The Winter Storm, Part 6

There were the stares and giggles. Nothing was too obvious or direct, but it was there, the same way the squeaking of rubber soles on the tile floor was there; in the background permeating everything. Michelle kept her head up as she weaved through packed hallway toward her second period class. No one would dare laugh at her face.

A cold hand dropped onto her shoulder. Michelle twitched, shaking free of the offending limb and twisting her head to look behind her for the source; Aimie Andrews. Their eyes met and Michelle exhaled, shaking her head briefly before turning back to her original course.

“You’re pissed,” Aimie said, taking pace next to Michelle. “That’s a good sign.”

Michelle cocked her head sideways and lifted an eyebrow. “It is?”

“Yeah,” Aimie said, “it means you haven’t turned into just another Cody cock whore. Or at least, I hope not?”

“You call yourself a friend and have to ask?” Michelle puffed on hot air and quickened her pace.

Aimie grabbed her arm, forcing a slowdown. “Hey, what do you expect? The dweeb has been spreading rumors all morning and you haven’t said jack to anyone. It’s not like you haven’t been hanging with him and everybody saw his paws all over you on Wednesday.”

Michelle waved a dismissive hand at her friend. “Cody think he’s far more relevant than he actually is and some of that comes from people like you putting way too much importance in what he says. Trust me, he’s irrelevant.”

Aimie shook her head. Spotting a free area to their left she tugged Michelle along with her through the thinning crowd. They stood in front of a maintenance door in a void created by the lockers on the adjacent wall. Across the hallway, the door remained open leading into their shared second period English class.

“He may be irrelevant,” Aimie said, “but your reputation is not. You can’t just let him trash you.”

Michelle laughed at her friend. “He’s only trashing himself, but it’s just going to take a little bit before he, and everyone else, figures it out. Besides, I still need him to remain stupid for a few more hours.”

Aimie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I should have known you had scheme going here. So, what is it?”

“Ask me next week,” Michelle said and turned toward the open classroom door.

Aimie grabbed Michelle’s arm again. “Hang on a second. If you aren’t all pissed over Cody, then what’s up?”

Michelle turned back toward her friend. A flush of embarrassment warmed her skin and she looked at the sign on the door behind Aimie to avoid looking into her eyes. “Nothing.”

Aimie’s head tilted to the left. “Nothing? Bullshit. What’s going on?”

The crowd in the hall was getting noticeable thinner. Time was running down on the passing period. Michelle glanced behind her at the open door. “We should go.”

Realization dawned in Aimie’s eyes. “You’re in trouble.”

Michelle’s eyes opened wide. “How would you know?”

“Cause it’s like written all over your face,” Aimie said. “So?”

Michelle sighed and turned her full attention back to her friend. “I didn’t get my Civics done last night.”

Aimie laughed. “That’s all? Damn, I didn’t do my English homework and it’s the third time this month I’ve missed. You’re worried about one time in Civics?”

“It’s not Civics I’m worried about,” Michelle said.

“Then what?” Aimie asked.

“If my dad finds out,” Michelle said, “it’ll screw everything up.”

Aimie shrugged. “So, don’t let him find out.”

“If that was possible it’d be great,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “The problem is you know Wolfe will assign after school detention and that means I’ll miss my ride home this afternoon.”

“Make something up. Tell your dad you stayed after to do extra credit work with Mr. Wolfe,” Aimie said.

“That’s a little too bold,” Michelle said with a laugh. “If my dad didn’t believe me and call Mr. Wolfe, he would not only find out I lied, but also why I lied. No, the truth is the only way out of this is to get the work done somehow between now and third period.”

A flicker in Aimie’s eyes made Michelle look over her shoulder. Nick was walking along the corridor with post-it marked textbook in his hands. Michelle watched as he passed and turned left into the teachers’ lounge. She scowled at his absence.

Aimie cleared her throat with a shallow cough. “I see.”

Michelle’s eyebrows raised as she turned back to her friend. “What?”

“Nothing.” Aimie shrugged.

Michelle cocked her head to the left. “You’re really getting on my nerves today.”

Aimie nodded. “Aside from Cody, that seems to be the rule of the day.”

“Be a bitch on your own time,” Michelle said and turned away, taking a step toward the open classroom door.

“Normal girls kiss the guys they like,” Aimie said, “and save the castrating for the bastards. You seem to have it backwards.”

Michelle turned back around on her heel and stepped up close to Aimie. “I wasn’t trying—

—to castrate Nick?” Aimie asked, tossing her brown curls off her shoulders. “I’m sure you fooled everyone, including Nick, this morning with your little stunt in the hall.”

Michelle squared her shoulders and stared down at Aimie. “That’s none of your damned business.”

“Then maybe you should have had your little spat in a more private place,” Aimie said.

“Look,” Michelle said, backing down a little, “it’s not what you think.”

Aimie shrugged. “So it’s got nothing to do with him being jealous as hell over the display you put on with Cody this week?”

Michelle sighed. “No, I asked for his help with my Civics problem and he refused.”

“Because of Cody,” Aimie said.

“No!” Michelle shook her head. “He... just forget it okay?”

“Uh uh.” Aimie shook her head. “Out with it.”

Michelle stared at the maintenance door. “He wanted to spank me before he’d help.”

“And you said no?” Aimie blinked wildly.

“Of course I said no.” Michelle stared down at her friend.

Aimie continued to blink. “You like him, right?”

“Not at the moment,” Michelle said.

Aimie scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re crazy about him. So, what you’re going to do is as soon as second period is over, you’re going to run, don’t walk, and find Nick. Then you are going to get down on your knees and beg the boy to put you over his lap everyday for the rest of your life or as least for the next week and if you’re really lucky, he might still help you with your homework problem.”

“You’re delusional,” Michelle said.

Aimie laughed. A shadow fell over the two girls from behind Michelle. They fell silent, noticing the hallways was nearly empty, except for them and the shadow. Michelle turned toward the source and looked up to see Mr. Wolfe, smiling down at her.

He said, “If I’m not mistaken, you ladies should be rushing off to class.”

They both straightened and lowered their gazes respectfully. “Yes, sir.”

“Off you go then,” he said with a wave of his hand before continuing on his way toward the teachers’ lounge.

The bell rang marking the end of the passing period. Michelle and Aimie barged through the door, scrambling to get to their seats before the final shrill fell into silence. Mrs. Rixford singled Aimie out with a stern gaze and a disapproving shake of her head before turning to her lesson plan on the podium.

Mrs. Rixford spoke to the classroom at large, flipping the page on her planner. “Pass your homework to the front and open your books to page 137.”

The classroom rustled to life. Books were opened, homework pages were torn from spiral notebooks and gossip was spread with the passing of each page toward the front of the room. Collecting the pages, Mrs. Rixford stopped at the front of the row seating Aimie and Michelle. She thumbed through the pages and cleared her throat, fixing her gaze on Aimie.

“Aimie,” Mrs. Rixford said, causing Aimie to twist in her seat to face the front of the classroom, “It appears you forgot to pass in your homework. Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass it forward now?”

Aimie swallowed and blushed while brushing aside strands of her curly hair from her face. “Would you believe I already did?”

Mrs. Rixford’s chin dropped a quarter of an inch and her dry lips flattened. “If  you had it would be in my hand.”

“There must be some mistake,” Aimie said with a shrug.

Mrs. Rixford nodded. “Yes, such as for the third time this month you have apparently sluffed off the homework I assigned.”

“That would be a very serious mistake,” Aimie said, glancing around the room, “but don’t you think it’s more likely one of these jealous classmates sitting in front of me stole my homework?”

“No, I do not,” Mrs. Rixford said, “however, I do find it difficult to understand why you would even show up to class without your homework after the warning I gave you last week.”

Aimie shrugged. “Wishful thinking I guess.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Rixford said, “if you thought I wouldn’t follow through.”

“Well actually,” Aimie said, “I was watching this movie and with the rainstorm I thought it might just be possible you’d melt away long before class.”

Mrs. Rixford’s lips curled upward into a scary smile. “Too bad for you we don’t live in Oz.”

“So you admit you’re wicked,” Aimie said.

“Thoroughly,” Mrs. Rixford said, still smiling.

The silence in the room filled with the gloom of the storm raging outside. Michelle shuddered in her seat when the lights flickered in sync with a loud boom of thunder. The ceiling tiles rattled in their frames and the whisper of hot air being blown into the room through strategically placed vents added an extra heft to the air. Michelle looked around the room, but all eyes were on Aimie.

“How about,” Aimie said, “I do an extra assignment over the weekend and we call it even?”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Rixford said.

Aimie’s eyebrows lifted. “It is?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Rixford said, nodding. “You can do the assignment from last night, your homework for the weekend and an extra assignment, all due on Monday.”

Aimie said, “Uh, okay.”

Mrs. Rixford said, “I’m glad we’re in agreement. Now if you would join me at the front of the class for your swats, we can move on to other business for the day.”

Aimie blinked. “But I thought—

Mrs. Rixford said, “Enough, Miss Andrews. Get yourself up here before I have one of these young men drag you up here.”

Aimie adopted a frown and pushed herself up out of her desk. She trudged quietly to the front. Michelle watched her go, envying the quiet confidence that seemed to emanate from her. Around the room, anticipation hung on the faces of people that were supposed to be friends. Michelle realized it didn’t matter, anyone pulled to the front for a spanking was a spectacle and for the largest part, everyone was going to enjoy the show. The butterflies in her stomach reawakened, reminding her that it was only a couple more hours before she would find herself in the same position unless she found a way to get her own Civics homework done.

Mrs. Rixford held her hand out toward Aimie and said, “Remove your blazer.”

Aimie slipped it from her shoulders and allowed Mrs. Rixford to take it. Mrs. Rixford draped it over her podium and lifted the long wooden paddle from its hook on the side. She sliced it through the air, popping it against the flat of her hand and making everyone jump, especially Aimie.

Mrs. Rixford barked orders at Aimie while the class remained in tense silence. “Feet, shoulders width apart, legs straight, bend down and touch your toes. You’ll count each swat aloud and stay in position until I say it’s over. If you don’t, the previous swat will be repeated and another will be added on at the end. Understood?”

Aimie said, “I think I know the routine.”

Michelle looked around the classroom, anything to avoid looking at her friend or more aptly, the specter of her future self. The collective eyes of their classmates were focused on Aimie and Mrs. Rixford. Several of the boys sat on the edge of their seats, as if suddenly uncomfortable. Their lack of empathy felt colder than the storm wind blowing outside.

Still, Michelle could hardly blame them when she too was watching the scene unfold. It was like staring at the last chocolate in a box and knowing you shouldn’t, but all the while lifting it up to devour it in all its sinful delectableness.

Aimie widened her stance and slowly stretched herself downward until her fingertips brushed the tops of her polished shoes. Mrs. Rixford swatted the paddle against the open flat of her palm. The class bristled in anticipation of the main event.

Mrs. Rixford said, “I think we’ll have five swats for not doing your homework and another five swats for sass and then two more just to make sure you’re getting the message this time. Is that acceptable Aimie or should I add a few more?”

Michelle cover her mouth to avoid her friend spying the amusement on her lips. Aimie gave an upside down shrug and said, “You’re the teacher.”

Mrs. Rixford raised the paddle in the air behind her. “Yes, I am,” she said and brought the paddle crashing down onto Aimie’s proffered posterior.

Aimie’s skirt flattened and then fluttered in the wake of the swat. Her voice was calm and steady  as she counted, “One.”

Michelle gripped the edges of her desk. The paddle raised high in the air and hovered. Mrs. Rixford swung it down, popping against Aimie’s rear. The skirt fluttered again teasing the class with a flicker of white from beneath its folds of fabric. The clock on the wall above the whiteboard ticked off another second in the quiet aftermath of the swat.

“Two,” Aimie said.

A flash of lightning outside the window on the left wall grabbed Michelle’s attention. The pop of the paddle impacting Aimie’s bottom turned Michelle’s head back toward the spanking. A moment later, thunder rattled the window as if it was an echo to the latest swat.

Aimie’s voice wavered and her tone took a turn toward the contrite. “Three,” she said.

Michelle blinked and looked around the classroom. No one was looking anywhere except at Aimie and her prominent rear end. Nick’s offer to spare her the same humiliation in Civics suddenly seemed a kindness. Of course, the prospect of laying herself over his lap for discipline remained equal parts daunting and exciting, but maybe Aimie was right.

Mrs. Rixford swung the paddle.

Aimie swayed from side to side for a moment. Even at the back of the classroom, Michelle could hear the ragged breathing of her friend as she attempted to weather the formidable sting being imparted by Mrs. Rixford. Michelle twitched in her seat as if her own bottom was stinging.

“Four,” Aimie said.

The paddle swooshed through the air. Michelle squeezed her eyes shut a second before the impact and reopened them in tune with the pop. Aimie’s skirt fluttered in the paddle’s breeze. “Five.”

Mrs. Rixford lowered the paddle to her side and took a step back from Aimie. “Flip up your skirt for the next five,” she said.

Michelle, like her classmates, was transfixed by the scene. Aimie reached up from her bent position and tossed the back hem of her skirt upward. The material landed on her back, exposing a pair of plain white panties to entire room. Her redden buttocks gave the white undergarment a pinkish glow.

Aimie’s fingers returned to the tops of her shoes. Mrs. Rixford stepped up into position again and raised the paddle in the air behind her. She brought it down on the panties flattening the buttocks. Waves of wobbling force shuddered through Aimie’s legs and the red became redder.

“Six,” Aimie said.

Michelle peered through shuttered eyelids.

“Seven.” Aimie counted in the aftermath of another swat.

Michelle looked down at her desktop and the open book in front of her. She tried to focus on the words, but all she saw was her blank homework for Civics. It taunted her. She shuddered at the echo of the paddle impacting Aimie’s bottom.

“Eight,” Aimie said.

Mrs. Rixford paused to address the class. “I hope everyone is learning from this.” She swung the paddle like a period on her sentence.

“Nine,” Aimie said.

Michelle’s ears tingled at the tone in her friend’s voice. She could hear the strain coming through and the limits of tolerance being reached. It would take little more to bring about tears and though it would seem only natural there was something about crying in front of classmates that made it a shameful act to be avoided above all others. Aimie understood, but there were limits and if an experienced rule breaker like Aimie couldn’t withstand the full swats of a middle-aged woman, how could Michelle hope to withstand the efforts of a younger and stronger man?

“Ten,” Aimie said.

“Final two,” Mrs. Rixford said. “You can stay quiet for these.”

Michelle wondered if it was kindness in Mrs. Rixford’s decision or if it was a taunting of sorts. Perhaps she too had heard the fragile edge in Aimie’s last counts and realized silence was not on the menu for much longer. It was more than a spanking going on at the front of the room. It was a battle of spirits, student and teacher, each vying for a symbolic victory over the other. It was idiotic and yet Michelle knew she would play the same game with Mr. Wolfe if it came to it.

The final two swats landed in close repetition. Silence fell upon the room. Mrs. Rixford hung the paddle back on its hook. She lifted the blazer from the podium and stood facing Aimie, still bent over. The patter of rain on the roof counted the long seconds. Michelle and her classmates waited with held breath.

“Stand up,” Mrs. Rixford said.

Aimie rose. She turned to face Mrs. Rixford, brushing her hair with her fingertips. She took the blazer from Mrs. Rixford’s outstretched hand and shrugged her way back into it. Michelle noticed a trembling in Aimie’s legs as she walked back toward her desk. There was wetness below Aimie’s eyes as she took her seat. Michelle decided to do whatever it would take to avoid Mr. Wolfe’s paddle.

Happy V Day!

I bet you were expecting a story today. You were probably even expecting to see part 6 of The Winter Storm, but I fooled you. Okay, it wasn’t exactly intentional. My plans were to have part 6 up today, but obviously that ship sailed, without part 6 aboard no less. I could give you excuses. I did come down with a nasty head cold on Friday and it did last all the way through the weekend. In fact, I’m still not 100% better today. Of course, you probably don’t want to hear my excuses. After all, you were looking for part 6 and it’s simply not here.

So, what are we going to do since part 6 isn’t around? I can hear a consensus already agreeing on someone sporting a red backside. I’m certainly not one to circumvent majority rules and therefore I’ve decided to oblige you all. Besides, this hurts all of you much more than it hurts me, right?

Hey, I didn’t say it would be my backside, just that someone would have a red one. Who knows what she did, but obviously it was way worse than anything I’ve ever done. If it wasn’t, then why is my bottom still white and no pictures of it are floating around on the web? Yeah, answer that smarties.

Anyway, I suppose you’ll just have to settle for my sincere wishes that each and everyone of you has a wonderful Valentine’s Day. Oh, and part 6 will be here next Monday. I promise. Really, I swear. C’mon, it’ll be here and you know it. Well, maybe it’ll be here. I’m sure I’ll finish revising it by then. It can’t be that bad, could it? No. It’ll be here. I’m sure of it. How about you?

The Winter Storm, Part 5

Rachel slipped inside her bedroom closing the door cautiously and timing its final click with a roar of thunder. She crept to her dresser and lifted her cellphone from its charger. The screen glowed to life and a flashing message told her what she expected, 1 missed call. She smiled, forgetting almost everything about her morning to that point and pressed the button to recall the last dialer.

“There you are,” Julian said.

She glanced at her closed door and spoke in a hushed voice into her phone. “Did you do it?”

Julian laughed with confidence. “Of course. She’ll be here on Monday. I’ll video it for you.”

“And Miles?” she asked. “He’ll lose the sale, right?”

“Thanks to you,” Julian said, “I’ve covered everything that’s in the program and more. Once my father sees that, he’d  be a fool to make any other decision.”

Rachel’s bedroom door swung open and bounced against its stop. Her father stepped into view, staring disappointment through his spectacles. Thunder rattled the window on the other side of the room and Rachel jumped. She lowered the phone from her ear, attempting to hide it from her father’s view behind her back.

Mr. Bennett’s gaze focused on Rachel’s midriff. It felt as if he was looking right through her to the phone in her hidden hand. His voice was gruff when he spoke. “What do you think you are doing?”

Rachel wrestled her shuddering nerves to stillness, presenting a facade of calm. “Nothing,” she said. With her unseen hand, she attempted to end the call, mashing buttons with her thumb.

Her father took two long strides, closing the distance between them. He took a firm hold of her arm and pulled it out in front of her, exposing the phone in her hand. Rachel frowned, but offered no resistance as he took it. He held it up to his own ear, keeping his disapproving eyes fixed on her.  “Who is this?” he asked.

The only answer was the pitter-patter of rain against the window. If he was surprised by the lack of response from Rachel or the person on the other end of the call, his expression failed to reveal it.  He spoke into the phone, casually ignoring the concern flashing in her eyes. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Rachel can’t talk anymore because she’s been a very bad girl this morning. In fact, she’s already had a spanking and she’s real close to getting another.”

“Daddy!” Rachel protested, wide-eyed and blushing.

His stare silenced the words hanging on the tip of her tongue. She bit her lip and huffed hot air through her nostrils. He ignored her, listening instead for signs of life on the other end of the call. After several seconds of silence, he said, “She’ll have to call you back when she isn’t grounded anymore and I’m sure she’ll explain everything to you then. Goodbye.” He ended the call, turned the phone over in his hand and removed the battery, slipping it into his shirt pocket. The useless phone dropped from his hand onto her dresser top.

Still huffing, Rachel looked at her phone. “Was that really necessary?”

“Apparently you thought so,” he said.

Her gaze drifted back to meet his. “I don’t think so.”

His brow furrowed and the intensity of his stare doubled, leaving her feeling small. She bit back her lip and dropped her head to avoid his eyes. “You are grounded,” he said, “and you know very well that means no hiding in your bedroom and no talking on the phone.”

Speaking more toward the floor than her father, Rachel said, “I wasn’t hiding.”

“You,” he said, “were supposed to be helping your mother with the housework.”

Her gaze remained fixed on the floor. “It was only a short call,” she said. “I didn’t want my friends to worry when they didn’t hear from me.”

“If that was the case,” he said, “you could have come to me and made the call from my office.”

She dared a new look into his eyes. “Don’t I deserve some privacy?”

“Not when you can’t be bothered to behave,” he said.

Scowling, she sidestepped to get by her father. “Fine,” she said, “It’s not like I really care anyway.”

Mr. Bennett turned on his heel and stopped Rachel in her tracks. “Not so fast, young lady. There are consequences in this house when you violate rules.”

She huffed and turned back to her father. Hands planted on her exposed hips, she said, “Now what?”

“To start with,” he said and pointed toward the clothes hamper at the foot of her bed, “you can take that sweater off and put it away.”

Her eyes shot open wide. “Why?”

His hand dropped back to his side and he focused on her. “Because I said so,” he said, “and if I have to say it again, your bra and panties will be joining it.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped. The window rattled with another boom from the storm. She looked away from her father and saw her reflection in the window. The cold from outside crept in and grabbed hold of her. Her already naked legs felt as if they were covered in ice and she shivered from head to toe. “But it’s cold,” she said, tugging on the bottom hem of her sweater.

Mr. Bennett cocked his head at her. “What did I just say?”

“Alright,” she said, lifting her sweater by the hem, “alright.” She pulled the sweater up over her head and dragged it off her arms, wadding it into a ball in her hands. The reflection in the window left her blushing. She took the few steps to her clothes hamper and dropped her sweater inside. Looking back to her father, she asked, “Happy now?”

“I’ll be happy when your behavior doesn’t keep forcing me to discipline you,” he said. “And that attitude isn’t doing you any favors. I suggest you get your butt downstairs into my office corner before you make matters worse.”

Frowning at her father, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I thought you wanted me to help Mom?”

“Do you want to spend the weekend naked?” he asked.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek before answering. “No.”

He nodded. “Your behavior is suggesting otherwise. For some reason you seem to think my instructions are negotiable, but I assure you they are not. I will give you a choice however, you can either get your butt downstairs into my office corner or you can put your bra and panties in the hamper and go fetch the paddle. Which is it going to be?”

Rachel breathed her frustration in her father’s direction. His lips began to part and she decided it was time to move. “I’m going,” she said, turning toward the door. She walked out of her room, heading for the stairs and keenly aware of her father following.

Upon entering her father’s office, Rachel turned to the left and walked directly into the open corner. She fumed at the blank walls in front of her nose while listening to her father’s footsteps going around the desk behind her. The squeak of his chair when he sat was an insult to her legs that were already growing tired of standing still. She sighed and leaned her head heavily against the joining of the walls.

Her father’s chair squeaked again and she could feel his eyes staring at her naked spine. The hackles on the back of her neck raised and her skin goose-bumped in response to the proximity of the cool walls. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt at warmth.

His voice penetrated the cold with its own chilling tone. “Stand properly,” he said.

Frowning at the wall, she raised her head straight and lifted her arms to rest her hands behind her head. Both her elbows and nose touched the walls forming a nearly perfect triangle, just as she had been taught. A flush of embarrassment warmed her for a moment, but in its aftermath the cold felt colder. Desperate for a distraction she searched the texture on the walls for funny shapes. It was a habit she had learned at a young age to entertain herself while stuck in the corner.

The phone rang and her father answered. “Hello. How’s your meeting going?”

Rachel surmised it was Miles on the other end and rejoiced that her father would not be revealing her embarrassing state to any strangers, at least for the moment. She quieted her breathing and tried to hear her brother’s voice, but the splattering rain outside filled the silence instead.

Her father’s chair squeaked in a manner she knew meant he was leaning back, away from his desk. “Oh?” he asked with a tone that oozed curiosity.

She was tempted to turn her head and try to sneak a peek at her father’s expression. She might have risked it, but the prickle between her shoulder blades assured her his eyes were still fixed on her back. She tried to pacify her curiosity with thoughts of her brief conversation with Julian. Still, it wasn’t enough to know the plan had succeeded, she wanted to see the look on her brother’s face and hear the misery in his voice.

“Well,” her father  said, “if you’d rather sacrifice the sale, I would understand. But, let’s be honest, she has definitely earned a sore backside and Mr. Harper’s request isn’t without merit.”

Rachel sighed into her corner. It was just like her father to allow Miles a way out of trouble for his girlfriend. If it had been her, there would have been no doubt about the consequences and no question as to whether or not the client would get their way. She almost banged her head against the wall in frustration before she remembered her father was still watching. He wouldn’t understand and the very act might make him suspicious. That was something she didn’t want until it was all over. She shifted her legs to make it seem her noises were related to the annoyance of standing in the corner and not the conversation she was overhearing.

Mr. Bennett’s chair squeaked with the rustling sounds of him leaning forward. “I thought I told you to stand properly,” he said.

She risked turning her head to the side.“Sorry,” she said, “my legs are tired.”

Her mother walked into the office, having overheard Rachel. “Maybe if you hadn’t started off the day running in my house they wouldn’t be, but then you wouldn’t be standing in a corner either.”

“That’s helpful,” Rachel said and turned back to the corner with a roll of her eyes.

Mrs. Bennett crossed the room to the corner in two steps. She yanked Rachel’s black panties down to her knees and slapped her bottom with the flat of her hand. The rain of spanks left Rachel yelping and lifting her legs into the corner only to find there was no escape. The reignited fire in her buttocks was enough to make tears sting in her eyes.

“You should probably go get Jennifer,” Mr. Bennett said. “We’ll talk later and go from there.” He hung up the phone and stood, turning his attention to the corner.

Mrs. Bennett laid on a final flurry of spanks and stepped back giving a clear view of Rachel’s freshly reddened buttocks. “Turn around,” she said.

Rachel turned from the corner to face her parents as slowly as she dared. She dropped her arms and tried to cover her nakedness.  Her eyes fixed on the corner of her father’s desk, avoiding their scolding gazes. Hot blood colored her cheeks pink.

Her father asked, “Is this what it takes to silence your attitude?”

“No,” Rachel said in a quiet voice.

He nodded and tapped his desktop with his fingertips. “The evidence suggests otherwise. Don’t you agree?”

Rachel recognized the trap. Disagreeing with her father would only lead to a pointless argument she would lose. Agreeing, would only give him extra justification for his methods of discipline. She would have chose silence, but she knew from the look on his face, he wouldn’t allow it.

“Yes,” she said and looked down at her bare toes, wriggling on the floor.

He walked around to the front of the desk to stand next his wife. “It seems,” he said, with deliberate slowness, “that your little brother had the right idea this morning.”

Rachel’s mouth dropped open. She looked at her father, panic quickening her breath. A cold shiver ran down her spine at the horrible thought of her smirking little brother seeing her naked. With a pleading tone dominating her voice, she said, “No.”

Her mother smiled with satisfaction shining through her eyes. Mr. Bennett pointed at the corner and said, “Then I suggest you park your nose in that corner and stand there properly until your dismissed. And I’m warning you now, if I have one more issue with you today, you’ll be spending the next three days stark naked and sporting a permanently red backside. Am I being clear enough for you?”

She nodded her head emphatically and said, “Yes.”

Unwilling to risk upsetting her father any further, she turned toward the corner and raised her hands back up to her head. Though the room was silent she knew they were standing there watching for any signs of disobedience. She allowed the patter of rain on the window to fill the silence. It occupied her thoughts, pushing aside everything else except a wistful wish for the rain to wash away the sting in her behind.

The Winter Storm, Part 4

Miles entered the conference room to the unmistakable pop of wood impacting flesh. His head snapped to the source giving him a voyeur’s view of an oak paddle hovering near the shapely posterior of a nearly naked woman. She was bent over the end of the conference table with her reddened butt exposed and jutting out into open air. Her buttocks shimmered with the hot glow of embarrassment and shame which was further accentuated by the milky white skin peeking out of the tops of her black stockings. Her naked back arched upward as she held tight to the sides of the table and stared into the empty space before her. Miles smiled, noticing the muscles in her body tightening in anticipation of the next swat. The paddle was raised.

The paddle whooshed through the air. It slapped hard against the woman’s buttocks and she gasped for breath. Her buttocks bounced back from the impact and her hips ground against the rounded edge of the table while her white knuckled fingers held her down. Fresh tears trickled from her eyes and she sniffled, laying her wet cheek against the tabletop. Her eyes glistened like fiery sapphires staring up at Miles. He blinked, but he did not look away until the outstretched hand of the man he was meeting interrupted his view.

Mr. Harper said, “Miles, glad you could make it. Julian is just finishing up with Helen and then we can get started.”

Miles shook Mr. Harper’s hand and turned just in time to watch Julian deliver another swat to Helen. Her legs kicked in the aftermath and more tears spilled from her eyes. She groaned in obvious discomfort and said, “Please sir, no more.”

Julian smiled and nodded. He raised the paddle and said, “Well now, we’re finally getting somewhere. I think five more ought to do it, what do you think Dad?”

Helen’s eyes shifted to focus on Mr. Harper. Desperation tempered by humility dominated the warble of her voice. “Please Mr. Harper, have mercy.”

Mr. Harper ignored her, favoring his son with his attention. “Whatever you think is best,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “it’s your experiment after all.”

“Five more it is then,” Julian said. He delivered each with the calculated precision of a man who enjoys his work. The swats were ear piercing and delivered at a rate that left Helen breathless and a sheen of sweat on Julian’s forehead.

In the aftermath, Helen shuddered against the table. She gulped in air until her breath resumed its normal rhythm. Her body remained tense as if she expected another swat to fall at any moment and she maintained her firm grip on the edges of the table. Miles stood in place, mesmerized by the trembling of her naked flesh and the pulsating of her shining buttocks.

Julian laid the paddle on the table next to her face where she couldn’t help but look at it. He gestured toward the far end of the table, turning his attention to his father and Miles. “Shall we get started?”

Mr. Harper moved to the far end of the table and took his seat at the head. Miles sat to his left while Julian took the chair to the right. Helen’s sobs subsided and she slowly began to get her rapid breathing under control. Miles cleared his throat and tried to focus on the subject of the meeting, but his thoughts remained with Helen.

Julian indicated Helen with a tilt of his head. “As you can see, we’ve begun instituting our new corporal punishment policy. What do you think?”

Miles took the opportunity to look back toward Helen. The paleness of her bare skin glowed in the illumination of the overhead fluorescent lights. Her disheveled blond hair was feathered on the tabletop and around her left shoulder. She remained with her head flat on its side staring out to her right where the paddle rested. Her hands still gripped the edges of the table on either side of her and the tension in her arms and shoulders revealed her acute awareness of the three men. The growing flush of pink on her face told Miles the pain of her spanking had already faded enough for her thoughts to refocus on the more embarrassing aspects of her circumstances.

“I think,” Miles said, “she’ll be doing her best to be a model employee so long as her memory of this incident remains fresh.”

Mr. Harper nodded. “Well said. Spanking alone won’t solve our problems. What we need is a comprehensive policy with extensive reinforcements, both positive and negative, as appropriate.”

Julian slapped his hand on the table and spun in his chair to face his father directly. “Exactly,” he said.  “That’s what I’m doing with Helen here. The spanking was just to get things started. By the time she goes home today she’ll be wishing she could forget this day ever happened and yet she’ll know that anything short of a company-wide bout of amnesia will make that impossible. That’s how you handle discipline.”

“I agree with you fundamentally,” Mr. Harper said, “but I’m still concerned about the disruption to the rest of the office. Right now, everyone in this office is probably thinking as much or more about Helen’s posterior than they are about their work.”

Julian sighed and leaned back in his chair. Miles leaned forward on the table and refocused himself on Mr. Harper. “I completely understand your concerns and they are legitimate, but I can assure you that once you’ve fully enacted the policy, your employees will be so much more focused on their work that the occasional disruption caused by a disciplinary action will be an insignificant drain on productivity.”

“Exactly Dad,” Julian said, slapping the table again. “The net result will be a gain not a loss.”

Mr. Harper looked down the center of his conference table at the woman laying with her torso flat against it. “Helen,” he said and she twisted her head to look at him, “would you stand up please?”

She sucked on her lower lip and inhaled deeply. Her eyes squeezed shut and she moved her arms in closer to her body. With exaggerated effort, she pushed herself upright. The three men were afforded only the briefest glimpse of her stiffened nipples before she wrapped an arm in front of her naked breasts and snaked the other lower to shield her sex from view. Her eyes reopened to stare down at the conference table while a new rush of embarrassment colored her cheeks a deep red.

“I can appreciate your embarrassment,” Mr. Harper said, “but keep your arms at your sides if you please.”

Helen’s eyes made no secret she was not in anyway pleased, but she was undoubtedly aware her dignity had already exited the room. She dropped her arms to her sides and straightened her shoulders. Her head raised to the meet the stares of the men. She pushed her naked breasts forward and widened her stance as if inviting the men’s eyes to drink upon her feminine beauty.

Mr. Harper looked from Miles to Julian. They were both staring at Helen’s naked body with slacked jaws. Mr. Harper nodded having gained the results he expected. “The two of you can’t even focus on this meeting with her in the room. How can I possibly expect the accounting department to do any work with her standing around like that?”

Miles forced himself to look at Mr. Harper. “If you think her presence will cause a problem then you can always assign her different duties for the duration. However, in my experience, after a company has settled into a disciplinary program like this, the employees grow accustomed to the sights and sounds as just a part of the normal office routine.”

Julian kept his eyes on Helen and said, “We’ll just make any of our disciplined ladies gophers for the day. That way they’ll get maximum exposure around the office and the disruption will be minimized to a few minutes here and there throughout the different departments.”

Miles looked between the two men, becoming aware of their unsettled differences. “Perhaps this meeting is premature,” he said. “I believe you have another sixty days on the trial version and if you aren’t certain about whether or not this type of disciplinary policy is right for your company, then you should take that time to explore the possibilities and their effects on your company’s operation.”

Mr. Harper appeared perplexed as he blinked at Miles. “Trial version?”

“After our first meeting,” Miles said, “my assistant sent you over a trial version of our software. I’m assuming you’re using it to administrate this ‘experiment’?”

Mr. Harper shook his head and looked to his son. “Julian?”

Julian peeled his eyes away from Helen’s naked assets and shrugged at his father. “I don’t know what’s he’s talking about. I used our lawyers to make arrangements for out test cases.”

Confused, Miles turned to look at Helen and then turned back to Julian and Mr. Harper. “I don’t understand. I thought Helen here was part of your testing the functionality of the software?”

Mr. Harper shook his head. “No, Julian wanted to test the effectiveness of corporal punishment in the office and so he selected a handful of employees to begin with. Helen has a gossipping issue and was therefore a natural choice.”

Concerned over the possible missteps the two men might have made in implementing their test, Miles glanced at Helen. “Maybe we should continue this discussion in private.”

Mr. Harper nodded agreement. Julian turned to Helen and said, “Why don’t you make a fresh pot of coffee and offer refills around the office.”

Helen’s mouth opened and closed in silence. Her chest heaved up and down in a momentary flush of panic. The warble of her voice hovered on the inaudible as she said, “Yes, sir.”

With quivering trepidation jittering through her body, she looked at the seated men. Her eyes pleaded for a reprieve, but none was forthcoming. She surrendered to her inevitable fate, taking a last deep breath before turning and walking out the open door. Only seconds later, the first exclamation of a shocked worker was heard. “My goodness, Helen, I never imagined the company assets were so far in the red.” The outer office erupted in a storm of snickers and outright laughter easily heard at the conference table. Filled with pride, Julian rose from his chair and crossed the floor to close the door.

Miles pushed aside his lingering visions of naked Helen and focused on Mr. Harper. “One of the reasons we offer a trial version of our software is because the legal issues involved in initiating a corporal punishment policy in the workplace are extensive and complicated. Our software comes with all the legal documentation and forms necessary to get started but without them, you could be leaving yourself open to a lawsuit.”

“We’re not idiots,” Julian said, leaning on the far end of the table where Helen had stood. “I had the ladies sign agreements drawn up by our lawyers.”

Miles shook his head. “I’m not questioning your intelligence or competence. The fact of the matter is these things are complicated and there’s more to it than mere consent and most lawyers lack the experience to properly advise you on corporal punishment policy. My assistant should have explained all of this to you in detail.”

Julian said, “I did my homework. For our little experiment, I kept the policy limited to just our five worst behaved ladies and I kept the rules simple. The consequences are limited to a narrow range of possibilities and if any of them don’t agree with my judgment they can appeal to my father for a second opinion. I’m absolutely certain we’re perfectly safe from anything but a frivolous lawsuit.”

Miles said, “Hopefully you are correct, but I’ve heard you refer to those involved in this experiment as ‘ladies’ three times now and that concerns me. In order to avoid a discrimination suit or worse, a sexual harassment suit, at the very least you must tie your corporal punishment policy to particular job functions in the company. If you want to be completely secure, the policy should be connected to whole departments or even company wide with very few, if any, positions in exception.”

Julian opened his mouth to respond, but Mr. Harper spoke first. “Clearly your company is more of an expert on this sort of thing. The reason we’ve had these discussions is because I’d like to take advantage of your expertise, but we never received your trial version. Perhaps you should take that up with your assistant?”

“Of course.” Miles agreed with further arguments on the tip of his tongue.

Mr. Harper pushed the conversation forward, keeping Miles sidelined. “If we’ve made some errors,” he said and looked at Julian for a brief moment before turning back to Miles, “I think we can still safely correct those mistakes with your assistance. Might I suggest you come back with the trial version on Monday and work with Julian to get it up and running for us?”

Miles nodded, accepting that something had clearly gone wrong either with his assistant’s or the Harper’s end. He disliked having to run through a client’s setup process personally, but he realized he would have to be accommodating  in order to preserve any chance of a sale. “Alright, let me just make a call to my assistant and see if I can find out what happened and then we can schedule a time.”

Mr. Harper said, “Excellent.”

Miles pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. “Jennifer,” he said when the call was answered.

Static hissed on the other end followed by a thumping sound and then she said, “Fuck!”

Mr. Harper looked bemused, overhearing the exclamation. Julian chuckled and shook his head. Miles blinked at his phone, but otherwise avoided any outward signs of his embarrassment.

“Jennifer? It’s Miles.”

The static cleared and her voice came through loud. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I’m sort of having car troubles.”

Miles frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were staying home today?”

She said, “I had some stuff to take care of—

The blare of a horn interrupted.

—and this damn storm is making it fucking impossible.”

Miles envisioned her gesturing rudely out her window at some poor, hapless driver.  “I’m meeting with the Harpers,” Miles said, hoping she would get the hint to drop the foul language before he had to try and explain why an employee at a company that sells discipline policy software would talk to her boss with such loose expletives. “And I was calling because it seems they never received their trial copy of our software.”

“Shit!” Jennifer said, followed by a triple blare of car horn.

Miles tried to remain calm despite the annoyed tension tightening the back of his neck. “Are you saying you didn’t send it?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you,” she said. “I’m in a bit of trouble here.”

“You certainly are,” Miles said.

Mr. Harper and Julian nodded in silent agreement. Miles recognized the look in their eyes. Keeping the sale had just gotten more complicated and Jennifer was making it worse with every oblivious response. If he could have faked a quick end to the conversation he would have, but the quiet in the conference room combined with Jennifer’s extra loud voice left him without options. She would just have to face the consequences.

“Miles!” Jennifer said with annoyance dominating her tone. “I need help and I’m not fucking kidding.”

“Fine,” Miles said, “but first things first, tell me who you sent that trial version to here at Harper & Son, so we can track it down.”

Jennifer hissed into the phone. “I’m about to fucking drown and all you care about is some stupid trial copy? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Miles took a deep breath and asked, “Where are you?”

“Surrounded by fucking water,” she said.

Miles breathed through his frustration. “That’s generally what happens when you go outside during a rainstorm. Why do you think I told you to stay home today?”

Jennifer growled into the phone. “Keep pissing me off and you’ll be sucking your own dick for the rest of the month.”

Mr. Harper’s eyes opened wide as he regarded Miles curiously. Nearly choking on laughter, Julian shook his head and asked, “Does your software consider that as a punishment or a reward?”

Miles covered the receiver and said, “She’s also my girlfriend.”

Mr. Harper said, “All the more reason that girl needs a bar of soap in her mouth and a long session over the knee.”

Miles nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Mr. Harper pushed off from the table and stood. “I look forward to seeing it first hand then. Shall we say,  Monday at 9 A.M.?”

Miles eyebrow raised and Mr. Harper said, “Well I’m sure you agree we are certainly victims of her behavior problems and it would only be appropriate for her discipline to be witnessed by us. Besides, you’ll be coming by to install the trial version anyway.”

Miles swallowed his objections and said, “Of course, Monday morning it is.”

Mr. Harper walked toward the door and gestured for Julian to join him on the way out.  Opening the door he turned back toward Miles. “Helen can show you out when your finished with your call.”

Miles nodded and turned his attention back to his phone after Mr. Harper and Julian exited the room. He uncovered the receiver and put the phone back to his ear. “Are you still there?”

Jennifer said, “Where the fuck do you think I’d be?”

“Just tell me where you are and I’ll be right there,” he said.

She said, “I’m stuck at the intersection of Washington and Fourth.”

“What do you mean ‘stuck’?” Miles asked.

“I ‘mean’,” she said, “Washington is a river and my car isn’t a fucking boat.”

“You drove into it?” Miles asked.

“No,” Jennifer said, “I tapped my fucking heels three times and magically appeared here. What the fuck do you think?”

Miles rolled his eyes and shook his head a the ceiling. “I’m coming, but could you please just tell me why you are out driving in the first place when I told you to stay home?”

“If you want someone to sit, stay and fetch for you, then get a fucking dog. I’m not your bitch,” she said. “As you can no doubt guess based on your oh so important meeting, I’m a little behind in my work.”

“So you thought you’d run around and try to play catch up without me finding out?” Miles asked.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said.

“Obviously not now,” he said.

“Well since you obviously moved up your meeting with Harper & Son,” she said, “I was apparently unsuccessful.”

“Yes,” Miles said. “Try and see if you can get out of your car and onto drier ground. I’ll be there just as soon as I can.”

“It’s fucking raining,” Jennifer said, “and I’m not really feeling like going for a swim.”

“Fine, stay in the car and drown,” Miles said. “I’ll be there soon enough and if by some miracle you’re still breathing, you’ll soon be wishing you weren’t because you are in for the worst spanking of your life.”

“That’s just fucking great,” she said. “Like I’m not already having the worst day ever.”

“It’s going to get worse,” Miles said. “Just wait until you hear about my new deal with the Harper & Son.” He ended the call before Jennifer could respond. He paused for a moment and then decided to call home before leaving.

“Hello,” Mr. Bennett said. “How’s your meeting going?”

Miles said, “It’s over until Monday. You aren’t going to believe what Jennifer has done.”

“Oh?” Mr. Bennett asked.