"Same rules, no moving, do not rise or the stroke will not count, and absolutely do not reach back to cover your bottom so I don’t damage your hands, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
Thwack!
"Owwww!" I cried out the moment the paddle made contact with my ass. Compared to this, the hand spanking was a walk in the park. Almost.
"Settle down," he said, stepping closer to me so the side of my body was up against his thigh and his hand at my low back pressed just a little harder letting me know I wasn't going anywhere if I had any intention at all to run. "Count it and thank me, Ms. Stanton."
"One, sir, thank you."
The second stroke landed, this one making me cry out with both tears and sound. "Two, sir. Thank you."
It took all I had to stay down when the third stroke landed. My knuckles were white as I gripped my ankles too hard, and his own hold on me had moved to my side so he pressed me harder against his thigh.
I once again counted and thanked him, squeezing my eyes shut, trying hard to keep my bottom relaxed to take the fourth and fifth strokes which had me bawling, my tears creating a puddle on the floor.
"Please, sir. It's too much."
"Take a moment to collect yourself," he said, his fingers moving to some of the more tender spots on my bottom. I could only assume he was inspecting the damage.
Four to go. I just had to get through four more and it would be over.
"Five, sir, thank you," I said, realizing he was waiting for me before continuing.
He lined up the paddle, rubbing it against my bruised flesh before raising it and bringing it down hard.
"Owwww…Six sir, thank you."
The next two came fast and hard. I gritted my teeth, trying to focus on something other than the pain but it was impossible and I soon gave myself over to it.
"Last one," he said finally
I closed my eyes and couldn't help but clench after he lined up the paddle. He then raised his arm and brought it down and if he hadn't held on to me, I would have fallen forward for sure. As it was, I went nearly limp and cried, but he waited, keeping the paddle against my bottom.
"Nine sir, thank you," I managed through my sobs.
His fingers were on my bottom again making me wince, but the inspection was quickly over and he helped me to rise, once again, having a tissue ready to wipe my face.
"Feeling a bit better yet?" he asked as he cleaned me up.
I shook my head, just catching myself before I reached back to rub the pain out of my bottom.
"It will come. Corner, please. You know the position."
"Yes, sir."
I went and stood against the wall, naked and not caring that I was, not even caring about the photo he took while I tried to manage the throbbing pain of my bottom. The doorbell rang then and I startled, turning.
"Face the corner. You're to remain as you are until you've been excused."
"But the doorbell…"
"My next appointment. Collect yourself, Ms. Stanton. You have ten minutes in the corner. When the timer goes off, you'll be allowed to dress yourself and I will then see you in my office."
I nodded and turned back to the corner. "Thank you, sir."
The door opened and closed behind him and I was left alone, but even so, I didn't reach back to rub my bottom, I didn't move an inch in fact but to wipe my nose with the tissue he'd given me. I let myself cry while I stood there, let myself feel the humiliation of my situation, the unbelievable reality of it. I'd stolen and I'd been caught. Now I was paying the price, but that price wasn't yet fully paid. I'd need to show the results of my penance to Ms. Holt in just a little while. I wasn’t looking forward to that meeting and part of me wondered if I wouldn't rather take more strokes from the Disciplinarian than suffer that humiliation.
Only when the timer finally went off did I breathe a sigh of relief and move from my position. This time I did touch my bottom, noting how hot it felt compared to the rest of me. I dressed quickly and tentatively opened the door, aware there was another penitent waiting somewhere in the house and not wanting to be seen coming out of the punishment room. But there wasn't anyone in the hallway as I slipped my shoes on and made my way to his office. The door was left slightly ajar and I knocked once.
"Come in," he said.
I walked inside to find him working on a file on his desk. I stood awkwardly until he finished and turned to me with a cordial smile. "Would you like a glass of water?" he asked, rising and taking the glass he must have poured for me before I'd come in.
I realized how thirsty I was and nodded, this kind gesture pushing more tears from my eyes that I quickly wiped away. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He watched me drink the contents, poured a second and handed that to me as well. Once it too was empty, he took my glass and handed me my coat which I slipped on. He then held out my purse and an envelope.
"The photos for your employer," he said.
"Thank you, sir," I said, breaking into tears as I did. What he did next surprised me utterly, his arms were around me in an instant pulling me into his hard chest. He held me like that as I wept, rubbing my back while I wrapped weak arms around his middle.
"Shh…let it out and cry. You'll feel better for it."
I did, I cried and cried until finally the tears were gone, and he was right, in a way, I did feel better. It was the strangest thing. I'd just been paddled, my bottom was throbbing with heat, and I felt better. I straightened and smiled up at him when I found him smiling. He reached into his pocket and handed me his business card. I looked at it, at this professional, simple card:
The Disciplinarian
303-896-4872
I turned my face back up to him and my question must have been apparent on it.
"You will be surprised at how many clients book repeat sessions, Ms. Stanton."
"Oh."
He smiled and stepped back. "I have another appointment waiting, if you're ready?"
"I'm sorry," I said, realizing I was keeping him. "Thank you." I tucked the card into my pocket.
"I'll see you out." He walked me to the front door where from the shadows of the living room, I thought I glimpsed another penitent standing in the corner, naked, her bottom still showing evidence of her previous paddling. I realized I was staring when the Disciplinarian cleared his throat behind me.
"Good bye, Ms. Stanton. I hope to see you again."
"Good bye, sir," I muttered, somehow knowing that yes, he would be seeing me again.
Chapter Two
The drive to the office was painful and long. I shifted in my seat every which way but it just didn't seem to matter, my butt hurt! Hell, it had just been mercilessly spanked then paddled! It was still unreal to me and it wasn't over yet.
I pulled up outside the office and parked my car, noticing how full the lot was today. Although I knew what had just happened was between my boss and I, I still couldn’t help the idea that if anyone knew, what would they think? I, a twenty eight year-old grown, independent woman, had just been spanked, bare bottomed, and made to stand in the corner. And in my hands I held the sealed envelope that contained the evidence of that spanking.
First thing I did was run into the first floor bathroom and change into my business suit: a pair of slacks and a jacket. I couldn’t show up in what I'd worn to see the Disciplinarian. I then went back to the lobby to call the elevator.
The elevator dinged as the doors slid open. Two of my co-workers stepped off.
"Jen! Where were you? You missed the department meeting."
"Oh, I um...had a doctor's appointment," I said, trying to sound casual even as my heart beat fast. "Did I miss anything important?"
"Nah. Just Holt talking it up. Hey, come out to lunch before heading in. No one will know."
"No, better not!" I said, absolutely not wanting to give Ms. Holt anything else to reprimand me over. I checked my watch, I was going to be late. "I have to run or I'll be even later. Have fun."
"Bye!"
The elevator crawled up to the eighteenth floor and I climbed out, glad to see so many empty desks. I walked through the office, dropped my purse and coat at my desk, and carrying the envelope tight in my hands, I approached Ms. Holt's closed door. After taking a very deep breath, I knocked.
"Come in," she said from within.
My heart raced as I opened the door and stepped inside, my face turning a bright red when I met Ms. Holt's eyes. She was in her mid-thirties, an attractive although somewhat severe looking woman.
"Ah, Jennifer," she said, checking her watch. "Come in and close the door behind you. Better go ahead and lock it too while we finish up our business."
"Yes, ma'am," I said. Somehow, ma'am fit for the present moment. I did as she said and walked toward her desk, remaining on my feet as I did.
"Have a seat."
"Oh, no thank you. I prefer to stand."
She smiled. "I imagine you do. He is thorough, isn't he?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answered wondering for the first time which of my colleagues, if any, she'd blackmailed into going to see the Disciplinarian. I held out the envelope and she took it, her grin widening as she opened it, read the brief note and spilled the photos out onto her desk.
I glanced at them, mortified, wishing their quality were at least worse, but there I was, standing in the corner with my bare ass in varying degrees of redness.
"You do color beautifully," she said, collecting the photographs and sliding them into a drawer she first unlocked with a key on a chain around her neck. Although I tried, I couldn’t see the contents of the drawer. "But it's always better to see it in person," she said, rising and coming around to stand by the filing cabinet to my side. I remained facing the desk, knowing what she would ask next. "Drop your pants and panties, if you're wearing any that is, and put your hands on my desk."
I felt her eyes on me as I worked to undo my pants, letting them slide and pool down around my ankles. I had on a thong, knowing I wouldn’t want any friction against my freshly spanked bottom, but I took those down too, pushing them to the middle of my thighs before leaning forward to grip the edge of her desk.
"Mmm," she said, taking in the sight of me in my very compromising position. She then walked around behind me and I heard her sucking in a breath before feeling the tip of one fingernail slide along what I imagined must be the pattern of the paddle. "Very nice," she said. "But he missed a spot."
"Ma'am?" I asked, turning.
"Face forward, Jennifer," she said, her tone sharp, as sharp as the smack she landed on my hip, causing me to gasp. "I'll just fill those lines in for him now. I want to make sure you never give me cause to send you to him again, after all," she said, walking around to the front of her desk, she opened that locked drawer again and from inside it, lifted out a heavy black leather strap.
"Ma'am, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much."
"You took nine there. You'll take nine more of the strap and count yourself lucky. I have half a mind to turn you in for what you did."
"But we had an agreement!"
"Yes, we did. And that was that you take the punishment I feel fits the crime. This," she began, holding up the strap. "This will tie up loose ends. Now reach to the front of the desk and hold on. I'd try not to call out if I were you. Not everyone's gone out for lunch after all. Now bend over."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, and without moving closer to the desk, I reached forward and gripped the edge of it.
"Legs wider. Good, like that."
And she began. That was the first time my boss strapped my bare ass. Nine strokes that had me biting my lip to keep silent, wondering if people recognized the sound to be that of leather colliding with flesh. Would they know what was happening in the office? Would they know I was being strapped?
But that shame I felt took a backseat to the sheer pain of the strapping. She laid in hard, switching sides half way through, the leather wrapping around my hip the worst of the pain. Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, when I thought surely, she'd break skin if she kept going, she stopped. I remained as I was, having learned quickly that until I was excused, I was not to move.
Ms. Holt's breathing was short behind me as she observed her work, even pulling my bottom out a bit to expose my sex, my back hole, shaming me further. It was some time she made me stand just like that while she looked at me, at my most private parts, until finally she came around to the front of the desk and put the strap away. She checked her watch.
"Why don't you spend the rest of the lunch hour in the corner there. Once you're finished, you may go and we can put this matter behind us. But Jennifer?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Do not ever give me cause to send you to see the Disciplinarian again or to punish you myself, is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry I did it. I…I'm just very sorry."
She nodded. "Nose to the corner, hands behind your head, just like the photos," she said.
I shuffled over to the corner with my pants and panties down around my ankles and assumed the position once again, listening to the ticking of the clock as it went by, counting the seconds. This was quickly turning into the longest day of my life.
The End
Guilty as Charged
by Casey McKay
Julie sped down the dark two-lane road with one thing on her mind: getting home before her favorite reality television show started. She had forgotten to set her DVR to record it before she left this morning, even though she knew she had the meeting after work and she would be home later than normal. It had just slipped her mind and now she didn't want to miss it. It was getting down to the final four of The World's Greatest Finger Painter and she knew she would hear about who was eliminated before the episode hit the internet tomorrow.
Yes, it was a stupid show to be invested in, and an even stupider reason to be breaking the law, but at that point in time it was important to her. She didn't have much to look forward to in her bland and boring life; who could blame her for that?
She was just negotiating the sharp bend, the road slick beneath her wheels after the pouring rain brought by the summer thunderstorm, when the red and blue lights flared to life in her rear view mirror and she muttered a curse. She put on her turn signal and pulled her car to the side of the road, sending up a silent prayer that Brad was not in the cruiser that currently had its headlights flooding her car. She let another curse fly as Brad Wilkinson sauntered up to her car and rapped against her driver side window with two knuckles. She pressed the button, lowering the window down.
“What was that, Ms. Dennis?” Brad's mouth twitched into a smile.
“I said, good evening officer. What can I do for you?” She used her sweetest tone and even managed to match his smile.
“That is not what you said, but you're lucky I couldn't hear you,” he replied. “Do you know how fast you were going?”
“Not really,” Julie said. She shrugged and tried to look apologetic. She knew she was speeding, but she had no idea how fast she was going.
“Where are you going in such a rush? And with this rain!” Brad continued. He glanced inside her car and something she couldn't discern passed over his face.
“It isn't raining now. Please, Brad, I'm running late-” Her words were cut off when he opened her door.
“Please step out of the car.”
She blinked up at him, what was he doing? She was driving a little over the speed limit, why was he making her get out of the car?
“Let's go, Julie,” Brad commanded, taking a step back to give her room.
She turned her car off and unbuckled her seat belt, climbing out of the car on shaky legs. She wore a short skirt and she tried her best not to flash him in the process, although, he had already seen all she had to show. She stood just outside the driver's side door and looked at him expectantly.
He motioned to the hood of her car, “Come over here and place your palms face down.”
“I know I wa
s speeding a little, Brad. I'm really sorry, it won't happen again,” she started, she didn't like the glint in his eye and the determined look on his face. She just wanted him to write her a ticket and get on with her night.
He pointed again, not swayed by her apologies and she walked to the front of the car with a resigned sigh.
She placed her hands flat on the warm hood, she tensed her buttocks as her skin crawled beneath her skirt. She had some clue about what he meant to do, but she would not allow it, not here on the side of the highway.
“The road is wet. You should be driving more carefully, not speeding along like a bat out of hell,” he lectured and folded his arms across his chest. “What is so important?”
Julie smacked her hand down on the hood and then turned to face him. She’d had a long day at work, the budget meeting she was required to attend got nasty, her regular route home had been flooded out, and all she wanted to do now was put on some sweats and watch her show. Her temper flared that Brad was playing games with her, “Dammit, Brad! If you're going to give me a ticket then give me a ticket. Otherwise, save me the lecture,” she snapped. When she met his eyes, she realized belatedly that she should have skipped the outburst.
“Reach back and raise your skirt, lower your panties to mid thigh,” he instructed, raising his eyebrows in warning.
She let her mouth hang open, “Absolutely not, you are not spanking me right here on the side of the road!” Of course, she knew he would. A few months ago she never would have believed it but that was before. Before she found out that Deputy Brad Wilkinson, one of the cops in her sleepy town, and her neighbor, was a professional disciplinarian. At first she had been justifiably horrified, not only that he was spanking grown women, but that they were apparently paying him for this service.
As it turned out he was quite the popular man. He would never divulge who was using his services, but sometimes it was hard to book an appointment. Or so she had come to learn since she had caved in and finally called the number on the back of the card he had given her. Now every time she shopped at the local grocery store she watched with a keener eye to see if any of the other women were surreptitiously rubbing their hindquarters.
The Disciplinarian: A Collection of Short Spanking Stories Page 2