The shed smelled of sawdust and old paint. Stephanie waited just inside the door taking a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light from the single incandescent bulb mounted on the ceiling. Memories of previous visits played themselves out behind her eyes. The sawhorse stood in the center of the wood planked floor. Past it, up against the far wall, the workbench featured the familiar plastic basket where she could temporarily store her clothes without them collecting an abundance of dust and dirt. The small window above distorted the view to outside with year of collected dirt and smearing from improper cleaning.
She sidestepped past the sawhorse and stood in front of the workbench. The knots in her stomach tightened to the point of sending quivers throughout her body. Deep breaths did nothing to ease the tension and knowing exactly what to expect, even the knowledge that the pain and embarrassment would pass and fade, failed to make her task any easier.
Her fingers found the zipper on the back of her dress. She pulled it down and the dress went limp on her body, ready to fall to the floor with the simplest of moves. Her head twisted to look beyond her shoulder at the open shed door. There was no one watching, her father had returned to the business of chopping wood as if she were not there at all. Somehow his inattention served to enhance the disappointment she knew he felt. A tear spilled from her eye onto her cheek and she looked back to the wall and the window. Her dress slipped from her body and pooled on the floor at her feet.
The thin material of the dress offered little protection from the elements, but in its absence the air felt infinitely colder. Goosebumps sprouted over her pale flesh and a shiver ran down her spine causing her to wrap her arms across her chest. The dirty window offered a reflection that made her feel even more ridiculous. She breathed out and reached up behind her back, unfastening the strapless white bra covering her breasts. It fell easily away into her hands and she dropped it in the plastic basket without bothering to fold it. Her nipples, already hardened from the chill in the air, grew stiffer as the reflection in the window blushed in the embarrassment of exposure.
A noise behind Stephanie, made her jump and cover her breasts as best she could with her hands. It took a moment for realization to come, but the sound had only been the splitting of wood under the swing of her father’s axe. She shook her head at herself and the reflexive action. No matter how many times she found herself exposed for punishment in the presence of family, it still left her feeling ashamed and deeply embarrassed. Her cheeks grew redder at the mere sight of her father’s sleeve through the open shed door as he picked up the pieces of split wood on the ground outside.
Her head drooped downward. Only then did she notice her dress remained on the dirty floor and worse, her jumpiness had resulted in her standing on it. She stepped out and off of the dress. Her lips pursed as she knelt down and picked it up off the floor. She held it up in the dim light brushing dirt and splinters off the fabric with her hand. Satisfied, she folded it in neat thirds and laid it gently inside the basket.
Wearing only white panties and a pair of strappy heels, Stephanie leaned on the front edge of the workbench, staring at her face’s ghostly reflection in the window. Her mother had grossly overreacted to the towel thing. Nothing anyone could ever say would change Stephanie’s mind about it. Being punished over it should have felt oppressive and mean, but it didn’t. Partly, because her father wasn’t really punishing her over the towel but more over her attitude toward her mother and partly, because Stephanie knew she deserved punishment. Not for the towel, probably not even for her attitude, it was after all a response to her mother’s own attitude, but rather for a bad deed her parents knew nothing about and with luck, they never would.
She knelt down again, this time focused on her shoes. Her fingers found the zipper on the back of the heel and pulled it down, first on the left foot and then on the right. She stood back up and supported herself on the edge of the workbench bringing each leg up in turn to pull her shoes off and drop them in the basket. Standing barefoot on the wood floor she instantly rose up on her tiptoes to avoid the pressure of dirt and splinters against the bottom of her feet. She heard the sound of another piece of wood being split outside from the swing of her father’s axe and instantly covered her naked breasts again despite knowing he couldn’t see her any more than she could see him.
Stephanie turned her back to the door again, more for the sense of privacy it afforded than the actual existence of it. Her hands found their own way to the waistband of her panties. It was all she had left to do before bending herself over the sawhorse and waiting for her Dad to get around to spanking her bottom. She stared at her reflection and silently reminded herself that the longer she put off the inevitable the longer it would be before the spanking was over and she was dressed again. That wouldn’t have mattered on some days but with it being Thanksgiving there were guests coming and a good likelihood two of them, males no less, would be coming out to spend time with her father while the ladies prepared the evening meal. Stephanie preferred not to be naked when they arrived and even more than that, preferred her spanking to be long over as well.
Her hands trembled and she took a deep breath attempting to steady her nerves. Spanking always hurt. There would be tears and she would feel the sting long after the spanking came to an end. Throughout the entire day, she would be reminded with every step she took, every time the tight fabric of her dress rubbed against her bottom she would have to suppress a wince and every time she sat she would have to smile pretending the urge to express her discomfort in the form of a single word or whimper never existed. The only comfort came from knowing her spanking was the only punishment due for the day. At least it would be over when the last spank fell. She would not spend the remainder of her day doing mindless chores with the proof of her bad girl status nakedly displayed for all to see as poor Amanda had spent the previous day. It was a small thing to be thankful for, but Stephanie was thankful for it. She pushed her panties down her legs and stepped out of them, dropping them in the basket to wait for her return.
Stephanie looked over her shoulder once more and watched her father’s sleeve until it disappeared from sight after he finished collecting more split pieces of wood from the ground. She turned fully and walked on her tiptoes to the other side of the sawhorse. Her father would expect her naked butt to be visible from the door and she had no intention of disappointing him in that manner. She had done so once in her high school years and it had served as one of her more embarrassing moments when he had made her rise up and bend over it the right way under his watchful eye. It was much better to do it right in the first place.
She stepped up to the sawhorse and rested her hands on the top edge that would soon have her butt bulging out toward the ceiling. Her feet moved to the outside edges of the sawhorse’s feet and she bent down slowly adjusting her weight on the sawhorse until the top edge was tight against her pelvis and her hands were gripping the opposite side of the legs from where her feet rested on tiptoes. She looked behind her through the open underneath of the sawhorse and between her spread legs at the wall behind her. Three implements hung on hooks in perfect upside down view from her position. She wondered which her father would choose or if he’d use more than one of them as he had on certain past occasions when she’d been particularly difficult. The thick old yardstick was the mildest while she feared the worn and wide leather strap the most, but it was the oak paddle with five holes in the middle of it that had seen the most use.
Stephanie tried not to think about the implements too much though it was difficult to ignore their presence in plain sight unless she closed her eyes. The unfortunate side effect of turning her attention from the implements was that it left only two other focuses for her attention. Either she thought about her position, the embarrassing exposure of her butt and more to anyone who would stand in the doorway, the way her breasts hung down toward her face swaying with every breath she took, or she thought about the reason she was there. As time stretched past with only the sound of her father splitting wood to mark its passage, she thought about all three things until her whole body was flushed pink with the embarrassment of the situation.