Bared of defiance

Shark’s thighs trembled against the edge of the kitchen table, the wood digging into her hips as Margot’s weathered hand came down again—*smack*—landing just below the curve of her ass, where skin was already darkening to an angry pink. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, her nails scraping against the laminate.

"Still got that mouth on ya?" Margot taunted, her countryside drawl thick with amusement. She adjusted her grip on shark’s waistband, fingers hooking into the elastic of her pink thong. "Let’s see how brave y'are with nothin’ between my hand and yer backside."

Emma barely had time to process the threat before the rip of fabric tore through the kitchen. Cool air rushed over her bare skin as Margot ripped shark's thong to a rag in one brutal motion. The sudden exposure made her stomach lurch—her black pubic hair on display, her asshole, everything.

Sophie’s giggle was a knife-twist. "Damn, Emma. I didn't know there were no razors in the city’."

Tim lurked by the fridge, his beady eyes wide, his tongue darting over his lips. Shark’s face burned hotter than her ass.

"You—fuck you—!" She twisted, trying to kick free, but Margot was already wrenching the hem of shark’s sports bra up over her ribs. The older woman’s strength was infuriating, her hands like weathered vises.

"Mom!" Emma snarled, desperation clawing up her throat as the bra strained against her full chest. "You gonna just stand there—?"

Elaine’s gaze flicked away, her fingers playing with her silk sleeves, she wanted to do something but she didn't dare stand up to Margot.

The snap of elastic was obscenely loud.

Shark’s breasts bounced free, her nipples pebbling instantly under the kitchen’s fluorescent glare. Margot didn’t pause—just tossed the bra aside like trash and hauled shark flush against her apron, bare skin to bare skin. The humiliation was a live wire under shark’s ribs.

"Now," Margot purred, "let’s try this again."

The first spank on completely naked flesh was a revelation. Shark shrieked, her back bowing, her toes curling against the linoleum. It burned, the sting radiating down to her knees, up to the small of her back. Margot’s palm was calloused, unforgiving—every smack precise, measured, like she was tenderizing meat.

Smack. "Apologize."

Smack. "Now."

Smack. "Or I’ll redden ya till ya can’t sit for a week."

Shark’s vision blurred. Tears pricked at her lashes, her throat raw from panting. The pain was a relentless tide, each wave cresting higher, hotter. She could feel the eyes on her—Sophie’s smug stare, Tim’s leering, Elaine’s guilty pity.

Her pride fractured.

"S-stop—" The word cracked in half.

Margot paused, her hand hovering. "What was that?"

Shark swallowed a sob. "Stop. Please. Please stop—"

The kitchen was silent except for her ragged breathing.

Margot smoothed a hand over Shark’s flaming ass, almost gentle. "There now. Was that so hard?"

Shark didn’t answer. She just slumped forward, her cheek pressed to the table, her body shaking with quiet, hiccuping cries.

Sophie smirked. "Look at that. Finally broke the bitch."

Margot patted shark’s thigh. "Lesson learned."

Shark closed her eyes.

(For now it was over.)