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Avoiding Professor Sugar turned out to be much easier than Marceline had anticipated since her anatomy class was pretty big and she always sat right at the back of the room. Finn didn't need much encouragement to avoid answering questions in class and Marcy always took the seat closest to the door in the shadow of the long blinds that hung over the windows. In fact she was almost a little offended that she hadn't received any messages from Princess on her online fetish group account, not even to check she'd gotten home safe the next day. So by the time the end of the month rolled around and their private party night came she was too mad about being ignored to remember to be nervous or shy. The moment she was through the doors her long coat came off to reveal the steel boned corset and matching silk panties she'd bought just for the occasion. They were the same shade of blood red as her ridiculously tall killer PVC heels and Marceline was drawing a lot of confidence from knowing she was causing a ripple of whispers to spread through the crowd. She knew she looked damn fine and there was no way Princess was going to avoid her that night.

There she was, leaning against the bar hitting on some pretty Asian woman in a revealing PVC unicorn one piece. Well no, that would not be happening. Not if Marceline had anything to say about it. Princess looked every bit as gorgeous as she always did but something was subtly different about her here at the club; something about her was more open and more dangerous than when she was playing the mild mannered college professor. Marceline was sure that was just an act, a professional mask Princess wore through the day out of necessity just like she played the part of the innocent Catholic school girl. Well, not tonight. She marched up to the older woman and draped herself across the bar, deliberately blocking her view of the unicorn she'd been trying to pick up.

"Hey. You, me, upstairs. Now."

Princess looked up in surprise and the unicorn woman melted into the background, clearly uncomfortable being involved in anyone else's drama.

"Excuse me?" the redhead asked, looking down the length of her nose at Marceline and holding her with an intense stare.

"You heard me. Upstairs. We're not done yet."

"Listen, I realize this is all new for you, kid. But I'm the one who tells you what to do. I'm a Domme, I don't switch and I don't let some perky breasted, wicked tongued, sex bomb in red silk tell me- yeah, I just talked myself into it. Follow me."

That seemed too easy, Marcy should have realized it. But she was too furious still and too high on her own power because she'd never really dreamed that walking in like diva and ordering her actual anatomy professor to take her up to a private room would really work. The minute the door closed behind them she realized that Princess wasn't someone to be ordered around though, she'd miscalculated and the anger in the other woman's eyes wasn't part of a game.

"You want to play rough, Nightwing? Want to screw with me in public, try to make me dance to your tune? You don't have the first clue what you're doing." Princess hissed angrily. She was wearing a thin black eye mask tonight and it made Marcy shiver with a mix of fear and arousal because something about it took away the other woman's humanity, made her faceless and anonymous. That was probably the point.

"I, I just wanted to talk, why were you ignoring me?" Marceline asked in a small voice, suddenly a lot less confident than she'd been a moment ago.

"Ignoring you? Are you kidding me? Listen up, newbie. I've fucked a lot of women at a lot of clubs and what they've all had in common is that they understood the concept of a casual hook up. You, apparently, don't."

"I wasn't asking you to be my girlfriend or anything. I just thought… I dunno."

"Of course you don't. What are you, like, ten years younger than me? Why do I waste my time with kids like you?" Princess asked with an eye roll. Oh yeah, there was the fury again.

"Hey, shut up!" Marcy replied angrily.

"Or what? You'll shut me up, sweet little pain slut?"

Her mother had always said she had her father's temper, not that Marceline had ever spent enough time with him to be able to tell anyway since he usually tried to pretend his queer half-Latinex bastard didn't exist. Briefly a detached part of her mind wondered if he was the sort of person who'd cross the room in two strides and pin the object of his desires up against the wall with a kiss that was more aggressive than romantic. Princess kissed back with equal force, half growling when a sudden shove against her shoulders almost succeeded in knocking her off balance. In a flash she'd hooked a foot around the back of Marceline's knees and swept them out from under her, sending the younger woman sprawling in a heap on the floor in a neat martial arts throw. Princess looked down at her with a smirk, hair disheveled from where Marcy had grabbed her.

"You're still trying to dominate me? For real? You know, I think you need to learn a lesson about how this kinda thing goes down. Hey kid, you remember your safe word?"

Marceline nodded, humiliated and turned on and secretly glad that she'd not managed to knock the other woman on her ass. She wanted Princess to order her around again, wanted to be significant to the older woman if only for one more night.

"Good. You remember that safe word and you say it if you don't want to be part of this, right? This is play, you came with me to a playroom and now we're gonna play. So you remember the rules of this club?"

"No blood play, no broken skin, no fucking, no non-consent, no penetration." Marcy repeated from memory. They were the same rules almost all fetish clubs had, things that were considered off limits in any kind of public gathering. They were all things the police would shut them down for in a heartbeat if they had any evidence at all. Spanking, pain play, restraints, those were at least dubiously legal. But breaking the skin was assault and any kind of actual sex or penetration would fall foul of public lewd conduct and indecent exposure laws. That kind of shit could land someone on the sex offenders register for life as well as get everyone else at the club investigated; the scene took their rules very serious.

"So you know I can't fuck you here, right? In fact, I'm still in two minds about whether you deserve me taking you home at all. What do you think?" Princess finished with a cruel smirk. She'd strode to the opposite wall where a range of toys and spanking implements hung and selected a lightweight bullwhip, giving it a couple of small cracks for effect before turning back to where Marceline was still crouched on her hands and knees.

"I, uh, I think I can make it up to you?" she hedged, unsure but very willing to try.

"Oh, you think? That woman you scared off was Lady Rainicorn, I've been trying to get into her pants for months. And you ruined it by barging in like that. So you better hope I like the way you scream, Nightwing. You remember the safe word? You remember this is play and you don't have to do anything unless you want to? Good. Crawl for forgiveness."

The bullwhip split the air a few inches from her nose and Marceline fell back onto her ass in surprise. The next blow landed across her shoulders and she cried out in pain and pleasure. Her heart was already racing and the pain-induced adrenaline was numbing her in one way and enhancing the agony in another. The lashed kept falling across her shoulders and back, she tried to crawl away and find someplace sheltered to think but there was nowhere. Just an empty room with and angry Domme taking out her frustrations on willing flesh. Every time she tried to stagger back to her feet in those stupid heels there was the end of a whip tangling around her legs, pulling her back to her knees and leaving deep bruises that burned long after the braided leather had left her skin. Marceline had never really considered humiliation play as being a particular kink of hers but even as the tears of frustration welled in her eyes she found herself secretly hoping for more. Hoping that Princess would keep her on her knees, make her beg and crawl some more. Bruise her, mark her. Make her feel the other woman's fury all over her body for days until the bruises finally faded.

"What do you have to say to me?" the older woman demanded between whip cracks.

"I'm sorry!" Marcy sobbed.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry, mistress!"

"And do you think you look pathetic, crawling around like that?"

"Yes, mistress!"

"Mm, that's what I thought. Pathetic. Subservient, cringing, degraded. And I like it like that. And I think you do too if the evidence on those soaked panties is any kind of proof. Stand up."

Finally the lashing pain of the whip around her legs and feet disappeared and Marcy was able to scramble upright again. She stood perfectly still for inspection, eyes downcast and feeling a very odd mix of aroused and ashamed. Her pulse was thumping all over her body, between her thighs and beneath every fresh bruise.

"Look at that, I made you cry real tears. Did you enjoy that?" Princess asked gently. She tilted Marcy's chin up until their eyes met and her smile was gentle again.

"Yes, mistress." Marcy whispered around her shocked sobs.

"Good. Good girl. You did great, I forgive you. Come here."

She let herself be wrapped into a hug and gave into the urge to bury her face against the soft leather of Princess' catsuit. For some reason the tears wouldn't completely stop flowing and Marceline only felt worse for looking like such an emotional wreck. She'd been planning on confronting Princess and revealing that they knew each other out in the real world, maybe finding a way to swing that to her advantage. Instead she was shivering in her professor's arms and crying against her shoulder, humiliated and turned on and so confused.

"Shh, it's ok. You're such a good girl. You did great. I think you've earned some gentle treatment for tonight, don't you?" Princess whispered against her hair. Marceline nodded and let herself be helped back to her feet and limp on sore, stiff legs to the exit.

…

Princess, it turned out, could do slow and controlled just as efficiently as she managed wild, dominant and humiliating. She murmured over and over that Marcy was a good girl, that she'd done well and she was forgiven. This time the night was full of soft touches and kisses, warm skin on warm skin and murmured words like 'please' and 'gentle'. It wasn't what Marceline had been expecting from the evening but she was more than satisfied with it by the time she was lying in a cocoon of soft arms and bed sheets, staring up at the woman who'd brought her home.

"See, this is how you know we're lesbians." Princess said with a smile. "We end up staring at each other and being all cutesy and stuff after sex. You know I'm usually the queen of one night stands, yeah?"

"You said." Marcy replied, mind blown and breathless still.

"Listen, I don't usually do this, especially not with people I meet on the fet scene. But, uh, do you wanna get dinner some time? Maybe get to know each other when we're fully dressed and not wearing either leather, latex or a corset?"

Marceline froze. That was a date invitation, her anatomy professor wanted to take her on an actual adult date and she still had no idea who she really was but part of her wanted to accept so badly. Somewhere between the kinky spankings and the insanely hot sex and then the unexpected gentleness that had strayed suspiciously close to love making she'd begun to catch some feelings and even Marceline knew that was bad. She stared at those intensely blue eyes and bit her lip, unsure.

"It's not that I don't like you." she finally replied, feeling like the words were being ripped out of her chest.

"Then why not? We like each other, we have similar interests, we're consenting adults. You're the one who stalked me, remember? Or, oh. Is there someone else? You're married, aren't you?"

Princess rolled away with a frown, pulling the sheets around her bare shoulders like they could protect her from the pain of a rejection she obviously thought was inevitable. It hurt to see much more than Marceline had anticipated.

"No, not married. And I'm not seeing anyone, I'm not cheating with you. I'm… look, what do you even know about me, in real life?" Marcy asked dejectedly.

"I… you told me your real name was Marceline, you're twenty seven and a musician according to your online profile. Maybe, Mexican decent? Is that the problem, you're not out to your family?"

"Both maternal grandparents were Guatemalan and I've not exactly been open about my sexuality." she agreed quietly. It didn't escape Princess' notice that her playmate only chose to confirm her heritage, not any of the other details.

"And the part about you being a twenty seven year old musician?" she prompted.

"Look, don't freak out, ok?"

"Why would I freak out? Which part is the lie?"

"I'm not a full time musician, I just wish I was, and one day I want to be-"

"I don't understand why you'd lie-"

"And I'm not twenty seven."

Princess tensed in obvious surprise and sat up in shock. The thought that her pretty new playmate might actually be underage had never occurred to her but now that it had her mind was jumping to all kinds of terrible conclusions that most often ended with her going to jail for years.

"I thought people would take me more seriously if I was the same age as the fake ID, I didn't mean to lie!" Marcy begged.

"How old."

She hung her head, defeated.

"Nearly twenty."

Bonnie stared back in disbelief, the rigid expression belied only by the calculating stare that began to appraise her. Blue eyes were sweeping her face again and putting together things that hadn't quite seemed to make sense at first, like how a twenty seven year old had such obviously youthful skin or why Marceline had never been interested in buying alcohol at the club.

"Holy fuck, I'm a fucking pervert, I-"

"No, no because you didn't know, please, don't freak out! I'm legal, I'm just not twenty seven yet!"

"Don't freak out? Are you serious? You're nineteen, you're practically a kid! And I'm thirty seven, I'm old enough to be your mother!" Princess wailed in mounting horror.

"My mother was seventeen when she had me, she was really young and I wasn't planned." Marcy tried.

"I'm the same age as your actual mother?" Princess breathed in horror. "Listen, I think you should leave. Ok? This was a mistake, it never happened. Please don't come back to the club until you're even legal to be there, you know we'll get closed down if they know an underage kid was there even if you weren't drinking. Get yourself back into school and do something with your life. Whatever you thought this was, it's over."

Marcy slid out of bed reluctantly with her head spinning. There didn't seem to be anything she could do or say to change the older woman's mind so she busied herself with slipping back into the few items of clothing she'd been wearing and ruthlessly repressing any stray threads of emotion. Princess had made her cry for the last time, she wasn't going to let the hurt show even if it was completely her own fault. But she paused at the door, unwilling to leave without clearing the air completely.

"Listen, there's something else you should know. I didn't know it myself until after we hooked up last month so, please don't be mad, ok? I, um, I'm actually still in school. I don't know why you thought I was a drop out. I'm a music major but I decided to add some diversity to my schedule this semester and I let my friend Finn pick a class for us both to take together."

"No." Princess breathed, whipping around in horror to stare at her.

"I didn't know you were my professor. I'm sorry." Marcy whispered.

She didn't wait to be ordered out or to see what affect her words had on the other woman, she turned and hurried out into the cool night as fast as she could in her stupid heels. It wasn't quick enough to avoid catching the sound of an angry fist hitting the wall of the bedroom behind her.