A/N: This chapter is naughty, so beware! And please review-this is the last chapter and you have no more chances to do so! ;)

"I trust you are aware that I am missing Cheesecake Factory night," Sheldon said, after being admitted entrance to Amy's apartment.

"It's important that you came here tonight," Amy said, standing demurely. "I have a confession to make."

"I figured as much," Sheldon replied, grimacing.

Amy crossed her arms.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Though you quite startled me with your idea as to why the frequency of punishment has increased, I still stand by the notion that it is you who derives enjoyment from them."

"You're right," Amy spat. As casually as possible, she walked behind her kitchen island, opening a bottle of wine and pouring it into a drinking glass. Sheldon stood still in front of Amy's couch, watching her intently.

"Wait," he said, blinking furiously, "are you telling me that all those things you did this month to get me to punish you… were done on purpose?"

"Well, not all of them," Amy explained. "But most of them, yes."

Sheldon's face darkened considerably, until it was clear that he was very angry. He thought of punishing her in very much the same way, but then he thought of what she had just said—she enjoyed it! She actually enjoyed it! She had done all those rotten things on purpose!

"Now what I am supposed to do?!" he huffed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "You have just preempted what I was going to do!"

"I don't know, Sheldon," she said, shaking her head and taking a long swig of the wine. "Being punished by you in that way was like a drug. I became an addict. I didn't need anything else."

"But—how could you have liked being humiliated in such a way? I even spanked you on your bare bottom a couple of times and you still kept—"

"Those were the best times," she explained. "Actually, if you'd be willing to do that in the absence of my needing to do something wrong, we'd both be set."

"What are you saying, that you want me to spank you in the most degrading way possible?"

"Yes," Amy asserted, finally putting down the glass. "You've already done it so you're certainly capable of it. If you'd do that for me, say, three or four times a week, I'd stop trying to get you to cuddle me or otherwise run around the bases. No more forced romance. No more sweaty hands."

"Not true," Sheldon replied. "Spanking makes my hands sweaty and it turns them red."

"If you'd like, you can rest your hand occasionally by using a paddle or a riding crop," she explained.

"What?" Sheldon squawked, taken aback. "Now, where in the world would someone buy—"

"Spencer's Gifts. And the everything else section of Amazon," Amy cut in. "Actually, I already have some of those… implements. No need to spend any money. Saved you a trip."

"Amy, I don't know what to say," Sheldon countered, his eyes unable to leave the floor. "I didn't think I'd actually be correct about your… intent. I'm not sure I want to be responsible for such… things. It says nowhere in the relationship agreement that I have to do anything like that."

"If you'd agree to it, I'll agree to take you to the train museum every Saturday or we could go to the meeting room for my lab on Monday evenings and watch Star Trek on their huge projector. Hell, I'll take you to the comic book store twice a week and we could spend as long as you want there."

Sheldon stared at her wide-eyed, clearly astonished by her proposal.

"Are you saying that it means so much to you that you'd be willing to do things that you loathe to do?"

Amy nodded solemnly.

"Yes."

"Well, why didn't you just say so, in lieu of finding reasons to get punished? I could still have a normal-smelling couch cushion, my laptop's hard drive, my old toothbrush, my mint comic book, as well as my dignity."

She bowed her head.

"Because you wouldn't agree to it. It had to be mutually beneficial."

"But I will be benefitting if you take me to the train museum and the comic book store in return, not to mention Star Trek."

"True," she said, clasping her hands behind her back.

"I'm disappointed in you, Amy Farrah Fowler," Sheldon tsked. "Rather than make your… desires clear to me, you attempted to manipulate me into fulfilling them without my knowledge or mutual benefit."

"You're right," she admitted with a sigh.

Sheldon frowned, pacing across the room.

"In fact, I would argue that what you did was analogous to parasitism, in that you benefitted from it and I was harmed from it."

"That may be true," Amy said, her face becoming hot. "Of course, I didn't know if you were deriving any enjoyment from punishing me. It can work both ways, you know."

"I think your entire plot calls for severe punishment," Sheldon replied, "of course, that is, if you'll buy me another mint Ultimate Spiderman #1."

He grinned deviously at his girlfriend.

"Wait, so now I have to pay to get some?" Amy replied, crestfallen. "You're like a… spanking prostitute."

Sheldon made a face at her.

"Now, now, Amy, in your quest to defile yourself across my lap, you damaged several of my prized possessions. You need to replace them and then we'll be even again. Does that not seem fair?"

"I suppose it does," Amy groaned. "So do you want to go to the comic book store now?"

"It is due to close in about fifteen minutes," Sheldon replied, glancing at his watching. "We'll have to go tomorrow."

Amy barely stifled her sigh of relief. She'd called there a week ago about that particular comic and it wasn't there, anyway. Wordlessly she stepped out from behind the counter and stood awkwardly in the hall towards her bedroom. Sheldon had made her feel quite bad about what she had been doing this past month. She hadn't even considered how much she had upset him in all the devious ways she had convinced him to spank her. She had made things awkward with his friends and had marred his possessions.

"Your punishment should be carried out now," Sheldon indicated, watching Amy intently as he stopped in front of the couch.

"I don't deserve it," she said, grimacing and clasping her hands behind her back. "I wronged you badly and I deserve nothing positive from it. Perhaps you should take away those… neurobiology books I've been reading. You could even… read them yourself. I shouldn't be allowed to read them," she added, her eyes focused on the ground. "I won't seek them out online to read either—I will take my punishment."

"Well, that seems a bit harsh, taking away such informative books on your topic of interest," he replied. "I would be refusing you knowledge, which in my opinion is akin to oxygen."

"Have you really never heard of the Shades of Gray trilogy?" she asked him. "Let me go get one to show you and you can see—"

"No need," he said, raising his hand to halt her. "We shall carry it out as we have been doing, though the significance of this punishment calls for increased formality."

"What do you mean—significance?"

"You have admitted a grave wrongdoing, deceiving me for your benefit. This is the punishment that ends your deception once and for all."

"Oh," she stammered. "I see what you mean about the significance," she added, nodding eagerly. "This is a very significant punishment and should be handled as such."

"Very good," Sheldon replied with a polite smile. "Now, fetch me an implement, Miss Farrah Fowler."

"Oh my God," she gasped, weakening at the knees. "Woo. Do you know what you do to me?"

"I'm slightly more aware now, though I still don't understand your logic," he said, nodding solemnly. "However, this time I predict you're going to have to sleep on your stomach."

"Yes, Sir," Amy said, her heartbeat hammering in her head. Before she could collapse to the ground from an overdose of her version of bliss, she thrust a hand against the wall and staggered to her bedroom. Sheldon perked up at the sound of Sir and seated himself with a surprising amount of gusto.

Shortly thereafter Amy returned to the living room. Sheldon was seated on the couch staring straight ahead. When he saw her, he held out his hand. She handed him the riding crop, her hand trembling as she did so.

"Assume the position," he instructed, patting his lap. "And in light of your severe offenses, you will drop your drawers."

Amy couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you sure about this, Sheldon?" she said, gulping. "You do realize you're not really punishing me, right?"

"Yes," he replied. He looked down at his lap and then looked back up and patted it again, this time more impatiently.

"Are you putting this persona on?" Amy asked, "'Cause I tell you what; I've never felt so turned on in my entire life."

"Is that sarcasm?" he queried, peering up at her. "Because what you said makes absolutely no sense."

"No, Sir," she admitted, fervently shaking her head. "I'm dead serious."

He looked confused and blinked several times.

"So I'm to understand that this satisfies your need for physical satisfaction and intimacy in our relationship?"

"Yes," she replied.

"I see," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "However, if you still find yourself desiring hand-holding or cuddling on… appropriate occasions, know that I am not averse to it."

"Really?" she squealed. She reached down and kissed him on the face. "I love you, Sheldon Lee Cooper! I don't deserve you!"

He did not push her away but instead calmly looked up at her after she'd removed her mouth from his.

"You've just added three strokes, Miss Farrah Fowler," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "You are to check your emotions at the door. Now, let's get started."

After she'd positioned herself properly, her backside cold from the new draft, Amy waited with eyes shut, holding her breath as she lay face down on the arm of the couch.

Thirty seconds passed with not a sound or movement from Sheldon. Amy grew anxious, wondering what was going through Sheldon's head. Had he changed his mind? Or had he been considering the implications of this most scandalous behavior that had been going on for a month now?

The riding crop smacked her with a light thwap sound, and she shifted her body slightly, already feeling on fire.

"Are you sorry, Miss Farrah Fowler?" Sheldon asked her, and she practically melted.

"Oh yes, Sir. Yes, Dr. Cooper," she panted, awaiting the next stroke.

This time the stroke was harder and it caused a heat wave that rendered her in a state of feverish bliss. Several more strokes followed and she squirmed about, feeling so vulnerable and yet relieved of her burden. Sheldon knew exactly what he was doing now, and he still chose to do it. It was good having a serious, strict boyfriend who only needed to be himself to get her motor running.

After what seemed to be a dozen strokes with the riding crop, it was his hand that contacted her flesh, but rather than pull back instantaneously as it always had, it rested on her backside for a few seconds—just long enough to make her want to explode.

"You're… hot," he stammered.

"Yes," she replied, her voice low.

"What a fascinating example of the conservation laws of physics."

"Uh huh."

He sat still for several more seconds, staring down at the reddened skin of Amy resting across his lap. She was a grown woman being spanked by a grown man. In his quest to punish her this past month, he hadn't considered her obvious nudity and the close proximity of their genitals in this particular position. The vixen had truly bested him!

Sheldon wished to raise his hand, but it seemed devoid of blood. His head swam and he blinked feverishly. Some other organ was collecting blood and retaining it and storing it in the region of his trousers.

"That will be all, Miss Farrah Fowler," he said, and patted her rump for emphasis. Her ensuing moan was enough to make Sheldon severely uncomfortable. She could not know of this discomfort!

Amy stood up as she adjusted her skirt and underclothes, watching Sheldon quickly cross his legs. She bit her lip as he looked up at her, his face oddly pale and yet dotted with sweat.

"Here is the riding crop," he said, picking it up from beside him and handing it to her. "You should put it away now."

"Okay," she said, proceeding to her room.

Sheldon looked down to see the primal response of his body to the situation and stood up, zipping up his windbreaker and pulling it down as far as it would stretch. This was only the second time his body had responded to Amy in this way, the first time being her Star Trek doctor play. Perhaps this sensation was not all bad. If this was congruent to how Amy was feeling, then it was no wonder that she enjoyed the situation that had elicited it. Kohlinar didn't seem appropriate at the moment, in the wake of such purely physical sensations.

Yes, theirs would be a mutualistic relationship… perhaps less train museum visits would be required, in light of this new benefit for him.

Amy and Sheldon stood in front of the couch in Sheldon's apartment, playing tennis against the team of Raj and Leonard. Amy's Mii swung her tennis racket far too early and missed the ball, causing them to lose not only the third set in a row, but the match. Amy glanced over at Sheldon, who was already pouting at the loss.

"I'm sorry, Sheldon. Our loss against Leonard and Raj is my fault entirely. I have failed you."

"You sure have, Amy," he responded, his Texas accent stronger than usual.

Raj stared at the pair of them, unable to speak. Leonard's breath caught in his throat. Not again….

"Shall I remind you of the rules?" Sheldon said, putting his Wii remote aside and crossing his arms as his eyebrow rose disapprovingly.

"Yes, I think that would be appropriate," Amy responded, nodding. She placed her Wii remote on the couch and followed Sheldon back to his room. Leonard could only shake his head in amazement.

Once they were out of sight, Raj tapped Leonard on his shoulder.

"Does Sheldon really have to remind her of the rules after every set they lose?" he asked.

"Yes," Leonard replied, grimacing as the song Walkin' On Sunshine suddenly blared from down the hall.

"How can they hear each other talk in that racket?" Raj questioned.

"He reminds her of the rules in a different way," Leonard replied. He turned to his friend. "Speaking of not being able to talk, when are you gonna start talking to Sheldon again? I saw Amy explaining it to you two days ago and yet you still won't speak when he's around."

Raj's eyes moved to the floor and he fidgeted.

"His MRI's tomorrow morning," Raj mumbled.

"You seriously need medical proof that he doesn't have an ovary on his knee?

"Yes," Raj admitted, looking at the ground. "Anyway, he's forcing me to pay for it. Can you believe it; he's actually punishing me for my disability!"

Leonard stared at him with narrowed eyes, and shivered.

"God, I hope not."

Finis