gabe/violet

Gabe flipped my skirt up and tapped the cane on my thighs.  "What is this?" he asked, tip of the can poking the bruise I'd gotten from where I'd been kicked.

"Nothing," I grumbled, pushing the cane away.

There was a quick wooshing sound and then I felt the burn spread across my sit spots.  I shrieked and stood up straight only to be quickly stopped.  "Stay in position!" he barked.  "Grab the edge of the desk."  When I hesitated, the cane lashed across my thighs.

"Fuck!  That hurts!"  But his stern look encouraged me to obey, though I kept a scowl.

"We don't have all day for you to dick around.  So whenever you're ready to tell us why we're here..."

Ugh I was starting to regret having called him anyway.  Fuck me.  I cleared my throat, hoping to say something, but instead... "Fuck off."

Gabe sighed and probably shook his head, then reached to tug down my panties, forcing them to the floor.  Without a word, the cane descended harshly, and then again, and again.  I gripped onto the desk, knuckles trembling and white.  The biting lashes of the cane helped the last of the substances wear off.  

It took almost two dozen lashes, but finally the words fell out:  "I fucked up."

"What does that mean?"

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I buried my face so Gabe couldn't look at me.  "I used again."

"Excuse me?"  His tone took a sharp turn, as if he hoped he'd misheard me.  

"Don't make me repeat myself please."  

The footsteps were heavy and became louder as Gabe walked to the front of the desk and grabbed my face.  "Look at me!"  As I peeled my eyes open I saw the pissed off energy I'd expected.  The same way I felt about myself.  "What happened?"