This fic follows the events of Star Struck Victims (S17E16). For the purposes of the story Olivia's conversation with Mike does not happen directly after her conversation with Amanda but will happen later within the fic (ie I was too lazy to come up with a reason for Amanda to be in such deep shit so I manipulated the timeline of the episode instead)

Warnings include: Dom/Sub relationship and Spanking

xxxxx

Amanda

God knows I trust her judgment. I've trusted her with my body countless times and my heart a dozen others. She is my safe place, my rock upon which I crash like the ever rolling sea. No matter how much I batter her, she is steady and strong. No matter how we struggle, she remains soft.

I trust her. I wouldn't be here if I didn't, but maybe for the first time I don't want to be.

I approach her apartment building, the key biting into my palm like tiny razors, my heart beating shallowly in my chest. My stomach has been turning all evening ever since she pulled me into her office, and reamed me for not only my undercover mission on Panko and D'Amico, but also, to my shock and horror, for the leaked video footage.

I thought she would trust me, take my word as truth, when I said I didn't release the damning evidence. I reeled in shock when she glared over the desk at me, quivering in righteous anger as she pelted me with her burning disappointment. I can still hear her frustrated exclamations in my mind, piercing into my heart like jagged knives.

I had, perhaps, already known that I would be taking a punishment tonight for going behind her back, but I hadn't expected to be silenced and disbelieved. I don't know what to tell her. I swore to god that I didn't leak the tape, but her stiff posture and guarded gaze belied little faith in me. Now, I can only imagine the lashing I will receive for not only one, but two offences.

Coming to stand in front of the building, I stare up at it's imposing edifice. Typically, I would be tripping over myself to get inside, no matter the reason, but I can hardly bring myself to take another step. She's never punished me for something I didn't do before.

Tears prick at my eyes as I try to bolster my strength, and I squeeze my lids tightly shut. I know she won't judge me for crying. If anything, she encourages every release of emotion that I can give her, but I don't want to cry for her tonight. Inside, my heart is aching, the weight of her disregard crushing my chest. I've gone through several bouts of anger already, followed by an outburst of tears once I was inside the confines of my own home, and I feel the circle coming back around again.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and my stomach twists at the sound. Sniffing hard, I blink back tears, and pull out the device. I can see her name in the preview of the message on the blackened screen, and below it three simple words: Come in please.

I glance up quickly towards the windows facing the street, but in the darkness, it's hard to glimpse which one she's standing in.

I wish I could have but a few more moments to prepare myself for what is to come, but as always, she doesn't let me drag my feet on the way to her door.

Ducking my head, I force my feet to move forward towards the gate safeguarding her building. My fingers are cold and quivering despite the warm temperature as I punch in the code. The gate creaks open in front of me, and I heave a trembling breath as I step over the threshold.

Once I'm inside the building, I walk slowly towards the elevator and press the button for her floor. Minutes seem to pass as I wait for the doors to open, and I clutch my phone tighter in my hand, biting hard at my lip as I wait. I can feel another rush of tears rising into my throat, and I struggle not to let it break free. If I am to make one last plea with her, I can't appear desperate.

Ding!

I startle at the noise of the elevator reaching the ground floor although I have been waiting for it. Glancing up, I'm thankful to see that no one has ridden down, no prying eyes to pierce through my fragile facade.

Stepping inside, I stab the button for the correct floor and step back. Grasping the railing, I lean against the wall and try to breathe evenly as the doors close, and the elevator shifts in a sickening motion. My stomach rolls with the swaying, and I close my eyes, clenching my teeth against nausea. As the elevator chugs upward, I cling to the last few moments of freedom before it comes to a shuddering halt.

I open my eyes, slowly, as the doors yawn open in front of me, and I nearly crumble at the simple sight of the hallway ahead of me. The thought of never even stepping out onto this floor crosses my mind. I even imagine making it down to the street once more and running until I find a cab….but I know it would be useless. I would only be putting off the inevitable, adding another transgression for which she must correct me.

Finally, I manage to uncurl my fingers from the railing and force myself out of the elevator. The doors close behind me, and I glance back as my point of escape slips away from me. I try to remain calm as I turn my gaze ahead, but I feel not an ounce of peace. Instead, a wave of panic rushes at me, and I gasp loudly in the silence of the hall as all my defenses collapse at the mere sight of her door. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I sink back into the wall, and squeeze my eyes shut as I suck in air desperately through my nose.

Breathe. Just fucking breathe. I order myself. It's just a spanking.

I try to de-escalate the unbridled thoughts spinning through my head, but in my heart, it seems like much more than a simple punishment. Her lack of trust in me hurts more than the physical pain that will soon be burning across my backside, and I am helpless to make her see any differently.

Bending over, I lean on my knees, and scrape my palm up over my eyes and through my mussed hair. Sucking in deep breaths, I stare at the worn carpet, desperately attempting to shove back the crisis from my face.

My phone vibrates again, and I groan a low curse. Bringing the phone up towards my face, I unlock the screen and stare at the new message.

Procrastinating won't change anything, Amanda.

I know she's right, and I mutter another curse. Pushing myself upright, I lean my head back against the wall, and blow out a long breath. I pin my gaze upon a water stain at the corner of the ceiling until my inhales and exhales smooth out. It's the best I can do.

Finally, I straighten, and do my best to rearrange my expression, but my heart hammers in my chest as I approach her door. The key rests in my hand like a ten pound weight, my palm slick with cold sweat around the metal, and as I come to stand mere inches away from the knob I hesitate one more time.

Just do it. I demand of myself, a lofty request when I feel as though I'll collapse at just the thought.

I press my eyes shut as I try to bolster my strength. Reaching out, I grab the doorknob and poise the key to the lock. My breathing comes heavy as I shove it in and twist, ushering myself into my own demise.

The door gapes in front of me, and my eyes flutter open, sharply. I'm holding in a lungful of air, clutching the knob hard in my hand as I waver at the threshold. Her living room is spread out in front of me, filled with the warm, yellow light of the lamp. My vision dances across the couch and the coffee table before finding her figure across the room in the shadows by the window. Her back is turned, and even at this distance, I can see the tense set of her broad shoulders.

For a moment, I can scarcely move, and she remains still although I hardly imagine that she is unaware of my presence. She has waited for me all night, her fist of justice ready to fall.

My stomach drops when, finally, her head tilts in my direction. She glances over her shoulder at me, two dark eyes boring into my soul.

"Come in. Shut the door." She orders, her voice a low, even tenor, and if I were naive, I might have found it gentle.

I can feel a tremor running through my whole body as I step forward, and push the door shut behind me. I stand against it, rigidly, waiting for her next order.

Turning around slowly from the window, she lets the silence prolong for one, excruciating moment before she lifts one hand and beckons for me with two crooked fingers.

"Come here, Amanda." She murmurs, the low rasp of her voice washing shivers down my spine.

If it had been any other day, I would've run her to her and thrown myself down at her feet. Even if I were here, simply for my rogue investigation, I would do so, but the weight of the imagined sin weighs upon me, forcing panic rather than pleasure into my veins.

Lowering my head to hide the shimmer of tears in my eyes, I step uneasily towards her. I'm sucking hard on my lower lip by the time I make it within a foot of her, barely masking the agony gushing from me. I don't dare to lift my eyes, but her fingers brush my jaw, causing me flinch at the tender feeling, a startling comparison to the harsh, electric undercurrents that run just beneath the surface of this interaction.

"Look at me, Amanda." She insists, softly, and my stomach clenches.

Grinding my teeth against emotion, I lift my watery eyes towards her. My lids flutter as I try not to stare in the obsidian depths of her gaze, but she catches me by the chin, her hand firm and unyielding.

"Do you understand why I called you here?"

I swallow hard, pressing my eyes shut for half a second as I wonder at whether to beg once more or simply to confess to a crime I did not commit. At the end of the night, I'm sure the latter would offer me a much quicker path towards redemption, but I can hardly live with the fact that she thinks I would disregard her command and lie to her about it. Does she truly have so little faith in my devotion to her?

"I went behind your back." I whisper instead, my tone hedging at a whine.

"And you could've been seriously injured." She murmurs, a hint of concern barely lacing her reprimand.

"I know, and I'm sorry." I whisper, blinking back tears as the desperation to have her believe me seizes me once more. "But I didn't release the tape, Liv. I swear."

Her fingers slip from jaw, and she lowers her head with a barely audible sigh.

"We've been over this, Amanda." She replies in a strained tone, and the sound of her disregard strikes me through with pain and desperation at the unfairness of it all.

"When have I ever lied to you?" I question, my voice trembling.

Her eyes flick back up towards me, sparking at my paltry defense.

"You went into a club, and threw yourself at two men." She snaps, raising two fingers in my face, her eyes narrowed. "Two rapists, Amanda, do you understand?"

"Yes, I'm a fucking sex crimes detective!" I burst out, wanting nothing more than to slap her hand away from my face in disgust at her condescension. "I think I would fucking understand. I'm not a child."

I can see the shock and indignation flash across her face at my blatant disrespect, but I'm already

spinning away from her. I charge across the living room, my sights set on the door. I don't have any plan of where I would go should I leave her apartment, but every part of me is bursting to escape this room and this conversation.

I'm barely halfway to the door, however, when I feel her fingers catch my arm, biting into the tender flesh of my inner arm. I cry out as she yanks me back, then her palm is cracking hard against my ass, once, then twice, then a third final time. The sting of it through my clothing is hardly enough to bring tears to my eyes, but I find them springing anew anyways.

I'm gasping as the sudden punishment leaves me in a state of shock, and she firmly drags me back into the living room. I stumble next to her as she pulls me towards the couch, and pushes me onto the cushions on my knees.

"Liv, wait…." I finally cry out, pitifully, pressing my hands into the back of the couch as I weakly fight being bent over.

"Stop." She orders, and I know by the tone of her voice that I am testing her patience.

Sobs well up my throat as she swats me again, and my hips dip hard towards the couch. My elbows wobble, and when she strikes me a second time, I collapse into the couch. My face is pressed into the cushions as she grabs my hips and pulls them up into position. I clutch the material of the couch, hiding my face in the corner as her fingers dig beneath the waistband of my pants. She strips me quickly, pushing my pants and underwear into a bunch at my knees.

I press my face harder into the couch, swallowing back tears as she takes in my submissive position in silence. My whole being is clenched tight, waiting for her hand to fall again, but instead her fingers brush against my lower back, dragging my shirt up in an almost sensual motion.

"I wanted to take this slow." She finally says, her voice calm and composed on the surface. "I wanted to let you explain your decisions to me so that we could move forward with mutual understanding."

I dig my forehead harder into the couch, fighting sobs that would burst from lips, unchecked. It's clear that she doesn't believe me, and anything else I say will only be discredited as my trying to escape further punishment. Instead of wanting to beg with her to have mercy on me, I find myself praying for her to simply do it.

"Now," She continues, her tone deepening with frustration, "You've not only gone behind my back, ignored my orders, and lied about it, but you've also cursed at me and disrespected me."

I moan into the cushions, the only sound I can make at the sound of my indiscretions laid out before me. I know I am guilty of of many of them, but I would already be at her feet, compliant and willing were it not for the leaked tape. When I went into the club and lured Panko and D'Amico, I knew that I would face her judgment, but I never meant to for the video to be released causing her command of the precinct to be discredited. I want so badly to tell her all of this, but in my current position, I realize it would do no good.

"I'm sorry…" I finally whimper, my voice muffled.

"For what?"

"For all it." I whisper, pressing my eyes shut as my stomach aches.

I wish more than anything that she would believe me because confessing to something I didn't do makes me feel even more horrid. I have never wanted to lie to her, and this feels like a lie now, one she has forced from my mouth with her own hand.

"In detail." She encourages me in a softer, quieter tone as her fingers stroke up the curve of my spine.

"I'm sorry for going to the club without your permission." I whisper, my voice dipping and shaking. "I-I'm sorry for...for leaking the tape without your permission…."

"And?"

I hesitate, the weight of the wrongly confessed sin on my lips. Inside I am screaming, begging her to look into my eyes and believe me, and I can hardly stand to say anymore.

"Amanda…" She murmurs, her thumb stroking the curve of my spine. "All of it, please."

"Liv….." I moan, a low cry shattering my halting confession. "Please…."

I hear her sigh and her hand slips away from my back, taking away what soft, gentle reassurance I was clinging to.

"If you don't want to talk to me I can move on to paddling you. Is that what you would prefer?" She questions, stiffly.

Nausea burgeons at the back of my throat, and dig my fingers harder into the cushions. My head is spinning, wondering whether I should take the punishment now and disappoint her, or spit out the words she wants to hear, confessing to something I didn't do.

She's already disappointed. I rationalize, What's the difference?

"Amanda." She prompts as my silence lengthens.

I swallow hard, turning my face away from the cushions to stare at the back of the couch.

"J-just do it." I whisper, my body taut in anticipation of her response.

For a moment, she says nothing, but I can feel the disappointment washing off of her in waves above me.

Finally, she replies in a quieter, but stony tone, "I hope you realize that this is not what I wanted."

It's not what I wanted either. The thought runs through my mind with a rush of tears in my eyes, but I bite my lip, holding back the words.

I feel her step away from me, and I turn my head slowly in the direction of the room to watch her movements. She's turned away from me, stripping off her blazer, and I watch her precisely fold the sleeves of her blouse up above her elbow. I swallow thickly as her bronzed forearms come into view, her pulsing veins tracking across her smooth flesh. I know the strength behind those olive hands, and a part of me wants to break. I have to clamp my jaw shut to hold back the impetuous pleas for mercy that stir fitfully in my throat.

I blink quickly against strands of hair in my face as I watch her hand extend towards the paddle which lies at the edge of the coffee table. The sight of tool causes my stomach seize even before her long fingers wrap around the handle with unwavering intention.

She turns towards me, and I glance up at her over my shoulder, my glittering gaze meeting hers for half a second. Then, she steps closer, and I feel her hand slide flat over my lower back then dip beneath my hip bone, holding me flush against her.

"I'm going to punish you ten times for every time you were disobedient today." She says, at last, low and even, striking dread through my stomach. "If it's too much all at once, you'll tell me. Do you understand?"

Dragging my face into the cushions once more, I nod miserably into the fabric. I can hardly bear to think of the final tally or of the scenario of having to return here again tomorrow to take the rest. I want to scream out how unfair it is, how unjust her decisions truly are, but instead I bite down on the cushions and gag the cries welling up to my lips.

I feel her fingers tighten around my hip, the slightest tell to warn me of the impending pain. With my body rigid, I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly that colors burst across my vision; yet none so bright as when the first strike burns across my flesh.

I lurch into the couch, releasing a low moan into cushion as the sound of it shatters against my ears. The aftermath stings intensely into layer upon layer of my skin, and I know she won't let it fade, even for half of a second.

My fingers ache as I clutch the couch hard enough to blanch the blood from knuckles. I can feel her drag me back into position, hips arched in submission to her. Then the paddle cracks against my buttocks a second time, like another strike of a match upon my freshly broken ass. A loud cry pushes up against the cushion, tears raging behind my lids.

I've only taken two, but I can hardly stand it. Even more than my punished flesh, my heart is aching. I want to pull away from her, shake her by the shoulders and make her believe me, but I can't. I have made myself her submissive, and she has, with grace, taken up the cloak of my protector. If I am to stop it, I must still respect her, but our safe word seems bitter on the back of my tongue. I know I have to take at least what I deserve, but the poison of her unbelief saps what desire I have to yield to her guidance.

When she spanks me again, I wrench beneath her, my body twisting away from her in silent rebellion. I know full well that I could earn myself another ten, but I can hardly bring myself to care when, at this very moment, my heart is breaking beneath her misguided punishment.

She grabs me with a firm hand, and her arm wraps fully around my waist. She plants her foot in the couch, her knee wedged beneath my hips, trapping me. She doesn't say a word as she brings the paddle to bear again, punishing my writhing ass hard. The strength behind the strike shocks me, and I hang over her knee, gasping as I reel in pain.

"Oh...Oliv...ia…" Her name chokes from lips between breathless pants, and I can feel the tears blooming quickly in my eyes.

My fingers scramble for purchase across the material of the couch, but she paddles me again, causing me to flounder against her like a fish out of water. I can scarcely breathe as another lash follows the first in quick succession, then another and another.

Finally, a cry breeches my lips, ragged and devastated.

"Oh, fuck, please…." I groan, my curses followed by engulfing, halting tears.

I jolt when she punishes me again twice, crudely breaking off my pain cries.

"Ten." She murmurs, huskily, the first word she's spoken since commencing the vicious reprimand.

I feel her fingers at my stomach stroke softly for a moment, the tiniest of sensations igniting across my flesh, and the anger comes again, a startling wave encompassing my chest. I release a guttural cry, jarring against her leg as I suddenly slam my fist into the couch.

"Amanda!" Her exclamation is sharp, a warning.

I sink against her, crying forlornly into the cushions. My body is shuddering and twitching with the onslaught of emotions and sensations, and I want nothing more than to sink into the ground and hide from her. It's a wretched feeling.

For a long moment, she doesn't say anything, but I can feel the tension and apprehension spreading through her at my flagrant display of defiance. At last, she shifts her knee out from under me, allowing me to sink into the cushions. Her presence hovers close to me as she kneels down beside me, and I feel her fingers stroke the back of my head.

"Amanda…." She murmurs. "Talk to me."

I turn my face sharply away from her, quickly shaking my head. I asked her to listen to me before, and she didn't. I don't even want to look in her eyes now, much less speak to her.

"I'm giving you one more chance to explain it to me." She says, softly, her hand trailing down to my back where she slowly rubs.

The massaging motion is a comfort I've so often sought, but it doesn't lure me now. I stare steadily at the couch pattern through blurry tears, waiting for her patience to unravel.

She stays next to me for several more unbearable moments, and if it had been any other night, I would've worshipped her for her endurance and tenderness, but instead, all I can feel is betrayal.

"Say the word, and I will put this down." She offers at last, her tone firm. "If you don't want to be here. If you're not ready to be repentant and accept your punishment as it is due."

I purse my lips hard, swallowing back the words she'd have me say simply to order me back here within a day's time. The relief would be temporary, perhaps even more short lived than twenty four hours considering the torturous thoughts that will consume me in the interim.

"I...I can take it." I whisper, haltingly.

"I know, baby." She replies, quietly, but her voice is full of strain and conflict. "But that doesn't mean you want to."

Tears fill my eyes as her assessment. She knows me far too well to simply accept my behavior at face value. She pries open my heart each and every time she touches me, and would expect nothing less of herself as my caretaker; yet, now, she refuses to look into my eyes and believe the words coming out of my mouth.

I close my eyes as a stray tear slips over my nose and plummets towards the cushions while above me she slips away. She stands over me for a silent moment before I hear her emit a low sigh. The paddle clanks against the coffee table, and her footsteps pad softly away from me.

I remain still against the couch, hardly possessing the emotional or physical willpower to move. I feel drained after the punishment, and the dread that builds inside me as I realize this isn't over, takes what is left.

I hear her in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, clinking a glass. She'll take care of me now, rehydrating my body and soothing my beaten flesh, but I don't even know if I want her to. My weak limbs twitch, screaming to push me up and towards the door. I could leave of my own accord now, and she'd be in no position to stop me, but I collapse once more, tears throbbing at my lids.

I twist my head when I hear her re enter the room, and I catch sight of her over my shoulder. Her chin is lowered as she crosses the room to me, a glass of water in one hand and a cold, wet washcloth in the other. Kneeling beside me, sets the glass down and leans in close to me to lay the cooling cloth over my swollen flesh.

I clench my teeth at the sharp, cold sensation, releasing a low hiss as the initial shock fades into relief. In this moment, I hate how gentle she is. I wish that she would reprimand me, incite me to another angry outburst. It would make it easier to tear away from her, and run from this room, but it's never easy with her.

"Drink this." She murmurs, touching my shoulder as she offers me the glass.

I hide the roll of my eyes from her as I shift up onto my elbows. I am not some fragile flower who will wilt without watering.

Taking the glass from her, I take a short sip before casting her a watery glance through tangled strands of hair. Her veneer of composed commander is firmly in place, but her fingers are soft as she reaches up to tup the wild tendrils behind my ear. I flinch, my eyes flickering away from her.

I don't want her apologetic caresses. Not until she recognizes that I was telling the truth.

"Take another sip." She insists, her hand trailing down my shoulder.

I release a low sigh, and tilt the glass to my lips again. Taking several large gulps, I empty the glass, and shove it back at her, spitefully. She takes it, and I can tell my the parting of her lips and the hesitant look in her eyes that she wants to say something, but I lay back down, turning my face into the couch once more.

I don't care anymore. I just want her to leave me alone.

"Amanda…" She begins, her voice low with concern.

I feel her touch my arm, and I pull away from her, shifting myself deeper into the back of the couch.

"Don't touch me." I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut again tears.

She's quiet for a moment, although I can feel the shock and hurt radiating from her.

Finally, she clears her throat, and asks in a strained tone, "Are you invoking the safeword?"

I swallow hard over the knot in my throat, and nod slowly into the couch. I don't want to speak, and I pray she'll accept the physical response rather than an audible one.

"All right." She murmurs at last, and I can hear the way she tried to lighten consternation lining her voice, but it's there all the same, trembling and raw.

The slightest pain goes through me at the sound of emotion thickening her tone. I know it's not fair. God, I know. I've spent the past five, fucking hours drowning in unfairness.

She rises from the floor once more, and I crack my eyes open to catch her movements. She goes to the recliner and takes the blanket from the back of the chair, and I squeeze my eyes shut again as she walks back to me. I feel her drape the soft, warm blanket over my body, slowly tucking it around me with every ounce of care that I have come to expect, but it only hurts more knowing I can't accept it. Ducking my face into the corner of the blanket, I hide the tears spilling down my cheeks.

"You can come to the bed anytime you want." She whispers, causing my chest to ache because I'm so angry, and yet I want her affection so badly in the wake of the punishment.

I nod haltingly once more, but despite the desire for her comfort, I've already decided I won't go to her. Doing so would surely be an admission of guilt, an affirmation that she was right all along in her actions. Doing so would be forgiveness, and God knows that won't come so quickly.