Lauren shifted uncomfortably in her seat and sighed. What had she expected, really? Three weeks ago, she had finally worked up the courage to do something she had wanted to do for a long time—she had taken out an ad for a disciplinarian. It wasn’t the sort of thing one could advertise in the local newspaper, however, so she had used certain . . . alternative . . . publications.
And this was the result. Even after weeding out all the obvious rejects, all five interviews had been . . . unsettling, to say the least. Admittedly, she had intentionally worded the advertisement vaguely: Needed: Live-in Disciplinarian to Administer Punishment as Deemed Necessary. Room and Board Provided but was there really any need to assume that this employment would involve some sort of sexual relationship or degradation? Judging by her current interviewee, apparently, yes.
John had cut right to the chase, showing Lauren first the punishment implements he would use on her—fair enough, that was what she had advertised for—then the leash and collar he would expect her to wear. Then, he had suggested that she take her clothes off, since she “should get used to not wearing them, anyway.” The interview had gone downhill from there—she never really got a chance to ask any questions because he was spending all of his time trying to get her to disrobe.
It was enough to make her want to scream. She just wanted a man who would put her across his knee and spank her when necessary, not one who wanted to treat her like some sort of pet. Finally, she had had enough. She stood up and took a step towards the door. “Well, I still have one more interview, but I’m sure I’ll be in touch—“
John cleared his throat, but made no move to get up. Oh, dear God, did he really expect . . . well, if it would get him to leave sooner . . . Lauren cast her eyes downward and folded her hands in front of her. “Thank you for your time, Sir. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve made a decision.”
John got up now and walked towards the door. “That was better, although you’re still going to need a lot of work. And this,” he reached out and smacked her butt once as he walked by Lauren, “is for forgetting your place, even if only for a moment.” Lauren was so shocked that she could only gape after him as he let himself out.
Lauren sighed and walked over to her kitchen counter where the fax from the next interviewee was sitting. She read it carefully, but it was short: Interested in position. May have to discuss compensation. Is Saturday at noon good for the interview?—Donald Arden.
Lauren looked at her watch and sighed again. Saturday at noon—that meant she had almost fifteen hours before she met her last prospect.
*****
Lauren looked at herself in the mirror. It was Saturday, 11:45 am, and she wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Her long dark hair hung freely down her back and a skimpy pink tank top emphasized her small but perky breasts. A short denim skirt would draw attention to her long smooth legs—and her tight butt, of which she was particularly proud. She had applied just a slight touch of makeup around her lips and eyes.
For a second, Lauren hesitated and thought about the message she was sending with her sexy look. Then, she shook it off and shrugged. She wasn’t looking for a sexual relationship, but she was fully aware of the power of sexual attraction during contract negotiations.
The doorbell rang and Lauren looked at her watch: 11:57. He was early.
*****
Lauren couldn’t believe this. The interview had been going on for an hour, and she had spent almost the entire time talking about herself: her childhood, her ambitions in life—and, of course, her motivation behind seeking out a disciplinarian. Don just seemed to have a way of drawing everything out of her, and he seemed honestly interested in hearing what she had to say. She had felt comfortable the instant she had seen him; only a few inches taller than her 5’6”, he was stocky and well-built, with powerful-looking arms.
Lauren, talking about a recent time when she arrived so late for work that she missed an important meeting with a client, stopped mid-sentence. “You know, I’ve been talking an awful lot for the last hour, and I haven’t heard much from you. So how ‘bout you do some talking? I guess the most important thing is, what would your expectations of me be, and what would you be punishing me for?”
Don hesitated for a moment. “Well, actually, I’m glad that you talked so much. It gave me a good idea of what you’re looking for. As I understand it, your biggest concerns right now are a seeming inexplicable inability to be punctual and persistently backing out of plans with friends. So, for a failure in either of those two departments, I would spank you.” Lauren squirmed a little in her chair. It now seemed inevitable that she would be getting spanked some time soon. “For other misbehaviors, I’ll usually give you one warning so that you know what’s expected of you, but I reserve the right to spank you for the first incident if I think it’s something that you should have known better than to do. Also, I expect you to immediately report any actions you take that would warrant a spanking. If you fail to do so, your punishment will be with my belt. So, to be safe, if you’re in doubt, it’s best to tell me.”
Lauren was momentarily, and uncharacteristically, speechless. “Well, that sounds perfect. When can you start?”
“Well, there’s also the matter of compensation to discuss. I see you have two bedrooms, so room and board is great, but I’m a writer by trade and money hasn’t been great lately, so I’m also going to need $400/ month.”
Lauren stood up and extended her hand, “It’s a deal.”
*****
Lauren glanced at her watch as she ran up the stairs of her apartment building. It was 12:30. Damn! And double-damn for the damned slow elevator, too. She came out on the fifth floor huffing and puffing and ran for her apartment.
Before Don had left yesterday, she had given him the second key, but he had also told her that he expected her to be here at noon to help him move in. She slowed as she approached the door, and carefully tested the doorknob. Damn, it was unlocked; that meant he was already here. Glancing again at her watch, she opened the door and crept in; there were boxes throughout the living room and Lauren could hear Don moving around in his room.
He called out from his bedroom, “Just go stand in the corner, Lauren. I will deal with you in a little bit.”
Oh, damn. Lauren was already starting to tear up. Was this really what she wanted? And what had he said? Stand in the corner? Her back stiffened at that thought—she wasn’t a child.
Don walked out and seemed a little surprised to see her standing teary-eyed and gaping in the middle of the living room. “Lauren! The corner.” He pointed to a clear corner in the dining room. “Go stick your nose against the wall, and stay there until I’m ready to deal with you.” He closed the distance between the two of them, grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her towards the corner in question, then gave her a swat on the behind to get her moving. Since she had just come from the gym, she was only wearing a thin pair of shorts, and the swat really stung home.
Standing with her nose in the corner, Lauren could only tell where Don was from the sound of moving boxes, and her heart began to pound with anticipation. Questions started to pop into her head. Would he make her pull down her pants? Afterall, this was a first offense, and the running shorts didn’t provide much protection, anyway; she really didn’t like the idea of him seeing her in only her panties. He was only going to use his hand, right? He’d mentioned using his belt if she tried to avoid a spanking, but he had never mentioned what he would use if she cooperated. How long was he going to spank her for? She’d never been spanked before and didn’t think she could take a very long one, and, again, this was a first offense. Pretty soon, Lauren found that she was sobbing quietly and couldn’t even hear Don moving around anymore.
“Lauren, take your shorts off and come over here.”
Lauren turned around and looked pleadingly at Don who was sitting in a chair that he had placed in the middle of the living room. “Could I please leave my shorts up? I mean, this is the first time I’ve done anything wrong.”
“Yes, Lauren,” her heart surged with hope before he continued, “this is a first offense—but it’s also been less than twenty-four hours since we started this program. Anyway, you will certainly never be allowed to wear more than panties while you’re being punished. Now, I won’t say it again—take off your shorts and come over here.”
Lauren kicked off her shoes and slid her shorts off before walking over to stand in front of Don with her hands folded behind her back. Don stared at her for a moment before she cast her eyes downward. “Now, Lauren, why were you late?”
Lauren barely murmured, “I was at the gym and lost track of time, sir.” He hadn’t told her that she had to call him “sir”, but it just seemed like the right thing to do.
“That’s completely unacceptable, Lauren. Pull down your panties.”
Lauren’s head shot back up, “No, please. Let me—“
Don raised a hand and cut her off. “This is not a matter for discussion, Lauren. Pull your panties down to between your knees and half way down your thighs. Make sure they turn inside-out.” She stared at him in disbelief for a moment. “NOW, Lauren!”
Tears returning to her eyes, Lauren stared at the ground as she pulled her black cotton panties down to her knees and turned them inside out. She quickly folded her hands in front of her but put them on top of her head at Don’s command.
Again, he was silent for a moment. “Good. Now this is exactly how you should be any time I have you stand in the corner. Do you understand?”
Lauren nodded.
“Oh, no. There’ll be none of that. Answer verbally. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, I understand.”
“Now, Lauren, what’s about to happen and why?”
Her head snapped up again. He was going to make her say it, too? Don simply stared back implacably until Lauren cast her eyes down again. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Here she was, practically naked from the waist down, and he felt the need to add to her humiliation. She took a deep breath. “Sir, you’re about to spank me because I was late for helping you.”
“So, you’d agree, then, that you need to be spanked both for being late and for letting down a friend, right?”
Lauren realized the implication behind that—a spanking twice as long—and began sobbing. “Yes, s-s-sir,” she managed to choke out.
Don watched her for a moment. So far, she’d only received one swat to the behind, and she was already a mess. Well, she was in for a hell of an afternoon.
“Lauren, get over my lap.”
It was almost a relief for Lauren to get started. She placed her hands on Don’s left leg and lowered herself down so that her pubic area fell on his right leg. Oddly, despite the butterflies in her stomach and the tingling sensation in her butt, this was a fairly comfortable position with her weight spread across his lap; the only discomfort came from her face being mere inches from the rug—and the knowledge of what was about to happen.
“Lauren, this is going to be very painful for you. You may yell and you may squirm, but you may not try to get up, and there are two things you may not say: you may not swear, and you may not tell me that you can’t take any more. I am the only one who will judge when you can’t take any more. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, then, let’s start with your being late. What time was it when you finally sauntered on in, Lauren?”
Lauren squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember what time her watch had said when she opened the door. “12:34, sir. It was 12:34.”
“Well, Lauren, I think we can solve half of your problem right there—your watch is three minutes slow. It was 12:37. Let’s call it one spank per minute, shall we?” Without another word, the first spank fell—hard and towards the bottom of her cheeks. Immediately tears returned to Lauren’s eyes.
“You will. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“be. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“on time.” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“You won’t. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“use. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“ridiculous. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“excuses.” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“You will. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“not. . .”SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“lose track. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“of time.” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
After the tenth smack, Lauren was kicking her legs almost uncontrollably. After the fifteenth, she was sobbing without reserve and trying to promise that she’d never be late again. Most of it didn’t come out very well, though. Don finished with three very hard smacks to the middle of Lauren’s butt before pausing.
“Now, Lauren, that was for being late. This next set is for letting down a friend. After that, we’ll have a brief. . .mmm, discussion about your inability to follow simple commands like ‘Stand in the corner’ and ‘Take your pants off’.”
Lauren lay across Don’s lap crying and trying to listen to what he was saying. She certainly wasn’t as comfortable as she had started out. It took a moment for his words to sink in—the second spanking was going to be immediate, and there’d be more to follow after it. She craned her head around and looked at him pleadingly. “Please, sir, can’t we let that be my spanking for both? Or, at least, give me a break between the two?”
Don stared implacably back at Lauren before sighing and replying, “Well, Lauren, you’ve just made up my mind as to what your third punishment is going to be.” With that, he raised his hand and began the spanking anew. For the first few spanks, Lauren tried to figure out what that could possibly mean. After that, though, she was unable to focus on anything but the slapping that caused a constant flaring of the fire on her backside.
Lauren quickly found herself kicking her legs and sobbing again. The spanking seemed to go on forever, and Don was starting to pay attention to her upper thighs because of the kicking of her legs. After at least forty spanks, she had even given up on kicking her legs and simply lay there sobbing. It was actually over for a good two minutes before she completely realized and finished her crying.
Don patted her lightly on the bottom—but not lightly enough as it still caused her to wince—and told her to get up. She did so, and faced him, putting her hands on top of her head without even being told. “Now, Lauren, I want you to go stand in the corner again, and while you’re there, I want you to think about the fact that this punishment would be over now if you had just done as you were told.”
Lauren complied without hesitation, doing the low-panty shuffle over to the original corner. She wanted badly to rub her butt, but didn’t dare take her hands off her head. Instead, she wondered what Don had planned for her next; why didn’t she just do as she was told? Now, she was going to have to suffer through a third spanking.
But, would she even be so lucky as to get just a spanking? He had, afterall, said that he would use his belt on her under certain circumstances.
It suddenly occurred to Lauren why Don had insisted on them signing a contract yesterday. Right now, all she wanted to do was scream at him and tell him to get the hell out of her apartment—but she couldn’t, not for at least two months, and even then, the buyout they had agreed on was so expensive that she couldn’t hope to get rid of him for another two months after that. Till then, he could do this to her every day, and all she could do was trust that he would be fair.
She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of Don’s approaching footsteps. Involuntarily, she clenched her butt cheeks. Don chuckled, “Don’t worry. I would never spank you with your nose against the wall. That would be dangerous. Now, come here, Lauren.”
She turned to obey and saw what he now held: a laminated wooden paddle about as wide as his hand and two hands long. It was about half an inch thick and had ten holes drilled in it in two rows. Immediately, she started to tear up as she did the low-panty shuffle over to Don. “Please,” she sobbed, “I’ll be—“
“None of that, Lauren, unless you want this to take even longer.” She hastily shook her head. “Well, then. Since I wasn’t explicit before, I find that I can’t use my belt on you now, but make no mistake: the next time you argue about a punishment, you’ll be spending a long time on the receiving end of that belt. For now, I want you to bend over and put your hands on your knees. And Lauren,” he pointed to where her panties had slid down to just below her knees, “if you have to spread your legs a little to keep them up, you’d better do so. If your panties touch the floor, we start this all over.”
In her slightly traumatized state, the two demands at the same time were too much for her to process, so she spread her legs enough to pull the panties taut and then dropped her hands down to cover her nether regions.
“Lauren, I know I didn’t stutter.” Don moved behind her.
POP, POP, POP.
“Now, bend over and put your hands on your knees.”
Lauren bent at the waist, gasping from the three rapid-fire slaps of the paddle. With her legs slightly spread to keep her panties from falling down, she knew she was completely exposed to Don’s view. As if to confirm this thought, Don placed the smooth wood against the inside of her left thigh, slid it up until it pushed her cheeks apart, and then down the inside of her right thigh. She shuddered at the touch, knowing that the cool, laminated wood would soon be getting much warmer.
Don walked around to the front of Lauren and tucked the paddle under her chin, guiding her face up to meet his gaze. “I think it’s good that we started this way, Lauren. It lets you know my expectations—and what you can expect for failing to meet them—with no uncertainty. Do you agree?”
She gulped. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, how many strokes of the paddle do you think you deserve?”
She squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate. Pick a number too low, she was sure, and her punishment would be made worse. Pick a number too high, and she would be asking for needless pain. Those first three pops alone had hurt more than the earlier two spankings. Oh, why couldn’t she have just done what she had been told? Why did she always have to resist? Was pulling her shorts and panties down really so bad to have earned this extra punishment by resisting those acts? She had always imagined that the humiliation of being spanked would be worse than the actual physical pain. Having experienced both now, she resolved that, as bad as it was, she would be much more open to more embarrassment if it helped her avoid pain in the future.
“Lauren, if you don’t want to pick, then I will pick for you.”
Her eyes snapped open. She’d let her thoughts drift and hadn’t done any thinking on the actual question that she was supposed to be answering. “Fif—no, twenty, sir.”
Don looked up, seeming to consider the number. He shrugged. “That seems about right, Lauren.”
He walked back around to her already sore behind. Lauren heard a brief whistle—air rushing through the holes in the paddle, she realized later—before the next:
POP! She stumbled forward with a sob. “Lauren, stop moving. Bend your knees a little.” She did so, which had the effect of making her feel as though she was thrusting her butt and nether regions at Don. More humiliation.
whistle. . . POP!
“You will not. . .” POP!
“argue. . .” POP!
“during. . .” POP!
“a punishment.” POP!
“You will. . .” POP!
“do. . .” POP!
“as you’re told. . .” POP!
“or next time. . .” POP!
“this. . .” POP!
“will be. . .” POP!
“worse.” POP!
Don walked around to the front of Lauren. “Do you understand me, Lauren?”
She took a moment to choke back a sob. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
He nodded and walked back around.
whistle. . . POP!
whistle. . . POP!
whistle. . . POP!
whistle. . . POP!
whistle. . . POP!
whistle. . . POP!
whistle. . . POP!
Lauren stood in place, sobbing and legs shaking. Her panties had slid down to just above the floor. It took her a moment to realize the paddling was over.
Don stood in front of her. “Lauren, stand up. You can pull your panties up. Go get yourself cleaned up and come back to help me unpack when you’re ready.” He handed her a tissue.
She used it as she fled to her room. There, once she had stopped crying, she pulled her panties back down and looked at her butt in the mirror. It looked like a bad sunburn. She shuddered at the thought of having to sit at a desk all day tomorrow at work. Worse, she remembered, she had her class tomorrow night. She couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable the hard plastic seat in that auditorium was going to be for two-and-a-half hours.
She sighed. Well, she’d had her first spanking. She knew what she had gotten—she just wasn’t sure it was she had wanted.
Lauren took a deep breath and steeled herself. It had been three weeks since her inaugural spanking and paddling from Don. Since then, he had only spanked her twice, and both had been brief affairs on the seat of her panties. Frankly, she wasn’t getting the discipline that she wanted, but she hadn’t figured out how to tell him, yet.
Don was eating his breakfast and doing some paperwork. Lauren picked up a section of the newspaper and pretended to be reading it as she walked over to the table and—intentionally—knocked over his orange juice.
He sprung up to move the paperwork. “Dammit, Lauren! Watch what you’re doing!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Don.” Watch what I’m doing? I should be over his lap right now crying and apologizing. And I shouldn’t even be thinking about calling him by his first name.
Don’s quick reaction had saved most of the paperwork. A rush of inspiration, and Lauren decided to just speak her mind. “Don, I . . . I need you to be stricter with me.”
He looked up, a little stunned, as orange juice dripped onto the tile floor. His expression quickly turned to anger. “Ok, Lauren, if that’s what you want, pull down your shorts and panties, and go stand in the corner.”
Without another word, Lauren pulled down her shorts and panties—making sure that the latter turned inside out—and shuffled over to place her nose in the corner that Don had pointed at. Immediately, she began to feel regret. It wasn’t like she liked being spanked—on the contrary, she found it painful and humiliating—it was just that she needed to know it was a possibility. And it looked like it was a very real possibility, now.
She stood there for a good long while—to the point that her shoulders were starting to get sore from keeping her hands on top of her head. She could hear Don typing in his room. What was he doing? What was taking so long? Couldn’t he just spank her and be done with it?
She heard Don walk out of his room and tensed up. This is it, she thought. Here comes the spanking. But instead, she heard him open and shut the fridge and then head back into his room. The sight of the wall in front of her was beginning to get boring, but she didn’t dare turn to look around. One of Don’s rules was that when he told her to stand in the corner, he meant nose to the wall. If he caught her doing anything else, it would only make her punishment worse.
Finally, she heard something being printed and heard Don walk out into the living room a few moments later.
“Lauren, come here.” Lauren turned and obeyed, suddenly feeling the tumbling in her stomach and the tingling in her butt that preceded every spanking. She shuffled over to Don. He sat on an armless chair in the middle of the living room. On the coffee table next to him was a stack of papers marked with yellow highlighter. She was curious about the papers but knew better than to ask.
“Lauren, earlier this morning, you were either being careless or were intentionally acting out in order to get attention. Either behavior is unacceptable, so I’m going to spank you either way, but I want to know which it was. Did you knock over my glass on purpose or not?”
Lauren gulped. “I knocked it over on purpose, sir.”
“I see. Over my lap, Lauren.”
She lowered herself into position, feeling intense vulnerability at offering her butt to Don for punishment.
SMACK!
“The lesson I want you to learn, Lauren . . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“is that you will communicate directly with me. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“when you need an issue addressed.” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK
“Do you understand me?”
The ten smacks had been delivered hard to the bottom of both cheeks. Lauren felt her lips trembling but was proud that she hadn’t quite broken out crying, yet. “Yes, sir.” Her voice did crack, though.
“Good.” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
Her fortitude didn’t last long, however, and Lauren was soon bawling and kicking her legs.
Don paused for a second and wrapped his right leg around both of hers before continuing.
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“I don’t want to have to repeat this lesson, Lauren. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes,” [sob] “s-sir.”
“Good.” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. The final nine alternated between cheeks, leaving no part of Lauren’s bottom unmarred.
“Get up, Lauren.”
She pushed herself up and accepted and used an offered tissue before assuming the required position with her hands on top of her head.
Don picked up the papers from the coffee table next to him. “This, Lauren, is our new contract.” He held out the stack along with a pen. “I want you to initial where I’ve highlighted next to each clause and sign the bottom of each page.”
Lauren accepted the paperwork and began reading it. “I, Lauren M. Hill, hereafter referred to as, ‘the Disciplinee,’ agree to the following terms—”
“Lauren, what are you doing?”
“I’m . . . reading the contract, sir.”
Don snatched the papers out of her hand and pulled the startled woman back over his lap in one smooth motion. “That’s not what you were told to do, Lauren.”
“You are going to learn. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. Her already sore behind blazed anew.
“to do as you are told. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“not what you want.” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“You had better. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“start. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“listening. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“or you are going to spend. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“a lot of time. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“in this position. . .” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.
“Do you think you can do as you’re told, now, Lauren?”
“Y-yes,” [sob] “s-sir. I—I’m s-sorry.”
“Then get up, and sign the contract.”
Lauren pushed herself up once again and started scribbling her initials in all of the highlighted spots and signing at the bottom of each page on the new contract. When she was finished she placed the contract back on the table and straightened with her hands on top of her head. Don looked through the contract before standing, grabbing her left arm, and turning her back toward her former corner. “Good.” SMACK. The spank startled her enough to make her jump and resume crying. “Now go stand back in your corner until I’m ready to deal with you.”
She shuffled to the corner, still sobbing, and placed her nose against the wall. What had she gotten herself into?
Don looked over from the football game and stared at Lauren facing the corner. He really couldn’t believe his luck. This was exactly the situation he had been looking for for some time.
It wasn’t like there weren’t other women who would be willing to enter into this sort of relationship, who would even enjoy being disciplined. But that was the problem: every other woman he had ever met had actually got off on being treated this way, and that wasn’t what he wanted. It just wasn’t satisfying for him if they enjoyed being spanked or humiliated.
On the other hand, he also didn’t want to assault someone, didn’t want to force her unwillingly into the kind of embarrassment that he wanted to dish out. No, what he wanted was someone willing to be disciplined—someone who almost felt a need for it—but who definitely did not enjoy the actual implementation of the discipline. That was a very rare flower, indeed, and he had found her in Lauren. And to top it off, he thought as he stared at her reddened bubble butt, she was hot.
He had been able to tell on their first day that Lauren was not in that former group of girls, had not been one to get off on being dominated. At most, he thought that she might have just been curious as to what the experience would be like and then decided it wasn’t for her after that first spanking. So, he had backed off, giving her only a couple of mild spankings so as not to push her too far.
Today, though, when she had insisted that she NEEDED more from him, he had known that he had finally found what he was looking for, would finally get to experience his fantasy. And now, intentionally or not, she had given him carte blanche to establish the framework of their new relationship. It was all he could do not to call her over right now and explain to her the new rules of their household—he couldn’t wait to see her reaction—but, no, he wanted to keep her waiting in that corner for a while, keep her wondering just what that contract said.
Besides, he had a few errands that he needed to run first. He turned off the TV.
“Lauren, I’m going out for a while. Do you need to use the bathroom before I leave?”
“No, sir.” The despair in her voice told him that she had, indeed, been contemplating what their contract might say.
“Are you sure, Lauren? You’re not going to be allowed to move from the corner while I’m gone. It might be a while.”
He gave her a moment to think about it. “Well. . . yes, I’d like to go, sir.”
“Go ahead.”
She turned and shuffled to the bathroom, keeping her hands on top of her head. When she came out a few minutes later, she shuffled back to her corner, hands still on top of her head.
“Ok, Lauren, I’m heading out.”
“Sir, before you go. . .”
“Yes?”
“Can I put my hands down? My shoulders are getting really sore like this.”
Don thought about it for a moment. “You may have one alternate position, Lauren, and that is with your hands behind your back, your left hand holding your right forearm just below the elbow, and your right hand holding your left forearm just below the elbow. You can move back-and-forth between those two positions as needed. I might think of more later, but for now, it’s just those two.”
“Thank you, sir.” She shifted to the new position and sighed.
“You’re welcome, Lauren. I’ll be back in a bit.” With that, he walked out to pick up his items.
Lauren didn’t know how long it had been since Don had left, but she was certain it had been at least an hour. If so, she’d spent more time with her nose against the wall and her butt on display than doing everything else she had done today.
She shifted her arms from position one to position two, again—the sixth transition since Don had left. Neither position was painful; her shoulders just became sore after a long time in either one. What was painful was the spanking that she was sure was yet to come today. Her rear end began to tingle at the thought, and she suddenly felt more exposed.
Finally, the door opened. Lauren said nothing waiting for the command that she hoped was coming soon if only to relieve the interminable boredom. She heard Don moving around for a few minutes during which she shifted back to her having her hands on top of her head.
“Come here, Lauren.”
Lauren turned to obey and shuffled over toward Don. He had moved a bar stool into the living room near where he sat on the couch and, she saw with trepidation as she got closer, had placed the paddle and a leather strap with a wooden handle on the coffee table.
“Sit down, Lauren.” He gestured to the stool. She looked at it, confused for a moment, then leaned down to pull up her panties. “No, leave your panties where they are.”
She gulped. For a moment she had thought she was going to escape another spanking, but she supposed Don was just giving her a break after leaving her standing all day. It was awkward pulling herself up onto the stool shackled at the knees by her own panties, but she managed it and then held onto the sides of the stool for balance. The wooden stool was cool and she realized with relief that her butt wasn’t so sore from her earlier punishment.
“Lauren, I’ve done a lot of thinking this afternoon.” HE had done a lot of thinking? She had spent the day staring at a white wall. She hadn’t had anything to do BUT think. “When you told me earlier that you needed me to be more strict, I took that to mean that you wanted to yield some control over your life to someone else—namely, me. Would you say that is an accurate description of what you wanted, Lauren?”
She furrowed her brow in thought for a moment. “I guess s—Yes, it is, sir.” She suddenly felt very sure of those words.
Don nodded. “Well, I’m glad I interpreted that right. The only problem is, Lauren, that if you truly want to yield control, you can’t be the one to set the limit on how much control is yielded. If you pick and CHOOSE what aspects of your life you’ll yield to someone else, then you aren’t truly yielding control. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I. . . I think so, sir.”
“Good. Well, then, that is why I wrote our new contract without your input and that is why I had you sign it without getting a chance to read it. I made the decision on what control you’ll yield to me and, while you may find that some of it pushes your limits, I think you’ll find that it’s overall a reasonable document.
“I’ve made two photocopies of the contract, Lauren. One for you, one to hang on the fridge, and I’ll keep the original. I’m going to go over it with you now. I’m not going to hit all the details—you can read it on your own later—but we’ll go over the major points. Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir.” More than ready—she was relieved. She had been worried that she would never be allowed to read the contract.
“Okay, first, Lauren, consider yourself now under a curfew. 10:30 on weeknights and 1:00 on weekends. Come home late, and you will be spanked, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.” A CURFEW?! She was 27 years old. She hadn’t had a curfew in a decade. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. Okay, a curfew wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like she stayed out that late most nights, anyway.
“Next, Lauren, you are a spendthrift. I don’t think there’s been a week since I’ve been here that you haven’t come home with a new pair of shoes and a matching handbag. I’m going to help you control your spending. From now on, you will turn your paychecks over to me. I will give you $400 per month from that and cover the rent, utilities, and groceries from the rest. I’ll also start a savings account from which you’ll be allowed to borrow—but at a steep interest rate and with a, mmm, required down payment that will make you spend your money more carefully after that.” Lauren found her eyes bulging before Don was halfway through his description, but she bit her tongue. An allowance? From her own money, to boot? Well, if she couldn’t stay out late at night, she wouldn’t really be needing the money, anyway, she thought ruefully.
“And since I will be handling the apartment finances, you are going to start contributing in other ways. You will keep this apartment clean, Lauren. You’ll probably want to plan on cleaning at least every Friday because I’m going to be inspecting it every Saturday morning, and if it doesn’t meet my standards, you are going to find yourself over my knee.” Great. She was going to be paying him to be his maid. “You will also make and serve breakfast every day at 7:00 in the morning and, on nights when you don’t have your class, you will serve dinner at 7:00.” Scratch that—his maid and his cook.
“And that brings us to your education, Lauren. What degree are you pursuing again?”
“A Masters in Finance.” She had dropped the “sir” intentionally. She wasn’t too happy about these new requirements. Although, she supposed, that played back into what Don had been saying earlier. If she wanted to yield control, she couldn’t control what control was yielded. Or something like that.
“Yes, well, I have to say I don’t really approve of you taking those classes. You’re filling a seat a man could be using.” Her jaw dropped. She certainly hadn’t expected THAT from Don. “But, all the same, you’re there, and while you’re there, you will perform well. Any assignment that earns a grade of less than a B+ or an 88% will earn you a hard spanking. Any class in which you earn anything less than an overall A will earn you the strap.” Now Don looked distracted for a moment. “By the way, when we’re done here, I want you to hang the paddle and strap up in your room. Somewhere where you can see them when you’re lying in bed. From now on, you will bring them to me when you’re going to be punished with them.” She shuddered at that and decided that maybe she’d throw the “sir” back in to keep Don in a good mood; somehow, the idea of bringing the implements of her punishment just added to the humiliation.
“Next, your pussy. First, Lauren, you will always refer to it as your ‘pussy’. No other title is acceptable.” She cringed at that. She hated that word. “Second, you will keep your pussy neatly trimmed at all times. I don’t want to have to feel a lot of hair on my lap when I’m spanking you. You will shave everything except for a trapezoid no longer than the length of your index finger, no wider at the top than your middle three fingers, and no wider at the bottom than your middle finger. That hair will be kept between one-quarter and three-eighths of an inch long. You will not, under any circumstances, shave it completely. I will inspect you at any time to make sure you’re in compliance, Lauren, and if you are not, I will whip your pussy with a riding crop. Because of the severity of the punishment, that is the only one I will allow you to appeal. . . ”
Her jaw dropped and she stopped listening. Whip. . . whip her? She made an immediate vow to herself that if she did nothing else, she would keep her pubic hair trimmed the way Don had just described. Then, she shifted uncomfortably as the full implications of what Don was saying sunk in. She had signed a contract earlier today saying that she would keep her pubic area trimmed to his precise specifications or face having it whipped. It certainly was not currently meeting those standards. The fact that she had not been allowed to read the contract—and that she had spent the rest of the day with her nose pressed firmly against a wall—might not be a mitigating factor in Don’s eyes.
“And the final clause,” Don’s voice brought her back to the present. “You will address every man—defined as any male over the age of eighteen—as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr.’ followed by his last name. That’s whether or not I’m around, and I expect you to report any failure and accept a severe punishment.”
“But. . . but, sir, there are men who work for me. I can’t—”
Don cut her off with a raised hand. “I didn’t ask you if it would be difficult. I told you to do it. If you think that your job will make this requirement impossible, maybe the job isn’t appropriate for you.”
“No, sir. I’ll. . . I’ll be able to do it.” She had another thought, something that might be able to distract Don from her poor grooming habits and the potential of a whipping. She cast her eyes downward. “Sir, I feel like. . . ”
“Yes?”
“Well, if it’s wrong for me to not address men as ‘sir’ or with a ‘Mr.’, now, then it’s been wrong all the times I’ve done it in the past.”
“Yes.”
“Sir, could you give me just one long punishment to make up for all of those times?” She was sure her butt could take a lot more punishment than her nether regions.
Don leaned back and smiled, now. “Well, Lauren, I applaud your maturity in making that request. As a matter of fact, I am going to give you one long punishment for your past offenses.” Lauren felt her heart begin to pound and her stomach to flip. “But not right now. No, I’m going to do it tomorrow morning; I want to give you the night to think about it.
“Tomorrow, Lauren, I am going to give you the longest, hardest spanking I have ever given you, designed to make sure you understand your place in relation to men. Do you understand, Lauren?”
She was already crying a little. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Then at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, I want laid out on this table your strap, your paddle, and a one-thousand word, hand-written letter explaining why your past behavior was wrong and apologizing for it. And I want you, facing that wall, prepared for your spanking.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You may go to your room now to get started on that letter.”
“Thank you, sir.” She got up to go.
“And, Lauren?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m giving you a pass on your pussy, today, but it better be properly trimmed tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Half an hour later, Lauren was still struggling with the apology letter and decided to take a break to take care of her grooming issue. She quickly realized that a razor was not going to be sufficient to the task. After a few minutes of looking through the phonebook and a quick phone call, she walked out to find Don watching TV in the living room.
“Sir, may I leave for a little while?”
“Why?”
“I have an appointment to get waxed, sir.”
Don looked at her with a grin. “Waxed, Lauren? What do you mean?”
“My. . . my pussy, sir. I’m going to get it waxed so the hair is in the shape you described.”
“Very industrious, Lauren. How’s the letter coming along?”
“I’m still working on it, sir, but it will be done before tomorrow.”
“Okay, as long as it is. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The waiting room at the day spa was almost as boring for Lauren as standing with her nose against the wall. At least the magazines are newer, she joked to herself. She didn’t realize that she had spoken out loud until the woman across from her looked up from her own 6-month old “Cosmo”.
Lauren smiled weakly at the woman and looked away. She had always associated the procedure she was there for with strippers and porn stars and she had to keep reminding herself that the rest of the women in the waiting room would just assume she was there for a facial or a pedicure, just like them.
“Lauren?”
She looked up to see a white man with a receding hairline leaning through the doorway to the main area. They exchanged smiles. “I’m Jim. If you’ll just follow me. . .”
She grabbed her purse and followed him musing that, technically, she had no choice. She had read the whole section in her contract from which the “sir” requirement originated and discovered that the requirements were a little more extensive than that. First, she was to “courteously discourage” men from calling her “ma’am” or anything along those lines. Second, she had to honestly answer any question posed to her. And finally, she had to honor any non-sexual requests. There’d even been a helpful little graphic to give the order of precedence: Commands from Donà Requests from Donà Commands from other menà Requests from other men.
She followed Jim into a room that reminded her of a doctor’s office, complete with a raised table with the sliding paper sheet. “Okay, Lauren, if you can just take off your pants and panties and hop up on the table, we’ll get started.”
Lauren hesitated and then decided that “honoring requests” didn’t mean “unquestionably”. “Um, isn’t there. . . won’t a woman be doing this? Sir.”
Jim shrugged. “You asked us to squeeze you in, and all the women are booked at the moment. If you’d like to come back the day after tomorrow, though. . .”
Dismayed, she shook her head. “No, sir.” She started to unbutton her jeans, then realized Jim was just sort of . . . staring . . . at her. She turned around and then shook her head at how silly she was being. It wasn’t like he wasn’t about to get a good look, anyway.
Lauren kicked her shoes off and pulled her jeans down. She hesitated, steeled herself, and pulled her panties down, too, then folded the jeans and panties up and put them on a chair, turned, and hopped up on the table, folding her hands in her lap.
Jim smiled appreciatively. “Now, if you could just lie back,” she did so, “and put your feet up in these stirrups . . .” He unfolded a pair of stirrups from the table. She gulped, then did as she was told. In this position, she could definitely feel that there was a draft in the room, and it seemed to be blowing right into her exposed self.
Lauren fixed her gaze on the ceiling, trying to do anything to keep from reminding herself that, naked from the waist down, she was posed lewdly in front of this man she had just met. She felt a firm grasp on her right ankle and then a strap sliding over it. She looked down in alarm. Jim grinned at her. “Just buckling you into the stirrups so that you don’t accidentally kick me during the waxing.” He repeated the process with her left ankle.
With that, he opened the plastic wrap on a spatula-looking tool and stepped between her legs. Lauren closed her eyes and tried to pretend she wasn’t completely exposed to his gaze; pretending didn’t work. A moment later, Jim gave a wordless grunt. Lauren opened her eyes.
“Sorry,” he said. He gestured toward some plugged-in electrical device that he was holding. “This warmer is supposed to get the wax warm enough to soften it, but not so warm that it burns you. This one’s not working though. I’ll be right back.”
He turned and left before Lauren could ask him to release her from the stirrups. She lay there, legs spread wide, for what seemed like hours but must have only been a minute or two. She half expected a crowd of people to come through the door at any moment to make her day perfect.
Finally, Jim returned, whistling and apparently with a working wax warmer. “Alright, then.” He stepped between her legs again. A moment later, Lauren felt the warm wax being spread along a segment of her pubic area; it was almost relaxing.
Then, Jim pressed a piece of what looked like parchment paper into the hardening wax and, a moment later, yanked it out. Lauren yelled in surprise and pain. She realized now just how necessary the ankle restraints were—her involuntary response had been to try to close her legs which would have earned Jim a hard knee to the face. She was sure she had felt every single hair individually torn out. Well, at least it was over now, she thought.
“Ok,” Jim said. “Another five or six of those and we’ll be done on this side.” Lauren’s eyes popped wide. Five or six more?!? And what did he mean by “this side”?
The second wax application provoked the same responses, and after the third, Lauren could feel tears welling in her eyes. Jim must have noticed, too. “Would you like to take a short break?”
She nodded, clenching her eyes but not stopping the tears. “Yes, please, sir.”
“Ok, I can give you a minute or two.” He leaned back against the counter and she realized that her “break” wasn’t actually going to involve being released from the stirrups or not having him stare at her exposed vulva. She sighed and just tried to focus on the fact that at least she wasn’t currently having pubic hair ripped out by the follicle. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before. This your first time?”
Really? She was naked from the waist down, legs spread wide and restrained, and he thought this was a normal time for casual conversation? She looked down at him and then wished she hadn’t. He was clearly enjoying the view, staring at her half-trimmed private area, and that only added to the humiliation that she was feeling. But she had to answer. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s a pretty specific request you’re asking for. Any reason?”
She closed her eyes as though that could shut out the room and considered telling him that was just the way she liked it. But, no, she had to answer honestly. “Somebody asked me to, sir, and I agreed.” Okay, that might have been a white lie, but it was close enough to the truth.
“Heh. Lucky guy, I guess. Okay, break time’s over.” He stepped between her legs and started slathering on the wax again. The warmth was less enjoyable now that she knew what followed. . .
RRRIIIP! “AUGGH!” Lauren cried out. That one had taken her by surprise.
RRRIIIP! She was crying freely, now. The break hadn’t been long enough to reset the tears.
RRRIIIP! Finally, it was over. Lauren fought back sobs as Jim unstrapped her ankles.
“Okay, now, I just need you to roll over, tuck your knees up under your stomach, and reach back and spread your cheeks.”
The words hung in the air for a moment while Lauren hesitated. Maybe he wasn’t serious? But, no, she knew he was. She considered refusing, considered telling him she was happy with the work he’d done so far and that was all she needed. But, again, she knew she couldn’t do that. First, a man had told her to do it, so she had to do it. Second—and more importantly, in her mind—she’d already done this much to avoid a punishment from Don; all that pain and embarrassment would be for nothing if she didn’t let Jim finish the job and Don ended up punishing her anyway.
So, she slowly turned over, slid her knees up under her torso and—leaning forward onto her forehead—reached back to spread her cheeks.
Jim gave out a low whistle. “I didn’t notice this before but have you . . . been spanked recently?”
Dammit! She still had marks from her earlier spanking! Lauren felt tears—oh-so-familiar recently—welling up. It wasn’t enough that she, a grown woman, had to get spanked. It wasn’t enough that she had to expose herself in front of this strange man. Now she had to discuss her spankings while posed so lewdly?
She took a breath and composed herself. “Yes, sir.” And I’m going to get another spanking tomorrow, so can we please just get this done so I can have SOME time to myself today, she added in her head.
“Wow. Well, now I’m curious. What was that about?”
“I . . . I spilled juice on some paperwork of his. But it’s more complicated than that. Can we just continue, sir?”
“Sure thing. It’s just not something I see a lot, that’s all.” The last part almost brought the tears back for Lauren.
She heard him stepping up behind her. “Now, I should just warn you that . . . damn, I’m out of wax. Just wait right there, please. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait! Can’t I—” but the sound of the door closing cut Lauren off before she could ask to get off the table. She decided that “wait right there” didn’t mean “freeze in position,” though, and released her cheeks. A minute or two later, she felt a sudden increase in the draft and turned her head. Goddammit! The door was open; the latch must not have caught!
She couldn’t reach it from where she was, but if anyone walked by, she’d be clearly visible from the hallway. Was it worth a strapping from Don if she had to report to him that she’d disobeyed a man in order to avoid further humiliation? She was still contemplating that question when one of the spa workers walked by leading . . . oh God, Jason Trimble—her good friend Lana’s younger brother.
He did a double-take and stopped dead in his tracks. Lauren turned her head and buried her face in her forearms, praying that Jason hadn’t recognized her.
“Naughty, naughty, Lauren,” she heard the door shut just after Jim’s words. Oh, PLEASE, don’t let Jason have heard my name, she thought. “I thought I told you to stay just as you were.” He patted her butt. “Now spread those cheeks for me.” Jim, apparently, had decided that her admission of being spanked had allowed him to take even more liberties.
Lauren complied with a barely murmured, “Sorry, sir.”
“Now, as I was saying, I should warn you that most of our customers report that this part hurts a lot more. It should only take three or four this time, though.”
She gulped and noticed her breathing rate increasing. Hurt more? She hadn’t thought that was possible. Already, Jim was spreading the warmed wax. Instead of the previous soothing feeling, though, this time it felt . . . well, gross. He was pressing the paper on it, now. Oh, God, here it came . . .
RRRIIIP! “Aaaah!” Jim hadn’t exaggerated. Lauren released her cheeks as she clenched her fists.
“Hey!” Jim smacked her butt hard. “Keep your cheeks spread. If the wax hardens on this spreader because I’m waiting for you, you’re gonna stretch this way out, and I’m gonna have to charge you for an extra session.”
Lauren murmured another respectful apology and pulled her cheeks apart again, resolving to control her reaction.
Jim started spreading the wax again, pressed the paper, and . . .
RRRIIIP! “Aaaah!” No preparation could keep her from yelling out, but at least she managed to keep her hands in place.
“Hmm. One more will do it, I think.” He almost sounded disappointed.
Jim spread the wax again, pressed the paper, and . . .
RRRIIIP! “Aaaah!” She was crying again.
“Looks good to me.” He patted her butt. “How about you?” Lauren looked back to where Jim was holding up a mirror for her inspection. Inside her crack, everything was red . . . but hair-free.
“It looks good, sir.”
“Ok, turn over.”
She complied, and Jim held the mirror. Again, except for a small triangle of hair, everything was red. She could trim the hair down to a proper length on her own, she decided. “That looks good, too, sir.”
“Great.” He patted her inner right thigh. “You can pay at the front desk.”
With that, he turned and left the room. Lauren waited for a moment, getting her crying under control, before pulling her panties and jeans back on and making her way out of the building with as much dignity as she could manage.