Monday, July 18, 2011

The Jade Runner, Part 04

Kit reentered the casino, leaving Tara to her fate in the square. In time she could help her, but not until the worst was over. Kit sat her silver case on the counter at the cashier cage and handed in her slip to collect her winnings. The cashier made a slight attempt to get Kit to take the winnings in gambling chips, undoubtedly some unwritten policy discouraging employees from handing out too much cash to a customer. Kit didn’t take the bait.
“Just the cash,” she said.
The cashier nodded and then paused looking at her computer screen. Kit’s heart skipped a beat and then stopped beating all together. Her imagination placed her in the pillory outside, naked, spanked and crying like the poor woman, Tara. The cashier didn’t notice the concern creeping onto Kit’s face when looking back at her.
“Did you want the casino to sell the cargo ship and transfer the funds to your account?” The cashier asked.
Kit started breathing again. She shook her head. “No, I’ll take the ship as is. Just cash out my chips please.”
The cashier nodded. “I could do that or I could set you up with a line of credit and a complimentary suite in the hotel.”
Kit grabbed hold of the edge of the counter and leaned in toward the cage. “I just want my cash and the ship.”
The cashier shrugged, “If you insist.”
“I do,” Kit said.
“For a small fee, the casino can provide you with security for anywhere you’d like to go within the city,” the cashier said.
Kit raised her voice to be heard by other gamblers in the vicinity. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t have the cash to pay me for my winnings?”
Heads turned toward Kit and the cashier. “Of course not, I’m just doing my job ma’am,” the cashier said.
“Then quit trying to sell me your kitchen sink and pay me,” Kit said.
The cashier pulled stacks of cash from a hidden drawer beneath the counter. “Would you like to verify the funds yourself or shall I have the machine do it?”
Kit looked up at the glossy ceiling and shook her head. “Are you going to charge me to have the machine do it?”
“No, ma’am,” the cashier said, “it’s a free service provided by the casino.”
“Then I suppose the machine’s count is good enough for me,” Kit said.
She looked around the casino while the machine sorted through the individual bills counting their total value. Everyone had gone back to their gambling and were no longer interested in her drama at the cash cage, but the earlier attention drawn had been dangerous. Someone might remember later, and if LX was looking for their money, it could lead them to her. Especially if someone recalled the silver case. She should have tossed the case and replaced it with something less conspicuous as soon as she’d traded the last of the cash for chips. It hadn’t occurred to her until it was too late and that was because her plan had never included LX finding out about the theft and having someone convicted of it before she had left the casino.
With the money counted, Kit stuffed it neatly inside the case and sealed it closed. The cashier pushed out an electronic tablet onto the counter and a plastic stylus. She said, “I’ll need your signature on the top, confirming receipt of your funds and your thumbprint on the bottom to complete the transfer of the Griffinscape’s registry.”
Kit signed and pressed her thumb in the indicated box. “Can I change the ship’s name here?”
The cashier shook her head. “Sorry ma’am, you’ll have to do that with the port authority. I can call you a taxi to take you there, but I don’t think they’re open for business for another hour or so.”
Kit nodded. “That’s alright, I’ll handle it later.”
“Very good,” the cashier said and handed Kit the remote to the ship.
Kit smiled and slipped the remote into her inner jacket pocket. “Thank you.”
Outside, Tara was getting her second set of ten swats when Kit exited. Kit paused a moment at the scene realizing she’d look conspicuous if she didn’t wait to leave the area until the paddling was over. All eyes were on Tara, still claiming her innocence at the top of her lungs. Every echoing crack of the paddle, rippled inside Kit making her more and more ashamed.
Consequences aren’t just for other people, Jade’s voice whispered in Kit’s ear.
The spanking ended. Tara sobbed in place, supported only by the restraints keeping her on display. Kit turned away from the scene. Distracted by guilt, she walked away from the casino without a guiding purpose. Windowless walls lined the walkway and the overhead lights flickered on and off, blinking darkness around Kit.
A soft click echoed against the walls behind her. It was followed by the unmistakable hum of an energy pistol charging. Kit tensed to run but first threw a glance over her shoulder to look for the source of the noise. Rex stood too close to miss with his pistol aimed at the center of her back.
He cleared his throat, shrugged, and smiled. “I’ll be taking my ship back and I might as well confiscate your case full of money while I’m at it.”

Friday, July 15, 2011

The Jade Runner, Part 03

Kit left her winnings in the care of the casino while she stepped outside for some air. Her head was spinning at her incredible good fortune and the infinite possibilities for her future now that she had a ship of her own. It meant she could go anywhere she wanted and truly leave the past behind. A whole galaxy full of adventure awaited and maybe someday she’d even forget the things from which she was running away.
The bell in the square rang, dragging Kit’s attention back to the present. Everyone in the vicinity stopped to watch and people even exited the casino to watch. It was only a moment before the security doors on the right opened. Two guards stepped through the doorway dragging a woman between them. She was naked. Her face colored red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She resisted the guards and their forward movement into the square with all her strength.
The overhead speakers surrounding the square crackled to life. A dispassionate male voice spoke to the crowd;
Come gather all and witness the punishment of Tara Finch, accused and convicted of thievery this very afternoon from the honorable LX Pharmaceuticals. Tara Finch is sentenced to 24 hours in the entertainment square’s pillory just outside Gorda’s Casino. She will receive ten swats to her naked buttocks every hour for the duration of her sentence. As with all thieves, Tara Finch’s personal belongings have been turned over to the victim, LX Pharmaceuticals.
Tara’s head whipped from side to side, taking note of the onlookers while she continued to struggle against her guards. “I was framed!” she shouted. “I didn’t do it. I’m innocent.”
Kit swallowed hard watching the scene play out. The words on the speakers and Tara’s insistence of innocence opened a raw nerve in Kit’s gut. She had planned her theft carefully, certain that the blame would fall on the crew of the cargo ship and not an innocent bystander. Guilt panged Kit toward stepping forward and announcing herself as the true thief. It was one thing to be a thief, it was another to allow an innocent to take the fall. She took a deep breath and a half step forward.
Jade’s voice rose up in ears. Don’t be reckless.
Kit exhaled and blinked. Jade was right.  There would be no good done from outing herself. Tara would still suffer an unfair fate and she too would suffer the same. The money would be gone. Her hand wrapped around the jade stone on her necklace. It too would be gone. Thieves loose everything, just like gamblers. Kit stood her ground, resolved to watch Tara’s suffering as a warning to herself. She couldn’t change Tara’s sentence, but when it was over, she could help her. Kit made the silent promise to herself, to Jade, and to Tara.
The guards secured Tara in the pillory in the center of the square. Her body was bent ninety degrees at her waist. The dull metal of the pillory kept Tara’s head and hands locked in place while ankle cuffs chained to eye-bolts in the ground kept her legs in the desired position. Her naked buttocks jutted out into the open air of the square awaiting the first ten swats of her sentence. The rest of her body, equally naked, lay exposed to the curious eyes of bystanders and a group of cameras transmitted front, back and side views on Centora City’s Crime & Punishment channel.
Kit wiped a tear drop from her eye. The Punisher stepped out the same doors the guards had came from, carrying a paddle with him. He held the paddle high for all to see as he approached Tara from behind. The crowd cheered and applauded. He tapped the paddle against Tara’s buttocks. Taking a step backward, he raised the paddle high into the air. He swung the paddle down hard, taking a step forward as he did. The jarring impact rippled through Tara’s naked flesh. She cried out loud enough to drown out the reverberating crack of the paddle’s impact.
“I’m not a thief,” Tara said. Tears streamed down her face.
Nine more times the Punisher swung the paddle with full force onto Tara’s quivering buttocks. Each time she cried a little louder and insisted a little more forcefully on her innocence. The crowd did not believe her. They had heard it all before and thought they knew the system to be infallible. Innocent people don’t get accused of crimes. Kit knew better.
The Punisher left after delivering the tenth swat. The guards remained, not that they would protect Tara from the ridicule of the crowd. Kit forced herself to move forward. She had to complete her plan if she was going to help Tara. The glowing red image of Tara’s buttocks burned itself into Kit’s memory.
As she walked past Tara, bound in the pillory, Kit paused and whispered, “Be strong.”

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

The Jade Runner, Part 02

Inside the casino, Kit made her way through slot machines and hopeful gamblers to the central cash cage. She knew the risks. The cage would be monitored by closed-circuit cameras and her face would be digitally recorded in some locked security room. If anyone was looking for the stolen money in her case, the possibility existed they could track the money back to this moment and connect that digital image to her and her to the theft. It was all possible, but it remained an unlikely outcome. The chances of anyone noticing the money missing before the next day were slim and the chances of it already being discovered were nearly non-existent. And after a few hours of circulation in the casino, the original money would be next to impossible to track back to its insertion into the casino’s cash supply.
The plan was simple. Kit opened her case carefully to avoid anyone seeing its full contents. She removed a modest stack of bills and traded the cashier for a rack of casino chips. A couple hands played at a poker table, followed by another trip to the cashier to exchange another stack of bills and so on until all the money in the case was converted into casino chips. By early morning, she would have spent enough time in the casino to trade her chips in for new, untainted cash and no one would suspect a thing.
Everything went smooth until after she had traded the last of the currency. Kit settled into a poker game joined by a smooth talking man named Rex Baxter. She knew he was going to be trouble as soon as he sat at the table. A wet sheen of sweat covered his forehead and his eyes kept darting around the room as if he was expecting to be shot at any moment. He tossed chips in the pot like he had millions but his supply was dwindling.
Kit’s plan required her to stay at the table. The other players were smart enough to leave. Rex had his eyes on her chips and she had no doubt he was hungry for them. The flaw in her plan became pronounced as he forced her to choose between betting big and folding every hand. She needed to waste time, not money. There wasn’t much point in stealing money just to lose it to a stranger. Walking away was a better option.
Rex peeked at his cards and studied Kit for a moment. “You’re cute,” he said.
Some girls would have swooned. Kit frowned, irritated because cute meant he didn’t take her seriously. “You’re not,” she said and smiled. “Are you going to push your luck or fold?”
Rex didn’t blink. He pushed the majority of his chips into the pot, leaving only a pair next to his cards. “Let me offer you some advice, kid,” he said in a patronizing tone. “You got a lot of money with all those chips, you should quit while you’re ahead.”
Kit bristled at being called a kid. “Who said I’m ahead?”
Rex leaned back in his chair and laughed. “Kid, I can tell by the way you’re dressed on a good day you might have two credits to rub together, but it’s obvious enough those chips are the most money you’ve ever seen in one place.”
“Maybe that’s just what I want you to think.” Kit looked at her cards; three 10’s and a pair of 8’s. It was the best hand she’d had all night and yet the sparkle in his eyes suggested he could have better.
Jade’s voice whispered in her ear. Don’t be reckless.
Rex continued to chuckle. His eyes taunted her. She wasn’t an opponent or competition, just a kid who didn’t know when to quit. He was going to teach her a lesson in greed. Everything she had was going to be his unless she got up and walked away.
Kit counted the chips slowly. She shoved an exact match for his bet into the pot and stared into the laughing man’s eyes. “Call,” she said.
He picked up his cards. “Read ‘em and weep,” he said and dropped his cards face up on the table. Three kings and a jack and an ace.
She smiled. “Tears really aren’t my thing, but if you need a tissue I think I’ve got one in my pocket.” Kit turned her own cards over and enjoyed watching Rex’s eyes while he adjusted to the reality of losing. The dealer sorted the chips and pushed the winnings in Kit’s direction.
“Looks like I underestimated you,” Rex said, toying with his remaining two chips. “You owe me a chance to win my money back.”
Kit looked at the pair of chips in his hand. “Maybe you should quit while you still have a pair of credits to rub together.”
Rex laughed. “I deserved that. You got spunk, kid and I like spunk. Let’s play one more hand. If I win, I get my money back and we both walk away no worse than when we started.”
Kit shook her head. “And if I win? You don’t have much left to wager.”
Rex pulled out an electronic remote and hit a button. A hologram of a small ship projected above the remote in the air. “My ship, the Griffinscape. She’s a cargo vessel with plenty of passenger space and upgraded em-pulse engines. They’ll do .98 light speed in under five minutes. She’s worth double the credits I’m asking you to wager.”
Kit’s lips spread into a wide smile. The mere possibility of winning a ship of her own was worth the bet. And he was right, she wasn’t really out anything if she lost. She pushed the credits he’d lost into the pot and looked at the dealer. “Deal,” she said.
The cards dealt, they each went for two spares. Kit couldn’t believe her luck. She’d ended up with an even better hand than the previous. Rex still projected confidence though and that left her nervous. If she had something real to lose she might have walked away.
Rex gestured toward her cards. “Ladies first.”
Kit shrugged. “I’ve got a pair of queens,” she said, turning two cards over on the table and watching relief rise on Rex’s face in the form of a gritty smile, “and another pair of queens. I think that’s four of a kind.”
Rex glared at the cards face up on the table. He blinked and looked Kit in the eye, shaking his head. His own cards dropped from his hand onto the table, revealing a flush of hearts. He shoved back from the table and stood so fast, his chair tipped over backward.
The dealer said, “Excuse me sir, before you leave you’ll need to transfer ownership of the ship.”
Rex snatched up the remote from the table and punched a series of buttons. “What’s your name kid?”
“Kit Wilde.”
Rex hit another series of buttons and threw the remote back onto the table. “She’s all yours,” he said and walked away.

Monday, July 11, 2011

The Jade Runner, Part 01

Kit Wilde stood on the edge of the platform looking out over the cityscape and said her silent goodbyes. Behind her the corporate headquarters for LX Pharmaceuticals stretched from the surface far below to the sky high above. Kit glanced at her watch. The platform was deserted and would remain so for another 45 minutes. It was time.
Her eyes focused on a flicker of light from below. It was the only visible sign of a ship entering the company’s loading bay. Kit closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pushed aside her second thoughts and the knot of fear twisting in her stomach. The memory of her sister’s voice played in her ears. Don’t be reckless.
Kit turned her back on the city and walked toward the building’s entrance. Her doubts faded away. LX had left her few other choices and none for justice. “It’s not reckless,” she said, grasping the jade stone dangling from her silver necklace. “I’ve got a plan.”
The transparent door slid open and Kit walked inside. She glanced to her right at the security desk. The guard normally stationed behind the monitors was absent, getting his afternoon snack, just as she knew he would be doing. She smiled at the receptionist. Kit waved a delivery badge she brought with her and tapped the top of the silver briefcase in her hand. The woman nodded and gestured toward the elevators behind and to the right of the reception. Kit stepped into a waiting elevator, allowing herself to breathe once the doors closed and the car began accelerating downward.
A sensation of falling washed over Kit. The elevator counted the passing floors in a monotone female voice. She grabbed the silver support bar at the back of the car and tried to convince herself she was doing the right thing. If she got caught the consequences would ruin her. The Academy would never welcome her back. It didn’t matter though, because that was another life and she’d said goodbye.
Kit exited the elevator on the tenth floor. She rounded the corner and immediately entered the stairwell descending until she reached the loading bay on level one. No one noticed when she exited the stairwell. The employees were busy loading a small cargo vessel with crates of drugs. Inside the office, a transparently enclosed space on the left side of the loading bay, two men concluded their business deal with a handshake. They left the office with a silver case sitting on the desk.
She entered the office like she belonged there. Kit opened the silver case on the desk and stared at the stacks of tightly bound cash. Never before had she seen so much money all in one place. It didn’t belong to her, but it was the kind of dirty money that didn’t really belong to anyone. Lives were bought and sold with that kind of money. Kit closed the case. She exchanged her empty silver case for the one full of money.
Taking it was not going to make anything right. Leaving it would only help make more things wrong and hurt more people. It sounded rationale in her head. And maybe when she was far away from the moment she would find a way to do some good, to do something that would really matter. She left the office with the case in her hand. Her sister’s voice spoke again from memory. Consequences aren’t just for other people.
She watched the ship close its cargo doors and fly away. The loud rumble of its departure left Kit shuddering from the inside out. Kit shook her sister’s voice from her ears. “I know what I’m doing.”
The shift bell rang signalling the end of the work day for the current group of workers. They stopped whatever they were doing and headed for the elevator. Everything was going perfectly to her plan. The empty case would not be noticed for hours and when it was, the suspects would be a wide and varied group. Most likely, the blame would fall on the cargo ship’s crew. Without proof, and there would be none, the company would likely just right it off as a loss and never do business with that particular crew again. The drugs would pile up while new contacts were made and new distribution channels were opened. In the end nothing would really change, but it would be a bump in the road. She wouldn’t let it stop there either, the money was going to be good for something. It was going to be the beginning of LX’s end.
Kit slipped into the stairwell. She climbed to the third floor and joined the exiting mass of workers getting on the elevator. They all exited on the reception level. The receptionist didn’t notice her in the midst of the crowd. In the eyes of the security guard she was just part of the mass exit of off duty workers. She walked with them outside and onto the platform. The city tram arrived and its doors slid open. Kit and all the others, stepped inside. The doors closed and the tram sped away.
The next stop was at the platform for Centora City’s entertainment sector. Kit exited along with a significant number of the passengers. The casinos were the biggest draw. The flashing lights and clink of falling coins called to the tired workers like a siren’s song promising wealth and happiness. Kit knew all too well the real promise of the song; poverty and tears.
She stopped at the edge of the platform before setting foot in the sector’s main square. She could see the flashing sign for Gorda’s Casino on the far corner. The masses pushed their way through the doors, tripping over each other to get inside to the tables while visions of wealth and prosperity spun round in their heads. Kit didn’t share their visions. All she saw was a place of shattered dreams and the haunting memory of her sister stumbling through the exit with tears staining her cheeks. Jade had lost everything and then Kit had lost Jade.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Shop & Spank

The incident took place on aisle two with the cereals and other dry breakfast goods. It was late morning mid-week. The floors had been cleaned and polished only hours earlier and there was no longer any wet or slippery floor danger. There were no obstacles of any sort bar those created by customers, their shopping carts, and their shopping baskets. In short, the collision could only be blamed on the participants.
Miss Christine Spencer, age 22 and dressed in a blue floral summer dress and block heel sandals, turned onto aisle two pushing a rattling shopping cart. The cart contained only two items, a loaf of white sandwich bread and a medium sized cantaloupe. Miss Spencer’s speed exceeded any reasonable shopping velocity, evidenced by the occasional squeaking slip of her sandals losing traction on the industrial tiles. Despite her speed, Miss Spencer’s trajectory approached perfection in pursuit of her targeted favorite sugary cereal.
77 year old Mr. Joe Harper, attired in gray sweat bottoms, a sport affiliated tee and white athletic shoes, ignored the noise of the approaching cart. His attention remained fixed on a pair of competing brand cereal boxes located on a shoulder height shelf. Mr. Harper could not recall which brand he liked and which he did not though he knew for certain one of them tasted more of cardboard than oats. As a result Mr. Harper became caught by surprise and easily lost his fragile balance when Miss Spencer’s cart struck his own.
Father to Christine Spencer, Mr. Timothy Spencer, age 48 and wearing casual office attire, a light blue oxford with khaki slacks and brown loafers, arrived on the scene moments after the collision. His daughter appeared oblivious to Mr. Harper groaning on the aisle floor and she pushed Mr. Harper’s cart out of the way of her low shelf cereal, unconcerned about the cart’s proximity to Mr. Harper. Mr. Spencer scolded his daughter while she dropped her acquired cereal box into her cart and he knelt to assist Mr. Harper.
Christine Spencer offered Mr. Harper a less than sincere apology before returning to handle of her cart and attempting to proceed further down the aisle. Mr. Spencer stopped the cart with a steady hand and gave his daughter a look designed to communicate both his disappointment and embarrassment at her behavior. The look failed to impress anything upon Christine Spencer. Mr. Harper however, read the situation perfectly.
“In my day,” Mr. Harper said, “a young woman of your attitude would be properly chastised until she was as apologetic and embarrassed as her parents were for her behavior.”
Christine Spencer responded with a rebellious roll of her eyes and a shrewd shake of her head. Further, she said, “Well I am sorry you can’t take a little bump, but it’s not really my fault you’re so old and fragile is it?”
“Christine!” Mr. Spencer exclaimed. His face colored in embarrassment for himself and his daughter. “I’m so sorry for this sir, if there is anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”
Mr. Harper nodded to Mr. Spencer deciding to ignore the daughter. “There is indeed. You can take this brat out to the parking lot and give her bare buttocks a proper hiding until she’s ready to offer me a sincere apology.”
Mr. Spencer acquiesced to Mr. Harper’s demand over the loud objections of his daughter. Witnesses described the scene as temper tantrum. Christine Spencer reportedly stomped her feet, shoved her cart toward Mr. Spencer and attempted to flee the scene. Mr. Spencer moved faster than his daughter though and promptly ended her fugitive run.
Store employee Nancy Poe, age 34, described the scene;
There were three of them. Two men and a younger woman, the men had an arm each on the woman and were dragging her toward the exit. Her shoes slid on the floor and her hair gave her kind of a wild look flailing all across her face and shoulders. You could tell she was related to at least one of the men cause she kept calling him daddy. I’ve worked here over ten years and I’ve seen stuff like this before. She was going to get a whuppin’ and by the look of things it was none too soon.
Miss Christine Spencer was half dragged, half carried to the back of the Spencer’s minivan in the parking lot. The outside temperature was near 80 and on the black top it felt closer to 90. A dry wind blew in from the east keeping the humidity down despite the store’s proximity to the ocean. Seagulls circled over head looking for scraps of food on the ground.
The timing of events worked favorably for Miss Spencer. The parking lot was less than half full and there was little traffic on the nearby Pacific Coast Highway. Most of the local patrons would have been at work and it was still too early for lunch breaks, though midday was fast approaching. If Miss Spencer knew these facts, she showed no gratitude for them.
Mr. Spencer kept a firm grip on his daughter while opening the rear hatch of his light blue minivan. Mr. Harper, satisfied matters were in hand and being handled, let go of Miss Spencer and stepped back from the father and daughter, presumably to enjoy the role of spectator. Miss Spencer dialed down her resistance displaying only a pouting face and wobbling knees.
Back to the open-gate van, Mr. Spencer released his physical hold on his daughter. In the sunlight the firm lines of his face seemed like chiseled rock. He pointed into the back of the minivan. “You know the drill,” he said. “Dress off, fold it neatly, and place it inside.”
Christine Spencer sucked on her lower lip. Her eyes darted from her father to Mr. Harper, to the open parking lot and then back to her father. A hot blush colored her face and her body trembled at the prospect of having to obey her father’s command. “Please Daddy,” she said with a whimpering tone, “I’m too old for this.”
Mr. Spencer displayed his conviction to the course of action and a lack of tolerance for delays with the stare of his eyes and the inhalation of a single breath. “You’ve already earned a spanking here and one when we get home, if you’d like another before bed tonight, keep wasting time.”
Miss Spencer surrendered to her father’s will. She gathered the skirt of her summer dress in her small hands and pulled the garment off, over her head. The blush on her face brightened. She held the dress out in front of her, hugging it to her naked breasts. Like her father, she inhaled deeply and only then held the garment away to fold it. Carefully, she laid the folded dress inside the minivan and reemerged with her arms folded across her breasts. Christine faced her father, attired in pale blue panties, clear sandals, and nothing more.
Mr. Harper shook his head, appearing repulsed by the view of the mostly naked girl. “Absolutely disgusting,” he said. “A young woman your age has no business traipsing around the city without wearing a bra.”
Mr. Spencer gave no indication whether or not he agreed with Mr. Harper’s assessment of his bra-less daughter. He rested his hands on the braided leather belt around his waist and kept his eyes on Christine. “Now your panties,” he said, “and after you lay them atop your dress you can stay bent over with your hands flat on the floor of the van.”
Christine Spencer hooked her thumbs into the waistband of panties. Her lower lip remained sucked into her mouth and her eyes scanned the parking lot looking for voyeurs. She spotted a young woman, not much older than herself by appearance, loading groceries into the trunk of her sedan. The young woman smirked in Christine’s direction, taking her time with her bags and making no attempt to pretend she was not watching the scene unfold.
Mr. Spencer took a step closer to Christine. His hand flashed through the air and slapped the panty covered butt of his daughter. She kicked a leg up in the air and shot a glare of anger in her father’s direction. He slapped her butt twice more and she lowered her gaze. Mr. Harper and the voyeuristic young woman smiled at the show.
“I warned you,” Mr. Spencer said. “Now you have a bedtime spanking coming and if you keep up the way you are, there will be a spanking before breakfast tomorrow morning too.”
“Daddy!” Christine Spencer said. The name reverberated as a complaint and a protest, but she wisely avoided extrapolating on the concepts.
The shortness of Mr. Spencer’s breath was the most obvious sign of the growing embarrassment he felt as a result of daughter’s behavior. His voice took on a hiss as he spoke. “Breakfast it is,” he said. “Are you going for lunch tomorrow as well or are you going to shut your mouth and take your panties off?”
Christine Spencer kept her eyes on a downward bend. The quiver of her jaw suggested a battle raging behind her blue eyes though. A daughter of 22 has a mind and will not easily subverted even in the face of escalating negative consequences. Miss Spencer did however, keep her tongue in check and force herself to obey the difficult and embarrassing instructions of her father. She lowered her panties with haste, stepping out of them and nearly losing her balance when the material caught on the heel of her left sandal. Christine folded the panties in half and laid them atop her dress inside the minivan. Afterward, she remained bent inside with her hands resting flat on the carpet.
Mr. Spencer unbuckled his belt and pulled it free of his trousers. “A wise choice if not a little late,” he said.
Mr. Harper said, “A willful girl like that could use a spanking a week if not more.”
The nod of Mr. Spencer’s head indicated agreement, but the lack of verbal reinforcement suggested he might have been avoiding an argument with the older gentleman. He folded the belt in half. His hands press the fold tighter together until the doubled over brown belt contain only a small gap between the halves. He took position on his daughter’s left side and rested his own left hand on her naked back.
The belt made no noise until its impact against the white jutting cheeks of Christine Spencer. The clap of leather against fatty flesh echoed in the parking lot. Miss Spencer huffed hot air at the carpet in front of her face. Her legs wobbled once before returning straight and still. A small pink stripe decorated her untanned butt in the belt’s absence and Mr. Harper nodded approval.
Mr. Spencer swung the belt a second, third, fourth, and fifth time. Miss Spencer began to cry after the fourth. Salty tears ran down her blushing face and dripped onto the minivan’s carpet below. She sniffled and stubbornly held back the apology she knew would inevitably escape her lips. The sound of a car engine cutting off was followed by the sound of car door slamming closed and then the clack of hard heels walking on asphalt.
The five pink stripes across Miss Spencer’s buttocks where soon joined by five more. Christine began kicking a leg up after each stroke by the seventh. Her butt wavered left and right as she began to feel the strokes enough to yelp in their aftermath. Mr. Spencer continued the spanking undeterred. He applied another twenty before pausing to catch his breath.
“I’ll be good,” Christine said. Her sniffle accented voice assured that she meant the words, at least for the immediate future.
“Are you ready to apologize?” Mr. Spencer asked.
Christine nodded her head. It must have then occurred to her that in her position, her nodding head was not a sight easily seen by those behind her. She said, “I’m sorry Daddy.”
“I have no doubt you are,” Mr. Spencer said, “but merely saying so is not an apology.”
Christine nodded again. “I’m sorry for acting like a brat and embarrassing you in the store.”
Mr. Spencer let his belt dangle next to his leg and nodded at his daughter. “Better,” he said. “Now, I want you to stand up and face Mr. Harper here and apologize to him like you should have done in the store.”
Miss Spencer pushed herself upright. Her hands, once free of supporting her weight, immediately went to clutching her buttocks. It’s doubtful she intended to do so, but she hopped around to face Mr. Harper rather than pivoting on her heel. She seemed oblivious to her naked exposure, the bouncing of her breasts, and the rattle of an approaching shopping cart.
She struggled to look Mr. Harper in the face. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I was rude and reckless and I should have been paying more attention to what I was doing. I’m sincerely sorry for any pain or injury I may have caused.”
Mr. Harper said, “Had you apologized initially, you still would have deserved a spanking, but I think it’s fair to say it would have been a lot less embarrassing for you.”
Christine lowered her head. “Yes, sir.”
Satisfied with Miss Spencer’s more muted attitude, Mr. Harper turned his attention to Mr. Spencer. “A job well done, sir,” he said. “All is forgiven and now I really must return to my shopping.”
With the departure of Mr. Harper, Mr. Spencer returned his attention to his daughter. She continued to nurse her spanked butt and bounce up and down on her feet. He smiled thinking about how she always looked like a little girl right after a spanking. Her attitude would be much improved for a few days, not just from the parking lot spanking but from the ones yet to come at home.
Mr. Spencer said, “That’s enough dancing around. Put your panties back on, we still have shopping to do.”
Christine obediently stopped hopping in place and turned back to the minivan. She bent to reach inside, retrieving her panties and then paused. She looked back at her father, a red flush of panic washing over face and indeed her entire naked body. “Only my panties?” she asked.
Mr. Spencer nodded. “That’s all you’re going to need until we get back home and once we get there, you won’t be needing them for the next couple days. Now hurry it up or would you rather wait here in the parking lot with your bottom still bare?”
Christine Spencer decided the best answer was to grab her panties and pull them up. She didn’t dare risk the possibility that he might follow through with the suggestion and leave her embarrassingly exposed in the parking lot while he shopped. Inside the store she could hide down empty aisles or behind floor displays, she hoped.