by Becca Little
Chapter 5
Dalton had been so good to me that I really wanted to help him get elected. He hit the campaign trail in our district and I made signs every day when my schoolwork was done. We settled on Truth, Justice, Dalton Cole as his slogan. It turned out that we didn’t need it. Two weeks before the election, John Ussery plowed into a parked car and his blood alcohol level was off the charts. None of his cop buddies could hide that. It made the evening news. The court of public opinion judged him harshly, and decided he wasn’t fit to judge them. Dalton won the election by a landslide.
“We did it!” Dalton poured a glass of whiskey and raised it to me and the other people who had helped with the election.
“I guess we have to call you Judge Cole now.” I said as I raised a bottle of water to his toast.
“That’s right.” He took me by the hand pulled me up the small platform he was standing on. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for your hard work. Let’s hear it for my campaign manager, Ms. Sylvia Henderson.”
Everyone cheered and he tapped his glass of whiskey on my bottle of water. I smiled and stared into his eyes as the crowd continued to make noise. Dalton was winning another election too, and one he wasn’t even running for. He had taken my heart without hitting the campaign trail or hiring a campaign manager to design him a spiffy slogan.
It was hard to rationalize my feelings for him. He was hardly what a girl my age would seek out in a man. He was only a few years younger than my father, had untouched gray streaks running through his jet-black hair, and acted like a jackass when he wasn’t playing nice—basically anytime he wasn’t around me—and sometimes when he was. Without my father in my life, I felt like there was nothing standing between me and the rest of the world except him. He was the only one who seemed to care, and there was a certain sweetness about how he always turned into a nicer person when I entered the room. I was certain the feelings I had weren’t reciprocated, and I was too shy to even think about telling him how I really felt.
***
Once he put on the black robes, his life got a whole lot more complicated. When he wasn’t in the courtroom, he was forced to schmooze, attend various events, and keep himself visible in the public eye. My next semester of school ended up being one with an extra class, which meant I didn’t have time to chase him down every time I felt like I needed a hug. I flipped on the television one night after my schoolwork was done and the news was covering his latest case. It wasn’t the case that interested me as much as the image of him walking out of the courthouse arm in arm with a woman.
It sparked more than just a twinge of jealousy. I started to understand why our visits had become infrequent and he no longer surprised me with take out. He wasn’t just busy; he was dating—dating someone other than me. As the week barreled towards the weekend, my jealousy got even more intense. By Friday night, I decided to go out and release some of my pent-up aggression.
I called up my old friends who weren’t away at school, choking own my own pride to get them to include me in their weekend festivities. Gwen and Toni were planning to get drunk, and that sounded like a great idea. It was just another weekend to them. We really hadn’t stayed in touch much in the last year, but they seemed happy to hear from me. I started pounding shots with them the second we walked into the bar. Nobody batted an eye at the fact I wasn’t twenty-one, but that was why we chose that particular hole in the wall bar on the outskirts of town.
“Okay, I’m beat…” I yawned. “I need to head home.”
“Awe come on.” Gwen said. “Last call isn’t for a couple of hours.”
“Yeah, you said you wanted to hang out. Don’t bitch out on us early.” Toni nudged me.
“Fine.” I sighed and tried to feign enthusiasm. “Another drink then!”
“That’s my girl.” Gwen nodded and motioned towards the bartender.
By the end of the night my vision and my judgment were seriously impaired; so impaired that I walked out of the bar with my keys in hand and fumbled my way into my car. My friends, being the fine upstanding members of society they were, didn’t even try to stop me from swerving out of the parking lot. I didn’t get far. My reaction was worse than my ability to speak without sounding like an idiot, and both of those got me thrown across the hood of a police car and handcuffed after the blue lights flashed in my rear-view mirror.
I was lucky I didn’t hurt anyone, a thought that was painfully clear as I sat in the police car and watched the tow truck drive away with what was left of my car. My bumper and pieces of my headlights were left behind, laying in the street behind the car I hit. The driver was fine, but he held his neck when he described how I rear-ended him like a maniac. I knew I was screwed. I wasn’t even twenty-one and I was on my way to jail for the second time. The previous charges were dropped, but I knew it wasn’t going to be as easy the second time around.
I couldn’t even raise my eyes to look at Dalton when they said we should rise. It was ironic that he was the one to set my bail after posting it the time before. His gavel delivered my fate and then I was sent back to my cell. There was no compassion in his voice when he set the maximum bail my crime would allow. He knew I couldn’t post it and I was sure he wasn’t going to get me out of the mess I was in that time. I sat alone in my cell, trying to rest my weary eyes. The only good thing about my second trip to jail was that I had my own cell instead of sharing it with other people.
“Let’s go Henderson. Wake up. Judge Cole wants to see you.” The rattle of a baton on my cell woke me up from a nightmare.
“Huh? What?” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and stared at the guard.
“Judge Cole wants to see you in his chambers, Henderson. Get up.” The police officer jammed his key into the door and opened it.
“Don’t I need my lawyer?” I asked as I started to finally gain consciousness.
“That isn’t my call. Take it up with the judge.” He grabbed me by the arm as I approached the door and led me down the hallway that connected the police station with the courthouse
Chapter 6
A few minutes later I was alone in the judge’s chambers. It was my second time in there, although the first time was under much different circumstances. Everything was pretty much the same. I had put a lot of effort into decorating his chamber after the election. The only difference was a picture on his desk. I looked around and listened carefully. After not hearing anyone, I reached out and turned the picture around. Tears filled my eyes. It was a picture of us, taken from the victory party he held after he won. It was the only picture on his desk—hell, it was the only picture in his office except for the obligatory one of him in his robe for the first time.
I had already come to terms with the foolishness of my actions, but seeing that on his desk made me realize I was still important to him. The stack of cases piled high on his desk was a pretty good indicator of what had been keeping him busy. Who was I to judge him for dating someone? I was supposed to be going to school and making something of my life, not worrying about who kept him up at night. When the door opened and he walked into the chamber, I looked down at the floor and blinked away the last tear in my eye. I knew he was going to be disappointed in me. He walked to the edge of his desk and leaned against it, lighting a cigarette as he shook his head.
“Look at me, Sylvia.” His voice was harsh, almost like gravel.
“I’m sorry…” That was all I could think to say as I lifted my eyes to see his angry stare.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He shook his head and took a long drag from his cigarette.
“I wasn’t thinking…” I admitted.
“Well that much is damn clear, isn’t it?” He walked around his desk and picked up two files.
“I’m really sorry…” I struggled to find something that could justify my actions, but all I found was another apology.
“You’ve got two arrests in two years. The DUI and the accident would be bad enough on their own, but you’re hardly a first
-time offender. I know losing your father was tough on you, but this is not the way to honor his memory! You lost your mother to a drunk driver—a drunk cop at that. Your father buried his grief in alcohol. What in the world is wrong with you?” His voice raised and it seemed like his disappointment grew with each word.
“I know…” I shook my head and felt tears in my eyes again.
“I’m going to regret this decision when reelection time comes, but I’m not going to send you to prison. I should, and part of me wants to do it, but I can’t do that in good conscious.” He stabbed out his cigarette and exhaled the last stream of smoke.
“You… You aren’t?” I felt a slight twinge of happiness. “Thank you so much. I owe you big time…” The tears in my eyes turned to fragments of joy.
“Oh, I wouldn’t thank me just yet, Sylvia. You are going to face justice, just not the kind you’ll find in any law book from this century. As far as the record books are concerned, you’re attending outpatient rehabilitation. Once a week, you go for therapy and after ninety days, you’re cured.” His tone was still icy, so I was a little cautious.
“If that is what the record books are going to say, what is going to really happen?” I didn’t think I needed rehab for one night of drinking, and I was fairly certain he knew that.
“You really are going to rehabilitation, but not the kind you’ll find in a bowling alley with drunks telling their stories, or a therapist trying to figure out how to unlock your feelings. I’m sentencing you to corporal punishment.” He lit another cigarette as he delivered my sentence without even blinking.
“Corporal punishment… Like…” I tried to process the words.
“A spanking.” He said firmly.
“Dalton, that…” I shook my head back and forth as I looked up at him. His glare told me he wasn’t kidding.
“Instead of going to rehabilitation, you’ll have one visit from me every week for the next ninety days. Provided that you don’t get into more trouble, your debt to society will be paid ninety days from today.” He stood up and walked to the wall of his chamber where a row of stiff back chairs was sitting.
“Ninety days from today… That means…” I looked over as he picked up one of the chairs and moved it to the center of the room.
“That’s right, Sylvia. You’re going to get your first spanking right now.” He took me by the arm and lifted me to my feet.
“Dalton, please…” I shook my head back and forth as he walked me to the chair.
“You can call me Judge Cole or Your Honor. Only my friends call me Dalton.” He sat down and pulled me across his knee.
His words stung, but not nearly as bad as the first smack on the seat of my orange jumpsuit. He landed it a lot harder than he did when he was giving me a playful birthday spanking. The jumpsuit was as thin as paper and the state issued panties weren’t exactly top quality. They were tight and rode up the center of my bottom, leaving most of it protected by only the uniform, which clung tightly to me when he stretched my bottom over his knee. After delivering several hard smacks, he adjusted me so that my bottom was angled upwards and the uniform was even tighter across it.
I had never been spanked before outside of the playful one he gave me. I knew my brother and sister were, but my father didn’t put that kind of effort into raising me. I got a few threats, but they were never followed up on, even if I didn’t do what I was told to do. The hands that held me so tenderly after my father passed turned as hard as steel as my punishment was administered. The shock of it all was finally starting to register as he continued to bring his hand down on my bottom.
I had never taken the time to appreciate exactly how large they were until they were dancing back and forth across each side of my bottom. A stinging sensation rapidly developed, and it didn’t go away—it just got worse. Each smack caused my bottom to bounce and the stinging sensation resonated across it. It hardly had time to even recover before the next punishing smack was delivered.
“Oww…” I whimpered. “Judge Cole, I won’t touch another drop of alcohol, I swear! I’ll never drive drunk again!”
“You should have made that decision before we ever got to this point.” His hand stopped spanking me and then I felt them in the waistband of my jumpsuit.
“Please, don’t pull down my pants…” I reached back to try and stop him, but I was too late. My jumpsuit was pulled down to my knees and my panties were exposed.
“That isn’t the only thing coming down.” He said as his hand started to move across my bottom again. “Your panties will be next.”
When the first sting of his hand on my barely protected bottom landed, I wished the paper-thin jumpsuit was back around my waist. I had seriously underestimated the protection it offered. Being exposed like that was humiliating, but I didn’t have much time to think about it. The threat of what I would be losing next was burned in my mind. My face flushed with embarrassment. I couldn’t tell if it was just the loss of the jumpsuit which amplified the suffering or if he was spanking me harder. It felt like a combination of both.
My bottom felt like someone had started a small fire which was being stoked to life by his palm. I finally had all I could take and I threw my hand back to try and stop him, but he lifted it by the wrist and continued to spank me. I tugged and pulled against his grip, but it was no use. His years on the force had turned him into a strong, determined man. All of that determination was going directly into my spanking, and it was clear that he was going to make sure I got every bit of it.
My bottom started to really hurt as he continued to spank me on my panties—well some of them were on my panties. They rode up the middle of my bottom even more as I kicked my feet trying to alleviate some of the pain. Even if they weren’t much, I wanted them covering as much of my bottom as possible, for as long as he allowed them to.
“Ouch, ow!” I felt tears welling up in my eyes as he stopped again and reached into the waistband of my panties. “Please, Judge Cole… Not on my bare bottom.”
My plea was answered only by his rough hand pushing them down to my knees where my jumpsuit had twisted up from the kicking. “You will be spanked on your bare bottom every week, Sylvia.” He moved me into a better position for his hand and draped a leg across the back of my knees.
“I’m sorry…” My bottom tensed up in anticipation.
“What you did was very dangerous. You could have been killed or you could have killed someone. An apology isn’t enough. You need to be punished, and you need a weekly reminder of why you shouldn’t get behind the wheel after drinking.” His hand put the period on his sentence by landing a hard smack in the center of my bare bottom.
“Ow!” I lunged forward, but his leg across the back of my knee kept me in place.
My bare bottom was at his disposal as my real punishment began. Being spanked without my panties or the jumpsuit was noticeably harder and more intense than before. His hand sounded like a machine gun as the sound echoed through the chamber. I knew what I did was wrong, and I knew I deserved to be punished for it. My father would have been absolutely horrified to find out about what I had done. It might have been enough to pull him back from his stupor long enough to exactly what Judge Cole was doing.
Tears streamed down my face as he punished me without stopping to even let me draw a breath. Sobs erupted in my throat and I wailed like a little girl while my bare bottom paid the price for my crime. I could feel the heat radiating from it as his hand made contact over and over. I have no idea how many times he spanked me, but it felt like it was never going to end. He landed multiple smacks in the same spot before he moved on, sometimes returning to that spot again after one on the opposite side, and sometimes delivering a series directly in the middle.
I wanted to be forgiven. I wanted it all washed away. I knew what a stupid fool I had been, and deep down I knew that a good hard spanking was what I deserved, even if my body refused to simply lay there and take it. I didn’t even realize it was over when he finally stopped spa
nking me. My bottom burned so bad that I thought it was still going until I realized I was no longer bouncing around like a maniac on his knee.
“I care about you, Sylvia.” He removed his leg from behind my knees and helped me up.
“I know you do.” I hugged him tight and cried into the front of his shirt for several minutes before finally reaching down and pulling my panties and jumpsuit up. Pulling them across my punished bottom hurt, but I couldn’t very well leave it exposed.
“Once you get yourself together, I’ll summon the officer to process you out. As far as your lawyer knows, his phone call last night changed my mind and I decided to release you on your own recognizance. The district attorney will put everything together on paper, and you will officially be sentenced to ninety days of rehabilitation.” He walked to his desk and lit another cigarette as I wiped away my tears.
“Thank you for not sending me to prison.” I looked down at the floor, thinking about my fate. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”
“This is the last time I help you like this. If you end up in front of my bench again, I will send you away for as long as the law will allow.” His tone confirmed he was deadly serious about his threat.
“Yes sir…” I nodded my head in understanding.
Chapter 7
Judge Cole arranged for an officer to drive me home and every bump in that patrol car stung my bottom and served as a constant reminder of what it took to get that ounce of freedom. My car was a wreck, but I did have insurance. I knew the premiums were going to eat into my remaining finances even more than they already did before the crash. The DUI certainly wasn’t going to help matters. While my car was being fixed, I would have to use my father’s old clunker which barely ran, but it would get me to school and work. Walking into my house was surreal. I was certain I wasn’t going to see it for quite some time before Judge Cole handed down my private sentence.