Trying something a little different here. While researching and laying the groundwork for my upcoming season 3 stories, I realized I was getting really bummed out. So consider this a kind of emotional playground for me to decompress in. These ficlets won't necessarily dovetail with my main Cophine series, though there may be a few callbacks to details and situations mentioned in various stories there; I'm also deliberately not adhering to canon or my own timeline. Most of these will probably be self-contained, but I'm not ruling out multi-parters. As with all my M-rated stuff, consider the whole shebang NSFW. Also, I don't really hold with trigger warnings, so proceed at your own peril. All feedback is greatly appreciated!


You Plays, You Pays

Oh, man, do I love that belt.

She picked it up as a student in Paris, in a vintage shop she'd stopped into to get out of the rain. Because of course she did. Whenever I go to a vintage shop, I usually spend hours grubbing through racks of sweaters and skirts and combat boots and more times than not I won't come up with anything worthwhile. Delphine Freakin' Cormier waltzes into a vintage shop on a whim and it's like she's starring in her own personal goddamn Disney movie — unique accessories and clothes that fit like they were custom made practically leap off of hangers and shelves to drape themselves over her. Not that I blame them.

The belt was made in the '70s, I think. Some time when clothing designers and manufacturers still gave a shit about the quality of their materials, anyway. It's almost as wide as my hand, in a dark brown color that's faded and subtly indented where the big circular buckle has fastened over it for years. The edges curl up just a little from being pulled through loops that are slightly too narrow for it. It's thick and heavy, with that incredibly supple, velvety texture of perfectly broken-in leather. I might be a committed vegetarian, but even I can't help finding its scent swoon-worthy. Especially when it's still warm from the heat of her body.

The first time I'd asked her to strap me with it, she'd nearly dropped it on the floor.

I can still see the look on her face when I'd slid my hands down her waist to undo the buckle and tug it free, testing its doubled length on my palm and deciding that I really, really liked the weight of it against my skin. The sound had echoed in the bedroom, somewhere between a slap and a thud, leaving behind a nice dark red flush that set my nerve endings tingling just short of a sting. Out fucking standing.

Her already wide eyes had gone even wider with surprise and confusion when I'd held it out to her. A long shuddering breath spilled from her lungs and her hand was shaking, catching the belt in trembling fingers at the last second.

I'd given her my wickedest smile and trapped her hand in both of mine, kissing the back of it and tasting the traces of perfume and salt of her skin mingled with the rich scent of leather. "What's the matter, Dr. Cormier," I'd teased, swirling the tip of my tongue between her fingers. "You're always saying that I'm a brat. Don't tell me you're gonna pass up the chance to give me a spanking."

Letting go of her hand, I'd wrapped my arms around her neck to kiss her. God, I love the way she kisses me. Every time, hard and passionate or soft and sweet, it's like nothing else matters or exists, as if everything else had disappeared and we're alone in our own world. Synched in perfect rhythm, moving together without thinking and just melting into the connection and emotion and feeling of the moment.

"I don't want to hurt you," she had mumbled against my lips, sliding her other hand down to cup my ass, stroking and kneading my buttocks in that way she knows drives me crazy.

I'd had to laugh, just a little. "The good kind of pain is different from being hurt, babe. Think of all the times I've clawed blood from your back and shoulders, or bitten your neck so hard the bruises didn't fade for like weeks. You didn't notice it at the time, or if you did it only heightened your arousal, right?"

She'd nodded, clearly still not entirely convinced, those huge doe eyes never once leaving mine.

I'd kissed her again, softly. "I want to give myself to you this way, precisely because you don't want to hurt me. With you it's not about power games or control, 'cause those kinda suck all the fun out of exploring the limits of intensity and sensation. Because I can trust you to recognize the way my body responds and not turn it against me.

"Just a few ground rules, 'kay? You can strap me as hard as you want anywhere on my butt, but go easy on my thighs and calves and behind my knees. Only use the leather part, not the buckle, unless you want to have to stitch me up before I walk out on you for good. And never, ever hit me across my back — way too sensitive there, especially where all the little bones of my spine stick out.

"Now, Dr. Cormier," I'd said, rubbing up against her like a cat in heat, "will you do me the inestimable favor of whaling the hell out of my ass?"

Before she'd even had a chance to object, I'd turned and bent over the bed, which is nice and firm and also conveniently exactly the right height to grind my clit against the edge of the mattress. Not to mention exactly the right height for her to plow me senseless. I remember feeling my entire body vibrating with anticipation, my arms stretched out above my head with my hands fisting into the sheets.

I'd heard her take a step back. Another deep breath. The subtle creak of leather, the faint metallic jingle of the buckle. A low whoosh cutting through the air...

"Jesus fuck!"

A line of fire streaks across my right buttcheek, followed immediately by a matching streak in the same place on the left one. The thudding blows land with precise placement as she works her way steadily up and down the curve of my ass. Shamelessly I hump against the bed, feeling my cunt dripping and soaking into the sheets. I know she is admiring the symmetry of the scarlet marks striping me.

Because by now not only is Delphine comfortable with using her belt on me, she's a goddamned artist with it. Which shouldn't surprise me; she's been a fast learner from the beginning of this slightly messy thing that is our relationship. She now owns a tidy collection of crops, whips and paddles for our mutual enjoyment, but for me, nothing gets my motor revving faster or harder than that belt.

The heavy loop of sweat- and come-soaked leather catches me on an upswing right in the sweet spot where my inner thigh meets my buttock, then again on the other side, making me squirm and gasp. My legs nearly collapse when she slides the rougher inside of the belt over my straining, swollen clit. She deliberately rasps it back and forth against me like a tongue, keeping the outraged nerves of my ass awakened with unpredictable slaps of her free hand. It doesn't take long for the muscles of my belly, cunt and thighs to start quivering and tightening. I'm so close...

"Shit, babe, I need you to fuck me!"

Even before the words are completely out of my mouth, she is inside me, driving her thick cock into my hungrily pouring cunt. Every stroke slams her hips against raw searing flesh, making me cry out. Some primitive part of my brain is tripping on the combination of pleasure inextricably bound with the pain that jags redly through me, hazing my vision and goading the tears that run as freely down my face as the flood of come down my legs. She snakes a hand around to trap my clit, fucking it ruthlessly between her fingers in time with the brutal thrusts of her cock. Howling, writhing and bucking and fighting for breath, I shatter to pieces, drenching her with come.

She slides her hand out from between my legs. Blunt nails bite into the hollows of my hips as she uses her grip on them to rock herself into me in tight grinding circles. Instantly I recognize what she's doing. "Fuck yeah, babe, come inside me," I manage to say, clutching at her with the aftershocks of my still-convulsing cunt.

Growling, her breath hot against the back of my neck, she pounds into me with increasingly vicious devouring thrusts that finally push her over the edge, spending her release, grinding and shuddering and gasping, slowly ebbing and spiraling down until at last she is heavily still.

Instinctively she holds me close, knowing to ignore my whimpers as her thighs press against the flayed, heated skin of my buttocks. Her cock is buried deep in my spasming, churning cunt. She slips her hand beneath me again, her fingers playing softly at my too-sensitive clit, feathering caresses around it and keeping my arousal simmering to delay the inevitable.

Because we both know that when I come down it's going to hurt like a bastard.

She pulls out with a slurping gush of wetness and eases me to a stand so that I am leaning securely back against her. Her free hand caresses the flat of my belly, making the deep muscles roil pleasantly under her touch. My head falls back against her shoulder; a leisurely arch of her neck lets her mouth find mine.

"Ça baigne?" she whispers in my ear, nibbling and tugging at the lobe with her teeth.

"Oh, hell yeah." I listen to the slowing of my pulse, the easing of my breath, the delicious tremors of my body still shivering in her embrace.

Soft lips nuzzle my neck. "Lie down, chérie. I'll get the arnica."

I can feel her wince in sympathy every time a random pain-tinged hiss escapes me as she gently applies the cool soothing cream to my buttocks and thighs. "Relax, Dr. Cormier," I say, my voice muffled by the pillow cradled in my arms. "You know I'll be completely fine in like a couple of days."

"Yes, but I don't like having been the cause of your discomfort. And yes, I am perfectly aware of the irony," she says dryly as I start giggling helplessly.

"Totally worth it, babe."