Court ordered punishment

It had happened around four months earlier and was a big deal in the small local paper and conversations around town. Headlines such as, “Judge orders the option of corporal punishment for offenders” were fairly common for several weeks until the actual order was put into place. She remembered watching the Judge in a TV interview, in which he said with his slow Southern drawl, “Hell, we have been offering the school k**s the option of corporal punishment for decades in this county, don’t see no reason adults shouldn’t have the same option”. He went on to explain that the option of corporal punishment, for non-violent offenders, could save their legal system a ton of money, as the costs of incarceration were going up every day. He finished with, “Sometimes people just make mistakes, but this does not mean their behaviors should go unpunished. All of Y’all in this town know, sometimes a good ass whoopin is the best solution. I will not be ordering that anyone receive corporal punishment, but for the smaller crimes, I am going to make sure they have that option”.
When she had heard the news, she did not feel any particular way about it. Growing up in a rural town in Alabama, spankings were just part of life. Her parents had used the belt on her as often as required, and she had chosen a paddling over in-school suspension several times during her school career. They all hurt, often led to tears, but it was just the reality of growing up where she had. Just about every k** knew that if you broke the rules your ass could pay the price. For her, it had been at least ten years since her last spanking, which had been a paddling she received her Junior year of high school. Obviously as an adult now living on her own, having no c***dren, spanking was something that was no longer on her radar. There were mixed emotions in the community about this new concept in the judicial system, but for the most part, people were for it. She had heard her mom and dad discussing it over a family dinner at her parent’s house and her dad had summed it up this way, “I have been saying it for years. We have these k**s that are perfect little angels at home and in school, then they get out on their own and become little assholes. They are little assholes because no one is whoopin that ass anymore. I say beat their butts and do not even make it an option”.
All of this changed for her on that night, the night she made one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She had made the decision to drive home that night, after much alcohol, as there had really been no one to stop her. She was too far gone to make any reasonable decision. She had gotten way too drunk at a party with some of her high school friends, many that she had not seen for a few years. They partied like idiots and she became far too intoxicated. She ended up laying down to sleep it off, but less than an hour later, as most people had left, she had woken up and decided to go home and sleep in her own bed, as the couch she was on was not doing it for her. She simply grabbed her purse and keys and made her way to her car. Luckily, she did not make it very far. She was in the process of removing a trashcan from under her front bumper, one that she had hit at least 100 yards down the road and had been dragging. It was the sparks that had gotten her attention as she drove down the road with it wedged under her car. When the deputy in his county truck pulled up with his emergency lights on, she was relieved at first, as she could not get the trashcan out and needed his assistance. That is how drunk she was, she did not even consider that she might be in trouble. She was just a stranded motorist that required help.
That is not exactly how the rest of the night played out for her. She found herself struggling, and completely failing the field sobriety tests. She then took a preliminary breath test in which she blew into a little device. After she blew until the machine made a little click, the deputy announced, “BAC .17”. Through her slurred speech she asked what that meant. He told her it meant she was going to jail, and the cuffs went on. After a few hours in lockup at the county jail, and a very painful phone call to her dad, she found herself sleeping it off in her old bedroom at her parent’s house. The looks from her parents the next morning said it all, and for the briefest of moments she expected his belt to come off. After much lecturing, and a whole lot of “We are so disappointed in you”, she was finally driven back home by her mom. On the ride they discussed the issues that she was now facing. Her car had been impounded and would cost money to get back. She was being formally charged with DUI and would be going to court soon. Due to financial constraints, she would have to use the public defender…the list went on.
A few days later, as she met with the public defender, the enormity of the situation began to unfold. The County had been cracking down on drinking and driving and the penalties were becoming quite stiff. Being that she was more than twice the legal limit, her charges were worse than had she only been at .08-.15. The public defender had dealt with many such cases and knew what she could expect. She was facing a one-year suspension of her license, thirty days in the county lockup, alcohol education classes that she would have to pay for, and up to 1000 hours of community service. He tried to offer a little consolation in that had this been her second offense, she would get a one-year mandatory minimum for her crime and the loss of her license for up to five years. All she really could do with this information was cry. The next step in the process, was her arraignment date, just a day away.
With her parents in the courtroom, she sat nervously waiting for the Judge to come in. As she heard the words “All Rise”, her heart was about to explode. There really was not much of an arraignment hearing as the evidence was overwhelming against her. Pictures of the trashcan under her car, as well as the several broken mailboxes she had no idea she had hit. There was her field sobriety test, captured on dashcam and bodycam, in which she was never able to even take the second step down the straight line. Her BAC of .17 from the PBT, as well as her BAC of .16 from the blood draw the nurse had taken at the jail after her arrest. She was basically fucked, and she knew it. The Judge called a recess and asked to speak with her lawyer in his chambers. She had no idea what this was about, and she spoke with her parents about what she was facing. After close to twenty-minutes her lawyer and the Judge returned. The Judge announced a thirty-minute extension to the recess so she could consult with her attorney.
They left the courtroom, amongst strange looks from her parents and went down the hall to the little room designated for lawyers and clients to speak in private. The moment they sat down she asked what the hell is going on…he had a lot to explain. He told her that a not guilty plea and going to trial was silly at this point, as the evidence was overwhelming against her. If she chose to go that route and was found guilty, the Judge would throw the entire book at her. This left her the option of a guilty plea, and while that would help a little, based on what the Judge had said, he expected the sentencing to go as he had described previously. And then he began to explain option three. He explained that since this was her very first time in trouble with the law, and that she was a local girl who had not seemed to have made many mistakes in her life, that the Judge was offering the new option of corporal punishment for her. While this made her heart rate increase, she was now quite curious and wanted to know all the details. Her lawyer explained that she would be required to plead guilty but would immediately be given a suspended sentence. Assuming she did not reoffend, after one year, all charges would be expunged from her record. If she had another DUI within the next twelve months, the original sentence would be tacked on to any new charges. He stated, “Basically, if you except the corporal punishment, stay on the straight and narrow for the next twelve months, this all vanishes. For one year you will have a record, but not after”.
She told him that she obviously knew what corporal punishment was but did not know how that process worked in this situation. Her lawyer was honest in saying that they just put the systems into place to actually make this a reality, and to date, he has only known of one occasion in which it had taken place, but he had zero details as to how it played out. He said that it was about to become much more common, and he had heard of several such plea deals being made in the last two weeks alone. He apologized for not having more details and stated that he would do his best to find out. He went and spoke with the Judge’s clerk and asked if the Judge could clarify the details of what “corporal punishment” would consist of. She said she would see what she could find out. Just a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door to the room. Her lawyer answered and the clerk handed him a slip of paper, “His reply in full”, is what she said. He laid the paper on the table and they read it together:
“Court Ordered corporal punishment shall consist of a physical punishment, applied forcefully to the posterior portion of the offender’s body. The punishment will be applied in a manner intended to punish the offender for their crimes and to decrease the likelihood of them offending again”.
That was the entire message and it had been handwritten by the Judge. She looked at her lawyer, and said, “Well that is not very helpful”. He told her it is what it is, and that she had less than five minutes to decide. She asked him what she should do. He told her that it was 100% her decision, but if it were him, “I would take an ass whoopin any day to keep my driver’s license and stay out of the County lockup. You only spent three hours there, and may not remember it, but it is not pretty”. While the general thought of it was overwhelming to her, it was a bit of a blessing in disguise, being that just thirty-minutes ago, she really had no other options. She stood from the table, took a deep breath, and said “Fuck it, let’s do it”.
Five minutes later she found herself standing and pleading guilty to all charges, accepting the contingencies of the plea deal. He gave her a little lecture about staying out of trouble and the consequences for another DUI within the twelve-month time frame specified in the deal. He said his clerk would write it all up and then she would have a meeting with an officer of the court to make the arrangements for “Her Punishment”, and then the gavel struck the bench. While waiting to meet with the court officer, she had to explain it all to her parents. While the term “plea deal” had been used, the actual words “corporal punishment” were never spoken. Her lawyer went to track down the court officer while she sat on a small bench with her parents outside the courtroom. Her mom asked, “What the hell just happened”? She responded, “They offered a spanking and I took it”. Her dad quickly said, “Good. If this makes all the legal BS go away, that is great, and…well, you need your ass whupped for this. I hope they do a good job”. She just looked at him and said “Yeah, thanks dad”.
Several minutes later she and her lawyer sat in a small cubicle with the court officer and went over some paperwork. There was a bunch of legal wording, but she was basically signing a contract with the County that detailed everything that had been discussed. When they were done with all the paperwork the officer said “The Judge likes these things to be taken care of as quickly as possible. The next opening I have for a female offender to receive corporal punishment is next Tuesday, five days from now”. She looked at her lawyer and did not really know what to say. She managed a meek “Um…I guess so”. The officer typed her “appointment” into the system and handed her a packet with where to report and relevant information. She was so exhausted and overwhelmed that she did not even read it at the time. She was just thankful at the moment that in some way this was all behind her. She tucked the papers into her folder, thanked her lawyer, and walked out to meet her parents in the hall.
The next few days left her filled with anxiety. Yes, she had been spanked many times in her life, and she always seemed to have survived. She had even had moments in which her dad had been out of town and her mom had told her what she would be getting when he returned, so she knew the anxiety of waiting for a spanking. But at least with him, as bad as it could be at times, she knew what to expect. The Judge’s explanation had done nothing to prepare her for what was in store for her. The small packet she had been given started with directions to where she was to report and the time of her “appointment”. They had even been kind enough to provide a map. The instructions included gave very little information as to what would take place. The only small detail that was included that shed any light were the words, “Please allow up to three hours for your appointment and arrange a ride home”. There were also additional little tidbits:
 “Female or male offenders with long hair will have their hair high and tight in a ponytail”
 “Any jewelry or piercings on any part of the body will be removed prior to your arrival”
 “All offenders will arrive clean and well-groomed for their appointment”
 “Only County provided clothing will be allowed within the designated space”
 “A basic health examine will be performed before your appointment”
Over the longest five days of her life, she returned to this document often, somehow hoping to read something that she had not seen previously. As hard as she would try to distract herself, at least once a minute, the concept of her court ordered corporal punishment would pop into her head…how could it not? She had run dozens of scenarios through her head, but the truth was, she had no idea what was going to happen. The other thought that she could not seem to shake was why all of this was happening. Once she had gotten her car out of impound, she found the courage to go to the scene of her crime. She started at the house of the party and recreated her drive home. She saw the mailboxes that had been recently repaired or replaced. There were three of them in a row, all on the little strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street but placed a couple feet back from the curb. This would also explain that new little shimmy that her car was experiencing as she had clearly been up and down the curb a couple of times. She did not remember exactly where she had stopped to remove the trashcan, but her court documents had the address listed that she had stopped in front of. Two very scary things struck her at that moment. The first was that none of this looked familiar, at least in her memory from that night. Had she not watched the sobriety test video in court, she would have had no idea she had ever been there. The second, and even scarier thought, was the trashcan. Yes, it had been late at night, but she had literally driven more than 100 yards with something pinned under her car, before she even noticed. She could not help but imagine what aged c***d was the same size as that trash can. Since her arrest, her entire focus had been on the trouble she was going to be in and how that would affect her life. For the first time, she really considered her actions and what the results could have been. She rested her head on her steering wheel and cried for a good and long time. As scared as she was about what Tuesday would bring, for the 1st time, she began to believe she deserved all of it.
She was actually staring at her alarm clock as it went off at 6:00 AM Tuesday morning. It seemed she had been staring at it for hours. She had a couple glasses of wine the night before to try and calm her nerves, and that had allowed her maybe two hours of sleep, but she had been lying awake in bed for hours. She was still stuck with the emotions of how overwhelming what was about to happen might very well be. But along with this, she continued to think about that three-foot-tall metal trashcan, and what that could have actually been. She tried to fight her nerves with the thought that she deserved whatever happened, but that only got her so far. She turned off her alarm, knowing that her “appointment” was exactly five hours away. She managed to get a little coffee down, but that bowl of cereal just sat there full, staring at her and there was no way her stomach was going to be able to handle any food. She had previously arranged for her best friend to pick her up at 10:30 and take her to the location. She had considered having her mom do it, but she was already overwhelmed and did not need some additional parental guilt that day.
All that was left of her morning was to prepare. The details that she had been provided were limited, but she intended to do exactly as she was instructed. She took a long bath hoping to gently calm her nerves. She obviously knew what “clean” meant but was a little confused by “well-groomed”. She had considered on more than one occasion that receiving court ordered corporal punishment may indeed involve her bare bottom. She had convinced herself a dozen times that this could not be the case, but the thought always crept back up. As silly as it was, when reporting for a punishment, if there was even the slightest chance of losing her pants, she wanted everything to be up to her standards. So, she kind of treated it like a date and shaved accordingly. She shaved her legs, her armpits, and her pubic region. She actually did it twice as she intended to cover all bases in regards to being “well-groomed”. After her bath she wrapped herself in a towel and grabbed the instructions so she could just go down the list. She removed the bracelet that she always wears and had not taken off in more than a year. Then she took out her earrings, but now the hard part. She had pierced her clit when she was maybe 18 or 19. She had had it swapped out a couple of times, but always at the studio where it was put in, as it seemed to require tools to do so. She now found herself on the bathroom floor, naked with her legs spread in front of a mirror, with two pairs of needle nose plyers. It took several tries and a little manipulating, but she finally got it loose enough that she could unscrew the little ball with her fingers. She removed it, screwed the ball back into place and placed it on the counter with her earrings.
As she was brushing out her long hair, to place it “high and tight” in a ponytail, she was struck by her current situation. She was literally spending her morning preparing herself to be punished. She just shaved her whole body, twice, for her punishment. She had removed her piercing for the 1st time on her own, in order to be punished. She was brushing her hair and making it as straight as possible, to prepare to be punished. In a few hours, her best friend would be doing her a favor, by picking her up, so she could drive her to her “appointment”. No van was going to show up, a group of guards handcuffing her and tossing her in the back. She was fully responsible for every aspect of her punishment, at least until she arrived. Each stroke of the hairbrush through her hair became all the more difficult as she considered why she was doing it. While she had managed to go almost 24 hours without crying…the tears returned.
With all of her tasks complete, including her makeup being perfect, she just sat and stared at the clock, waiting for her best friend to arrive. The nerves had built to a whole new level and her hands and body could not help but tremble at times. When her friend pulled up, she did not even wait, as she had been sitting by the door with her keys and purse in hand. She opened the door, locked it behind her, and jumped in the car. Her friend was clearly at a loss for words. What do you say to a friend that you are driving to be physically punished as an adult? She tried to break the silence, but was waved off, she simply was not in a talking mood. The address provided was a small annex building between the courthouse and the jail, and it was less than fifteen minutes away. They drove in silence, neither knowing exactly what to say. As they pulled up, she just wanted to get this over with, as five days of stressing was becoming more than she could handle. In as cheerful of a voice that she could muster, almost like some part of this was normal, she said “OK, thanks Hun, I should be done by 2:00 and will give you a call”. The best her friend could come up with was, “Good luck”.
She walked into the building, to a small waiting room, with a glass window and a clerk behind it. She handed her “appointment” slip to the clerk which contained her name, case number, and the date and time of her appointment. She was informed that she was a bit early and to take a seat. She just sat there is somewhat of a daze. She watched as the clerk went through her duties like all of this was normal. She would take the occasional phone call, grabbed herself some coffee, but mostly typed away on her computer. She was snapped out her daze when the door she had come through dinged, and a young woman entered. The clearly nervous woman approached the counter and pushed the same sheet of paper that she just had, through the little window. The woman behind the glass said almost the same thing that she had said to her, “You are a little early, and we are waiting for a couple more…have a seat”. As the girl sat, they both briefly exchanged very worried looks. “Waiting for a couple more”??? She had run this scenario through her head more times than she could count, but never were there “a couple more”. She actually found a bit of comfort in all of this…she would not be the only one. She also flashed back to that day in high school that she and three friends had been caught smoking and were paddled. There was comfort in not being alone, but sitting outside the office door listening to them being paddled before her…not so comforting.
Those thoughts were quickly interrupted as the door made the sound again. This time it was a lady maybe 10 years older than her…same piece of paper, same instructions. Nervous exchange between all of the ladies, as the newest participant took a seat. At two minutes before 11:00, the door chimed once more, and this time it was a girl who looked to be all of eighteen. Her hands were visibly shaking as she pushed the slip of paper through the glass. Same results, same instructions, but this woman was unable to make eye contact with anyone and just stared at the floor once she sat down. The nervous energy in the room was palpable. Bouncing knees, shaking hands, a few tears, pit stains…she was not the only one feeling it, that is for sure. The moment was cut short when they heard a male voice on the other side of the glass, not visible, asking the clerk if everyone was there. She replied that they were. As one of the two interior doors to the lobby opened, everyone seemed to sit up a little straighter.
As the door opened a man appeared with a clipboard in his hand. He was tall and dressed in what basically seemed like the jail guard uniform, but without a badge or the typical gadget belt with handcuffs and such. He said, “When you hear your name reply ‘here’”. He called off all four names, all four replied “here”, with more than one voice shaking. And then he began:
“Ladies, you know why you are here. While additional instructions will be given as we go through this process, here is what you need to know for now. While you all elected to handle your sentence this way, and that portion was voluntary, the voluntary aspects of your punishment end at this moment. You have all signed a legal document through the courts that has brought you to this moment in time and it is binding, so there is no turning back. You will do exactly what you are told, when you are told, no questions asked. I, and I alone, make the decision as to when your sentence has been completed. If you act in any manner that is deemed as less than professional and courteous, upon completion of your punishment, you will find yourself back in front of the Judge to reevaluate the terms of your suspended sentence. There will be no talking amongst yourselves. You will not speak unless spoken to. The only words I really need to hear from you at any given time are “Yes, Sir” and “Yes, Ma’am”. After your medical check you will be given access to the restroom and provided with water. If there are any health concerns that we need to be made aware of, you will bring them up with the nurse. Grab your things, stand up, and follow me”.
There were a few shared looks between the four women, and then they stood up and followed him through the door.
They walked down a short hallway, with him leading the way. At the end of the hall there was a large, locked door and he turned into the last room before it. They entered what basically looked like a small locker room with a large, attached bench in the center of the room. He pointed to each girl and one at a time said “You, this locker. You this one. Place all personal property into the locker, purses, keys, cell phones, and anything of value. The lockers will be kept locked and safe for the duration of your visit”. He then pointed to the hooks on the walls across from the lockers, with shelves below them. “Your hook and your shelf are the ones directly across from your assigned locker. Hang your outer garments on the hooks and place your undergarments and shoes on the shelf. In the bins on the far wall there are orange crocs, find a pair that mostly fits. I will return in less than five minutes and you will be wearing only the crocs”. And then more loudly than was required, “AM I MAKING MYSELF CLEAR”? The girl to her left muttered a “Yes Sir”, which they all quickly did the same. With that said, the door closed behind him.
She had run this scenario through her head 100’s of times, but in no variation had there been other girls with her, nor had she considered full nudity. She had gently considered the idea of having her bottom bared, but that was as far as it had gone. But here she was, quickly unbuttoning her blouse as the others did the same. She was not happy about this and wished there were a means to complain or protest, but he was clear…and scared the hell out of her. It seemed he scared the hell out of all of them as you have never watched four women, involuntarily undress more quickly. I think his “I, and I alone, make the decision as to when your sentence has been completed” speech had made its impact. With a full minute to spare she found herself standing in silence, gently trying to cover her body, wearing only a pair of orange crocs. She looked around the room as the women shared quick glances, everyone clearly as embarrassed and nervous as they had ever been in their lives.
Thinking her heart rate could not increase even a single beat, it did, as the door opened. He stepped in the room, and as you would think the site of four fully naked women would somehow be cause for a reaction, there was none. Clearly this was just another day at work for him. As with the lockers, he pointed to each girl individually and assigned them a number. “You, you are number one, you are the head of the line. You, number two, line up behind her”. She was assigned number three and took her spot behind the other two girls. Number four lined up behind her. “We are entering a secure portion of the facility, so jail rules go into effect. You will clasp your hands behind your back, like you are handcuffed, and they will remain there during any travel within the facility. Unless told differently, you will maintain a six-foot distance from all staff members”. Again, with a raised voice “SO PUT YOUR DAMN HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACKS, NOW”! That was all that it took, and each girl went from some variation of trying to cover her exposed parts to having her hands behind her back. With that complete, he said “Follow me”.
He stepped outside the door they had entered and used a large set of extra-large keys to open the door next to them. The door swung open and revealed a long hallway composed of cinderblocks with no windows. They walked down the hallways under the fluorescent lights until they reached another large and secure door. Again, with his set of keys he opened the door and walked through with all of the women following. This room was smaller than the locker room, with two additional adjoining doors, with a bench affixed to the floor and a small desk in the middle. He instructed them to take a seat. They listened as he got on his radio and said, “They are ready”. Less than a minute later, one of the doors opened and a small woman, in a very traditional nurses uniform entered with a small bag. She sat at the desk and pulled out a stethoscope, a BP cuff, and a thermometer from her bag. He then handed her his clipboard and she looked through the pages briefly. Without a word she gave a brief nod, and then he said “One, you are up. Approach the desk and keep your hands behind your back until told differently”. Number one stood up and approached the desk. She verified the girl’s name and asked her if she was on any medications. She wrote the two medications that the woman listed and then stood up with the thermometer. She rubbed it across her temple and noted the reading. She then had her unclasp her hands and took her blood pressure, also writing it down. She then simply said “Good”. He then instructed number one to use the rest room and pointed to the remaining door in the room. He said in a manner meant for all of the women, “You will use the restroom, it will be the last chance you have for the next couple of hours. When you are done you will wash your hands thoroughly and will return to your spot on the bench”. With that said, number one disappeared into the restroom.
This process continued with all of the girls. One at a time they stated their name, listed any medications, and went through the brief exam. After the exam they were all allowed to use the restroom and then returned to their spot on the bench. The nurse took a few more minutes making notations to the documents on the clipboard and then announced to the guard type figure, “They are all fit for punishment”. With that being said, she excused herself and left through the door in which she had come. He followed her out the door and returned just a moment later with four bottles of water. He instructed them to drink what they needed but reminded them that they would not have access again to the restroom until all of their sentences were complete. He stated, “They are almost done setting up, take a few minutes and hydrate if you need to”. Before leaving them alone with their thoughts for a few minutes, he finished with, “Now would be the time to think about what you have done in your life that has led you to this moment in time. I want you to think long and hard about how and why you could have done things differently. We are going to help you on your path to redemption today, but ultimately, the choice is yours”. With that being said, he stepped through the door and closed it behind them.
For the first time since they undressed, they all really shared a look. It was a mixture of nervousness and horror. She watched as hands shook as water bottles were lifted for a drink. She watched as number two almost choked on her first drink and ended up coughing a little water out of her mouth. She started to murmur the words “excuse me” but quickly stopped herself. The hardest part seemed to be the extremely uncomfortable silence. Here she was naked, in a room full of other naked women, that she had never met before. They had all probably thought about how all of this would play out, but none of them seemed to have been expecting this. However any of them had imagined it, all they knew was that somewhere on the other side of that door was their fate. There was nothing they could do at this point to change any of it. They had all clearly messed up in some manner in their lives that had led them here, but now it was out of their hands. They continued to sit there naked and nervously waiting.
After what felt like several hours, but was probably closer to five minutes, the door opened, and the imposing guard entered. He was quick and to the point, “Number one, stand up, hands clasped behind your back, follow me”. She watched as the girl stood with shaky legs, put her hands behind her back, and followed him through the doorway. He reminded the remaining three that there was to be no talking and then the heavy door closed with a thud. And that was it, for quite some time. There was no clock in the room so time just kind of stood still. She was sitting on the bench with the remaining two girls, as naked as the day she was born…with the addition of the stupid orange Crocs. The room was mostly silent, with the exception of the occasional sounds of the youngest girl’s sobs.
She could recall times while still living with her parents that she had been sent to her room to wait for a spanking, and she always found that to be close to the most difficult part. There was no way to clear her head, think of something else, or distract herself in any way, all she was able to think about was the pain that was going to be applied to her bottom. This however, was ten times worse as she had no idea what was about to take place. When in trouble at home the process was generally always the same. She would sit in her room for anywhere from five to thirty minutes and her dad would finally come in, belt in hand. He would tell her to lay over the end of her bed and he would get to work with the belt over whatever she happened to be wearing. Depending on the severity of the punishment, she would then have her bottom strapped for anywhere between thirty seconds and two-minutes. She found she could keep it together for around a minute, but anything longer than that caused the tears to flow. The few paddlings at school were generally easier to handle as the school district only allowed three swats for any given punishment. While the heavy paddle swats hurt more than her dad’s belt, she was always able to survive three and never gave the VP the pleasure of seeing her cry.
As much as she had anticipated this moment for the last five days, there was no part of how she pictured it going that was becoming reality. Her worst-case scenario was that she would be spanked on her bare bottom, but now all of her clothing were at least three locked doors away. Not for a single second did she ever consider that she would be with others in the same situation, yet here she was next to two naked women, one who did not seem capable of stopping her current tears. She had no idea what she would be spanked with, how long it would last, or how hard it would be. The fact that this punishment was replacing one that included jail time, loss of her license, and months of community service…well, she did not expect that it would be gentle.
When the door opened again, it startled everyone, and they all instantly sat up a little bit straighter. To her surprise it was only the guard, and the woman who had been called away was not with him. He called for number two, which was the eighteen-year-old girl, and her sobbing became much louder. She hesitated and did not stand. He went immediately back to his angry voice and said, “You will not like the results if I have to tell you again, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” As hesitant as she was, he did not have to tell her again. She stood up, put her hands behind her back, and dragged her feet towards him. Not liking her pace, he roughly grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her through the doorway, slamming the heavy door behind them. And then there were two.
Being in a windowless room, with no clock, and under her current situation, she did her best to estimate how much time had passed since the first woman left the room. Her best guess was that it had been anywhere between twenty and forty minutes…but she really had no idea. She was told that the whole ordeal would last around three hours, and there were four of them, so she knew an hour had not passed. She found herself considering how much of the time that the first girl was in there could have been dedicated to actual spanking. A school paddling took all of about thirty seconds, and even the worst spanking experiences under her dad’s belt rarely lasted more than a couple of minutes. If it had been thirty minutes, what could have taken place in that time period? Were they being punished in the next room, or was there another long walk down a windowless hallway? Was there time spent before and after the spanking, before they retrieved the next girl? Certainly, there must have been as there was no way that anyone could take a thirty-minute spanking. Without the sounds of the sobbing girl, the room was completely silent, so she found herself listening intently for any sounds coming from the doorway, and there were none.
She was trying to focus more on how much time had passed, and as it got closer to what she estimated to be the twenty-minute mark, she found her breathing and heartrate increasing. She knew that the next time that the door opened, it would be “number three’s” turn. She found herself beginning to fight off the tears again. Not just because of what was about to take place, whatever that might consist of, but once again found herself thinking about that small trashcan. She literally could have killed someone, and as hard as this anticipation was, she once again found herself feeling very guilty for her actions. She never managed to get herself to the place of feeling brave and taking full ownership of what was about to happen, but she was coming to grips with the reality that she, and no one else, created this situation. She lifted her hands off of her bare knees and just stared at them while they shook uncontrollably. The woman next to her watched, looked at her, gave a little smile, and then raised and showed her own visibly shaking hands. At least she was not alone.
This moment was shattered by the sound of the door opening. Again, they both sat up straight as she heard the words, “Number three”. Not wanting to hear that disapproving raised voice of the guard, she hopped to her feet instantly, put her hands behind her back, and hurried to the doorway. She actually heard him gently mutter a quiet “good”. She had learned many years before…do not piss off the person in charge of your spanking. He closed the door behind them, and she found herself in yet again, another windowless room. As with the previous room, this room had two additional doors. He took his set of large keys out again and put a key in the lock of one of the doors, opened it, and instructed her to enter. They entered the space, he closed the door behind them, and then he locked it again from this side. With this final act complete…it began.
This room was also made from cinderblocks, it was a little larger than the previous one she had waited in, but it seemed like an entirely different world. The most striking feature of the room was the “bench” in the middle of the room, if you could call it such a thing. It was made of wood, was around eight feet long, but was split in the middle, with the middle raised off the floor and the ends touching the floor on both sides. It had heavy leather restraints at the floor level on both ends, and a padded vinyl cushion at the highest point. The nurse who had examined her previously stood in a corner behind a small podium like you would see in a classroom, with her notebook and a pen, and she did not even look up when they entered. The only other occupant in the room was a very fit and athletic female. She was not in uniform like the nurse and the guard, she was wearing yoga pants, a tank top, and a sports bra. At the moment she was sipping on a bottle of water.
She was instructed by the guard to remove her Crocs and climb onto the bench face down with her midsection placed on the padded cushion. While going through almost an out of body experience, she found herself going through the motions. She climbed up onto the bench, with the high point being about three feet off the ground. She laid her midsection over the padded area and let her body settle onto the wooden bench. He instructed her to slide forward a little further and to extend her arms. He walked around the bench, checking the position and then said “good”. With that said, the athletic woman stood up, and they both began the process of securing her in place. The woman went to her wrists, and he went to her ankles. She watched as the woman secured the restraints to both of her wrists as she felt him doing the same with her ankles. Once all four restraints were in place, she again watched as a metal clip was attached to one of her wrist restraints and then the rope attached to it was pulled tight until it was pulling her arm all the way straight almost to the floor. This was attached to a hook on the bench and the process was repeated with her other hand. While this was taking place, she could feel her ankles and legs being pulled tight. In less than two-minutes, she was now fully naked and completely immobile. She then heard the clicking of heavy buckles as she felt a heavy padded restraint being placed over her lower back. The guard then cinched it down, forcing her midsection harder against the pad below it.
There was a long minute in which she was simply left in this position as the guard and the woman quietly conversed in the corner by a small table. It was a strange feeling to be fully naked, bottom in the air and on display, hands and feet attached by the floor…while these people were having a “work” conversation. She glanced at the nurse who still had not even seemed to have looked up from her notebook. The guard approached and in a loud and official voice announced, “You are to receive court ordered corporal punishment for your DUI charge and destruction of property. I have been appointed by the court as the disciplinary officer to supervise your punishment”. He then looked at the athletic lady and told her that she may begin. She watched as the lady removed a cover from the table, but with her head just a couple of feet off of the floor, she could not see what was on the table…until the lady grabbed something off of it. Her heart sank as the woman pulled a large leather strap off of the table, and she had no idea what she was looking at. It was at least three feet long, five inches wide, and thicker than any belt she has ever seen. It had a round handle, and for some reason, it had three rows of holes in it that ran from the handle to the tip…the tears began to stream down her face.
The woman walked to stand on her left side, directly next to her upturned bottom. She felt the heavy piece of leather touch her bottom for the briefest of moments, she closed her eyes, and then her world changed. It was the sound that shocked her at first. Within the cinderblock walls, the loud crack reverberated through the room, and for a moment she thought a gunshot had gone off. Her auditory confusion was quickly corrected as the pain registered in her brain. Pain…pure, simple, intense, unlike anything she had ever felt before. She did not make a sound as it left her breathless. More than just breathless, she was almost disoriented, confused, and her body had no choice but to try and escape. As she found her first breath, she began to struggle to get free, and found there was no part of her body except her head that could move more than an inch…then she found her voice and out came a scream. As the first expression of pain began to leave her lips, the heavy leather strap found her bottom again. The current scream was again replaced with breathlessness and more struggling. Again, as her body managed to find air, she began to scream again. The screaming came in fits as it was mixed with what was now basically hyperventilating. Then came the third stroke, just as powerful as the first two, and her eyes flooded with tears. Through her hyperventilating and her screams, she began to beg them to stop. She had barely gotten the words out when the next stroke hit. Her begging and pleading became almost impossible after the next few strokes, as she was now crying as hard as she ever had in her life and words were no longer possible.
The pain was indescribable and not something that she thought was even really possible. With each stroke of the heavy strap, it seemed to cover her entire bottom. While her dad’s belt had stung, and the school paddle had hit with more of a thud, this was like both of them combined, and by a factor of ten. There was a three to four second pause between each stroke and they just kept coming. She suffered under blow after blow, the only sounds in the room being the gunshots and her uncontrollable crying. She had no idea how long this went on, but for at least a couple minutes, and then she heard him say “stop”. She was panting like she just sprinted two miles, completely covered in sweat, and blinded by her tears. Through her loud and emotional release, she heard him say “switch”. She watched as the woman walked past her field of vision and now stood on her right side. She could not believe what was about to happen as she felt the strap touch her bottom again. As she began to understand that she was not done, it started again…and with the same results. She was breathless, then screaming, hyperventilating, and back to uncontrollable sobbing. Her world at the moment was nothing but pain and she once again fought to get free. Stroke after stroke were delivered to her naked bottom and there was simply nothing she could do about it. At the moment she was not feeling regret for her behavior, she was not thinking about how to change her ways, she was just trying to survive…and she was not sure that she would.
This seemed to be her life now. A heavy whooshing sound through the air and then the most pain she had ever felt…over, and over, and over again. Tear filled eyes that she could not see through, her nose dripping down her mouth and chin, fighting to find where the next breath would come from, and the crying…uncontrollable, emotional, nasty crying like she had never experienced before. As with the previous round from the other side, she had no idea how long this had been going on, and then she again heard the word “stop”. The next words out of his mouth were “Check her please”. The nurse came out from behind the little podium and approached her. She checked her pulse and monitored her breathing for thirty seconds. The nurse then said, “She is fit to continue, give her one-minute to control her breathing”. She could not believe the words that she just heard, “fit to continue”. What in the hell did they mean by continue? She had just received the most intense and severe physical punishment of her life, hell of anyone’s life, and they were not done? She began to beg and plead again, but was still too breathless to find the words, so she found herself just saying “no, no, no”, which fell on very deaf ears. The nurse then said, “If she can speak, then her breathing is acceptable, you may continue”.
As she continued to plead, she watched the athletic woman walk back across her field of view and to her left side again. The guard spoke again, this time he said, “And thighs”. She felt the evil strap touch the top of her butt cheeks, briefly heard the whoosh, and it began again. This stroke landed at the very top of her bottom and brought her right back to her previous state. The next one, applied more quickly than previously, landed about an inch farther down. As she worked her way down, by the fourth stroke, the previously untouched top of her thighs felt a little bit of the stroke. The fifth stroke included about two inches of her upper thighs, and the seventh stroke, that is one she will remember for the rest of her life. It included no part of her bottom, and she felt the full weight and power of the strap as it hit fully her thighs about eight inches above her knees. The next stroke, still at the increased pace, was placed a little higher as she worked her way back up and towards her bottom cheeks again…and this process continued. Her mind began to get foggy, there was even some confusion involved. She was gently aware of the strap moving up and down and she worked the same pattern over and over again from the top of her bottom to the middle of her thighs. She had no idea how long this lasted, she was no longer in a place to keep track. She then again heard, “Stop, and switch”.
She faintly saw the blurred outline through her tears of the woman yet again switching sides. Just as before, a light tap towards the top of her bottom, and then the pattern began again from the right. The severity was as hard as it has been all along and she was still using the increased pace, but somehow it was not quite as bad, even when she got to the strokes that were fully on her thighs. She had stopped her struggling minutes ago and the hysterical crying and screaming was slowly turning into more of an uncontrollable sobbing. There was no more pleading as she was beginning to accept her fate. Her life was about pain now and nothing else, and by some magical act, her body seemed to be accepting it. She was breathing heavily now, but actually getting full breaths, no longer hyperventilating. She continued to endure as that evil strap made many more passes from her bottom to her thighs. Eventually, she heard him say stop again. The room was now completely silent with the exception of her breathing and her sobbing. She heard him ask the nurse to clean her face. She heard the nurse approach and felt a damp cloth wiping her nose, mouth, chin, and eyes. She then felt a dry cloth as the tears were further cleaned from her face.
She heard the sounds of a metal chair being pulled in front of her and she blinked her eyes several times as she tried to regain her vision. When she was able to focus, she saw him sitting close to her. He simply stared at her for a moment, and then he finally spoke, “That, young lady was the punishment for your very foolish actions that put your life and the lives of others in very real danger. The rest of your punishment is to serve as a reminder to NEVER, EVER, act in such a manner again. Do you understand me?” Without hesitation, she replied with a tearful, “Yes, Sir”. She was not even phased by the words “The rest of your punishment”, as she no longer had the energy to fight, struggle, argue, or complain. It was clear that she was not in control and nothing she had to say would have any influence on the proceedings. Her role, at this moment in her life, was to be punished and do what she was told…not that she had any choice. He turned to the athletic woman and said, “Her seat please”.
Through still tear-filled eyes, but with some of her vision back, she watched as the woman set the heavy strap on the table and picked up what could only be described as a paddle. It was not like the long wooden school paddle that she had received in the past, but more of a round, thick, and heavy wooden paddle that looked to be half a size bigger than a ping-pong paddle. She watched as the woman yet again stepped out of her field of view and she felt the paddle touch the very bottom of her left butt cheek. A moment later she heard the pop, not quite as loud as the strap, but it hit with much more of a thud. She could feel it compress the lowest part of her butt cheek and dig deep into her muscle tissue in a manner that the strap had not. Again, she let out a little shriek, but nowhere near the sounds she had made from the first stroke with the strap. To her surprise, as brutal as the swat had been, and with how sore her bottom already was, she found it to be more tolerable than the strap…or maybe she just no longer had the energy. The next swat was placed in the exact same spot as the first, the lowest part of her poor bottom cheek. This was now her new reality and it continued like this for quite some time. Swat after swat on her exposed bottom, each one on top of the last. She had no idea how long this went on, or how many she received, but at some point, she actually began to go numb. Even while the paddling was still taking place, she managed to calm down a tiny bit and to find a more normal breathing pattern. At some point towards the end of it, she stopped making any noise.
Once she managed to find a calmer place, again the words. “Stop, and switch” were spoken. As before, the woman, heavy paddle in hand, passed in front of her and she felt it placed on her lower right cheek. The first couple of dozen swats got her emotions up again a bit and she struggled for a moment. But just as with the left side, her bottom began to go numb on that side and she found herself relaxing…well as much as one can relax while having the same spot beaten over and over with a heavy wooden paddle. She was completely done and had nothing left in her. She almost laid motionless as the paddle blows continued to be applied forcefully to her poor bottom. With the pain very much beginning to settle down, she again found her way back into her head, and thought about why this was taking place. For the first time since the punishment began, she started to cry, not as a result of the unbearable pain, but as a result of her actions. The tears came back quick, and they came on hard. Almost unaware of her poor backside being beaten black and blue, she let it all go. She never even heard the word “stop” this time, she just knew that at some point the paddling had ceased. She did not care anymore if she was being spanked or not, she just continued to cry. She was lost in her head, her emotions, the regret, self-promises that she would do better…as she felt the restraints being unfastened from her wrists, ankles, and waist.
She felt her wrists being grabbed and opened her eyes to see the nurse and the guard assisting her to her feet. While still being supported her Crocs were slid towards her feet and she was told to step into them. With each of them holding a wrist and supporting her upper arm she was helped towards the door which the woman who had just punished her opened for them. She was led into a room in which a small bed was placed against one wall. They helped her lay down on her belly and she buried her head into the pillow and continued to cry. She heard the guard’s voice as he said, “Look at me”. He was kneeling next to the bed, his face inches from hers. He gently said, “It is over, you did well”. He stared intently into her eyes for several long seconds and said, “Never again, do you understand me”? She had no words, so he said it again, “Never again, do you understand me”? She blinked away a few tears, so his face was a little clearer and replied “Yes, Sir”. He said, “Good girl” and handed her some tissues. She felt as the nurse began to treat her bottom and thighs with some antiseptic. She looked as he left the room, and as the door closed heard him say, “Let’s get setup for the next one”.