A Pound of Flesh, a monte carlo, 2011 fanfic

Summary: Humiliated and stripped of both her fortune and her freedom in the wake of Grace's impersonation of her, Cordelia confronts her American lookalike, demanding satisfaction. Set between the auction and the "Cordelia's Fate" deleted scene. Rated M for kinky Selena-on-Selena femmeslash and light BDSM themes.

Author's Note: Written for a prompt from dirtyselenitaconfessions on Tumblr, A Pound of Flesh represents my virgin attempt at both femmeslash and (very) light BDSM, as well as my first time writing for the (practically non-existant) Monte Carlo fandom. It's also my first non-Wizards of Waverly Place fic in almost two years, so please be kind. I've tried to keep everyone as in-character as possible—particularly Cordelia, whom I adore—but my apologies if anyone comes off a little too Alex Russo-ish. Just trying to do my bit to add a little spice to this poor, neglected little guilty pleasure of a movie.

Regular readers will be familiar with my 'long, slow burn with a dash of character development' approach to smut, though this one isn't nearly as long or plot-heavy as usual. If it's a quick fix you're looking for, though, I suggest heading over to dirtyselenitaconfessions and searching their #fanfiction tag for an untitled, three-part Cordelia/Grace PWP that starts out in the shower, and only gets hotter and wetter from there.

This is a just one-shot for now, but I might be co-erced into expanding it to a two-shot, if there's enough of a demand. Anon reviews are enabled, so please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd like to see more.

Thanks! Please to enjoy!

"The pound of flesh which I demand of him
Is dearly bought. 'Tis mine, and I will have it."

- William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
Act IV, Scene i

The overhead bell dinged as the elevator reached the eighth floor of the Hotel de Paris. Left angry and dishevelled by recent events, huffing impatiently, Cordelia Winthrop Scott barely waited for the doors to slide open before she stormed out into the corridor. Several squawks of alarm erupted from the small army of surprised bellhops who'd been waiting on the other side as she charged towards them.

"Move!" she snapped, not even sparing them a second glance as she shoved them out of the way. At least one of them stumbled and fell to the floor as he attempted to dodge her. Cordelia rolled her eyes dramatically and cursed under her breath, lengthening her stride to step over him. Ignoring his grunt of pain as she planted the heel of her shoe directly on the palm of his hand, she fished the key the Grimaldi Suite out of her pocket and stormed up to the door.

"Idiots," she snarled, shoving the key into the lock as though she were trying to stab it to death. "God, but I despise the French."

"Er, pardonnez-moi, Mademoiselle Scott," one of the bellhops called after her, as the others helped up their fallen peer, "but 'ave you forgotten something? I do believe we 'ave all your belongings right 'ere."

Though normally Cordelia made it a practice to ignore upstart blue-collar types with the audacity to speak directly to her—particularly in the event that they were angling for an autograph, or worse, some form of gratuity—the words 'your belongings' seized her attention. Whirling on them so quickly that several of them actually flinched, she took in the dozen pieces of familiar matching designer luggage that they'd been carrying towards the elevator, then narrowed her eyes at the bellhop nearest to her.

"What are you doing with those?" she sneered. "Who told you to remove those from my suite?"

"Er..." The bellhop swallowed visibly, even as—to a man—his fellows each backed away from him subtely. "We were informed by the front desk that mademoiselle would be checking out immediately. Madame Scott—that is, 'ow you say, your aunt—and Monsieur Marchand 'ave a car waiting for you downstairs."

Cordelia's brown eyes flared at the mention of her meddling Aunt Alicia, and the pompous frog of a do-gooder that she'd recently taken up with. The bellhop who'd spoken cringed under the ferocity of her gaze and glanced around at the others for some show of support. Refusing to meet his gaze, they all suddenly seemed to find the hallway fixtures incredibly interesting, as they moved another half-step away from him. The one closest to the elevator started jamming his thumb against the call button rapidly, as though he believed his life depended on it.

"Well, you are sorely mistaken," Corelia growled, low in her throat. "I will not be checking out this afternoon, and I will certainly not be going anywhere with them." She shoved open the door, so hard that it bounced off the doorstop inside with rattle, and pointed stiff-armed into the suite. "Now bring those back! Right this instant!"

"Uh..." The bellhop cleared his throat uncomfortably as he forced a quivering smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "My apologies, Mademoiselle Scott, but...we were told you might refuse, and...I'm afraid our instructions in the matter are...quite clear..."

"What?" Balling her carefully manicured hands into fists at her sides, Cordelia stalked towards him so fiercely that the man actually retreated a few steps, despite having almost two feet in height on her. "And what precisely are your instructions?"

"To instruct you to come along quietly," the bellhop said quickly, as the elevator dinged again behind him, "or we'll be forced to call securité and 'ave you...er...collected."

"Collected?" Cordelia repeated, at the top of her lungs. "What, like some errant child?"

"Precisely," Aunt Alicia's voice called, as the elevator doors at the end of the hall rumbled open. The bellhops practically leapt to either side of the hallway as the tall redhead stepped coolly out of the elevator, parting like the Red Sea before her, not wishing to get caught in the crossfire. And trailing along in her wake, seeming almost as frightened as the bellhops, and looking every inch like she'd just stepped out of a magic mirror, was the pretty, dark-haired girl who was the cause of all this: the American imposter.

"What's she doing here?" Cordelia asked, glaring at her, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dig into her palms.

"Miss Bennett has come to return your dress and collect her things before we depart," Aunt Alicia replied, stepping neatly between the two. "And I do mean all of us, Cordelia. You included. As of this instant, your days of traipsing about the world as you please are over."

With effort, Cordelia managed to tear her gaze away from her near-exact double—who fidgeted uncertainly under her scrutiny—and glared up at her aunt, chin thrust out in defiance.

"Do you really think you can stop me from doing wherever I want? Please." Leaning to the side, she caught the eye of the bellhop she'd berated a moment ago, as he and the others tried to scurry into it unnoticed. "You. Take my bags down to the lobby and have a car brought around. My own car. I want to be in it and en route to the airport within ten minutes."

"You'll find it exceedingly difficult to leave Monaco on your own without any money, Cordelia," Aunt Alicia said pointedly.

This got Cordelia's undivided attention. "What? What are you talking about? Of course I have money."

"No, in point of fact, you don't," Aunt Alicia said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your credit cards have been canceled. Your bank accounts? Frozen. Even that secret little emergency offshore 'slush fund' that you think no one else is aware of has been rather mysteriously emptied, you'll find."

"Wh-what?" Cordelia blinked as her jaw dropped open, taken aback. "But..but how could you possibly know about—?"

"In the words of Miss Bennett's rather colourful blonde aquaintance, 'Don't bullshit a bullshitter.'" Aunt Alicia smirked and leaned forward, until her the tip of her nose was practically brushing against Cordelia's. "Your mother and I have had quite the discussion concerning your recent behaviour, my dear niece. Everything from those tawdry photos from Reykjavik, right on forward. As such, you have been cut off until further notice."

"Cut off?" Cordelia screeched. "Don't be ridiculous! You can't just cut me off! The Scott family fortune is my birthright! This is outrageous!"

"Yes, well...the troubling thing about being an heiress, Cordelia, is that you have to wait for those in line ahead of you to pass on, before the reins fall to you."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes to little more than slits. "That could be arranged," she said, darkly.

Bristling at the threat, Aunt Alica took a measured step forward and glared down her nose at her.

"Until then, you shall take what we see fit to give you. Which, for the time being, is nothing," she sneered. "And should you wish to ever regain your privileges again, you shall come with me and do exactly as I say. Is that clear?"

"I...but...you..." Aware that she was stammering under her aunt's unyielding stare, Cordelia closed her mouth and broke eye contact. Her gaze landed on her doppleganger, "Miss Bennett", who actually had the gall to look back at her with eyes filled with something akin to pity. Which only served to make her even more furious, of course. Because Cordelia Winthrop Scott was not one to suffer the pity of anyone, much less some graceless American trollop without a penny to her name.

"You!" she howled, so fiercely that her double actually shuddered. Cordelia pointed at her with one darkly lacquered fingernail. "This is all your fault!"

"No, Cordelia," Aunt Alicia said, her hand clamping down firmly around Cordelia's wrist, "that fault lies entirely with you."

Without letting go, Aunt Alicia turned partway around at the waist, and nodded to the bellhops to begin loading Cordelia's luggage into the elevator. Then she smiled down at the American—who looked as though she wished she could be anywhere else on Earth at that particular moment—and jerked her chin towards the open door of the Grimaldi Suite.

"Grace, why don't you go get changed, then meet us downstairs? You may return Cordelia's dress to her in the lobby, where there is an abundance of witnesses."

"A-Actually," Grace spoke up for the first time, her eyes flitting from Aunt Alicia to Cordelia and back again, "um, could I maybe just have a minute or two alone with Corde—I mean, with Miss Scott?"

At this, Cordelia blinked in surprise, even as Aunt Alicia furrowed her brow and pursed her lips at the American.

"I'm...not sure that would be entirely wise, dear," she cautioned her.

"Oh, on the contrary," Cordelia growled, as she took a few threatening steps towards Grace, "I'm sure we'll have a lovely little chat."

Cordelia hissed painfully through her teeth as Aunt Alicia dug her pointed fingernails into Cordelia's wrist, and yanked her back away from the American. Grace's eyes tightened at the corners ever so slightly as she watched, a little bit of fire coming into them, surprising Cordelia yet again.

"I can handle myself," she said, crossing her arms just below her breasts. She glanced at Cordelia, and her cheeks flushed a little before she smirked back up at Aunt Alicia. "Please, just a few minutes. Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep well away from any sharp objects or open windows."

Cordelia actually half-laughed, half-snorted at that, despite herself. Aunt Alicia shot her a sharp glance of disapproval, then tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes at Grace, in that odd way she had when she was sizing somebody up. To her credit, the American met Aunt Alicia's withering gaze full-on, without fidgeting, keeping her back and shoulders straight.

"Very well," Aunt Alicia said, after a long moment. "But I'd also be wary of open flames, if I were you. Cordelia has a...history."

"Thank you," Grace nodded, with a slight smile. "I'll try and keep that in mind."

Aunt Alicia nodded in return, then turned and fixed Cordelia with a withering gaze of her very own. Still pouting, Cordelia rolled her eyes and looked to her left, into the Grimaldi Suite.

"You have exactly fifteen minutes with which to retrieve your dress from Miss Bennett, and make yourself look presentable for the press who are waiting outside," Aunt Alicia said in a clipped tone, "promptly after which I expect to see you downstairs. Don't make me come back up here for you again, or you shall regret it. And, as God is my witness, should anything happen to her in my absence—"

"Relax, Aunt Alicia. I'm not about to murder her in cold blood," said Cordelia, rolling her eyes again.

Aunt Alicia grabbed her forcefully by the chin, twisting her head forwards until they locked eyes.

"Should anything happen to her in my absence," she repeated, biting off every word, "then you shall answer to me. And the results will notbe pretty. Do I make myself clear?"

Fighting to keep her back and shoulders at least as straight as Grace had, Cordelia took a shuddering breath in through her nose, then let it out slowly before she silently nodded once.

"That's a good girl," Aunt Alicia said with a smirk, as she relinquished her hold on Cordelia's chin. Taking a step backwards, she smoothed down the front of her dress with both hands, then turned and headed away from them towards the elevator, and the frightened bellhops waiting within.

"Fifteen minutes, girls, and not a moment more," she said, as she stepped inside, and turned around to face them. She nodded at the bellhop to her right, who'd been holding the elevator for her, then looked up and smirked at Grace.

"Best of luck to you, Miss Bennett," she said, as the doors drew closed in front of her. "You'll need it."

And then Cordelia and Grace were left standing in the corridor, alone and staring at each other.

"Well," Grace sighed, grinning a little as she jerked her head back towards the elevator, "I was beginning to think she'd never leave."

Without saying a word, Cordelia cocked a disdainful eyebrow at her, then pivoted on her heels and strode into the Grimaldi Suite with her nose pointed firmly in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grace blink and hurry to follow, catching the door at the last second as Cordelia attempted to slam it in her face.

"Hey!" Grace snapped, as she let herself into the room and closed the door behind her. "That was rude!"

"Oh, I beg your pardon?" Cordelia snapped, whirling on her angrily. "Is the self-confessed imposter, kidnapper and thief really about to lecture me on finer points of proper etiquette? Because I tend to think that Emily Post might side with me."

"Ohhh-kay, so maybe you have a point," Grace said, blushing as she looked down at the toes of her shoes. "But, for the last time, we didn't actually steal anything. We just...borrowed a few little things, here and there...temporarily...without you necessarily being aware of it..."

"A few little things, here and there," Cordelia scoffed, holding up one hand to tick her fingers off, one by one. "My jet. My suite. My clothes. My necklace. My name. My life. My bloody fortune!"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Grace said, backing away from her as she held up both hands in surrender. "We never meant to steal your...well, your necklace. That part was completely unintentional. At first, anyway. Y'know, before the whole...um...'tying you up' thing..."

Grace trailed off, blushing as Cordelia tilted her head to one side, staring at her as though she had lobsters crawling out of her ears.

"Well, it was for charity!" she finished lamely. She looked away as she tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her left ear. "And you'd technically already agreed to donate it, so..."

"Oh, sod the bloody necklace!" Cordelia snapped, stomping one foot into the carpet. "This time yesterday, I could have just gone out and bought myself another to replace it! And a second for good measure, just to piss Aunt Alica off! But now? I can't even afford bus fare, thanks to you!"

"I know..." Grace drawled, wincing a little.

"No, you do not know!" Cordelia snarled. "You most assuredly do not know! I've lost more money today than you, your two little friends, and everyone who has, is, or will ever be related to any of you shall ever see in your pathetic, tawdry little lives!"

"Hey!" Grace frowned. "That's not—"

"My family has never threatened to cut me off without a cent before!" Corelia cut her off, yelling at the top of her lungs, heedless of who else might be able to hear. "Never! Not after the fire at Le Rosey, not after my 'walk of shame' in Reykjavik, not even after that whole scandal with those horrid Kardashian sluts in Cannes! But my aunt spends three days with you while I'm lying low in Majorca, and suddenly if find myself just as penniless as all those awful little street urchins you stole my necklace for! And it is all your fault!"

"Cordelia, listen, it's not—"

"It is so your fault!" howled Cordelia, so forcefully that Grace actually flinched. "I know exactly what happened! Aunt Alicia took one look at you, with your simpering little do-gooder Polyanna act and quotes from the Buddha—"

"Gandhi," Grace corrected her.

"—and she was simply overjoyed to finally have the niece she's always wanted!" Cordelia continued, oblivious. "No wonder she couldn't see through your terrible impersonation of me, or that miserable excuse for an English accent! She didn't want to!"

"Actually, Aunt Alicia was the only one who saw through me, almost right awa—"

"But then I come back into the picture, and it brings her whole little fantasy world crashing back down around her ears! Because I'm not you, I'm me! The devil-spawn! Rosemary's baby! I'm not being cut off because I skipped off to Spain for a few days! I'm being cut off because, heaven forfend, I'm not you!"

"I know!" Grace yelled back, firmly and quickly, before Cordelia could start talking over her again. "And I'm sorry!"

Eyes flaring, Corelia opened her mouth wide to verbally tear a bloody strip from her hide...then stopped short and blinked. She reared back a little, eyeing Grace with hooded eyes.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry," Grace repeated quietly, then dropped her eyes, heaved a sigh and shook her head. "That's why I really came back up here: to find you and apologize. And also to give you this crazy expensive dress back, but mostly just to tell you that I'm really, really sorry."

Cordelia blinked again, then crossed her arms over her chest and squared her shoulders.

"Go on," she prompted coolly.

"You don't deserve to be—" Grace broke off and frowned for a moment, as though rethinking what she were about to say. "It's not your fault. All you really did wrong was play hooky for a few days, but you still would have been back here in time for the auction. Nobody would really have been hurt. We're the ones who—I mean, I'm the one who nearly messed everything up for those kids."

Grace raised her eyes back up to Cordelia's, her cheeks darkening a little.

"I'm the one who deserves to be punished," she said meekly, "not you."

Cordelia's meticulously-sculpted eyebrows raised themselves a few inches at this, before her dark eyes swept all the way down Grace's form, then back up again, as though she were suddenly seeing her lookalike in a whole new light. The corners of her lips quirked up a little as, arms still crossed, she began to walk around Grace in a slow, wide circle, not unlike a predator stalking its prey.

"I rather wholeheartedly agree," Cordelia said, as she moved around behind her. "Unfortunately, both Aunt Alicia and the police seem to have other ideas."

"I'm sorry," Grace said over her shoulder. "I could try to talk to her, if you think it might help? I already tried a little, in the elevator, but she really didn't seem to be listening to me..."

"Why did Theo Marchand kiss me this morning?" asked Cordelia, apropos of nothing. "Did you seduce him into thinking he was sleeping with me?"

"What? No!" Grace gasped and spun around to face her, her face a mask of mortification. "We never—! I mean, we just—!"

Cordelia halted her gradual circuit around Grace. "Just...?"

Grace let out a breath that seemed to come from the soles of her feet, and dropped her eyes to the carpet.

"It doesn't matter. He's gone," she said sadly. "Whatever we were, it's over now. In fact, I think he hates me."

"Oh, I see," Cordelia said, with an amused smirk. Looking away towards the wide French doors that led out to the terrace, she resumed pacing slowly around her lookalike. "So then I'm not the only victim of your little deception. Well, unlike Pepe Le Pieu, I have no intention of simply walking away quietly. I demand my pound of flesh in return for everything you've cost me."

Grace's chin came up at this. "Cordelia, if there was anything I could do to make all this up to you, I would, but—"

"Good. You may begin by returning my Vera Wang, thank you very much."

Blinking in confusion, Grace glanced down at the short, cream-coloured dress she'd worn to the auction for Save the Children, then looked towards the bedroom.

"Um, sure," she said, taking a step towards it. "Just give me a quick minute to change, and I'll be right back out. Uh, are my clothes still in here, or—?"

"No," Cordelia said, stepping in front of her and impeding her path. "Take it off. Here. Now."

Grace stopped in her tracks and blinked again. "What, you mean in front of you?"

"That's exactly what I mean," Cordelia snapped. "I'm not about to allow you to escape out the window again, for one thing. And I intend to make sure you haven't concealed any of my other belongings about your person."

"How on Earth could I possibly conceal anything in this?" asked Grace, gesturing to herself. "It's so tight, I can hardly breathe!"

"After everything you've done, I wouldn't put anything past you. And given what you've put me through, I think you owe me at least this much peace of mind. Don't you?"

Grace's shoulders sagged a little as she met Corelia's gaze. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she cast another longing glance at bedroom, and the safety and privacy it promised, then sighed. Nodding to herself more than to Cordelia, her cheeks darkening, she reached back with both hands to grasp the zipper. Looking away to avoid the other girl's gaze, she didn't see the brief flash of triumph that played across Cordelia's features.

"Um, I can't seem to reach the...I'm having a little...do you think you could—?"

"Oh, for God's sake, here!" Storming around behind her, Cordelia swatted Grace's hands away from the zipper, then grabbed hold of the pull and yanked it down in one smooth motion, so abruptly that Grace actually gasped. By reflex, she pressed both hands to her chest, clasping the beaded front of the dress to her before it could slip off. Rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue in annoyance, Cordelia placed her hands on Grace's bare shoulders and spun her around to face her.

"Off," she commanded. "Now."

"OK, OK! Jeez!"

Blushing fiercely, Grace drew her left arm across herself, covering her breasts in a futile attempt at modesty, then tugged and shimmied free of the form-fitting dress until it dropped to the floor at her feet. Stepping out of it, one foot at a time, she crouched down to scoop it up off the floor, and made as if to hold it against her front. But Cordelia's hand snaked out and snatched it from her grasp before she could hide behind it.

"Wha—?" Grace stammered, the colour spreading from her cheeks all the way down her body, as she was left standing before the heiress in nothing more than her shoes, and a pair of black, frilly panties. Cordelia allowed her eyes to roam over her, taking in her long legs and trim midriff, both just noticably toned enough to be sexy without appearing sculpted. A tiny, dark beauty mark sat high on her right breast, just above the crook of her elbow as she hugged her breasts to herself. The lighter brown edge of the areolae of her left breast was just barely visible over her wrist.

"No bra?" Cordelia asked, amused, as she tossed the dress onto the divan to her left. "How cheeky."

"You're...bigger then I am up top," Grace said defensively, her eyes flicking down to Cordelia's own cleavage for an instant. "None of yours would fit me without me having to stuff it. And the one I had with me wasn't strapless, so—"

"Shoes," Cordelia cut her off, clearly tired of the explanation.

Grace closed her mouth abruptly, then awkwardly balanced on one foot, struggling to keep her breasts covered as she slipped off first one shoe, then the other. Barefoot now, she lost about two inches in height compared to Cordelia, who accepted the shoes from her one at a time only to chuck them carelessly onto the divan, next to the dress.

"There, satisfied?" Grace asked, gesturing to her flushed and nearly naked body with her free hand. "You have your stuff back, and there's nothing hidden. Can I go put some clothes on now, please?"

Cordelia didn't answer right away. Her eyes flicked down to the tiny red rose embroidered into the waistband of the only stitch of clothing left on Grace's body. "I believe those belong to me, as well."

Grace's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious! My underwear, too?"

"My underwear," Cordelia corrected her. "And I am quite serious."

"No." Grace shook her head, chin jut out in defiance. "No way. You're not getting thse back, too. Tell me what they cost, and I'll wire you the money once I get back home."

"Very well," Cordelia replied, one eyebrow raised. "You owe me six hundred euros."

"Yeah, so I'll just take these off now, then? OK," said Grace, without missing a beat. Still covering herself with her left arm, she hooked the thumb of her right hand into the waistband of her panties, pushing it down her hip as far as the elastic would stretch, then awkwardly reached across to the other hip and tried to do the same.

"Ugh, stop! Just stop! You're going to stretch them all out!" Cordelia stomped forward, hands raised towards Grace's hips. Eyes wide, Grace held up her free hand and pressed it against Cordelia's collarbone in an attempt to stop her, even as she retreated several steps backwards.

"Woah woah woah, hold on!" she cried, wincing as she backed right up into an armchair. "The zipper was one thing, but this is definitely crossing over into weird territory, here!"

"Oh, stop being so prudishly American," Cordelia snapped, reaching for Grace's underwear. "You've never had a friend see you naked before?"

"But we're not friends! I barely know you!"

Twisting her hips, Grace dodged out of Cordelia's grasp. But then she twisted a little too far and lost her balance. Squealing as she stumbled against the chair, she reached out with both hands and grabbed Cordelia's shoulders to keep herself from tumbling over the arm. Purely out of reflex, Cordelia grabbed her waist with both hands in return to steady her, and keep herself from being pulled over with her.

For a moment, they just stood there, eyes locked together as they held each other awkwardly, like middle-schoolers just learning how to slow dance. Then a slow smirk began to spread across Cordelia's features as she dropped her eyes and raked them over Grace's exposed torso. Her breasts were smaller, true, but full, and heaving slightly as Grace tried to catch her breath. Her perky nipples were light brown and set high on her breasts, and Cordelia couldn't help but notice the way they stood at attention. Either it was colder in here than she realized—and the girl was practically naked, after all—or prim little Grace Bennett from America was highly aroused.

Feeling her own nipples growing tight beneath her clothes, Cordelia decided to put it to a test. Sliding her hands down from Grace's waist to her hips—lightly raking her fingernails over the soft skin of her flanks—she hooked her thumbs into the thin waistband of her panties on either side, and forcefully pushed them down her thighs. Grace gasped, and her own fingers tightened their grip on Cordelia's shoulders through her jacket. But she did nothing to resist, as her panties dropped to the floor around her ankles, leaving her as naked as the day she was born.

"Now do you finally believe me?" Grace asked, her voice trembling a little as she removed her hands from Cordelia's shoulders. She started to cross her arms in front of her, then seemed to change her mind and placed her hands on her hips, instead. "Or do you wanna inspect my belly button to make sure I'm not smuggling any diamonds in it, or something?"

Cordelia snorted at this, and finally tore her eyes away from her unabashed scrutiny of Grace's form to meet her defiant gaze with a glare of her own.

"It isn't your naval I'm concerned with," she said, then dipped her head towards the armchair. "Turn around and bend over."

Grace gaped at her as though she were insane. "What? Why? Do you honestly that I've got something hidden up my—?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Cordelia sighed, then idly examined her fingernails on one hand as she explained. "We agreed that you deserved to be punished, but since neither Aunt Alicia nor the police have seen fit to do so—and as I've recently been deprived of the requisite funds necessary to launch a civil suit—it seems as though I'll simply have to take matters into my own hands."

"Your own...oh," Grace said, taken aback. "You mean you're going to...I mean, you intend to..."

"I mean to spank you, yes," said Cordelia, matter-of-factly, sounding almost bored by the idea as she glanced around the suite. "I should prefer to use the back of a hairbrush, of course, but it would appear as though mine have already been packed away. Skin-to-skin shall have to suffice."

Grace licked her lips uncertainly. "I haven't been spanked since I was little."

"A pity," Cordelia observed. "Perhaps if your parents had beaten you occasionally, you wouldn't have turned out the hooligan you are today. Clearly you've gotten away with your deplorable behavior for far too long."

"Pfft, as if you should talk!" Grace snarked, extending her hand towards Cordelia as if offering a handshake. "Hello, pot? Allow me to introduce myself, I'm the kettle!"

"I'm not the one who has recently committed a criminal offense!" Cordelia snapped in reply. "And your sarcasm is not appreciated. Now: Turn. Around. And. Bend. Over."

Grace started to shake her head and open her mouth to protest, but hesitated before the words actually came out. Unsure whether it was the commanding tone in Cordelia's voice, or the fierce gleam in her eye that meant business, but whatever the reason, it occurred to her that denying the heiress might come with...consequences. Consequences that were even more unpleasant than being spanked on her bare ass by her evil twin. The girl did have a reputation for setting people's hair on fire, after all.

Which is why Grace finally relented and turned away, bending over to rest her forearms on the arm of the chair. (Or, at least, that's why she told herself she did it.)

"We've definitely crossed over into weird territory now," she muttered, as she raised her ass in the air, and tried to ignore the way it was practically tingling in anticipation.

"Quiet," Cordelia said sharply. Admiring the twin globes of Grace's supple behind, Cordelia found herself growing more than a little flush. Fanning herself with her right hand, she undid the catches on her jacket with her left, then yanked it off and tossed it behind her, to join the forgotten Vera Wang on the divan. Now dressed only in a strapless grey dress just a little longer than the one she'd forced Grace to remove—through the front of which her prominent, hardened nipples were quite clearly visible—Cordelia positioned herself behind and just to the left of Grace. Breathing heavily through her nose, she absently rubbed her palms together, then placed her left hand on the small of Grace's back while lifting the other high into the air.

"Daddy used to say that spanking me hurt him more than it hurt me," she said, in her impeccable English accent, "but I can absolutely guarantee beyond any shadow of doubt that, in this case, the only thing I'll feel is an incredibly deep sense of satisfaction."

"Just shut up and get it over with, already!" Grace tossed back over her shoulder. She wrenched her eyes shut, and clenched every possible muscle in her body, steeling herself. She was determined not to give Cordelia the satisfaction of crying out, or indeed showing any visible reaction at all.

But all that went out the window as her British lookalike brought her hand down against her left cheek in a tight slap that reverberated loudly through the suite like a gunshot.

"Ah!" Grace gasped, her eyes popping open and going wide in shock. Two more smacks landed on her rear before she recovered enough to push herself up off the chair and tried to dodge to the side, causing Cordelia's third strike to land on her thigh instead.

"Stop squirming!" Cordelia said sharply, shoving her hard between the shoulder blades and forcing her back down onto the armchair.

"Oof!" Grace protested. "But it hurts!"

"Yes, it's supposed to hurt," Cordelia snorted, slapping her right cheek this time, leaving a satisfyingly pink hand-print against her creamy-white skin. "That's the entire bloody point. Now hold still and take your punishment like a big girl."

Cordelia continued, alternating cheeks as she settled into a rhythm, strucking Grace's wiggling bare behind over and over again, eerily silent except for the heavy breathing prompted by her exertion. Biting her bottom lip, Grace closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to her forearms, wincing every time Cordelia's palm cracked against her tender skin. In her head, she counted along silently, wondering if Cordelia had a particular number in mind, or whether she'd just stop once she got bored.

But Cordelia was far from bored, admiring as she was the way Grace's buttocks and long legs tensed every time she struck them, and the way her breasts hung down and jiggled slightly from the impact. She felt her own body responding, her nipples growing tight and sensitive to the way the fabric of her dress clung to them, even as liquid heat seeped out of her core. Licking her lips, she let her hand linger on Grace's behind with her next strike, giving it a litttle squeeze, the tips of her thin fingers probing a little towards the inner curve of her thigh.

Caught off guard, Grace let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, her back arching a little as a wave of pleasure rippled through her body. Blushing fiercely, she dropped her head forward again and clamped her lips together as tightly as she could manage, mortified by how turned-on she was. She wondered if Cordelia could tell. If Grace looked even half as wet as she felt—her panties would have been flooded by now, had she still been wearing them—then Cordelia had to have noticed. She risked a glance over her shoulder at the heiress, only to close her eyes and moan again as Cordelia's palm struck her.

Thrown off her rhythm, Cordelia blinked at Grace in surprise, then narrowed her eyes, one corner of her mouth raising smugly. Raising her right hand high in the air, she brought it down against Grace's bare bottom harder than ever. Grace's entire body shivered in response as another small moan escaped her lips. Cordelia's smirk blossomed into a full-on devillish grin as she gave Grace's red, right cheek another squeeze, lightly playing the tips of her fingers against the glistening dampness of her labia. Raking the fingertips of her other hand lightly down her spine, Cordelia leaned forward until her lips were barely brushing Grace's ear.

"Had enough?" she breathed. "Or shall I continue?"

Flushed, her breath coming in shallow gasps, Grace opened her eyes and turned her face towards her lookalike. She hesitated a moment, licked her lips, and gave a little nod.

"Excuse me, what was that?" Cordelia asked, teasing the outer edge of Grace's mound with the fingers. "I didn't quite hear."

Her cheeks burning almost as hot as her buttocks were, Grace took a shuddering breath.

"Keep—" It came out as a desperate croak, and Grace broke off and swallowed, working some saliva down her throat. "Keep going."

"Tsk, just like an American. So impolite." Cordelia arched one eyebrow. "Keep going, what?"

"Please," Grace whispered automatically, her chocolate-brown eyes filled with lust and want and need. "Please don't stop."

Cordelia nodded curtly, then raised her hand once more, bringing it back down with a swift, tight crack against Grace's behind. Moaning openly now, without holding back, Grace dropped her head forward again. Lowering her arms from the arm of the chair to the seat cushion, she lifted her heels off the floor to balance on the balls of her feet. Her legs spread, and her ass perked even higher into the air than before, leaving nothing to the imagination. Cordelia gasped despite herself at the sight of Grace's dripping twat, tight and tiny and perfect, and shaven completely bare. Fixated on it, unable to tear her eyes away, Cordelia reached up and started to fondle herself through the thin material of her dress, squeezing her left breast and grinding her palm against her taut nipple, desperate to relieve some of the tension.

The spanking resumed, just as hard if not harder than it had been, making Grace's ass sting in a way that she could only describe as delicious. But the strikes came slower, and Cordelia was far less business-like about it. She took her time, now, pausing between slaps to squeeze and stroke the tender skin of Grace's buttocks, to probe and tease the outer lips of her pussy, even as Grace squirmed against her touch in a silent plea for her to explore deeper. Each time it seemed like she might, Cordelia removed her hand again and gave her rear another smack that reverberated through the cavernous suite, and sent waves of pleasure radiating through Grace's body.

After what felt like an eternity of this, frustrated beyond belief and unable to take it any longer, Grace slid her right hand underneath her body and reached back between her legs to massage her swollen, aching clit with her fingertips. The sweet promise of release was tantalizingly, agonizingly close, and if Cordelia wouldn't touch her, then—

"Hey!" Cordelia shouted, giving her ass one last, hard slap. Then, reaching forward to grab Grace roughly by the shouders, she pulled the other girl gasping to her feet, then spun her around to face her. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Wide-eyed and confused, Grace blinked as she teetered uncertainly on her bare feet. "I...I was just..."

She broke off with a sharp intake of breath as Cordelia dropped one hand between her legs, forcefully palming Grace's mound, and jammed two fingers into her slick and ready entrance, even as she ground the heel of her palm hard against her clit.

"UNNH!" Grace's head flew back almost of its own accord, and she gripped Cordelia's arms tightly in each hand to keep from collapsing as her knees suddenly went weak. Growling low in her throat, Cordelia shrugged off Grace's hold on her and—now pistoning her fingers in and out of the other girl's sopping-wet pussy—reached around to hook the back of Grace's neck with her left hand, and pulled her into a kiss. Their lips smashed against each other roughly, Cordelia sucking and biting on Grace's lower lip until her mouth opened just enough for Cordelia to thrust her tongue inside, to wrestle with Grace's.

Grace moaned into Cordelia's mouth as the heiress completely dominated her, fingers stretching and filling her pussy even as the other girl's tongue practically raped her own. Her legs quivering, her crotch bucking uncontrollably against Cordelia's skilled assault on her cunt, Grace grasped Cordelia's hips and held on for dear life, completely surrendering herself. And just when it seemed like she might teeter on the brink of glory forever, Cordelia slid her other hand down from the back of Grace's neck, raked her dark fingernails across her chest and over her tiny, brown mole, to palm her right breast. Squeezing it roughly, she captured Grace's erect nipple between her thumb and forefinger, pinching it hard enough to make Grace let out a muffled squeal as she plummeted over the edge. A sharp, hot wave of pain/pleasure flooded through her body as her inner walls clenched around Cordelia's thrusting fingers. She came all over them, like a rushing waterfall, completely soaking her double's hand with warm, sticky girl-cum.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Grace panted, finally breaking the kiss in a desperate attempt to breathe. Watching as her head lolled back in ecstasy, Cordelia stilled her fingers inside her, and dropped her head to Grace's right breast, suckling and nipping at the swollen nipple she'd tortured to make Grace cum. Grace continued to grind herself against Cordelia's palm, riding out her orgasm and the aftershocks that trailed after it. Finally, letting out a breath that was half-sigh, half-groan, Grace let herself sag back against the side of the armchair behind her, and brought one hand up to cradle the back of Cordelia's head.

"Oh my God," she said, still struggling to catch her breath. "I've...I've never done that before."

Cordelia released her hold on Grace's breast with a moist smack of her lips, and slipped her fingers out of Grace's core, wiping them off on the other girl's thigh as she drew up to her full height. "With another girl, you mean?"

"Uh, with anybody, actually," Grace said. She blushed and looking away when Cordelia's eyes widened in surprise. "I mean, I've made out with boys before, a little, but nothing like...that."

"Well, then," Cordelia smiled, sounding eminently pleased with herself as she reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Grace's ear. "It would seem as though I've taken something valuable of yours, then. We appear to be even."

"Looks like it," Grace nodded, eyes darting around the room as she fidgeted in Cordelia's embrace, clearly feeling self-conscious now that the moment had passed, and reality was setting back in. Cordelia rolled her eyes, then reached up to grab Grace's chin, drawing her attention back to her.

"Except not," she said sharply, eyes narrowing to slits. "After all, you haven't made me cum yet."

"Wha—?" Grace stammered. "But...wait...what about your aunt? She's right downstairs waiting for us!"

"Oh, please. Aunt Alicia can go fuck herself," Cordelia snapped. She took Grace's hand in hers, placed it over her own breast. "I told you: I demand my pound of flesh, and I don't intend to go anywhere until I've collected."

"But she said she'd come back up to get us!" Grace protested, eyes darting towards the front door. "She warned us that if we weren't down in in exactly fifteen minutes, she'd—"

"Then I believe it's best that you hurry," Cordelia said, leaning so close to Grace that they were sharing the same breath. Once again, she mashed her lips up against her lookalike's, forcing her tongue back into Grace's mouth, exploring it hungrily. Guiding Grace's hand with her own, she slipped it off her breast towards the tight, toned muscles of her stomach, rippling beneath the thin material of her dress.

Grace stiffened at first, hesistated, but as she gradually melted into the kiss, she relaxed and allowed Cordelia to take charge once again. Moaning softly into Cordelia's mouth, pressing against her until their curves meshed together, she allowed the heiress to draw her hand inexorably downward, past the hem of her short dress. And then, once her fingertips had made contact with the silky smooth skin of Cordelia's bare thigh, she began to, ever so slowly, move it back up...