Disclaimer: Don't own House, Thirteen, Cuddy, blah blah.
Warning: Set during Lucky Thirteen, so spoilers for that episode. Contains some pretty kinky stuff and a degree of femslash—don't like, don't read.
House might have saved her ass back there, but it didn't really mean anything. She knew that Cuddy letting her go didn't mean she'd escaped punishment. It would just be something different, something…less administrative.
Straightening her light gray T-shirt and instinctively brushing back her hair, she walked the few feet that separated her from Cuddy's door. She wiped her sweaty palms on her black pants before she knocked on the door. Three times, hard; giving the illusion of confidence. Of course, Cuddy would rip that away soon enough anyway, so what did it matter? Thirteen's ego just had to know that she'd come in with a bit of self-esteem.
The door opened, revealing a livid Cuddy. She gripped Thirteen's left wrist, hard, and half-led, half-dragged her up the stairs to her bedroom. "I'm sorry," Thirteen tried as Cuddy released her wrist. This triggered a response, though not a very favorable one. "You're sorry. You turn up at work, drunk and disoriented, fresh out of a club, no doubt having made out with a couple girls while you were there, can't even banana-bag yourself, and you have the nerve to tell me that, oh, you're sorry. If that's how you feel now, what are you going to be after I'm done with you?" Thirteen kept her gaze downward as Cuddy's voice escalated, but her head snapped up as Cuddy growled, "Look at me!" She stared into those darkening brown eyes, entrapped.
Thirteen gasped as Cuddy inexplicably turned her around and pushed her down on the bed, pulling down her elastic-waisted pants and her underwear at the same time. This had happened to her before, but Cuddy's methods never failed to shock her. Her bare ass exposed to whatever Cuddy had in store this time, she suppressed the urge to squirm. She knew it could only end badly.
"Good girl," Cuddy said, her voice getting less furious and lower, more seductive. "I'm glad you learned something after the last time." Her fingers traced the almost-faded red marks, causing Thirteen to shiver. "Are you ready?" she asked. The question was rhetorical, of course. It wasn't up to Thirteen to decide when she was ready.
Right before the first blow landed, Thirteen analyzed the whistle of whatever was coming down towards her—it was of medium width and flexible…crack. Yeah, definitely a belt. These rational, fact-based thoughts kept Thirteen sane while the searing pain in her ass increased. Cuddy's talking distracted her, although it was just an expansion of the lecture she'd gotten in her office. A Morse code of lashes whipped across her thighs, making her finally succumb and cry into a pillow. "Just a dozen more to go," Cuddy's voice came, kinder this time now that Thirteen was almost done being punished. The final strokes came hard and fast, Thirteen crying out almost continuously into Cuddy's bed. Cuddy put the belt away, then climbed into bed next to Thirteen, stroking her hair. "Hey, it's okay now. I know you won't do it again." She kissed Thirteen's cheek softly, moving to her lips in a way that was more familiar than passion-driven. "You okay?" she asked quietly. "You know I had to do it."
"Yeah. I know. I'm fine," Thirteen replied, finally returning the kiss. They fell asleep together that night, finally at peace.
The next night, Thirteen was at a club again. It was Friday; she deserved to have fun. "Hey, I'm Remy," she whispered in the blonde's ear, knowing her alcohol-tainted breath would tickle the girl's neck. She turned around and smiled, and Remy led the way back to her apartment.
