See if I care

See if I Care

“Honey, turn the light off,” he said, checking his watch. “I’m trying to sleep. It’s almost twelve”.

She went on pounding at the keyboard, deaf at his request. Something had clicked wrong in her head while she was reading the last story. Her rebellious self unfolded, triggered by her mind’s answer to the main character’s actions. She didn’t understand it, but she embraced the feeling.

“Please turn off the light,” Mike said again. He didn’t raise his voice, but even if the tone was matter-of-factly she read the annoyance and the frustration lying underneath.

“No.” – she said simply.

“Do you need it?”

“No.” – she said again.

“Then please turn it off.”


She had a vague feeling that she was provoking him on purpose; she was pushing it, very aware of the discomfort she was causing him. And she also was aware that this scene would not have taken place before she had asked for rules to be established in the house. He did not refuse to take part in the project, but she hadn’t been spanked either. She felt guilty for some of her actions. And her guilt raised the frustration in her, which lead to deliberate disobedience.

Mike stirred in bed for a few minutes, as if trying to consider his next move. She knew he was. He was most probably debating on what to do next. And she knew his thoughts, the moment she saw him standing up: he wanted to end the argument; he didn’t want to confront her. He switched the light off. Without even looking up, Jas continued to type madly at her computer.

As he lay in bed again, she went for the switch and the light was on once more. Her statement read “you can’t ignore me forever”. She made it clear. Mike grumbled. A real grumble. An angry grumble which caused her to pray that he would finally do something; if not, this would become an argument, and they would be at each other’s throats till morning.

“Do you need the light on?” – He asked once more, popping his head out from under the blanket. She didn’t reply. She could bend the keys on the keyboard with the fury she was typing.

She heard him sigh and could almost hear the internal fight he was trying to control. Without a word, he stood up and went for her, yanked her up by the arm.

“Common,” he said.
This wasn’t right. A spanking should not happen because he was annoyed; a spanking should happen because she needed it and because he would understand that need. Because he loved her and he knew there was no way around it. It wasn’t the case now. It made her furious. She snapped her arm free.

“Let me be,” she said.

“I’m spanking you, even if I have to drag you and fight you,” he added, grabbing her arm again. “Up!”

Jas looked up at him, with all the defiance she could muster. And there was plenty of it in her eyes, in her face. She stood up. “I’m not running. You don’t need to grab me like that.”

For a second he seemed to consider, trying to understand what she was at. Was she playing some kind of game again? He grabbed his jeans from the chair and slid the belt out of the loops. He looked at her expectedly.

“Yeah, spank me,” she said. “See if I care. See if I give a damn.” The rebel teenager buried deep inside was desperately pushing to come out. The association was perfect in her mind: teenager, used to get her ass tanned, but pretending not to care. She was so good at pretending she believed it herself.

Mike raised his eyebrows at her. She unzipped her pants, pulled them down. It was the first time he didn’t ask her to do it. She gave him a defiant look then pulled down her panties, to her knees, and, without a word, she bent over, hands on the bed.

“See if I care,” she repeated. It was more to her this time, probably because she started to grow aware of what she was doing.

Mike didn’t reply, but let her play her game. He doubled the belt over, moved to her side. She thought she was in control. Let’s see how you handle this, he mused. He grabbed her panties, yanked them down. Not because they weren’t where they should have been, but because – he bent over slowly, whispering in her year – “You get spanked here because I say so, not because you want to.” It was a strong kick at the first piece of the domino. He was going to break her from inside. She felt it. She felt that illusion of control slip through her fingers, but she fought the feeling back, like a kid trying to squeeze its fingers together hoping for the water not to drain down. She raised her eyes, fixed them stubbornly on the white wall in front.

Mike watched her reaction. He hadn’t been determined to break her before, but now he was. Without further ado, he moved to her left side and raised the belt. He raised it as high as he dared to. It was a challenge and he would not be beaten at it. The belt came down hard. She winced only. The belt snapped again against her bottom, but she kept looking forward, trying to detach herself from the pain.

It would take some work to get to her, but he didn’t mind. He went on spanking her, not having time to watch the welts build on her white skin. He wished he could see her face. But he watched her knuckles instead, turning white with the strength she was putting into grabbing the blanket tight into her fists. He also heard a muffled sob, which she couldn’t control anymore. The belt fell, this time, on the curve under her butt. She yelped; fists tightened even more on the blanket; her bottom went forth and it took her more than usual to bring it back into position.

He could be mean, if that’s how she wanted to play. He cracked the belt again, on the same spot. Jasmine yelped. He didn’t wait for her ass to come baak; he gave one more lick on the same spot again. And then again, and again. He watched her small body starting to collapse slowly in front of him, as she began to refuse to present her bottom again for punishment.

He bent over her small body again, whispering in her ear: “Do you give a damn now? Hm?” She didn’t answer, but tears dripped from her nose to the blanket. He played the bastard card in response. “Are you crying? See if I care.” She sobbed out loud. “Bring your ass back. We are not finished when you want to; we are finished when I say so.”

She complied, but slowly, as if trying to find her way out of it in the meantime. Again he didn’t wait for her to finish her thoughts – the belt landed hard on her upper thighs. Her arms shook and she let her torso rest on her elbows. Her forehead touched the pillow in front of her.

Mike kept her on ‘ignore’, but his eyes traveled many times from her behind to her position. He could tell what was going through her mind. Now he could read her like a book.

“Please.” – She whispered, between sobs.
“Come again?”
She didn’t repeat it. He didn’t wait for a reply. He went on spanking. The welts built to an angry red.

“Enough,” she said. Her hand flew back. He had reached her. Finally. Past the arrogance, the rebel wall, straight into her mind.
“Take your hand away.”
She did. He went on. She cried, quite loudly. She started twisting, hoping he would miss the spots that hurt so badly. He didn’t.
“Please… Enough…”
He stopped for a moment, giving her false hopes. Mike raised her wet chin, forced her to look up, into his eyes. “This is punishment, just like you wrote in your letter. This is not playing. This is you and me, not me and your alternate ego. And I decide when you had enough. Is that clear?”
She nodded.
“Good,” he added. “Now bring your bottom up again, please. *I* am not finished with you. I know you wanted to make your point. Now I am making mine.”

She complied. The rebel teenager was gone. He whipped her ass even after it had collapsed on the bed. The strokes were not hard anymore, but they felt horrible to her. He stopped and put away the belt. She didn’t move but continued to sob into the pillow.

“Now turn off that light, please,” he said.

A few minutes later she cuddled next to him in bed, arms around his waist, head buried in his back. She could finally sleep.

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