For those who pay attention to such things: When Sarah is alone the story is in the past tense. When Claire and Sarah are together the story is in present tense.
Special thanks to HaltWhoGoesThere for proof reading this chapter - repeatedly.
Impact of Amends
Claire wakes me extra early with smiles and kisses. I hadn't forgotten about the spankings, but dropping down on the toilet seat to pee I discover the hard way how tender my fanny still is.
"EEY!"
"What is it?!"
Claire was in the door looking alarmed.
"My butt!" I cry, glaring at her, and lifting my bruised cheeks off the seat. "You broke it!"
"Ah well, you were very bad..." she says with an air of resignation. "It hurt me more than you."
My eyes are wide with disbelief and outrage, which makes her burst out laughing and rush to me, holding my face in her hands and showering me with kisses until I relent and smile. Lowering myself cautiously back down, I suck air as my skin presses the seat.
"You know, that is something I've always wanted to do."
"Spank me?"
"Spank a girl," she corrects. That this was something she'd long fantasized about made my belly hot.
"Have you been spanked?"
"But of course, I lived in London!" Claire says with a happy wink as she leaves me to my misery.
She makes us dark bitter espresso and cold melon and berries. I sit gingerly at the kitchen island watching her work, coveting her naked back and perfect butt. I start to ask about the weekend when she reminds me that she will be in Belgium and France for the next two weeks. I'd forgotten about the art fairs, and suddenly her trip feels like an eternity. It must show on my face.
"Ah! Don't pout, I'll be back before you know it," she chides, handing me a bowl of fruit. "And we can do something fun tonight."
After I finish my fruit she leads me into the bathroom for a shower.
"Your eyes look better this morning but your hair is worse," she chided.
Using conditioner to loosen the tangles in my hair, careful of the lump on the back of my head as she does, Claire smiles down on me. She's only a little taller than me, but it's enough; the perfect amount. I want to go down on her, to take her in my mouth. I want her to smile down on me while I lick and suck her.
She lets me touch her and kiss her, and is sweet and flirty, but she is careful not to let things go too far as we clean and groom one another. I beg and wheedle and pout but my attempts to kneel are dismissed with sharp tsks and waves of hand.
Afterwards she dries and brushes my hair until it shines like rose gold. Pulling it back tight, she lacquers it against my head, twists and rolls it into a beautiful, if severe, bun. I watch her in the mirror as she does my makeup. Her mood is light, but again, taking extra time with my lips and eyes, she uses more eyeliner and mascara than I usually do, giving me a smoky look. My lips are a dark red and glossy. Like my hair, the effect is sexy, if again, a bit severe?
The only clothes I had in my weekend bag I'd either worn to work on Friday or weren't work appropriate, so I'll wear Claire's clothes today. I've been looking forward to this, she has so many beautiful things. But she stops me from choosing what I want, telling me she has it all worked out.
"Bu-"
"Next time don't show up naked," she scolds me, and begins picking things for me from her great antique armoire.
I ease myself down at the corner of the bed and watch as Claire picks out a black high waisted pencil skirt, a crisp white blouse, thigh highs and black patent leather Jimmy Choo pumps with four inch stiletto heels and wickedly pointed toes. She holds up a lacy bra, looking from me to it and back again with a critical squint. I start to protest that her bras will never fit, but she stops me before I can.
"This is my mother's," she says tersely. "It will fit."
The set is a pale cream and so delicate they almost look frail. Putting them on feels deliciously transgressive. Perhaps because they are her mother's panties. Or perhaps it's because Claire insists on dressing me as well, standing me up and taking away my towel, kneeling to slip the little white and cream panties over my feet and sliding them up my thighs.
Either way I feel both wicked and pampered.
Claire calls the bra a "balconette". And while it's a style I'd never pick out for myself - too scared I'd spill out of it - Claire is right about the fit. I've never pictured her mother, I realize, but am surprised. I would have assumed her breasts were Claire's size but the frail looking demi cups hug me nicely; only a little snug.
"It gives them a lovely conical shape" Claire gushes, holding it up in place and staring down at my chest. And she's right; that my nipples are hard, adds to the effect. My breasts look long. I hold it in place as Claire moves behind me and begins to fiddle with the straps. While the cups fit, my rib cage is narrower than Claire's mother, but with some adjusting, and a bobby pin, she makes it fit.
The panties are a low waisted bikini that doesn't quite cover the crack of my ass, and while the bra is supportive, the cups don't entirely cover my nipples. Whatever image I might have had in my mind of Claire's mother is shifting - and becoming a lot sexier. Not in a million years can I imagine my mother wearing something like this.
I lean on Claire's shoulders as she kneels again and smooths the hose up my legs. She smiles up at me as she pushes my heels into the pumps.
We stand together in front of her mirror; her buttoning the blouse and zipping up the skirt, which is high waisted and snug down to my knees where there is a little slit - so I can walk, one assumes.
The blouse is her mother's as well. It is a crisp white cotton with a high collar and floppy French cuffs, darts at the waist and bust give it a lovely silhouette. But it has plenty of room for me in the bosom. Claire leaves the top three buttons undone, so the delicate frill of the bra is just visible. A bit racy for the Gray Lady, but I say nothing. With the blouse tucked into the skirt, the overall effect is almost architectural.
"Look at that ass!" Claire murmurs appreciatively, making me flinch, expecting a swat that never comes. Instead she has me turn for her. I look in the mirror as I do.
"It's swollen," I whine, which makes her laugh, but she gives me a kiss on the cheek.
"Maybe a little," she concedes.
Studying myself in the mirror, something about the outfit feels like a costume or a disguise. Like a little girl sliding around in her mother's shoes - but naughtier,
much
naughtier. I'm dressed for a porn set in a law firm, except I'm wearing her mother's underwear. I get a queasy feeling there are going to be more spankings. I'm not sure I can bear it.
"All I need is a pair of black rimmed glasses to complete the office dominatrix look," I say nervously. "No replays of last night I hope."
"No," she laughs, studying her handiwork for imperfections over my shoulder Claire smiles at me in the mirror. "Today you are my finance bro!"
Her long thick hair is pulled back into a lovely loose bun, and she's made her face up as well - but not for work... she looks like... she's going out for a date. I'm confused by the "finance bro" comment, but when I ask what she meant she ignores my question.
"Now me," is all she says, casually dropping her robe and turning back to the armoire.
"What did you mean about alway wanting to spank a girl?" I ask. "Always, like..."
"Like
always
," Claire says simply as she picks out a skirt and a blouse. "I saw my aunt spank my cousin Charlotte at the beach once. At the time it was very frightening."
Claire's shoulders go tight with the memory. I can't see her face, and without turning around she begins to dress.