Games for Big Girls

BY : Worlds_First_Ghost
Category: Web Comics > Homestuck
Dragon prints: 142
Disclaimer: I do not own Homestuck, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

“Oh, Vwiskers!”

The shrill, alley cat yowl grated Vriska’s ears. That voice and stupid nickname could only ever be spoken by one other troll. She shifted all the way around in her chair. Nepeta stood right behind, rolling on her heels with an infectious grin stretching her cheeks to their limit.

“Nepeta was wondering if by purrchance, you’d be free to role play with her.”

A groan brewed in the back of Vriska’s throat. It wasn’t from Nepeta’s habit of referring to herself in the third person. It wasn’t even because of the nature of her request; Vriska was always quick to accept every invitation to role play, no matter who it was from. Nepeta may be as far removed from her own temperament as one could get, but the greenblood was the only other troll who loved the world of pretend almost as much as she did. However, it was precisely due to this disparity that caused the two of them to butt heads when dealing with this mutual passion.

Role play to Nepeta was juvenile and toothless, and she expected Vriska to play by these rules. Everything would come to a halt any time the blueblood did anything she dubbed “mean” or “awful.” Whenever she asked Vriska to tone things down, the other troll would always refuse. She’d never allow her creativity to be stifled. If the greenblood insisted on playing fluffy, asinine games that even wigglers were too mature for, Vriska would tell her to play with Terezi instead. These disagreements caused many of their play sessions to implode before they got started. All Vriska wanted was to have fun, but that was impossible if she couldn’t make it clear that her play style was objectively better than Nepeta’s. That was the true cause of Vriska’s groan.

“And why would you think I’d want to do that?” Vriska asked. “Don’t you know I’m super busy? All these irons I have aren’t going to pull themselves out of the fire, you know.”

Nepeta pawed the floor with the toe of her shoe. Her wide eyes darted between the ground and Vriska, as if she was in a constant debate over which one deserved her attention. “It’s just that well, Nepeta is, I mean I am really bored and nobody else wants to play with me. So I was just curious if you wanted to.”

“So I’m just your last resort, huh? That really stings, you know. Just because you all think I’m a rotten person, that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”

“Oh no! I didn’t mean it like that! At first I didn’t think you’d be interested beclaws you’re always so busy with your irons or whatever it is you do. But then I swallowed my reservations and decided to ask anyway since it never hurts to do so, right?”

“I guess.” Vriska placed a hand under her chin to prop up her head. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the other girl with scrutiny. Tremors rolled along every muscle of her wiry frame, but Vriska couldn’t say if they were due to enthusiasm or anxiety. “But are you suuuuuuuure about this? You’re not going to jerk me around like you always do, right?”

Nepeta shook her head, her twin bangs whipping at her cheeks. “No, no! I purrmise I will be more lenient with you!”

She didn’t believe Nepeta’s promise for a moment, but that didn’t matter. Even if the greenblood went back on her word and whined about it, she would have to deal with it. It had been much too long since Vriska was able to flex her creative muscles and indulge in some proper role play. Her prospects for partners had all but dried up ever since the Team Charge debacle; lots of people had it in their heads that she would kill them if they played with her. Her creative itch had to be scratched, and being stranded on this meteor gave her little means to do so. Nepeta might be a poor troll’s substitute for the hardened FLARPers she had cut her teeth on, but she was better than nothing.

“You know what, Nepeta? I think I could squeeze you in somewhere between all the irons I’ve got burning.”

Nepeta squealed. “Do you really mean it, Vwiskers?”

More and more of Vriska’s fangs were revealed as her grinning lips curled upward. “Sure! Meet me in my block in an hour from now.”

Nepeta’s alternating footfalls drummed against the metal floor as she hopped in place like a spring-loaded toy. She bounded towards the other end of the room, wanting to get a head start on planning what she wanted to role play as. A hissing snicker streamed through Vriska’s teeth before she slid out of her chair and strolled to the transportalizer. The machine crackled once she put her foot on the platform and she disappeared in a flare of white light. She would give Nepeta all the time she needed to plan out their game, but none of it would matter. The agenda that she already had planned would soon be put into action and there would be no deviating from it.

An hour passed. Vriska sat in her block beside the pile of shattered 8 balls massed in the corner. Everything was set for the evening’s scenario and all that was left was to wait for Nepeta. There was no need to check whether she’d show up or not, as evidenced by the pair of skipping shoes echoing down the halls and growing louder as they reached the respiteblock. This culminated in Nepeta’s lithe form springing through the doorway and making a booming clang when she landed on the plated metal floor. Jitters of barely constrained excitement ran through her body and made it look like she was about to explode. The toothy, giddy smile plastered on her face was enough to make Vriska smile back; even though her intentions were much more sinister.

“The great huntress makes her grand entrance!” Nepeta crowed, hunching over and lumbering to the perceived center of the room. Once situated, she sat down and raised a curled fist to her chin. “She trots to the center of the respiteblock before taking a pawse to sit down to lick her paw.”

Vriska rose, placing her hands on her hips with a domineering smirk. “Marquise Mindfang regards the cat girl coolly. She inquires what right this ruffian has to intrude on her private quarters.”

The shine fizzled from Nepeta’s once gleeful smile. “Do you have to play as Mindfang? Can’t you be someone else?”

“Marquise Mindfang insists that she is not playing, and once again demands her visitor to state her business.”

A frown wormed along Nepeta’s lips. Her muscles stiffened as she uncurled from her playful position and sat up. “Umm, on second thought, I don’t think I have time to play today after all. I should probably get going.”

The smirk fell off of Vriska’s face. “I’m sorry, did I mishear you? I clearly remember you assuring me earlier that you said you weren’t going to jerk me around this time.”

“Well… I changed my mind! I’m sorry, but I just know you’re going to do something mean. Maybe some other time!”

Picking herself from off the ground, Nepeta turned to the door. Her body froze as the telepathic forces coiled around her mind and rooted her to the spot. Every sensation from her nerve endings was severed, her arms dangling impotently at her sides. Her shuffling movements as she turned back toward Vriska were jerky and unnatural, like she was being maneuvered by invisible strings. The blueblood’s hands were pressed to her temples and her fanged grin sliced through the room’s dim lighting. Step by sluggish step, the greenblood marched toward her captor, whose amber eyes glimmered brighter as the distance between them closed.

“Man, you’re a real dupe! You’re even easier to manipulate than Nitram. No wonder I’ve never bothered with you before. No challenge at all!” Vriska lessened the mental hold on her captive just so much as to allow her to talk.

“Please Vriska, let me go!” Nepeta’s pupils bounced against all angles of her eye sockets, being the only body part she could move freely. There had to be some way out of this, but she couldn’t find anything or anyone who could help her. “I promise I won’t bother you again!”

“Oh come on, this game is just getting started! Don’t you liiiiiiiike games?”

“I don’t like this one! You’re being mean!”

“I wouldn’t call this being mean. It’s more like… political intrigue! See, that’s your problem, Nepeta. The stupid games you play have no stakes, and that’s no fun at all. I’m only adding a bit of risk and suspense to make things entertaining. You’ll be thanking me when it’s all over.”

Before Nepeta could object, the mental hold tightened and glued her lips shut. Vriska lowered herself back in a seated position. With legs stretched outward, she had the greenblood lay herself perpendicular atop the extended limbs, rigid and defenseless. The blueblood traced a finger along her captive’s spine, which would’ve caused her to shiver if her muscles weren’t completely taut and immobile.

“And so the Marquise places her impudent captive across her lap. She already has in mind a punishment that will set the cat girl straight.”

Vriska grabbed hold of Nepeta’s trench coat, pulling it up past her legs and bunching it up near her waist. The seat of her grey sweatpants was in full view, a raggedy cloth cover for a pair of small, toned buttocks. The telepathic grip broke once again, a mere second before Vriska raised her open palm and struck down hard on those cheeks.

“Ow!” Nepeta yelped, her legs curling as all of her newly freed muscles tensed at once. “W-what are you doing?”

“Oh you know, since you’re so used to playing dumb games for retarded wigglers, I figured it’d be fitting to just treat you like one.”

“But that hurts!”

“That’s the idea, dummy! And hopefully it’ll remind you of what will happen the next time you want to play a game with someone like me. You want to play with the big girls? Then start acting like it!”

The strikes landed on their target with cruel and enthusiastic precision. Corresponding to her numeric fixation, Vriska would often slap each cheek in patterns of eight. Whether that was spanking the left one four times in a row before switching over to do the same to the right, or delivering eight uninterrupted smacks right to the center before pausing, she kept her approach thematically consistent.

Nepeta squirmed with every smack hitting her bottom. Although it’d take no effort to break free of Vriska’s hold and overpower her, there would be no point in trying. The moment she showed resistance, she’d be trapped in a telepathic hold again. She never considered anything outside of physical strength when comparing the gap in power between them, an oversight that was painfully apparent now. All of Equius’s lectures and warnings to stay away from her pounded her mind with the same amount of force as Vriska’s spankings. Why did she ever think that it was a good idea to play with her?

“What’s the matter, Nepeta?” Vriska’s sickeningly sweet words slithered in the girl’s ear as another swat landed on her behind. “I thought you waaaaaaaanted to role play with me.”

“Y-You’re being too rough, Vwiskers! Can’t we play something else?”

A squawking laugh burst out of Vriska’s mouth at the same time she landed another smack. “Do you really think I’m going to let you go just because you asked? Get real! You’re my captive. You gotta find a better way out of this one.”

“Umm… if you don’t let me go, you’ll be really sorry?” A fresh jolt from another strike made it clear that this wasn’t convincing anyone.

“Not good enough! Come on, I’ve seen you do better than that.”

Through the sharp pain streaking through her body and shocking her mind, Nepeta struggled to get back into character. Concentrating, she delved into the realm of her imagination in the hopes of uncovering the wisdom of the huntress. What would she do in a situation like this? “T-The huntress struggles to keep her compawsure and says you’ll never get away with this, Mindfang!”

Although the angle of Nepeta’s head prevented her from seeing it, Vriska nodded in approval before delivering another slap. “The Marquise chuckles and swats the cat girl’s bottom once more. Is that so?”

“Yes, the huntress cries out.” Nepeta shivered as the unexpected confidence in her voice tickled her vocal cords. She was in the role play zone now. “As soon as I free myself I’ll make you regret your heinous deeds.”

“Hmm. We shall see about that. In the meantime, the Marquise has prepared another round of spankings that might change her captive’s tune.”

The punishment was paused while Vriska pulled down Nepeta’s sweatpants. Blue panties, likely made from the same material as her hat, concealed most of the deep green hue filling out her burning bottom. These too were yanked away, revealing a full spectrum of green shades and tones mashed together in a mottled canvas of bruises.

A chill washed over Nepeta as the garments brushed over her skin and sunk down her legs. All the muscles in her body froze as if Vriska had taken over her mind again. To test whether or not she was in control, she forced out a question, each word strangled in the whispering grip of her apprehension. “What are you doing now, Vwiskers?” A vicious smack, bare skin against skin, shut her mouth.

“The marquise orders her captive to stop mewling.” Vriska ran a hand across the flushed skin, admiring her handiwork. Dark emerald welts speckled both cheeks and signified the main impact sites. They were surrounded by wide, concentric splotches that grew increasingly lighter the further they were from the center, eventually melding into the grey of natural flesh. A few seconds passed while she took in the beauty of it all, only to continue her onslaught without any further ceremony.

Nepeta winced and wriggled against Vriska’s grip. Her pants were hardly an effective defense against the spanking, but now her flesh was fully exposed to the fiery lash of her tormentor’s palm. Her mind raced to come up with another in-character response, but she was jolted back to reality with each slap hitting her ravaged cheeks. She needed something to distract herself not only from the pain, but also from the uncomfortable reality that was clawing at the back of her mind: she was half-naked in front of another troll. Nobody had ever seen her in this state before, and Vriska had just stolen away her pants like it was nothing. She was so exposed, vulnerable… and admittedly a little turned on. Disrobing was something you should only do around your partners, right? Did Vriska see her as a potential kismesis and, more importantly, did she reciprocate these pitch cravings? Through the hail of repeated blows to her smoldering flesh, Nepeta tried convincing herself that it was just the character that felt this way and not really her. This idea only became harder to believe as each successive spank only further broke down the divider between the persona and the player.

Clenching her thighs together after another ruthless strike, a faint squelch of moist skin could scarcely be heard under her labored breathing and Vriska’s taunting chuckles. The liquid was a small trickle coming from her most intimate area, but the warmth within it burned her flesh even more than the blueblood’s assault. Even though Vriska gave zero indications that something was amiss, the rapidly cooling stain clinging to Nepeta’s thighs was a sticky and uncomfortable reminder of her what she was really feeling. It was hard to reconcile that being put in such an embarrassing position was erotic to her, but there was no arguing with the evidence.

“I will purrvail,” Nepeta’s words wheezed out in a hazy gasp. “You can’t win this.”

“I don’t think so, the Marquise taunts. I think I’m working on a new arrangement to get you out of my hair. I could always use another captive aboard my ship. You’ll work out nicely.”

Another slap hit its mark. A moan slammed against Nepeta’s mouth, but she bit down harder to keep it from bursting out. It was almost intoxicating how the pain coursed through her body.

“What was that? A moan?” The high pitch of Vriska’s surprised comment made Nepeta blush. “Oh wow, you’ve got to be kidding me! Do you liiiiiiiike being spanked, or something?”

“Yes!” The word was blurted out with no hesitation. It was unclear whether Nepeta meant that to be spoken in character, or as herself. “Yes I do!”

Laughter coalesced in the back of Vriska’s throat, but she kept herself restrained. “Oh really? So you’ll have no problem agreeing to my demands. If you say you’ll be my slave, I’ll let you go.”

“Okay… The huntress pledges unwavering felinety–” Another smack. No puns allowed. “I-I mean fealty to Marquise Spinneret Mindfang!”

With that, Vriska withdrew her hands from Nepeta’s trembling form. The release of pressure off her back made the greenblood suck a stream of air into her heaving lungs. The muscles in her body tingled and shuddered as she lifted herself off Vriska’s lap. The sudden weight on her legs nearly caused her to crumple to the floor, but she managed to keep her balance. Grabbing the sweatpants that were tangled around her knees, she pulled them up her legs until her swollen, stinging ass gave her pause. She closed her eyes and suppressed a whimper as the fabric chafed her skin.

“Oh man, that was too good!” Vriska leaned back in her seat, unrestrained laughter rattling in her voice. “I never would’ve pegged you as such a little freak, Leijon. You’re always so goody-goody… I bet your moirail would lose his mind if he ever found out about this.”

Nepeta ignored Vriska’s mockery as best as she could, still rubbing her sore bottom. “So… am I really your slave now?”

After wiping away an imaginary tear from her eye, the blueblood waved the question away. “No, you idiot! That was all pretend, it’s fake! Man, get a clue!”

“But… what if it doesn’t have to be purrtend?”

The smile dropped off Vriska’s face. She eyed the greenblood top to bottom. “… What the hell are you talking about?”

The trembles and shakes consuming Nepeta’s body ceased. Gulping down another big breath, she kept her posture rigid as she stared at Vriska. Whatever meekness and humility previously filled her expression now evaporated. Here stood a troll brimming with confidence and assuredness in her next actions. She bowed deeply, her expectant, eager eyes turned up to the other troll. “The huntress humbly catpitulates to the very pretty and pawerful Marquise. She wonders if she could find time to grace her with a hissipline session another time.”

Vriska stared down into the golden pools of Nepeta’s eyes. Her expression was deadpan, but it curled into a smirk. This was an unexpected turn, although it wasn’t unwelcome.



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