Tales of the Tournaments

73rd minute

When Laia Codina was brought into the locker room, Marta Torrejón was waiting.

She stood quietly as the physios worked on Laia, ensuring that her feet were treated properly, and when Laia had been seen to and was calm, Marta waved them off, promising she'd take care of Laia.

"We need to talk, nena ."

The Catalan 'little girl' had Laia lifting her head as Marta sat beside her in front of Laia's cubby.

"I didn't--it was Hemp and Stanway, they...did you see what they did, senyora?"

"I saw. And I also saw you protesting that you were well enough to stay in after Hemp, when you know you should have come in."

Laia's cheeks flushed.  "But senyora, I just wanted to be better, I wanted to prove I could do it--"

"Prove to who? Him?"

Laia shook her head. "No, senyora, to you."

Marta tsked. "Well, nena entremaliada, all you've proven to me is that you're stubborn, with a naughty mouth to match."

"Ho sento, senyora."

"I'd imagine you are." Marta put an arm around Laia as the younger girl buried her face in Marta's shoulder, rocking her gently. "I hesitate to inflict any more pain on you, even as a lesson. But we do have to do something about that naughty language, don't we?"

Laia let out a soft whine as Marta let go of her and reached for her bag, pulling out a familiar rectangular package, wrapped in brown paper. "Oh, no, senyora, si us plau... si us plau, no això..."

"Would you rather take a spanking, hurting as much as you are?"

Laia whined again and shook her head. 

"So it's that, then, or this." Marta plucked a wrapped ginger plug out of her bag, and Laia flinched away from it, shaking her head in denial. Marta put the second option away as quickly as she had retrieved it, not expecting Laia to agree to it in the first place. She got out a new water bottle, and a cup to rinse out in, knowing Laia would be in no shape to stand at the sink.

Then she unwrapped the Catalan soap, and tapped Laia's jaw lightly. "Obrir la boca." 

Laia reluctantly obeyed, whimpering as the small bar was put into her mouth, and closed her mouth over it with a sniffle.

"Mastegar, Laia." 

Miserably, Laia obeyed, chewing on the bar as it shattered in her mouth and she began sputtering on the suds. 

Once the bar was sufficiently chewed, Marta had Laia keep it in her mouth for a few more minutes before allowing her to spit the pieces out in the cup, uncapping the water bottle and letting Laia rinse out as much as she could. When Laia was finished, Marta left her alone long enough to rinse the cup out in the sink, then returned, holding Laia in her lap and soothing her.

"There you are, bona noia, la meva estimada Laia," she murmured. "Good girl, you took your punishment very well." 

"I'm sorry I didn't take care of myself, Senyora," Laia sniffled, and Marta gave her a gentle squeeze.

"I know. It's forgiven." She held Laia until one of the physios entered with a pair of crutches. 

"It's time for the medal ceremony, ma'am. Codina has to be there with the others."

"Do you think you can manage, nena?" 

"I'll try, Senyora." Laia let Marta situate her with the crutches, and carefully walked out between Marta and the physio, rejoining the rest of the team. Marta couldn't stay; she wasn't technically there as a teammate, so these medals weren't hers. Reluctantly, she went back inside. It's only a few more minutes, Marta Torrejón, don't borrow trouble. What in God's name could happen in just a few minutes?

When the team returned, the demeanor of the World Cup winners was much less celebratory than Marta would have expected.

Then she got a good look at Olga and Jenni, and Marta felt alarmed. Alright, maybe I was right to be worried. What happened out there?

Marta wasn't sure she wanted to know, but it was her duty to find out. She'd ask Alexia, but her first duty was to a trembling, wobbly on crutches, Laia. "Let's get you lying down in the physio room, darling."

She got Laia settled, pulled a curtain around Laia’s bed and returned to the main room.

Miss Marta looked at each of the girls, studying them one at a time, and went to speak to Alexia. Once she was brought up to speed, she resisted the urge to swear, clamping down on anything that could get her in trouble. Caro was still here, after all.

Despite the fact that they'd won, everyone felt like they were the ones who lost. From Olga and what happened to Jenni, to Ona feeling nervous over everything about Lucia and Rara and Alexia dreading her punishment. La Roja just looked defeated.

Miss Marta didn't wait long however to call the first name and get the girls lined up. As she did so, she noticed Lucia Ybarra was taking Irene with her to the physio room, presumably for a discussion before Irene herself could start discussing things with the other naughty girls. She saw Lucia had left Mateo with Caro, as her own Top didn't have anything to handle currently.

Meanwhile in the physio room, Lucia calmly ordered Irene up onto the massage table. Irene wasn't foolish enough to think she was there for a massage (well, maybe if her wife was feeling kind, but not right this second). She climbed up and lay face down, her head on the paper-covered pillow, and tried not to squirm in anticipation.

Her football shorts were pulled down, and Irene swallowed the urge to react as the first smack of Lucia's hand fell on top of her boxer briefs. She was going to take this as well as she could, to show Lucia that she could handle it.

Besides, the girls had enough to be upset about. No need for Irene to add to it by crying. She could take a hand spanking, surely.

As the smacks continued to fall, Irene clenched her teeth, carefully not biting her tongue, lips, or the inside of her mouth. Lucia wasn't having it.

“Don’t dare trying to be stoic for me. Marta told me about that, I’m not a younger player that you have to set an example for as a captain, I’m your wife and your Top and I won’t allow you to hurt yourself keeping those feelings inside of you because ‘you feel like you have to’ or ‘someone might hear’, Do you understand Irene?” said Lucia with a  stern tone.

Irene nodded, just to gasp when a sharp smack came down.

“I asked, do you understand me, Irene Paredes Hernández?”

“Bai andrea," Irene gasped, switching to Basque abruptly as feelings began overcoming her. She tried to push them aside, to not be affected by what had - so far - been just a few smacks, but Lucia's words were getting to her, too.

"That's better." Lucia continued. "Now, that was sixteen smacks, Irene, half done. You're going to be bare for the rest, understand?"

Irene groaned, but after all ma'am knew best. "Bai andrea," she affirmed again, her Basque "yes ma'am" almost lost in a yelp as Lucia pulled her underwear to her knees. Irene pressed her cheek down on the pillow and groaned as the hard swats with Lucia's hand resumed. "Ow, fuck--"

"Do we need the soap to get involved?"

Quickly, Irene lifted her head, shaking it in response. "No please, I'm sorry, just, it hurts..."

“As it should, it wouldn’t be a punishment otherwise.”

"I know," Irene said miserably, lying back down. Lucia paused and patted Irene's head gently.

"We're almost done with this part my love. Just hold still for me, alright?"

Irene cringed at the words 'this part', wondering just how bad of a punishment she had earned for herself, but nodded. The last of the second lot of sixteen smacks were laid on quickly, and Irene's bottom burned. She was sobbing quietly into one arm, but then she felt Lucia's hand on her head again, stroking her hair gently.

"Nearly done now Irene," Lucia said. "That was for the foul and the guilt."

"What else is there, andrea?" Irene looked at ma'am warily as the English short strap appeared in her hand - where had it been hiding? Irene decided she didn't want to know.

Lucia smacked the English short strap gently on her own palm to get the feel of it, and nodded. “You broke our rule, nire maitasun bihurria,” she said.

Irene blushed scarlet. “W-what rule?”

“Self-care.” Lucia brought the strap down on her palm again, with no more force than before, where Irene could see. The sound made her jump a little. “You remember?”

“Ez, andereñoa.” The negative reply tumbled out of Irene’s mouth before she could stop it, and Lucia arched an eyebrow.

“No, ma’am? No you don’t remember? Perhaps a little reminder is in order then, my naughty love.” 

Irene wasn’t deluded enough to think that Lucia just meant a verbal reminder. She eyed the strap as it descended on her Top’s palm once more. “Mesedez, andrea…”

“You’re pleading with me now? How cute,” Lucia said sardonically. “Please what? Strap you harder? Because I could do that.” 

Irene swallowed nervously and shook her head quickly, eyes swimming with tears. Lucia bent down to give her a quick, reassuring kiss, brushing away a tear that was clinging to the edge of her lashes. 

“Breathe, nire maitasun bihurria. Yes, you’ve earned a strapping, but it’s only a very little strap, my darling,” she soothed. “It’s alright, my naughty love, I’m going to take care of it, then it’s done alright?”

Sniffling, Irene nodded.

“Good girl. It’s alright to cry,” Lucia said, resting a hand on Irene’s back and steeling herself, assuming a sterner demeanour. She realized she’d just been talking to Irene in the same tone they’d be talking to an upset Mateo, and her wife was not their son, no matter how much she was tempted to be soft with her. Irene needed to learn this lesson.  "Right, that's the main part of your punishment done, Irene, but to finish I'm going to give you four hard strokes of the strap. You can stay where you are, hold on tight to the pillow. This will be a memorable part of your punishment and will help you to think carefully when you feel like throwing a tantrum, and hopefully encourage you to seek  appropriate forms of support to prevent this from happening."

 Irene nodded, sucking in a breath as the strap smacked down, just a few quick strokes a breath apart. One. Two. Three. Four. The last one caught her sit spots, and Irene was crying freely by then, as Lucia rubbed her back.

It took Irene a second to realize that the spanking was over, but even then she couldn’t start calming down, the tears were running freely down her face, and she couldn’t stop them even if she tried.

“Shh it’s okay, nire neska ona, it’s done I have you,” said Lucia softly. 

“Lu...,” Irene, who was starting to feel a little panicked at not being able to articulate the words, just looked at her Top with a pleading face, hoping she would understand what she needed, even if Irene wasn’t sure what it was.

“You’re sorry. I know. It’s alright, nire neska ona. My good girl, I have you, love. The naughtiness is all gone, shhh, breathe for me.” 

Irene did her best to obey, her sniffling mirrored by sniffles from behind the curtain dividing this massage table from the next one over. Lucia helped Irene up, straightening her clothing and guiding her around the curtain to check on Laia.

“Irene?” Laia looked up, meeting the older player’s gaze worriedly. “How come Miss Lucia was….”

“Because Miss Marta was busy taking care of you, little one,” Lucia said firmly. “How are you feeling, Laia? Better?”

“A little,” Laia gave a small nod. Irene ran a hand over Laia’s head, soothing her. 

“Just rest here, Laia. Try and get some rest.”

Moments later, Lucia and Irene walked back into the main part of the locker room to see Caro tickling a giggling Mateo.

It seemed all they missed was the warm-ups as Alba was just now getting off of Miss Marta’s lap on the other side of the room, presumably as the last one to take her warmup.

Mariona, Olga, Ona, Aitana, Alexia, and Jenni were standing in a row nearby. Jenni was holding Tere in her arms, Salma’s hand on Tere’s head, and Misa was sitting quietly in front of her cubby, watching, with Athenea on her lap. The others had all been sent through to the ice baths.

"Mariona, I'll have you next, then Ona can bring this back and get our ruler back.”

One moment later Mariona came over and was pulled across Miss Marta’s lap. "Your warm-up was earlier so only eight with this nice little strap now, okay?”

Only eight, Mariona thought, but didn't voice it. "I'm not so sure about the strap being nice, Miss Marta," she pointed out as respectfully as she could.

Alba stifled a giggle at the comment. She didn't think the strap looked very nice herself, either.

"Hmm, well. Even so, it's going to be eight, and you deserve this for pushing over Keira Walsh, little girl." 

Mariona grimaced. "Yes ma'am."  She held tightly to Marta's leg as the Barca captain pulled down her shorts, leaving her boxer briefs up. The first smack of the strap drew a yelp from Mariona's lips.

Miss Marta was clearly not messing around, as the next seven quick smacks burned her bottom from the fullest part of her cheeks down to her sit spots, each overlapping a breath apart, leaving her squirming and sobbing over Marta's lap by the time it was over.

"Owww, sorry Miss Marta, sorry…”

“We don’t hurt teammates, even if they aren’t our teammates right now. We don’t intentionally hurt anyone at all, but especially not teammates”

"Yes ma'am! I understand, I promise, I'm sorry! Won't again!”

Alba sucked on her lower lip, looking worried as Mariona was held over Miss Marta's lap. The strapping had ended, Alba thought - it had been eight, anyway - but Mariona wasn't being allowed up yet. 

"Please Miss Marta, I'm sorry, I promise I won't be bad like that again, please..." It was clear Mariona wasn't sure if it was over yet, either.

Apparently Miss Marta could sense this and she decided to let her know it was finished.

"Easy, Mariona. You did such a good job, taking your smacks. But it's over now. You can get up when you want to, okay?”

"Yes ma'am," Mariona said quickly, and got up from Marta's lap, pulling her shorts back up over her sore bottom. She scuttled back to her cubby, leaving Alba to face Miss Marta.

Or not face, because she quickly found herself face down over Marta's lap just as Mariona had been.

"Only eight with this strap for you as well, okay Alba?”

"Yes ma'am." Alba held as still as possible, as her shorts were lowered and she was given eight smacks, too. She wasn't sure if they were any harder than Mariona's, or if Miss Marta had gone easier on her because she was being smacked for guilt, not for putting her hands on an opponent. A couple of saved shots was a different matter. What she knew is that she didn’t want to meet that strap again, the sting of that thing was evil.

"Olga, come here please. I will deal with you next. Set an example for the others since you didn't set a good example for your teammates, hmm?" Miss Marta said with a small grin.

Much to their assembled teammates' surprise, Olga directly disobeyed Miss Marta, bolting away from her and burying herself in Irene's embrace. "Don't let her, Señora. Mi papi..." 

Irene's gaze softened, and she stroked the girl's hair gently. "Oh, Olga. Shhh, I know, I know it hurts, hold on to me, I've got you."

Before anyone else could say anything, there was a very loud, slightly accented "Hell NO!" That could be faintly heard coming from outside in the hallway......