After AnimeCon: Punishment Play pt 1 (Patreon)

/// Mild NSFW warning.

    “Well…” Brian let out a sigh of reluctance that made Christine’s chest tighten.

    Why am I so conscious of him? Christine thought. It was never like this. This shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just asking for some petty punishment, and I deserve it, anyways. Why is what he thinks about this—about me—about all of this, why is it suddenly so damned important?

    She knew why, that knowledge was a shard of silver lodged in her guts, but actually admitting it to herself wasn’t something she could do. The bleak, dusty mirror in her mind reflected everything in monotone, and although some distant part of her knew there were feelings there for Brian, the raw anguish and regret were enough to sap the color out of them and allow her not to recognize those feelings. 

    “Alright, I guess.”

    Brian’s decision stunned her, and she stared at him without blinking as he unbuckled his seatbelt. His choice was within expectations, but at the same time she didn’t understand it. When he scooched over from the far side to sit in the middle, right next to her, Christine almost recoiled from him in shock. That surprise wasn’t fear, she didn’t find herself shrinking back from him because of trauma or because he’d hit her last night. Instead, she discovered herself incredibly mindful of the distance between them he had closed—even though he had moved over, she was worrying about taking up too much of his space.

    It didn’t make sense. He was all of the sudden right next to her, and it was as though her mind was stalling out in a wash of silver. She suggested he could spank her, she asked for it, but then when he agreed and things began to proceed, she had no idea what to do. Brian turned to regard her, his gorgeous mottled green eyes were examining her, and she was frozen in place while her heart pounded and her brain spun in circles and the raw interest and attraction she felt for him was stifling in her chest but had no possible release.

    “Christine, do you really want to, uh. To do this?” Brian asked.

    Her lips parted to immediately agree, but she was in such a daze that her mind momentarily blanked on what he was talking about.

    Do THIS? What is this? Is he about to kiss me?! He’s so close. He’s so close we could kiss. Or—uh, no wait. He means the thing I was talking about. That thing. THAT. To um. To spank me. To—

    “Hello hello?” Emily snapped her fingers—the Latina was up on her knees and had twisted to face them from her position on the passenger side, one of her arms casually slung over the back of her seat rest. “Earth to Christine? Brian, look. You razzle-dazzled her.”

    “I did not,” Brian protested, looking from Emily back to Christine. “Did I?”

    “Um,” Christine was sure she was blushing furiously.

    “Just do ‘er,” Emily insisted, smacking the seat padding a few times for emphasis. “Chop, chop. It’s paddlin’ time.”

    “Christine, you okay?” Kelly asked.

    “Yes?” Christine blurted out. “Of course. We can—we can do this.”

    “Then—climb yourself on over Brian’s lap and get situated,” Kelly’s eyes in the rear-view mirror were full of amusement. “You can talk about whatever pops up.”

    “Okay,” Christine said.

    With mechanical movements she unbuckled her seatbelt and then sat the whole way up, shifting to the edge of the rear bench. There wasn’t a lot of room, and for a moment she hesitated again, unsure about actually climbing over Brian’s lap without explicit permission. The situation was awkward and embarrassing, humiliating even. Emily was watching with interest, and Christine couldn’t get the image of Kelly’s eyes in the mirror out of her head, either.

    “Here,” Brian offered her a hand.

    “No, I got it.”

    Christine refused his help right away on reflex, but his offer finally spurred her into motion. With clumsy, fumbling movements she clambered over his lap. Crossing over his thighs and groin and entering into his private space seemed to sharpen the saturation of silver inundated throughout her body. The magic blanking out her mind remained monotone but it was like the reflectiveness was growing too dazzling to look at. For a moment, she stared down in disbelief at her hands, her nervous clutching fingers deforming the cushioning of the seat on the other side of Brian.

    I’m on my hands and knees. Right over Brian’s lap.

    Then, hands were on her—Christine stopped herself from squirming but only barely—and her body was guided down upon him, her abs draped across one of his thighs. A moment ago she had been watching herself as though from a distance, but touching him, the weight of her pressing down across him brought mirror panes into scintillating focus and suddenly this whole situation was incredibly, intensely sexual.

    “Hmnnh—” Christine let a strange sound escape before clamping her mouth shut in bewildered stupefaction.

    The rear bench of Brian’s car wasn’t particularly wide, and with Brian in the middle and Christine laying across his lap, there was no room for her long legs to extend out. Instead, once she was positioned she found her knees were now jammed up against the molded plastic of the door, and her feet were up in the air. That pose made her feel ridiculous, Brian was solid and warm and real beneath her, and Christine floundered across the stitched lines in the seat padding until she was able to at least get her elbows beneath her and rise up slightly.

    “Here.”

    Brian’s fingers were running through her long tangles of silver hair, combing them up and out of the way so they wouldn’t get pinched or pulled between anything. That small gesture of his was so intimate and thoughtful that Christine found herself freezing in place all over again, stunned.

    “How is it?” Brian asked, shifting beneath her. “Not too uncomfortable?”

    “I’m fine,” Christine’s words slipped out before she could even properly process what he was asking. Comfortable? It’s not supposed to be comfortable. You’re punishing me?

    “Pants down,” Emily commanded with glee. “C’mon. Gotta get her with her pants down. Clap them bare cheeks.”

    “Emily, chill,” Brian chuckled. “It’s fine like this.”

    No—it’s not fine just like this, Christine thought as a silvery spike of alarm shot through her.

    She quickly lifted herself up onto just one elbow, and with her free hand she hurried to pull her pants down. The borrowed jeans were loose and were slipped down with ease, and after a moment of fumbling, her panties were also pushed down and scrunched out of the way. Emily was uncharacteristically silent as Christine did this, possibly surprised, and when Christine settled herself back across Brian’s lap, he felt a bit more tense than before.

    “Uhh,” Brian paused. “Well, alright then. If you’re sure?”

    “Mm-hmm,” Christine’s affirmation felt tiny, but she didn’t have the courage to voice it again any louder.

    Instead, she buried her face against the stitched lines of the seat in absolute shame.

    All of the sudden his hand was moving across her bare buttocks, and Christine’s mind whirled, fragmented from thought to interrupted thought as though each around her was a mirror positioned at a slightly different angle. None of these reflections held images, exactly—but each of the different mirrors held different impressions. of her awareness of the surreal context she was in here. The subject within each was the same, displaying the sensation of Brian’s hand intruding upon her naked behind, but each separate silvery surface revealed that idea in a slightly shifted context.

    In one, she realized Brian was arranging the hem of her shirt and then adjusting the band of her panties where it had been pinching her thigh. His motions were thoughtful, caring. In another, she sensed his gaze upon her luscious derriere and the fingers tracing across her skin were maybe a little… possessive. Like he was admiring her as a precious object that belonged to him and only him. In yet another one, Christine felt boiling liquid mercury—because a line of lubrication was tangible and glistening down the lips of her labia, still barely somewhat hidden from his view by the cleft of her butt. One mesmerizing mirror showed her pale ass quivering with unseen need, desperate to be palmed and played with however Brian pleased.

    Before she could collect any of these thoughts, Brian gave her ass a playful little slap.

    “Ngh?!” Christine made a strange noise and flinched in surprise—her abdomen tense tense tensed in sudden weird little flexes, and the hall of mirrors that was Christine’s mind either all became one, or her attention blossomed in every direction at once rather than focusing on the different abstracts one at a time. She wasn’t sure which was which. It was impossible to think. The flashes of silver and her reflection of what was what became altogether too disorienting to discern, so instead she wriggled helplessly in Brian’s lap. When one thigh slid against the other, she could feel that she was very very wet.

    “One!” Emily counted. “C’mon, you can hit harder than that.”

    “You gonna be a backseat driver this whole time?” Brian joked. “Or uh, frontseat driver?”

    “Spank her again, spank her again!” Emily encouraged. “Little bit harder, this time. C’mon.”

    “Let him have fun,” Kelly scolded Emily. “He can smack her around however he likes.”

    That sentiment should have been horrifying, and Christine thought that anger and outrage should have been roiling up within her, but none arrived. Instead, she pressed her face deeper into the seat. Instead, all these reflections jumbling up into different silver surfaces were revealing… different feelings. Very different feelings.

    His hand clapped down again with more force, and the impact rocked through Christine in coursing glittery color and light. That one was even better, but it didn’t quite satisfy. It wasn’t enough, yet. She could take more.

    “Two,” Emily said. “Harder, Brian.”

    “Christine?” Brian asked. 

    H-he’s asking me what I think?! Christine found herself too horrified to vocalize an answer. What can I even say? That I like it? That I’m some kind of pervert?!

    She nodded her head against the seat, refusing to lift her face from where it was hidden.

    “Yes?” Brian asked. “Yes, go harder, or yes, we’re done?”

    “Harder,” Emily answered on Christine’s behalf. “Bro come on, you barely even tapped her.”

    “Christine?” Brian pressed.

    “You—y-you can go more harder,” Christine mumbled out. You can GO MORE HARDER?! Really? REALLY?! That doesn’t fucking even make sens—

    Before she could mentally articulate a clarification, Brian’s hand came down hard, hard enough to create a loud smack of flesh, so hard that she could feel herself jiggle. Strong, pure silver shone through her in a solid beam of satisfaction at that sting of pain and immediately demanded more. Christine couldn’t fathom why something that hurt felt so good, but she needed him to spank her again, she needed it even harder.

    “Three—” Emily said.

    “Go more,” Christine whimpered.

    “Go more?” Brian asked.

    “More,” Christine confirmed. “Yeah.”

    The next spank slapped down so hard that it rocked Christine forward from where she was perched across his thighs—arousal dappled across the interior of Christine’s crotch somehow, flicked free of her aching sex. Christine’s insides were wriggling with obscene pleasure. Silver streaks of lust rolled through her like she was some brainless, debauched sycophant eager for more punishment, which she knew couldn’t possibly be true. Mirrors shattered and scattered in shards to reveal deeper and deeper impressions of this she didn’t dare to look at, and Christine found she was squeezing her pelvic muscles, her abs, and then her tummy in an undulating wave.

    “...Four,” Emily remarked in a very quiet voice as Brian’s hand fell again and again. “Five. Six. Seven.”

    Christine wasn’t sure she had orgasmed, but getting spanked by Brian felt like she was being thrusted into or fucked, almost. It was so much more than foreplay. Being struck was just so primal, violent, and she craved this from him in ways that shocked her to her very core. With Chloe gone, that unfulfilling pretense of superiority had vanished as well, leaving behind a flat, monotone pane of absolute indifference. Each of these spankings obliterated that level indifferent pane, and beneath those lines were a submissiveness so sensual that light and color were melting into strands of quicksilver amidst a kaleidoscope of shattering pieces and perspectives.

    “Go more?” Brian asked again.

    “Please?” Christine begged in a tiny voice. “A little bit harder?”

    As if to confound her wishes, Brian’s next spank wasn’t a spank at all—instead his hand sunk slowly into the softness of her butt and explored the pale half-globes, massaged and groped across her. If the forceful strikes were delight, these gentle touches were agony, and Christine let an involuntary moan slip out as she twisted atop him. He squeezed and stroked her thighs, and she clenched. Brian spread her supple cheeks, and she trembled. When he traced feather-light touches across her curvature, she bucked against him, impossibly horny for more.

    “Please,” Christine gasped, her vision swimming with tears. “Harder—please?!”

    Brian obliged, spanking her harder than before, and blinding silver exploded within her. Each sensitive mental sheet was fragile glass and broke with just enough force. None of the breaks were quite the same, each of them were delicious and each savory reflection dissolved into uncountable new shards. Following the tumbling and falling pieces focused on new impressions, and then those new ones were smashed in a decadent orgy of destruction as Brian spanked her again and again.

    Some mirrors spiderwebbed into angular pieces from a singular point, some thinner ones simply exploded into glass dust and silver particles. A mirror creaked and then split when one edge was twisted over with a bit of torque—Brian had been concentrating all of his smacks in the same area until now, and then gave one that caught her from the side in a way that made her ass ripple. He didn’t stop there, and his broad hand continued to fall until it was leaving behind weltering red prints upon her bare bottom. Each time, a mirror in her mental maze broke into tinkling bits of silver with each hit, Christine was panting for breath, and her wetness down there had smeared across his hand. The back of the car now smelled of her arousal, and the shallow assumptions and worries and lines of thought she had accumulated throughout the whole morning at the camp shattered, one after another.

    “Seventeen, eighteen,” Emily’s voice was distant and dreamy. “Nineteen. I, uh. Chief, I think we lost her.”

    “Yeah, sorry,” Brian said. “Got a little carried away.”

    When he eased his hand slowly across her burning backside, Christine lifted her hips as if to plead for more.

    “Y-you can,” Christine’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat as she attempted to catch her breath. “You can… you can keep going if you want. However long you want.”

    “You’re looking pretty red, so let’s not overdo it,” Brian played his hand across her butt to offer her some relief. “Did you like it?”

    “Y—” Christine choked on the admission, but little pieces of her felt like they were still clattering down and the interior of the car smelled like sex, so she couldn’t really deny it. “Yes.”

    “That’s good,” Brian assured her. “I liked it, too. We’ll do this again, sometime. Whenever you’re a good girl.”

    “Yes,” Christine quickly promised. “I’ll be good.”

    “So, uh,” Kelly let out a polite cough. “Either we’re rollin’ down the windows and cranking the music back up, orrr we’ve gotta pull over so I can fuckin’ masturbate.”

    “Yeaaahh…” Emily exhaled slowly.

    “Christine, I think you might’ve already came, but,” Brian slipped his hand between Christine’s thighs. “If you want, I can…”

    When he drew his middle finger up along the sensitive folds of Christine’s soaked pussy, her consciousness blurred. Her half-lidded eyes fluttered, she mouthed a confused line of drool against the seat cushion, and the entire mental realm of different mirror surfaces—contexts, ideas, impressions—seemed to distort together all at once. Before she could protest, he stroked up across her again, and then again, his slick fingertip depressing her clit and then sliding on up between her lips with a wet sound.

    Christine climaxed like she was a compact pocket mirror dropped from a fifth floor balcony. 

    Bits and pieces of her ego scattered way behind her ability to recognize where or who she was, and her feet kicked senselessly against the door of the car. If she had been able to, she would have let out giddy, incoherent giggles of absolute delirium, but instead she raked her fingers into claws to grasp at the seat cushion, gasped desperately for breath, and grinded as much as she was able to against Brian’s invading digit as he fingered her.

    “Well holy shit, don’t mindbreak her,” Emily warned. “I mean, we just got her all fixed up into Christine, and—”

    “I’m pullin’ over,” Kelly said. “Annnd also—dibs on next.”

    “Fuck, not fair,” Emily groaned. “No, I guess it really is your turn. Damnit.”

    “Hold on—Christine can cum more than once,” Brian said.

    His hand was now pressing down upon her back—pinning her down, as he brutally finger-fucked her.

    “Chloe could before, sometimes. Just, I guess now for once I can finally control the pace of things.”

/// Will fix links later. This one was fun and had a couple of really good lines hidden in there that I really liked. I think one or two more sections, and then we'll find a stopping point to wrap up After AnimeCon. Have a lot of ideas in mind for what I want to do with starting off Renfaire Fantasy proper, and just like with After AnimeCon there'll be like a month timeskip between books I think.