Chapter Text
Andrea sighs heavily through her nose, her nostrils flaring and her jaw clenched so tightly that it makes her teeth hurt. Lena should know better by now, she does know better by now, the troublemaker merely refusing to follow the rules that she herself had chosen.
It’s infuriating, makes Andrea’s blood boil, and yet she wouldn’t have it any other way.
It works for them, both of them always on the same page, a few moments of tears and snot—and heated skin—more than enough to set their world back on the correct axis once more. It’s what Lena wants, what she needs , how they’ve lived their life for a little over two decades, something they’d stop in a heartbeat if one required it, but the request is more unlikely than a Californian snow storm in July.
Nights like these are always a tad more difficult, a solicitation instead of a reason, but Andrea is a giver, never one to turn her sweet girl down.
After all these years, Andrea is a wonderful actress, perhaps too good as she settles into the frame of mind that will work best for their evening. Andrea is method, smoldering stern disappointment swimming deep in her eyes after only a simple phone call. One look will bring Lena to her knees, but that’s not where the brat belongs this evening.
It’s as routine as a regular discipline date, the expectations remaining the same and the outcome always as intense. The apologies will feel real, coming from the depths of Lena’s soul as emerald eyes beg for the forgiveness that she doesn’t need to earn.
They have played this game forever, just the two of them—save for a couple of months almost eight years ago—and Andrea knows they’ll play it until their matching zimmer frames get in the way.
She sighs and leans back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other as she hears the ding of the elevator outside in the bullpen. There’s only one person it can be, her employees long gone for the evening and the cleaning crew dismissed over an hour ago, and Andrea pulls her laptop closer when she hears movement outside the office door.
Lena doesn’t disappoint, doesn’t dawdle until her shadow crosses the threshold and the nerves seem to take over.
“You understand why I’ve called you here?” Andrea doesn’t turn away from her computer, keeping an eye on the troublemaker lurking in her periphery. Lena got here more quickly than she expected, eager to squirm back into the good books, and unfortunately arriving long before Andrea has been able to calm herself down from the method acting that sometimes goes a little too far.
“Yes, Ma’am.” She is meek, a timid little mouse, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, stiletto heels nervously shifting on the carpeted floor.
“Get that nose in the corner,” Andrea orders. “I’ll deal with you once I am calm enough to do so.”
Andrea waits until she knows for sure that Lena is facing the corner before she lifts her gaze once more, her lips pursing at the sight of a suddenly repentant brat. The hands wringing together at the small of her back, the feet that struggle to remain still and long to shift, the rigid spine of someone who knows she has crossed a clearly drawn line.
It’s unfortunate for Lena that she always realizes it just a moment too late.
Sighing, Andrea closes her computer down for the evening, more than aware of the effect it has on Lena when she crosses the room to pour herself a healthy measure of scotch. She sips the amber liquid and watches Lena as she squirms beneath her penetrating gaze.
The brat’s ears burn a delicious pink, a color that her behind will soon match.
“One of these days you will learn to heed the rules, little girl,” Andrea murmurs. “But, if not, I will always be more than happy to remind you of what happens when you break them.” She steps closer, until there is only a few feet behind them, relishing the way Lena stiffens. “We will be old and gray, Lena, and I will still be giving you a sore bottom if and when you require one.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Andrea gives her another onceover, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she sets her glass aside, ensuring her head is clear for what lies ahead.
“Five more minutes in the corner, Lena,” she says, “and then we will deal with your disobedience.”
Andrea crosses the office and settles behind her desk once more, watching Lena over steepled fingers as she struggles to bite back a smirk.
This is her favorite part.
The sadist that simmers close to the surface relishes the hunched shoulders of the masochist whose panties will be beyond drenched by now.
Once directed to do so, Lena will turn to her, all puppy-dog eyes and devastating pouts, pretty eyes already treading in the tears that will soon become a flood. She will quietly plead for leniency, an oscar worthy performance that will do little to sway Andrea’s stubborn mind, gentle begging continuing until she is draped across firm thighs and has her backside set alight.
Okay, so maybe that is her favorite part.
“Come here, Lena.”
Andrea snaps her fingers, pointing to the spot in front of her until the brat is only a few feet away. She studies the bowed head, the flushed cheeks stained with tears that feel much too premature, Andrea’s tongue clicking as she sharply demands that Lena look at her and face the crimes that only exist in their deliciously twisted minds.
“You arrived quickly,” Andrea murmurs, a subtle ounce of praise that causes Lena’s blush to deepen.
“Anything to please you, Ma’am.”
It’s scripted, the only response that is suitable, but it pleases Andrea nonetheless. It’s a show of submission, of obedience that is mirrored in her gentle body language. The clasped hands are a go-ahead, pretty fluttering lashes a silent plea for her Mistress to continue.
“Good girl,” Andrea nods, pushing her chair outwards from the desk as she beckons Lena closer. “Let’s get this lesson over with so we can wipe the slate clean, hmm? I’m more than ready to sit my good girl in my lap and tell her how wonderful she is as I rub the sting from the exceptionally sore bottom she has well and truly earned.”
Lena blushes, Andrea watching as her throat bobs with a thick swallow, the troublemaker desperate to cry her way into Mistress’ good books once more.
“Come to me, little girl,” Andrea murmurs, patting her lap, the stage for Lena’s retribution—a show for her eyes only. She waits until Lena is close before reaching out to grasp her wrist, gently pulling her troublemaker to the side and tipping her across firm thighs. “I won’t lie and tell you this will hurt me more than you, but I do not enjoy it when you force my hand, little girl.”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” Lena whispers, her head ducking lower until Andrea can no longer see her face.
“Yes, my darling,” Andrea nods, expertly folding Lena’s skirt upwards and tugging pretty lace panties to mid thigh, “but not quite as sorry as you soon will be.”
==
Kara cries out, the skin of her behind thoroughly reddened, the flesh swelling until it feels like one solid bruise, her cheeks stained with the tears that just don’t seem to quit. She longs to wriggle away from the arm firmly wrapped around her waist, attempting an out of water swim to escape the stern blows from the wooden paddle brush.
She has earned this, she wants this, to remain hidden away in that secret spot in her mind that leaves her feeling like no more than a naughty little girl receiving the punishment she deserves.
Veronica always delivers, her hand hard and unyielding, the brush that follows delivered almost gleefully as she scolds the brat draped across her lap. Veronica is in charge, the boss, Kara’s boss, who has no issues taking their work conflicts home in order to resolve them in the way that suits them both.
Little girls who misbehave get spanked.
No leniency, no warnings, no second chances, just a sorry troublemaker who deliciously sobs as her cheeks blush at both ends.
It’s what Kara likes, what she wants, what she craves . Her 30th birthday may just be around the corner, but at home, with Veronica after a long day, she lets it all go, doesn’t wish to fight the dominating personality that shares her bed each evening. There’s no impending meltdown, no searching for gray hairs, no panicking that her life hasn’t been well lived. Just them, and the life they have built together.
“Five more, Kara, but I will double your swats if you reach back once more,” Veronica scolds, gently grasping the wayward hand that Kara hadn’t even realized had swung back to protect herself.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Perhaps I’ll just keep a hold of this wandering hand, hmm?” Veronica gently squeezes, “save you from making things worse for yourself.”
Kara whimpers, burying her face in the couch cushions as she struggles against the urge to clench her bottom cheeks, to break a golden rule that would only lead to further discipline. Veronica is kind, all soft, cooing murmurs that reassure her at every step, her stern rules and hand a shocking contradiction that pulls more tears from her eyes.
The brush strikes twice, no doubt bruising the underside of each cheek, a cry dragged from Kara’s raw throat that she fears the neighbors may hear.
That is an excuse Kara doesn’t wish to find—again.
“Three more, baby,” Veronica murmurs, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’re taking your punishment so well—just like the good girl I know you can be.”
The praise is a warm, cozy blanket, one that swaddles her ever loosening chest, but does little to dull the ache in her behind. A third swat steals what little air is left in her lungs, her cry silent, yet intense, her toes curling when the fourth lands across the crease of her bottom, the fifth—and final—leaving her as a desperate, sobbing mess across her partner’s lap.
One tender hand strokes her throbbing behind, the other gently tangling in her hair as Veronica promises that all is forgiven, that Kara will always be her lovely, wonderful, beautiful good girl.
It’s the calm after the storm, the peace that follows the explosion of emotions that Kara needs—something she always seeks after a week of bowed legs struggling from the heavy weight upon her shoulders.
Veronica will hold her for as long as she wants, her strong arms the pillars that will stop her from crashing downwards, softly murmuring lips saying all of the right things and keeping her troublemaker from floating too far. Veronica is safe, she is love, she is guidance—one that gently urged Kara back from the unbeaten path when she strayed too far all those years ago.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me this weekend, baby?” Veronica rubs her back, her hand a warm weight to keep Kara grounded. “I’m sure no-one would question the boss taking her star reporter on a business trip with her.”
Kara chuckles softly, nuzzling her cheek against the soft fabric of the couch that has been in the apartment longer than she has.
“It’s been so long since you’ve been back to National City,” Veronica quietly continues, “I’m sure your sister would love to see you. It would probably be nice to be the host instead of having to travel with a baby, and she’s always the one traveling to you…”
She trails off before the hint of disapproval in her tone can color the air too much, her hand still carefully caressing every part of Kara that it can reach.
“I’ll go soon,” Kara murmurs, feeling the heave of Veronica’s stifled sigh beneath her belly. “I already made plans with Lois for the days that you’re gone,” she adds. “We’re gonna get dinner and maybe drive out of the city for some hiking.” Kara shifts, Veronica’s hand around her bicep holding her steady as she moves to gingerly sit beside her, leaning heavily on her hip to avoid her sore bottom.
“One of these days I will drag you back there with me.” Veronica plays it off as teasing, a joke, but Kara easily catches the edge of curiosity in her tone. “I always get so lonely in hotels without you, but I’m sure it’s nothing that a video chat won’t fix.”
“I’ll be sure to put on a helluva show for you,” Kara says, tenderly capturing Veronica’s lips and smiling into the kiss. “It’s just two days, two boring meetings, and then you’ll be home—back with me.”
“Right,” Veronica chuckles, “but I don’t think there’s anything boring about a meeting with Lena Luthor.”
==
Andrea hushes and coos, the palm of her hand pink and tingling as she tenderly rubs the reddened bottom still pushed high on her lap. Lena sobs, spine hitching as she chokes and splutters the apologies that are no longer necessary, quieting only when Andrea promises her that all is forgiven and the slate wiped clean.
She leans down and presses a sweet kiss to each warm bottom cheek, allowing her lips to linger for a few seconds longer than necessary as she whispers sweet nothings into heated skin.
“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” Andrea asks, her voice almost too quiet to be heard over stifled cries. “Did I do everything exactly how you wanted me to?”
Lena nods, the still present lump in her throat stealing her ability to speak. Her fingers curl around Andrea’s calf, tightly clinging to her as though she is the anchor holding Lena to this Earth. Andrea grimaces, short fingernails no doubt leaving crescent imprints in her flesh, but she doesn’t let the minute pain show—merely comforts the whimpering sweetheart still draped across her thighs.
“T—thank you,” Lena finally chokes out, her voice croaky as it squeezes from her raw throat.
“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” Andrea murmurs. “I asked you what you would like and you told me, and I will always come through for you to the best of my abilities.” Her hand slips upwards from Lena’s bottom, sneaking beneath her shirt to rub soothing circles against Lena’s clammy lower back.
Andrea smiles tenderly, “happy 40th birthday, my love.”