Once she mastered her resistance, Jareth slowed to steady, even blows. “Two weeks ago,” he began, “I asked you to pick me up some deodorant. Did you do that?”
Xen pulled her hands away from her ears and growled in response to the question. She barely managed to keep from wrenching away again. “NO,” she half shouted, embarrassed and annoyed at having to answer him.
He ignored her tone, except to land a slightly harder swat on her upper thigh. She yelped and he continued, “I asked you to stop at the store on your way home from Starbucks a few days later. Did you get it then?”
“NO,” she growled again. SWAT. SWAT. SWAT. She squealed at each one, the resentment burning out of her like dying coals.
“Wednesday,” said Jareth. “You were at the drugstore, picking up a prescription. I asked you again, to please remember my deodorant. Did you?”
“Nooo,” she said, more whine than growl. She whimpered. The brush hammered her bottom with several more swats, prompting desperate howls.
“And finally today.” SWAT. “After many, MANY chances, I asked you once again.” SWAT. “To please.” SWAT. SWAT. “Remember.” SWAT. SWAT. “To buy.” SWAT. SWAT. “My deodorant.” SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT SWAT. Xen briefly lost her battle to stay static and wiggled franticly, wailing in pained barks.