“Are you ready, baby?”
Catra closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. She’s been ready for days now—not just ready, but in desperate need of relief.
Lately, the world has felt heavier than usual. Too heavy to bear sometimes, especially in the middle of the night, when she forgets where and when she is. When she forgets the person she’s worked so hard to become over the past several years and curls in on herself, consumed by guilt and self-loathing.
Yes, she’s ready. She’s ready because she knows Adora. Because Adora always makes her feel better, no matter the method. Because Adora is the one who taught her how to trust, and keeps teaching her when she forgets.
Catra opens her eyes and gives Adora her trademark smirk, though she suspects it’s weaker than usual. “Yeah.” Then, after swallowing, she repeats herself with more confidence: “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Adora steps across their bedroom, a cozy space that alternates between bright and dim depending on whether Catra wants to nap in the warm sunlight, or curl up in the dark. Against all odds, this little room in Brightmoon has become her refuge these past few years. Right now, the light is dim, which Catra is grateful for. She isn’t ready for Adora’s searching eyes to pierce the very heart of her. Not quite yet.
“You sure?” Adora cups Catra’s cheek, though she’s careful not to fondle the ear-tufts, despite having permission. Another thing Catra is grateful for. More often than not, Adora intuitively senses what she is and isn’t okay with. “We don’t have to do this if you aren’t feeling it.”
Catra’s shoulders stiffen, an instinctive response to being challenged, but she forces herself to relax, tilting into Adora’s palm. Sighing, she kisses the pale underside of Adora’s wrist. “I’m good. I need this.”
Adora kisses her softly on the lips, just once, before stepping back to transform. Catra watches intently even though the brilliant white glow is old-hat at this point. Her heart beats a little faster, and her fur prickles. She-Ra has always had an electric effect on her, whether in battle or the bedroom.
When the glow fades, Adora is gone. Instead, it’s She-Ra. Tall. Powerful. Uncompromising. Totally fucking ripped, Catra thinks, noticing She-Ra’s abdominals right away. They flex, and She-Ra winks, obviously aware of Catra’s admiration.
If Catra had any remaining doubts, they would have vanished right then. Whether Adora takes the form of She-Ra or not, the same goofy personality is always there underneath it all. So, not really gone after all.
“So, Catra, have you been behaving yourself?”
Catra stifles a laugh at She-Ra’s attempt to deepen her voice and imbue it with more authority. But the prospect of finally getting the relief she needs urges her to continue their game. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve been good. No recent attempts to destroy the world or anything.”
She feels a twinge in her heart at her own self-deprecating comment, a hint of dark feelings that lurk beneath the surface. They’re already bursting to get out, but it isn’t time yet. Her walls are still up. Hopefully, Adora—or She-Ra—can bring them down.
She-Ra eyes her suspiciously. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“So?” Catra adopts a scornful pose, folding her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes. “What do you care? You won’t believe me either way.”
She-Ra frowns. “Drop the attitude, Catra.”
“Pfft.” Catra turns slightly to the side, avoiding She-Ra’s piercing gaze, which is even sharper than a certain sword. “Did I hurt your feelings, Princess? You really can’t handle it when people don’t like you, huh? When you can’t awe them in all your eight-foot-tall glory.”
She realizes she’s hit a nerve when She-Ra’s eyes widen and soften, like she’s actually hurt. For a moment, Catra feels uncertain. They’ve discussed, if not outright scripted, these barbs in advance. But she knows as well as anyone that fantasy isn’t always the same as reality.
“This isn’t about being liked. This is about making sure you stay out of trouble.”
Catra waits to see if Adora will use the safe word before responding, because this scene is about her issues, too. But She-Ra doesn’t say anything else, so Catra continues. “Well, you can stop trying, because I’m sick of you pretending to care.”
“I care.” She-Ra steps into her space, looming over her, taking her wrists in a steely grip. “I care so much that I’m going to punish you for saying I don’t.”
Catra puts up a struggle, but it’s useless. If she used her full flexibility and her arsenal of dirty tricks, she could probably escape, but in a contest of sheer strength, there is no contest. She-Ra easily overpowers her, forcing her backwards and pinning her on the bed with gentle, yet unbreakable force. She barely even flinches when Catra’s claws come out.
“Screw you,” Catra snarls, giving She-Ra her darkest glare.
She-Ra gives her a look that’s mostly sympathy. “Not until you’ve earned it.” She shifts her grip on Catra’s wrists, holding them one-handed as the other reaches down to unfasten Catra’s pants.
It takes some effort for She-Ra’s large hand to squeeze into the tight leather, but when it does, Catra yowls. She’d known there wouldn’t be much foreplay, but the abrupt contact, the short strokes She-Ra uses to rub her dampening underwear in search of her clit, makes Catra go rigid with pleasure, nearly sending her into spasms.
“Do you know why you’re being punished?” She-Ra whispers, her voice low and her breath hot against Catra’s ear.
At first, Catra only manages a keening noise. She-Ra’s fingers have slipped beneath her panties, stroking her with singular purpose and unabashed roughness.
She-Ra stares down at her, with eyes so blue that Catra wonders if she’s drowning. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if she did. Maybe the world would be better off without her. Maybe Adora would be—
“Why are you being punished?”
Catra shudders as one of She-Ra’s fingers slips inside her, deliciously long and dexterous. She can’t help but appreciate a woman with large hands, who knows how to use them. She-Ra remembers exactly where her weak spots are, every single one. “For…” She trails off, grunting as She-Ra’s fingertip hooks into her front wall. “Ahh! Shit. For saying you don’t care.”
“I do care,” She-Ra insists, with such urgency that Catra knows this isn’t just about her anymore.
But that little spark of defiance isn’t quite dead yet. It can be useful, when she needs to fight for survival. These past few years, though, it’s occasionally been a burden. Telling her she doesn’t need anyone else. Doesn’t need their love or their help.
“This is your idea of punishment?” She rolls her hips down, taking She-Ra’s finger deeper. “Hmph. More like a reward. ‘Punish’ me all you want, Princess.”
“This isn’t the punishment part.” She-Ra withdraws abruptly, leaving Catra empty and slick with unsatisfied desire. She removes her hand from Catra’s pants, bringing her finger to Catra’s mouth instead.
Catra’s resistance falters as she takes it between her lips. She loves tasting herself on She-Ra’s fingers, almost as much as tasting She-Ra herself. She sucks and licks until there isn’t a trace of wetness left other than her own saliva.
“Your punishment,” She-Ra says, “is that you don’t get to come until I say so.”
Catra almost laughs, but the look in She-Ra’s eyes is dead serious. Fuck. I thought we were just doing a little role play. That she’d toss me around. Maybe give me a spanking. But the knowledge that She-Ra is going to deliberately withhold the very release she craves makes Catra’s stomach churn—mostly in a pleasant way, but not entirely. Her pulse picks up, an obvious fear response, even while her pussy gets wetter.
She-Ra clearly notices her uncertainty. “That doesn’t mean you won’t get to come at all,” she says. This time, she does go for Catra’s ear tufts, with only the slightest pause to allow Catra a chance to object or pull away. But Catra doesn’t, and the caress to such a sensitive part of her body fills her with arousal, as well as faint traces of disgust. Not disgust with She-Ra. With herself, mostly.
“It just means,” She-Ra finishes, “that you have to take your medicine first. Because you’ve been a bad kitty, arguing with me and saying I don’t care about you.”
Catra swallows. She could keep pushing. Keep being a brat. The defiant part of her wants to. But the part of her that craves release is growing rapidly, even though She-Ra’s hand is no longer between her legs. “Fine,” she huffs. “Let me go and I’ll take whatever you feel like dishing out.”
She-Ra releases her wrists in an instant. Catra rotates them to check their movement, even though the grip was always exceedingly gentle. No damage done, not even a hint of numbness, but she can still feel the ghost of that hold, secure and unbreakable.
“Take off your clothes,” She-Ra orders. This time, the authority in her voice doesn’t sound so silly.
“Can’t,” Catra snaps. “You’re on top of me.”
She-Ra smirks. “Figure it out.”
It’s a little tricky, squirming out of her leggings with She-Ra straddling her hips. An exercise in frustration, too. With every buck and wriggle, she ends up rubbing against some part of She-Ra’s legs or pelvis, and since the skirt is so short, it’s often bare flesh. But eventually, she manages to shimmy out of her pants and underwear.
She-Ra scoots back, sliding both palms along Catra’s inner thighs. “Very pretty,” she says, her voice full of praise. Catra drinks it up like a flower basking in sunlight or soaking in the rain. She trembles as She-Ra’s thumbs find the outer lips of her pussy, peeling them apart to get a good look at her inner folds. “So wet.”
“Just get on with it,” Catra rasps. Her face is burning from being studied so closely. “Punish me. I deserve it.”
She-Ra trails a finger around Catra’s clit, teasing the swollen bud through its hood. “You aren’t always great at recognizing what you do and don’t deserve.” She abandons her examination, leaving Catra to whimper in disappointment as she crawls away. “Take your shirt off and come here,” She-Ra says, sitting on the edge of the mattress and patting her lap.
Catra does. She’s suddenly eager to strip off her clothes. To feel She-Ra’s hands on her. Their abrupt removal has left her shaking, and arousal wins out over shame as she tosses her shirt aside and climbs into She-Ra’s lap.
At first, she straddles She-Ra’s thighs. She-Ra cups her breasts, scraping both thumbs across her nipples, and another bolt of electricity shoots down Catra’s spine. She’s dripping enough to coat her inner thighs, which she’s sure She-Ra can see—maybe even smell.
But She-Ra is in no rush. She continues kneading Catra’s breasts, circling her nipples with a maddeningly light touch, until they and her clit throb with the same unbearable ache. “Okay,” Catra admits, swallowing a mewl of discomfort, “this is kind of a punishment.”
She-Ra gives her nipples a hard pinch, causing Catra’s hips to jerk forward. She rubs shamelessly against She-Ra’s stomach, leaving a visible trace of wetness on her outfit. “I think you’re ready now,” She-Ra murmurs, twisting the oversensitive buds trapped between her fingers. Catra’s mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Bend over my lap.”
Catra obeys, but the dim glow of defiance deep in her belly refuses to die. Fine, she thinks to herself. I’ll do what she says. I’ll take my spanking. But I won’t moan, and I won’t beg her to get me off. That internal compromise makes her feel a lot less vulnerable as she stretches across She-Ra’s lap, belly down, letting her tail lie across her back so it won’t get in the way, or block She-Ra’s view of her pussy. Hopefully, the sight will tempt her.
“I want you to count, and thank me after each one,” She-Ra says. She runs her hand along Catra’s thigh, a tender gesture that belies her firm tone of voice. “Do you understand?”
Catra’s lips twist in a grimace. Every word She-Ra makes her say feels like a concession, even though she was the one who asked for this in the first place. “Yeah.”
She-Ra squeezes the right cheek of Catra’s rear, but she only has a moment to enjoy it before her punishment begins. Suddenly, the kneading hand is gone, only to return with a sharp, open-palmed slap. It doesn’t hurt—a warm-up, if anything—but Catra’s body jolts anyway, although she stifles her gasp.
“One. Thank you.”
She-Ra rubs the place she struck, as if to soothe it. “Good. Again.”
She hits the other cheek this time, notably harder. Catra flinches, but doesn’t cry out. The pain isn’t bad at all, but her entire body flushes with… humiliation? Desire? Anxiety? It’s fucked up, how thin the lines between those feelings are.
She-Ra isn’t warning her, but checking in. When Catra glances up rather than continuing to stare resolutely at the wall, she sees concern in her lover’s eyes. “Uh, two. Thank you.”
She-Ra smiles and scratches the spot just above the root of Catra;s tail, making her entire body melt for a moment. “That’s my girl. Okay. You ready?”
Catra nods and holds her breath.
That proves to be a mistake, because it really makes her feel the third blow. It’s much harder, right on top of the first, and as the sting spreads into a dull ache, Catra can’t help but think about how strong She-Ra is. How much force she could use, if she chose. She could turn me into a walking bruise if she wanted. But She-Ra hasn’t done that to her in years, and never willingly. Not since they were enemies, fighting for reasons Catra realizes are mostly her fault, now.
“Three,” she says, before She-Ra has to remind her again. “Thank you.”
She-Ra’s other hand strokes her mane, another gesture of affection that Catra soaks in greedily, although she’s still convinced she deserves it. Her walls have cracked, but not crumbled.
“Relax, Catra. I’ve got you.”
Her hand cracks down again, and this time, Catra almost forgets her resolution not to beg. The warmth between her legs is spreading, and to her shame, so is her wetness. “Four. Thank you.”
Catra tries to control her breathing as She-Ra adopts a more predictable rhythm, spanking one side, then the other, with increasing amounts of force. But it’s a struggle. “Fuck,” she groans, hating herself for the slip. “F-five…”
“What was that?” She-Ra strikes her again, with a slap that fills the room.
“Six, seven. Thank you.”
“Eight. Thank you.”
Again. “Nine. Thank you.”
As warmth blossoms across her backside, Catra relaxes in spite of herself. It becomes easier to count the strokes, and she stops trying to stifle her moans. They don’t count, she tells herself. As long as I don’t actually beg…
But then She-Ra stops, just before stroke fifteen, and runs a finger along Catra’s slit, pausing to play with her clit. Catra mewls, tensing her legs and tilting her hips up. That could very well be considered non-verbal begging, but she decides she doesn’t care as She-Ra slides two fingers inside her, sinking all the way in.
“Mm. You’re so wet.” She-Ra gives an extra push, causing Catra’s ears to flatten and her tail to lash from overstimulation. But it’s good. She already wants more. When she rocks her hips, She-Ra doesn’t stop her, so she increases her speed, fucking herself back onto those long, perfect fingers.
“You’ve been a bad kitty,” She-Ra says. She brings her other hand down for another slap, which Catra completely forgets to count. It feels even more intense with She-Ra’s fingers inside her at the same time. “But I’ll forgive you if you say what I tell you to say.”
Catra whimpers in distress. She has a pretty good idea what She-Ra will make her say, but she’s so close, and her determination to hold out feels thinner than paper. It’s a very simple choice. Either she gives in, does what She-Ra wants, or she doesn’t come. And she needs to come. Her body is already trembling with the need for release, threatening to spill over each time she pushes back onto She-Ra’s fingers.
“Just… just do it,” Catra huffs, turning her face away so She-Ra can’t see the plaintive expression written all over her face.
“Say: I’ve been a bad kitty.” She-Ra follows it up with another smack of Catra’s ass, but not too hard. It’s as if she knows the words will make enough of an impact on their own.
Catra exhales in relief. She can say that. She’s endured far worse humiliation for much less reward. “I’ve been a bad kitty.”
She’s rewarded instantly. She-Ra’s fingers curl inside her, causing stars to explode in front of her eyes. She doesn’t come, but it’s close.
“But that doesn’t make me bad,” She-Ra says.
Catra’s momentary confusion is disrupted by another slap to the other cheek. She cries out, then sags in defeat. These words are much harder to say, because part of her doesn’t believe them, but she’s desperate. Her front wall is so swollen beneath the pressure of She-Ra’s probing fingers.
“But… that doesn’t make me bad…”
Instead of spanking her, She-Ra scratches her favorite spot again, just above her tail. Catra can’t help herself. She relaxes, beginning a thready purr, and feels a little bit safer. “Good. Good kitty. Now say: Adora loves me, and she says it’s okay that I’ve made mistakes.”
Mistakes? Trying to destroy the world and kill my best friend is more than a mistake… But the sensation of She-Ra’s fingers inside her and She-Ra’s hand on her leave her thoughts disjointed. They don’t connect like a never-ending train of panic racing through her mind, and eventually, they break apart, leaving her open. Empty. Ready to be filled with She-Ra’s words of reassurance.
“Adora loves me.” That part is easier, because she mostly believes it now. “She says…” She-Ra’s fingers hook inside her, applying just the right amount of pressure in the absolute perfect spot. “Ahhh! She says… it’s okay that…”
“It’s okay that I’ve made mistakes,” She-Ra reminds her, in the gentlest tone yet.
“It’s-okay-that-I’ve-made-mistakes,” Catra blurts out, before she loses her nerve.
“Adora forgives me.”
“Adora forgives me,” Catra repeats, her voice wavering. She’s so close. So fucking close. Every stroke threatens to undo her, and she’s done pretending she wants to stay put together.
“I forgive myself.”
Catra’s mouth opens, but the words don’t come. Tears well in her eyes, and she starts shaking so violently that Adora has to rub extra hard on her lower back to calm her down.
“Breathe, baby. Just breathe. It’s okay.”
A few tears roll down Catra’s cheeks, but she doesn’t devolve into sobs. Instead, she listens to She-Ra, who murmurs soothing words. The very words Catra has been longing for.
“It’s okay to forgive yourself. You were in a lot of pain back then, so you lashed out. You needed the pain to stay strong. But you’ve grown so much since then. Holding onto the pain doesn’t serve a purpose now. You don’t need it anymore.”
“I don’t…” Catra swallows. “I don’t need it anymore.”
She-Ra’s thumb finds her clit, circling softly. “I forgive myself.”
Finally, finally, Catra lets go. She lets go of her pain, her guilt, her self-loathing, and tries to see herself the way Adora does. As someone who’s grown. As someone who deserves forgiveness. Someone who is worthy of love. “I forgive myself.”
“I love you. That’s a very good kitty. Now, come for me.”
She-Ra moves her fingers just so, and Catra comes, sobbing with relief. The noises she makes are embarrassingly loud and plaintive, but they sound distant to her own ears. Instead, she hears the heavy thump of her heart and the slick sound of She-Ra’s fingers sliding in and out, fucking her through her release, coaxing a river of wetness from deep inside.
“Please,” Catra mutters, more than a little wild as her core ripples with contractions. “Please-Adora-please…”
“I’ve got you,” She-Ra says. “I’ve got you.”
Catra releases one final wail, then flops forward, letting her arms and legs hang limp. She sighs, then laughs, blinking the last remaining tears from her eyes. She doesn’t know why she’s laughing, except she feels a hundred times lighter, as though a heavy weight has been lifted. She wonders if she could actually float into the air. She certainly feels like she’s floating as She-Ra scoops her up, placing her back on the bed.
“That’s it.” A gentle kiss on her face. “You were so good.” Another kiss, on the tip of her nose. “I love you.”
When she looks up, it’s Adora smiling down at her. Adora, with those striking blonde brows and a beaming smile. “Thank you,” Catra croaks, although her voice is hoarse.
They cuddle in silence for a while, content simply to hold each other. Although Adora does most of the holding. Catra’s body feels like a wet noodle, and it’s all she can do to flop her head against Adora’s shoulder and manage a weak but appreciative purr.
You needed that, huh?” Adora eventually asks.
Catra nods. “Mmhmm.”
“It’s okay,” Adora says, with extra warmth and reassurance. “It’s okay that you need this sometimes. We all need reminders.”
“Don’t worry,” Catra says, regaining some of her composure. She knows Adora will give her more time to recover if she asks, but she actually feels fresh and energized. “I’m always happy to remind you what a doofus you are.” Adora laughs, which Catra thinks is the most beautiful sound in the world. “And that I love you or whatever.”
“Mm.” Adora bends down to kiss her, and Catra savors the heat and flavor of her lips until they break away. “I appreciate that, but I wouldn’t mind if you showed me.”
It’s Catra’s turn to smirk. “You want me to—”
“Yes,” Adora says. “Please. Touching you got me all worked up, and I have a problem.”
Catra suddenly realizes Adora is still dressed. It was hot for the scene, being the only one naked and exposed, but now, Adora’s clothes are just in the way. She rolls on top, reversing their positions, and starts to unbutton Adora’s jacket. The sooner Adora is naked, the sooner Catra can show her how loved she is.