Work Text:
There’s probably some kind of complex - named after a Greek myth gal, or a cautionary tale from high literature - that explains why Roxy needs this. Or maybe not, because it’s not really epic at all.
Rose would invent a new complex for her, if Roxy wanted. She’d write a FAQ about it, or a novel even, to make it feel more complicated than it is. It’s almost too much, the way Rose wants to help her figure out her fantasies, in gritty, lurid, ridiculous detail. Sometimes they curl up together in Rose’s hot wife’s workroom, and Rose will do her knitting, and ask devastatingly precise questions about all the ways Roxy wants to be degraded.
If Roxy asked for a quick fuck, or a drawn-out seduction, she knows Rose would do it. That is not what this is, quite.
Rose is dressed in her divine garb but she’s not hovering even a little. There is weight in her movements, a calculated slowness like a tigress moving through the underbush. The hood is drawn over her eyes. Roxy is transfixed by that small, cold smile: Rose feels not-there, like she’d taken Roxy’s Void, confiscated it for bad behavior.
Roxy is naked and shackled to the frame that Rose had commissioned for nights like this. Tonight, Kanaya was the one to prepare her. She was cold and bright, and amused, but focused on the job. An acolyte to Mother’s justice.
“Mom,” Roxy says, and it still tastes like a joke, but she knows her voice is going to tremble soon. “Please, mom, I’ll do better, I’m sorry about being so messy, and not taking care enough of myself. And the house, and your drafts, and for borrowing your lipstick. And, and the cats, I’m so sorry about all the cats.”
Rose says nothing. It must not be enough; Roxy closes her eyes.
“I’m sorry for being clingy, mom, and taking all your time, I know your work is important. I’m sorry you have to do this. I’m going to do better, mom, please, just let me try one more time, please.”
She expects a finger to her lips, or a slap, or something. But Rose just waits until Roxy goes slack and quiet.
It’s not natural for Roxy to let her guard down, but she doesn’t hear Rose move, feels only the searing pain of the cane across her ass. Her mom marks her again and again, and Roxy tries to breathe slow and deep to ride through the pain. She can take a lot, usually, but she’s got to find some kind of calm here at the beginning of the night.
Rose’s hand on her shoulder is heavy, and Roxy gets a kiss to the back of her head. “Sweetheart, you’ll never be good enough for me,” Rose says, and for all that it’s expected, it shocks her breathless. “Stop worrying about it, it’s not your job to worry.”
Roxy gasps when the cane lands again, sharp new pain across the old. Serenity’s not to be found, tonight. “That’s not why I keep you around, is it, Roxy? I could get a good girl if I wanted one. Instead, I’m spending time with you -- ” the pain swells and swells, why can’t Roxy get into the rhythm of this tonight, where is her Void? “ -- and I intend to stay and ensure there is a consequence for everything you’re doing wrong.”
It’s not just the things she’s doing wrong now, though, it’s all the fuckups of the past and inevitable failures of the future. But maybe Rose Sees all of it, anyway, and it’s not like Roxy’s going to correct her mom during a punishment.