Her heart was beating so fast, she couldn't tell if she was nervous, excited or even a little bit scared, but she knew she deserved what was coming.
--
When they began dating, late last summer, she had tried to find a fun way to spend their limited time together, something he would actually enjoy.
Even though he was from states away, she was lucky to find a local group for his team, and had taken them out for the first game of the season.
They were a few months in now, and his home team had played today's game against her local team, that's how the trouble began.
Despite the fact she had found this fan group, and had happily accepted their welcome, she had acted like a dirty little traitor in their midst.
She wore his team's jersey, rooted for them and cheered their advances, but it didn't slip his attention when she smiled at awarded flags, and downs succeeded, by the team from which she had supposedly defected.
Worst of all, was the maroon and gold tee she hung on her chair, the fact she brought it along was a constant reminder of her double allegiance.
She honestly didn't care about football, it wasn't important to her, but he was a die-hard fan of his team, and she decided to be a brat about it.
In the end, it had been a slaughter, his team had mopped the field with the opposition. It was embarrassing really, and he found sadistic pleasure in her conflicted celebration of victory over the players she'd betrayed.
They returned home, living out the routine of their normal existences, retrieving her kid from her ex's home, having dinner and family time, then tucking in for bed. All was quiet and serene, when he decided the time had come.
"Sweetie, I need you to go upstairs." He said to her, placing a kiss atop her head.
She looked up at him, "Are you ready for bed? She asked innocently.
"Just go upstairs, please." He said, and gently nudged her up from the place she'd nestled against his chest.
She felt confused, but not one to argue, "Okay." she agreed, and lifted from the comfort of his embrace. She looked at him quizzically, and he gave her an assuring smile, before she made her way up.
Once she entered their bedroom she felt lost for instruction, she was still dressed, mostly in her clothes from the game, but she felt almost overdressed.
Having removed her bra on their arrival home, she was still wearing his team's jersey, jeans, and cotton underpants. She decided to remove the jeans, and sit on the bed to await his arrival.
He turned off the lights and tv downstairs, scooped up one last item, locked the doors, and headed upstairs.
When he reached the top of the stairwell, he saw her through the part in the doorway. She had removed her jeans and perched herself at the foot of the bed. Naughty girl, she probably kept the jersey to remind him of a sexy cheerleader. Such a naive little thing, if she only knew.
She startled slightly as the door pushed open, he had climbed the stairs so quietly, she had not heard his approach.
He smiled at her in a way that made her shiver, his tall figure leaned against the door frame, left arm behind him, as the right had pushed the door ajar.
"You sure do look good in green." He smiled down at her, looking more lecherous than sincere. "What was that final score again?" He asked, still smirking.
"Thirty-four, to twenty!" She chimed, in enthusiasm, not even realizing the danger ahead.
His expression shifted to mock pity, "That must have stung, huh?" He asked apathetically
The look on her face was delicious, he thought, as she tried to comprehend. "Stung?" She asked, adorably confused.
"Yes," he replied with a wry smile, still perched against the door frame, "watching your real team get slayed so brutally."
She shifted slightly, her brow furrowing against her will, but she tried her best to remain placid. "What do you mean?" She feigned ignorance.
He leaned away from the door frame and sauntered toward her, a devilish smile playing across his features. "Aw sweetie, don't play coy, we both know you're a dirty little traitor." He said, while scooping his fingers under her chin, and tilting her face to meet his gaze.
She winced slightly at the sting of his accusation, "I'm not a traitor!" she tried to defend, a pout on her full pink lips.
"Then why did you wear the jersey to the game, and not your team's tee?" He questioned, his expression smug.
"I - " she paused, but no good explanation could follow, so it hung unanswered.
"Yet, you brought the t-shirt too," he interrupted her thoughts, "admit it, you were secretly rooting against us, weren't you?" His tone warning the trap she'd stumbled into.
She was pinned, he was right. She wore the jersey he purchased, such a loving and supporting girlfriend, but she had brought her team's tee-shirt along too, hoping they might reign triumphant, and she could claim she never doubted their victory. She was a dirty double-crosser
"A bit." She whispered, her head hung in shame. His fingers ran through her dark hair, and his hand came to rest on her shoulder.
"I can forgive you," he said reassuringly, and as her gaze lifted, his left arm drew from behind his back, "after you're punishment, that is."
Her eyes felt like disks, as she focused on the paddle in his hand. It wasn't even a paddle really, it was a toy. A plastic, Spider-Man themed, paddle-ball game, that had lost its string and ball. It had been destined for the trash, but now it had gained new life.
"Betraying your team is an awful thing to do, wouldn't you agree." He said rhetorically, as he traced his free hand across her cheek. "Loyalty is such an important thing in this world." his fingers moved back along her cheekbone, and tangled sharply into her hair
She hissed air through her teeth, as the pain prickled her scalp. "Y-yes," she stammered, "I agree!" Her chest lifted toward his body, presenting in submission, under his grasp.
He guided her to her feet, his firm grasp on her chin length locks, directing her up on her toes, where he then pulled her closer, and kissed her firmly. His tongue parted her lips, and took her mouth captive. The mixture of surrender and desire swirling through her body gave the kiss an intoxicating effect, and the had to place her hands against his chest to balance.
His grasp on her hair released, and he stroked the place he had previously held, as their kiss broke free. "Are you ready to accept your punishment?" He asked, staring intently into her eyes, in a way that said, there is only one correct answer.
"I am." she whispered, trying not to smile at him, as they both knew this was something she had hoped for, for quite some time.
This was going to be a lesson, surely one she would never forget, but it wasn't exactly an unwelcome one. Secretly, she liked rough play, well secretly to an outsider, she had made it very well-known to him.
That's where the paddle came in, the darn thing broke days ago, and she is usually the type to quickly toss a broken toy, but the thing hung around. Seemed like she saw another fitting use for it, and didn't want to let it go. So here they were.
"Take off your underwear" He instructed, as he stepped back to observe.
Now she couldn't help herself, the smirk crept across her face, and transformed into a playful smile. "Yes, Sir!" she replied, hooking her thumbs into the elastic waistband, and then sliding the white cotton over her hips, down her thighs, and letting them drop softly to the floor, before stepping out of them, and using her right foot to flick them away.
She crossed her arms at her waist, grabbing the hem of the jersey, ready to lift it away
"Not yet." He said, and her hands fell away to her sides. You really do look good in green," he smiled, and she blushed back at him, "but I like that shade of maroon on your skin too." His tone making that sound ominous, as his attention seemed to shift.
"Where did you put the shirt when we got home." He asked without real question, pulling open the dresser drawer, and lifting it with finger and thumb, like it was something sticky.
"Makes sense," he chuckled lightly, "it wouldn't be dirty from just sitting on a chair all afternoon would it?" He cocked a sideways smile her direction "Would it, Sweetheart?" He asked again.
She glared back at him, "No." She replied in obstinate reluctance.
"Lets change that." He smiled at her wickedly. "Take off the jersey and lay it on the bed."
She lifted the green and white fabric over her waist, fair soft breasts, and fit arms. She flipped it back right side out, laid it on the comforter, then turned to face him.
He flicked the t-shirt over to her, "Now, put that on." He commanded.
She pulled the tee over her head, and slid the soft cotton down her body. Loyalties or not, this shirt was a thousand times more comfortable. Her hands smoothed over where the fabric ended at her hips, and she looked up at him pensively.
His smile was appreciative, as he stepped closer to her, his eyes appraising her. "Not bad," he said, circling her body so she was now between him and the foot of the bed, "You wear this color well too."
She blushed at his praise, and a deep rosy color crept over her complexion, looking almost as though the hue of her shirt had spread to her skin.
He stepped even closer to her now, his right arm wrapping around her waist, and his hips lining up against her body, guiding her before the words left his lips. "Turn and face the foot of the bed." he whispered in her ear.
She obeyed readily, as he laid the paddle down beside her jersey on the mattress. His left hand moved to embrace her around her ribs, before gliding up to squeeze the fullness of her right breast, pulling her body more firmly to his own.
He massaged her breast firmly, cupping it entirely in his large hand, grasping the hardened nipple and rolling it between his thumb and two fingertips. The fabric of the shirt further roughened his manipulation, and heightened her sensation.
