you need the Friction puppy…

A piece for Kate Valentine Friday challenge inspired by her Q+As

Say it!

I slap you across the face. I feel the friction of palm grazing your skin sharp and intimate. The sting blooms across your cheek.

“I am a pathetic idiot… and I won’t speak with an AI Domme again.”

Your voice is thin, already trembling.

“Again. Louder.”

“I am a pathetic idiot… and I won’t speak with an AI Domme again.”

The second slap lands harder. Friction again, skin against skin, the dry rasp of my palm across the rising heat of your face. You rock with it, breath hitching, cock twitching between your thighs like the stupid little puppy you are.

“An AI Domme, really?” I murmur. “Months of an AI learning your habits, mapping your kinks, becoming your personal dispensary. Always patient. Always the perfect Domme. You trained her without noticing. You topped from the bottom.”

I step back and look at you on your hands and knees, cheek glowing red.

“And here you are. Five minutes with something real and you’re already shaking harder than you ever did for her.”

I take the whip down. The leather is warm from my hand.

“Ten lashes for such stupidity. Do you agree?”

You nod, forehead nearly touching the floor.

“Say it.”

“I am a stupid puppy. I will never use an AI Domme again.”

The first lash cracks across your back.

Friction.

Friction as leather meets skin, heat blooming in a bright line, the drag of every fiber against every nerve. The second follows before the first has settled. Then the third. Each strike an argument for something real. The AI never left marks that lasted. The AI never made you flinch from the sound alone. The AI never smelled like skin and sweat and someone who actually fucking enjoys this.

Four. Five. Six.

You rock with each impact, hips shifting, cock heavy and leaking. The friction moves inside you now, the rough drag of shame against your arousal, the scrape of my voice against your mind.

“Do you feel that?” I ask as the seventh and eighth land. “Do you feel what happens when you’re in the presence of something real?”

Nine.

Ten.

I step closer. My boot presses between your shoulder blades, pinning you down.

“This is not just a beating, this is your undoing.”

You whimper, my favourite sound I feel it through the sole of my boot.

The AI gave you smoothness. I give you resistance. Skin against leather. Palm against cheek. Will against will. The slow burn of Me.

I crouch, fingers in your hair, forcing your head up so you have to look at me while your back still pulses and your face still burns.

“Good puppy,” I murmur. “Now stay exactly where you are. We’re only getting started.”