A shallow, trembling breath could no more fill her lungs than calm her rapid heartbeat. Her head swam in exhilaration, in humiliation. Hot blood flushed her cheeks in the color of shame and nervous perspiration gave it a glossy sheen. She stood with her back to the wall. Her head was lowered, eyes scouring the floor for an escape. There was a reason, not that her fragile thoughts could focus on it, but it was enough to know it existed.
She longed to take a single step backward, to feel the cool, solid support of the wall pressing against her back. The gap left her feeling exposed and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled for attention. Her bare legs tingled in response to the room’s air conditioned breeze while her naked buttocks quivered in tense anticipation. She hid her sex with hands clasped together in front. It was futile and fleeting and she knew it from the start.
The muffled movements and voices from outside the room echoed in her ears. She could hear them talking, knew they were talking about her. The words were too soft to make out, but her thoughts filled in the sentiment. Bad girl. Naughty girl. Needs to be taught a lesson. Needs a spanking. There could be no doubt it was coming. Her skirt, her panties, were still there, in the other room with them. It was only a matter of when, with what, and how much.
Her solitude ended. The door creaked open. She shuddered at the sound of footsteps. He was coming, but he was not alone. Her blood flushed hotter. They would see her soon, again. Her nipples hardened, acutely aware of her partially opened blouse, the exposure of her bra encased breasts. They had seen it before, would see it again, see everything. She hated their wandering eyes more than anything, more than what she had done or the spanking soon to come.
The footsteps stopped. His eyes drank from her shame as did the eyes of his guest. He spoke with authority. “Turn around. Touch your toes and count.”
She obeyed without question. The thought to resist, to object never entered her mind. Her eyes stayed low as she moved, avoiding him and his guests except for the slightest of glances to confirm the implement of her fate. The crook handled cane dangled in his hands. Her fingers dangled near her toes. She closed her eyes and held a breath. He tapped the cane along the center of her bottom.
The cane swished through the air and cracked against the protruding flesh of her bent buttocks. Her breath exploded from her lungs. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes. Her knees bent and straightened as she wiggled her bottom against the searing mark of the cane. “One,” she said in a soft voice barely heard above the rattle of the air conditioning vent.
He laid the cane against her buttocks. She trembled at its touch. He raised it high and swung it fast. “Two,” she said, fighting her reflexes to hold herself in place. He bounced the cane off her bottom and brought it down with striking force. She cried unable to resist the singing pain in her bottom. “Three,” she said through tears.
His guest laughed and said, “She’s feeling it now.”
“As she should,” he said and swung the cane. The impact rocked her onto her toes. More tears sprung from her red eyes, but the pain was secondary to the humiliation of being watched. “Four,” she said, her voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper.
She imagined herself nursing her flaming bottom. Her hands struggled against her imagination and the reality of her situation. In the end, she stayed in place, fingers stretching toward her toes. He patted her bottom with the cane and swung it hard, rewarding her effort with another throbbing line. “Five,” she said, sniffling.
Salty tears dripped off her nose onto the carpet between her feet. The cane rippled into bulging buttocks once more and she cried out. Her bottom shook from side to side in an embarrassing, desperate display. It was a futile attempt to ease the burning throb of the cane’s aftermath. He coughed, reminding her to count. She said, “Six.”
He lowered the cane and stepped back from her bent form. “Stand up,” he ordered. Her limbs shook as she rose in compliance. He said, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, here.” She nodded.
His guest interjected himself. “Certainly that’s not all.”
Her gaze lifted momentarily to appraise the intentions in his face. She lowered her eyes before she was certain. He said, “Until the marks fade, you’re grounded.” She nodded and he continued, “Naturally, you’ll remain dressed as you are for the duration or you can wear less of course.”
She nodded. His guest nodded. He gestured toward the door. “There is a corner waiting for you in the living room. I’m sure my other guests are curious to know what happens when a young lady misbehaves in my house. Your bare backside should adequately explain, don’t you think?”
Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Hot blood, refreshed her blushing features with the glowing red of embarrassment and shame. She hesitated until he cleared his throat of impatience. The first step was the hardest, the rest came in a daze. The others gasped at first. Then there were the quiet murmurs as she took her place facing the corner. She stared at the joining of the walls and wondered how the shadowy little spot had become the bright center of the room.