlfriend completely, finally giving in.
It had become tradition, in a way, this shift into tenderness after punishments that went on too long or cut too deep. Lottie never asked for it, but Jackie had learned, this soothed her, anchored her, and Jackie liked being the one to do it.
Jackie reached for the damp cloth she’d left waiting on the nightstand, wringing it out once more so that it wouldn’t drip on the bed, not worried about the hardwood. She moved back between Lottie’s legs, guiding them apart with steady hands until her girlfriend was open to her, pliant and trusting even in her pouty, exhausted state.
Her thighs stuck slightly as they shifted, the skin damp with the mess of arousal that had dried against her. Jackie couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her at the sight, the sound carrying a teasing lilt as her eyes flicked up to Lottie’s face. Sure enough, her girl was giving her a grumpy little look through half lidded eyes, cheeks still flushed, pout tugging faintly at her mouth as if she resented being laughed at in such a vulnerable moment.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jackie murmured, though her grin said otherwise. She pressed the cloth gently to the inside of her thigh and began wiping, careful but firm enough to remove the sticky sheen clinging to her skin.
The coolness of the cloth made Lottie twitch, her thighs trying instinctively to close again, but Jackie was ready, her free hand pressed lightly against her knee, holding her open with minimal effort. She moved slow, dragging the cloth upward along the curve of her thigh until it reached the slick heat between her legs.
She wiped with the same unhurried care, catching the glistening remnants of arousal that clung to her folds. Jackie kept her jaw tight, fighting the urge to make some biting comment about how soaked she still was, or about how easy she made it for her. Instead, she stayed quiet, lips pressed together, even as her eyes glinted with amusement.
Lottie let out a sound she clearly hadn’t meant to, an involuntary moan, low and fragile, as the cloth skimmed directly over her clit. The noise cracked out of her before she could stop it, her hips giving the faintest jerk.
Jackie’s smirk was immediate, sharp but warm, though she managed to swallow down the laugh threatening her throat. “Cute,” she hummed softly, her voice deliberately low as if acknowledging it without outright teasing. She lingered a little longer, dragging the cloth in one final pass over the swollen bud before pulling it back.
Lottie’s face was pink, her lips pressed tight together now, clearly aware she’d betrayed herself. Jackie tilted her head, watching her girl sulk, torn between wanting to push the teasing further and wanting to preserve the fragile aftercare softness that still hung in the room.
Jackie nodded once, the smallest tilt of her chin, before murmuring, “Can you stand up for me? Just for a sec.” Her tone was careful, coaxing rather than commanding.
Lottie hesitated, her body begging to collapse back into the mattress and lose itself to hours of heavy sleep. Every muscle seemed to sag, but she still obeyed, carefully sliding herself down from the bed. She stood barefoot on the floor beside it, swaying ever so slightly, her arms dangling awkwardly at her sides as though she didn’t quite know what to do with them.
Jackie was there in an instant, guiding her with steady hands. She spun her gently, positioning her so that she faced the bed again, bare skin on display, purpled and aching under the dim light. Jackie’s eyes lingered for just a moment, part tenderness, part quiet pride, before she reached for the aloe.
She squeezed a generous amount into her palm, the gel cool and glossy. Rubbing her hands together to warm it, Jackie knew it wouldn’t do much, the coldness would likely soothe the sting more quickly, but Lottie was nothing if not unapologetically whiny when she didn’t like something. And she’d complain anyway, Jackie thought with a half smile.
The moment her palms made contact, Lottie flinched hard, hissing through her teeth. The touch, no matter how gentle, pressed into bruised skin that was still burning. A strangled cry slipped from her throat as she buried her face in her hands. “Shit!”
Jackie let out a short laugh despite herself, the sound soft and almost fond. “Watch your mouth,” she chided, though it came out more playful than stern. Her voice carried no bite, only a teasing lilt that contrasted the raw whimpering in front of her.
She worked carefully, spreading the aloe in smooth circles, easing the tension where she could. Once satisfied, Jackie guided her back around to face her. Without missing a beat, she crouched just slightly, holding open the loose pair of boxer shorts she’d picked out earlier.
“Step in,” she coaxed. Lottie obeyed without a word, slipping one long leg through, then the other, her movements clumsy but trusting. Jackie pulled the fabric up slowly, sliding it over her thighs and hips, taking extra care not to brush against the sore spots as she adjusted them into place. The cotton hung loose, comfortable, exactly what she’d intended.
“All good?” she asked warmly, her voice quieter now, almost testing. Jackie straightened, her hands naturally finding Lottie’s waist, holding her steady.
When Lottie nodded, Jackie leaned in, rising onto her toes to press a soft, deliberate kiss to her lips. It was unhurried, passionate in a way that felt both grounding and tender, a sealing of everything that had come before.
Lottie couldn’t help the grin that spread against her mouth, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She kissed back eagerly, deepening it, her tongue pushing into Jackie’s mouth with a spark of sudden energy. One hand gripped her side, pulling her closer, while the other slid instinctively to cover Jackie’s smaller one pressed against her stomach. The touch wasn’t about control now, it was comfort, grounding, the assurance that she was here, safe, held.
In the middle of the intensifying makeout, Lottie began to guide Jackie’s hand further down her abdomen, slowly, insistently pushing until her fingers slipped just beneath the waistband of the boxers Jackie had so carefully dressed her in moments ago. Jackie laughed softly into her mouth at the boldness, the sound vibrating against Lottie’s lips.
“Dirty girl,” she teased in a whisper, letting herself be led until her hand pressed against the heat of Lottie’s pussy, her fingertips finding her clit with practiced ease. She gave it a sudden, deliberate pinch that made Lottie yelp into the kiss, her breath catching in Jackie’s mouth. “Later.”
Lottie sighed into her, exasperated but still clinging tight as the kiss finally broke, leaving both of them flushed and a little breathless. She leaned her forehead against Jackie’s, lips curling faintly into a half-smile that betrayed her exhaustion. “You’re no fun,” she muttered in a huff, though the warmth in her eyes betrayed the complaint. Even worn down, she was glowing.
Jackie just grinned, tugging at her hand to keep her close as Lottie turned and climbed onto the bed, dragging her down with her. Jackie gasped dramatically, a playful edge to it, as though she were being pulled somewhere against her will. “I’m lots of fun,” she countered, laughing as she let herself be toppled backward onto the mattress. She flopped onto her back without a second thought, immediately catching Lottie by the waist and hauling her over until she straddled her hips.
The sudden motion had Lottie bracing herself with both hands against Jackie’s chest, eyes widening in startled protest before softening again as she adjusted. She settled into place gingerly, still careful of the sore ache in her body, her thighs squeezing lightly against Jackie’s sides. Jackie could feel the hesitation in her, the restrained little twitch of her hips that wanted to grind down but didn’t dare.
“Good girl,” Jackie murmured almost absently, smoothing her hands along Lottie’s thighs, keeping her steady. There was a smugness in her tone when she added, “So. Who are you gonna sit by at the next bonding sesh?” Her voice was playful, but the question carried a weight Lottie recognized. It was Jackie’s way of checking, of claiming, without ever needing to say it outright.
Lottie huffed out a sigh, rolling her eyes like she always did when Jackie’s possessiveness crept into the open. “Stop,” she muttered, though her lips twitched into something softer.
Jackie tilted her head, opening her mouth to push just a little further, because of course she would, but she never got the chance. Lottie leaned down in a rush, capturing her lips again before a single word could slip out. It was deliberate, silencing her with the only thing that ever worked, the kiss firm and certain, even if it was Jackie who always set the rhythm.
And even now, with Lottie on top, her long hair falling down like a curtain around their faces, she knew the truth of it, Jackie was still in charge. She always would be. And as her mouth softened against Jackie’s, as her body slowly gave in to the pull of sleep, Lottie realized she was okay with that.