Anticipation and aftermath

The desk is the wrong height to be comfortable. But being comfortable is not what this is about…

Her skirt is pulled up around her waist, her knickers and tights are around her knees. She is bent over the desk. She can feel a gentle cold breeze, probably from the air conditioning, on her naked bottom. It is accentuating her predicament.

She should really be listening to the angry voice that is telling her off. But her mind is on other matters. How much will it hurt? Will she be able to endure it? Will she cry? She does not want to cry, she wants to be stoic. To take it.  To retain some dignity.

She snaps back to the moment. The voice says she will get twelve, and she deserves it.

Twelve! Twelve stinging strokes with the cane. She was shown the cane before she bent over the desk. She has never been caned before. Now she is scared, she had not anticipated twelve strokes when she consented to the punishment. It is too late to back out now. Far too late…

Her work cubicle is private, but not quite private enough. She sits at her desk. Her bottom hurts. Her pride hurts. She is disappointed that she lost her dignity.  She checks her face in her mirror, she looks like she has been crying. She did not want to cry.

She looks around the room. Everyone else is busy at work. Do they know? Have they ever suffered the same treatment? It’s not something you can ask. She dare not ask, to ask would be to admit. She does not want anyone to know.

She decides to go to the ladies room and look at her bottom in the mirror. Twelve angry marks. Each one a double line. How will she explain them? Can she keep her bottom covered while they heal?

How could she have been so foolish. So many emotions crammed into a few minutes. The tears come back…


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