I walk through the door expecting to see our place covered in Christmas decorations for the party tonight, and instead I find Ziva lounging around like she hasn’t ignored the entire chore wheel for the third time this month. She picked the job herself. She promised she’d handle it. And last time she blew it off, I warned her exactly what would happen. Today she finally gets the beatdown she earned. I grab her by the arm, drag her into the center of the room, and start working her over with the punishment she’s been avoiding. My fists land hard against her belly, knocking the air out of her as she bends forward. I follow with sharp jabs to her chest, tit busting her until she’s gasping and clutching at herself. Each impact makes her understand exactly how serious I am about her laziness and the way she tests my patience. I flip her around and deliver a deep crotch bust that drops her to her knees, and she whimpers while I stand over her, reminding her she brought this on herself. I pull
