Tales of the Tournaments

"We need to talk, Daan."

Danielle van de Donk glowered silently at the American, not wanting to pass comment. She knew, any second, Spitse would come out and--

"Hey!"

Lindsey yelped as the Dutch captain grabbed both of them. She grimaced as she (and Daan) were each pulled along by an ear, Lindsey struggling in the Dutch woman's grasp. "Spitse, let go, I can walk, alright? I have a team to see to!"

It was no use. They were manhandled (womanhandled? Lindsey's sarcastic brain supplied, and she clamped down on it) into the Dutch locker room, where Daan's teammates turned to look at them. Lindsey tried to look away, but couldn't.

"Spitse, would you let go please."

Much to Lindsey's surprise, she did, releasing both of them once they were standing in front of the bench. 

"Sit down."

She sounds like Carli. Lindsey responded automatically to the tone, missing her mentor, her Mummy dreadfully in that moment. She sat beside Daan, looking up at Sherida warily.

"Captain--"

"Stop talking, Daan."

Lindsey exchanged glances with Daan, swallowing hard. "This isn't good, is it?" she whispered to Daan, and Daan shook her head minutely.

"You too, Horan, I heard that. No more talking until I tell you to speak. I'm the one talking now."

Lindsey and Daan glared at Sherida, united in their annoyance at the Dutch captain.

"Jerseys off."

Lindsey froze. "What?" she sputtered, though Daan was already moving, shucking off her jersey to reveal the sports bra beneath. She ignored what the Dutch player was doing, staring at Sherida. "Why?"

"Right now, Horan. I know you're not shy. Because I said so." Sherida picked up what looked like a shapeless bunch of fabric, and Lindsey eyed it warily, not moving to take her shirt off. Sherida sighed in annoyance.

"I promise I'm not going to touch you or do anything inappropriate. You're not my type anyway."

Lindsey scoffed under her breath, but reluctantly removed her jersey, feeling far more exposed, somehow, than if Sherida had stripped her naked. She folded her arms across her chest, face hot with embarrassment.

Sherida shook out the object in her hand, and Daan groaned. She'd expected this when the order was given, but fuck if it wasn't embarrassing having to do this with Lindsey, who wasn't even her national teammate.

The cloth garment was an oversized T-shirt with a large neck hole. It had "Get Along Shirt" printed on the front in Dutch and English, and Sherida looked pointedly at Daan, tossing it to her. "Show Horan what to do."

Lindsey looked at the shirt with a grimace of distaste. "I get the idea," she muttered, blush deepening as she and Daan reluctantly pulled it on, bodies pressing against one another.

"Alright, you two naughty brats are going to sit there and think about what you've done," Sherida said pointedly. "Your behaviour during this match was disgraceful, both of you. Especially you, Danielle, when I said misbehaviour in the next match would mean answering to the other team's captain, that was not license to try and knock out the other team's captain in order to avoid punishment. You two girls are teammates and good friends, and that was utterly inexcusable." 

Daan blushed brick red.

"I would have Morgan over here, but I understand she has another naughty brat to deal with. Don't worry, she'll get her turn eventually," Sherida added, just as Lindsey had begun to relax.

Not, of course, that she preferred Rose to be the one getting spanked by Alex, but being spanked by her co-captain would be utterly humiliating. Even worse than sitting here with Daan in this stupid shirt. And Rose had pretty much deserved Alex's attention, so there wasn't much Lindsey could say to that.

"I have another visitor to see you first, speaking of other captains taking you brats in hand."

Lindsey bit her lower lip, and Daan squeezed her hand. Their arms were pressed together, so it had been natural enough to take Lindsey's hand in this situation.

"...Another visitor, ma'am?" Lindsey decided to err on the side of caution (finally) and be as respectful as she could, if there was any chance of saving them both from whatever the diabolical Dutch woman had planned.

"I believe Gilles calls her la directrice," Sherida said, and both girls' stomachs lurched.

Lindsey, at least, had been present to hear Gilles say those words. Something which, in context at the time, she'd thought meant something like the headmistress. Or school principal, but 'headmistress' sounded right to Lindsey, more formal.

"R-Renard," Lindsey stammered, just as Wendie appeared in the doorway. 

"Good guess," Wendie remarked dryly, keeping to English for the sake of everyone involved.

"Thank you, ma'am," Lindsey whispered, eyes lowered. She knew it hadn't really been a compliment, but she wasn't sure what else she could say.

"Renard - I mean, Captain," Daan pressed her back against the wall, pulling Lindsey with her. "What are you doing here? You're in Australia."

"And miss my girls playing each other?" Wendie raised an eyebrow. "I would never. Besides, Ellie begged me to come when she realised she could not." 

Daan stared at her lap. "Oh. So...so you were here, you didn't just come because Sherida..."

"Despite rumours no doubt to the contrary, I am not a witch and I cannot teleport," Wendie said dryly. "Yes, I was here already when Sherida called on me, although when I saw what you two had done I was going to come in here anyway."

Lindsey couldn't help the tiny smirk that graced her lips at Wendie's retort, especially when she saw how hard Sherida was trying (and failing) to suppress laughter. However, all thought of levity vanished when Wendie cleared her throat, and unhooked the expressor of French team (or, in their case, Lyon team) displeasure from her belt.

Wendie flicked the light martinet - the fouet d'enfant, or just "fouet" for short - and both Lindsey and Daan jumped as the leather strips cracked in front of them.

Fuck but this was going to hurt. Not that it would damage them, Lindsey knew, Wendie was far too careful for that, but she'd made its acquaintance exactly once before and had hoped never to again.

"Get up, turn around and bend over, hands on the bench. Do you need help getting up?" Wendie asked.

Lindsey and Daan managed to assist each other to get up. Sharing a t-shirt made them rather uncoordinated, but they were slowly starting to get the hang of it. They both knew better than to fight back against Renard once she'd made up her mind about a punishment, especially that punishment. 

Their bodies were still pressed together, side by side, by the restrictive pressure of the t-shirt, so they were arm in arm, hip to hip as they slowly turned and bent over, placing their free hands on the bench and holding their clasped hands tight.

Lindsey and Daan clung to each other tightly, trying not to squirm as their bottoms were bared, Renard obviously wanting to ensure that the leather flogger did its work without going too far. It was only seconds later that the ten leather tails struck, first on Daan’s bottom, then Lindsey’s.

They clung tightly to each other as the whipping continued, taking the strokes of the fouet as stoically as they could, neither wanting to cry in front of the other. Lindsey, for her part, especially didn’t want to cry in front of Sherida. Tears shimmered in their eyes as Renard kept at the task of reddening their bottoms, but other than small gasps and whimpers, the two did their best to contain themselves.

Sherida raised her eyebrows at Wendie in silent question, and the French captain nodded.

“Bring her.”

Lindsey and Daan didn’t know what Renard was talking about, but they did their best to hold in their tears nonetheless.They were managing fairly well, all things considered.

At least they were until they heard soft footsteps crossing the floor, and a hand caressed Lindsey’s ponytail, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Linds, what are you doing?”

Alex Morgan. Lindsey shuddered, breathing through the next smack of the ten leather tails.

“B-being smacked, Alex.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Obviously. No, Linds, what is this about not crying? Are you biting your mouth, hurting yourself?”

“I…I…but Alex, it’s Spitse.”

“Technically it’s Renard. And I’m here too, Linds, sweetheart, it’s all okay. She won’t say anything about it in front of me.” Not that Sherida would make fun of Lindsey for crying anyway, when it was clear both girls needed to release their guilt. “It’s okay to cry, Lindsey, honey, I’ve got you.”

Lindsey nodded, exhaling as the fouet lashed down again, catching first her sit spots, then Daan’s. She wasn’t sure exactly how many blows Wendie had landed, but her bottom felt pretty well heated by now. She wouldn’t be surprised if Wendie was going for red card red, with the appalling way they’d both behaved, and the thought of that finally made Lindsey’s composure slip.

“Captains, I’m sorry….” The whispered apology, formed around a choked sob, drew an apology from Daan as well, and as Wendie focused on reddening their sit spots, the girls finally gave themselves permission to cry.

Alex stood nearby, her hand on Lindsey’s back, rubbing gently. Sherida did the same for Daan, both staying close, but not close enough to hinder Wendie Renard in her appointed task.

Finally the last few strokes landed, and Lindsey clung to Daan as they sobbed. “S-sorry Daan, sorry I tried to hurt you--”

“Sorry I did hurt you,” Daan replied tearfully, as their captains rubbed their backs gently. The red card level spanking, or whipping was over, and the girls were left with blazing red bottoms - but that was all. Just enough for plenty of colour and heat, no damage, and the effects would linger long enough for the lesson to sink in. It would be gone by tomorrow.

“It’s forgiven, little ones,” Renard said quietly, as the girls calmed. “But don’t let me catch you doing anything of the sort again. You two know how to behave properly, so there was no excuse for that brawling. If need be, I will give you both a refresher when we all get home.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lindsey swallowed hard. “I mean no ma’am, it won’t be necessary.”

“Good.” Wendie put the martinet away and tugged Lindsey and Daan’s clothes back up, covering their bare bottoms. “Let’s be better friends then, both of you.”

“We are. We will,” Daan promised.

“Excellent. The shirt works,” Sherida smirked triumphantly. “I suppose that means you can put your jerseys back on.”

They were quick to obey, glad to be out of that godforsaken shirt again and back in their own uniforms.

After a last hug (and fervent promise to behave), Alex took Lindsey and led her back to the other side. “I better not ever see anything like that again, Lindsey Michelle Horan, or we’ll be telling Carli.”

Lindsey gulped. “Okay.” She hoped they wouldn’t have to face the Netherlands again after this.

Not until after Portugal, at least. One game at a time. “I’ll be good,” she tried.

“I know you will,” Alex agreed, sharing Sherida’s usual answer. “Let’s get out of here, and get you and Rose into bed. Early bedtime for you two.”

Nodding meekly, Lindsey obeyed. She joined Rose on the team bus, and sat gingerly beside her. “How bad did you get it?”

“Morgan’s hand and some with the paddle.” Rose grimaced. “You?”

“Sherida had to go and make a whole production of it. She even made Renard turn up,” Lindsey replied glumly. Rose’s eyes widened.

“That sounds…difficult to handle.” She fell silent, mulling it over until they were back in the hotel, getting ready for bed. 

Rose climbed in with Lindsey, who found that right now, she didn’t mind the closeness. She tucked an arm around Rose, and they were quickly asleep.