Danielle's Story

Danielle, Ivy, Jennifer and a few other belted offenders sat together in a conference room waiting for their monitors to come pick them up. They had been interviewed by the detectives and told they would be contacted if further questioning was warranted. Their phones and personal belongings were confiscated and one by one, they were forced to unlock their personal devices to allow the detectives to review their messages and browsing activities.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Danielle said out loud, though it appeared she was saying it to convince herself.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "We know! You haven't shut up about it since we were all dumped in this room." The alcohol had long worn off and Jennifer's mood had gone from elated and carefree to crabby. As she had explained to Danielle, she was not receptive to mending their friendship and had insisted that if Danielle had gotten the impression that they could be friends again, it could

only

have been the alcohol talking. The two had bickered in the conference room, and Jennifer dug up and accused Danielle of sins that dated back to the second grade.

Mr. Young, whose workshop was on another floor of building that housed the police headquarters, entered the room and surveyed the sad lot of people who needed to wait to be collected by their monitors.

"Well, well, well, Marcan," he said, gaze settling on the tall brunette who sat at a conference table looking nervous at first, and then annoyed to see him. "I got a text message from Officer Grant. Turns out one of his charges showed up at a big protest and got detained in connection to a bomb scare." Mr. Young scanned the room with a confused look on his face. "I wonder who he might have been referring to!" He made eye contact with each person in the room and then returned to look at Danielle. "Why Marcan, I believe he must have been referring to you! Who would have ever guessed that the very woman who roped her best friend into committing insurance fraud and who propositioned her design technician for sexual favors would be somehow entangled with protest shenanigans involving fake bombs!"

"They were fake?" Danielle asked. She wasn't the only one in the room to sound surprised.

"You propositioned your design technician for sex, Danielle? Holy crap, you're stupid!" Jennifer declared.

"Well, you don't have five years to do!" Danielle snapped back. She turned back to Mr. Young and narrowed her eyes. "Why are you even here? It's late! Don't you ever go home?"

Mr. Young strolled into the conference room and took a seat next to Jennifer and Ivy and introduced himself. "Joseph Young. I'm the design technician assigned to Ms. Marcan's case." He shook their hands and continued. "I'm pretty sure we're in for a good show here in a few minutes. I don't know what he'll do to her, but I was picking up on some rather impressive notes of rage and fury through text."

A smile spread across Jennifer's face. "What

can

he do to her if we're all here? Doesn't he have to protect her privacy?"

"He can do anything he wants. We're in a room full of friendlies, so he doesn't have to protect us from the knowledge that she's belted and under the guardianship of a strict, sadistic monitor."

Jennifer and Ivy both parted their lips in surprise. They, and the few other people in the room who were privy to their conversation all looked over to Danielle as she sat there trying to avoid their attention.

"He's not going to do anything to me! I didn't do anything wrong. And even if I had done something to warrant punishment -which I did not- he'd do it in private," Danielle insisted. "I'm sure of it." She didn't sound as confident as she wanted. In fact, she didn't feel especially confident in what she was saying either. She'd never been in a situation with Officer Grant that might warrant a public punishment and he

was

prone to punishing very quickly.

No. Officer Grant is a reasonable man who appreciates facts and details. I did not go to that protest and I most certainly did not call in a bomb threat. I did nothing wrong!

It was at that moment they heard the card reader beep outside the conference room. The door opened to reveal a very terse looking Officer Grant. He stepped through the threshold and his eyes scanned the room and settled on Danielle who was feeling emboldened from the version of events she was convincing herself of. She gulped down any fear she may secretly harbor and stood up to face her monitor. "Officer Grant," she said with a huge smile. "Thank you so much for picking me up. I apologize for the inconvenience this must have caused you. This was a total misunderstanding. I wasn't even at the protest." She ran her hands down her skirt, smoothing out the fabric and she moved to take a step toward him, trying to maintain her composure and air of confidence. If he believed that she believed in her own innocence, he might give her a correction, but it wouldn't be too bad, and it wouldn't be public! She paused as she looked more closely at her monitor and realized that she was in deeper than she had surmised. Officer Grant was dark with rage and he crooked his finger at her, summoning her to approach him at the front of the room.

"Here. Now."

Play it cool, Danielle. You didn't do anything wrong.

She closed the gap between herself and Officer Grant and he quickly produced the paddle he had tucked into his bag.

Oh fuck!

She thought. The paddle had to be at least a foot in length not including the handle, four inches wide, and a half-inch thick. Danielle's face instantly registered her fear which she tried very hard to subdue. "Officer Grant, I am totally innocent here. I did not attend that protest! You have to listen to me!" Sensing she might try to flee, a large hand grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and pulled her close, hauling her over the table into a good position for a paddling. Her backside faced the wall and she could see her audience straight on. Danielle struggled against him at first but the warning swat to her backside rekindled her good senses. "Officer Grant, let me explain!" she pleaded before the next swat fell.

"Can you? You can explain the events that I understand took place? That sounds incredible! Since you for sure have a convincing explanation for being at the protest that I specifically forbade you from attending, I'm only going to give you the first half of your punishment -- 20 smacks with the paddle. If your explanation is anything other than truly convincing, then you'll complete the other half of your punishment. And I'm going to tell you right now, Danielle, that by appearances, you were at the site of the protest, in the company of protestors, and literally

on the news!

" He propped his phone up on the conference table for her to watch the interview with Ivy and Jennifer. In the background was Danielle, trying to avoid the camera.

"I have an explanation!"

"Put your hands on the table and start counting. If you make any move to protect your ass or avoid the paddle, I will re-do that spank until I'm satisfied that each smack that lands on your ass is of sufficient quality to count."

"One!" Danielle said when the first official swat landed. He didn't hit her too hard, but if he was handling this like the last time, this would just be the warmup. "But sir, I wasn't actually at the protest. I was at a nearby pub meeting up with my two friends who happened to be at the protest. They were at the protest, not me."

"We're not friends!" Jennifer said.

Danielle yelped when the next swat fell, low on her ass. Having some experience now, she knew that was the region where she'd feel it most when she sat down. "Two!" she called out. "Three! Four! Five!" It was starting to really hurt now. The paddle was already much worse than his hand when he spanked her over his knees. Grant set the paddle down on the table right in front of her face and using both of his hands, he pulled her tights down to her knees. "No, no, no, no!" she begged, breaking position to try to protect her modesty from view. He smacked her hands away and her skirt was pulled up and tucked into the waistband to keep it from falling back down.

She glanced around the room to find all the occupants were watching her shame and humiliation; some in horror, others appearing slack jawed or stunned as they observed her indignity unfold before them. Mr. Young and Jennifer appeared to be openly enjoying the display. She wanted to crawl into herself and hide forever from the humiliation of it all. Did Jennifer and Ivy get spanked and paddled like this? By the shocked looks of their faces, they did not get disciplined like this by their monitors. She hated so much that Mr. Young had decided to come watch her disgrace, but he was just the kind of person to enjoy this sort of thing. He sat across the table, leaning back in the conference chair like he was engaged in a nice show on TV.

"Sir! Sir! Sir! Please listen to me! I have an explanation! Ow! Six! Ahh! Seven! Ow! Eight!" She had started to dance in place over the pain of the smacks. His force had increased and the lack of clothing made the experience so much more painful. Each strike seared into her ass, both stinging and hitting deep into her flesh.

"I'm going to listen to you very carefully after I'm done with your first 20. You'll have the entire car ride back to your apartment to convince me. For now, shut your mouth unless you're counting."

"That's right, Marcan! It's time to shut your mouth and pay your penance." Mr. Young was obviously goading her, and he got a glance from Grant who nodded his head in greeting as if he did not previously notice who was in the room when he first walked in. Danielle picked her hand up off the surface of the table to flash her middle finger at Mr. Young.

Fucker.

Officer Grant must have caught the gesture because suddenly the swats got even harder and Danielle was having more difficulty keeping her tears at bay. "If you have the presence of mind to be sassy, then I'm not hitting hard enough," he said. She counted from nine to fifteen, and her voice cracked and betrayed her need to release her pent-up emotion through a good cry.

"Feet flat on the floor," Grant admonished her when she gave in to the pain and side stepped the paddle. He caught her on one cheek and declared that #16 would need to be redone. The next smack hit her square in the middle where he meant for it to hit, and that was the one that brought her over the edge. "Sixteen! I'm sorry, Officer Grant! I'm sorry! Please, please stop!"

"We'll do sixteen yet again since you did not follow instructions. I told you to count and otherwise remain silent." He smacked her again, not giving her the slightest break on intensity as the unforgiving wooden paddle crashed into her backside.

"Sixteen!" she said between sobs.

Mr. Young watched with glee and Jennifer appeared to be taking his cue, enjoying the view alongside him. Ivy had the decency to withhold her reaction, and the other occupants of the room either watched quietly or averted their eyes.

"Did you put them together?" Jennifer asked Mr. Young. "Was that you?"

Mr. Young grinned. "I may have had something to do with it. I can only recommend pairings. I don't actually set them."

Jennifer nodded her head, appearing impressed.

"Seventeen! Eighteen!" Danielle called out, but by the nineteenth, she was unable to stop sobbing to utter her count. He paused to give her a few seconds to catch her breath, but eventually let the paddle fly once again when she still had not called out the number. She screamed and tried to count it as twenty.

"No, Danielle, that was nineteen."

"Nineteen," she said, tears flowing freely down her cheeks now. The last smack fell and she forced herself to get the word "twenty" out before he decided to strike her again.

"That was worth staying a little late for," Mr. Young said, seeming pleased with himself.

Grant helped his tear-stained charge stand upright and he marched her straight to the nearest corner. "Stand here," he barked. With her heated backside fully exposed, she could only imagine what kind of view everyone had of her with her skirt up and her tights bunched, down around her knees. Her ass was on fire and she imagined it must be as red as a tomato.

"Oh my goodness," she wailed as she tried to reach for her skirt to release it from the waistband.

"Not a chance," he said, swatting her hands away. "Clasp your hands in front of you and don't move."

As she stood there, Grant turned to Mr. Young. "Why are you here? Barry should have just sent a guard to supervise." Their boss generally didn't rely on higher paid staff for simple tasks like keeping a room full of offenders in line.

Mr. Young grinned. "We're so short staffed, I volunteered to help out." It wasn't exactly true. Mr. Young was not there for official purposes, but rather to watch the fallout of Danielle's misbehavior. "Your girl over here boldly declared that she not only did nothing wrong by obviously attending the protest, but that you would never punish her in front of others. She thought she had you wrapped around her little finger."

Fury coursed through Danielle and she turned around to face Mr. Young. "I did not say anything about having Officer Grant wrapped around my finger."

"Turn around!" Grant barked. Danielle jerked back into position and stomped a foot. He chatted idly with Mr. Young for 10 more minutes before he called out, "You can turn around now, Danielle. I'm going to take you home and we'll have a talk in the car about your 'amazing and convincing reason for being at the pub today.' There will be more of this waiting for you when we get there if I am not impressed with your explanation." He twirled the paddle before her eyes as she turned around and pulled her tights back up to her waist and pushed her skirt down.

"Good bye, Marcan!" Mr. Young said, waving and smiling as Grant led his red-faced, teary-eyed charge out of the conference room.

=====

Just outside the room that held the belted offenders who were collected from the protest, there was an office filled with people who all turned their heads to see who was emerging from the room where they heard loud smacks and the wails of a woman in distress. Grant shielded Danielle from their view, as was his obligation, and in front of her face, she held an empty file folder that he handed to her. He walked out of the room with the paddle in his hand in full view to bring closure to anyone who had wondered just what had happened in the conference room. Danielle was led to the officer who had her purse and phone and he set the paddle on the desk while he signed for her belongings. The officer glanced at it and up at Danielle. She plucked a tissue from a box at the front of his desk and sniffled as she wiped her eyes and nose. "Just one question for your charge," the officer said, displaying a cell phone in a clear plastic bag. "Do you know whose phone this is?"

She looked at it and shook her head. "No idea, sir."

Grabbing her by the upper arm, Grant escorted her to his vehicle where he tossed the paddle and his laptop bag into the trunk portion of his black SUV. He placed the mat from the passenger side floorboard upside down on the bucket seat and told Danielle to hike up her skirt. The floormat was covered with semi-rigid rubber spikes that were meant to help the mat grip to the carpeting. He ran his hand over them so she could see that they were not sharp, but they would poke at her on the ride home.

"Oh my goodness, are you serious?"

"Very. Get in the car."

Danielle groaned as she hoisted herself into the SUV and lowered herself carefully down onto the soft spikes. The tights she wore did nothing to protect her from the pointy texture of the mat. It was uncomfortable, much as kneeling on rice is uncomfortable, and after a few minutes, discomfort blossomed into pain.

Grant was not impressed with her justification of why she went to the pub. He had her read out the text message history the three girls shared, and he decided the loophole she found to justify her attendance at the protest did not impress him and he told her that they would continue her punishment when they got back to her apartment. He did mercifully reduce the balance to hand spankings because he sympathized with how the promise of a repaired friendship with Jennifer would tempt her to make a bad decision. When they got back to her apartment, he turned her over his knee and issued her the remaining 20 spankings, which she counted out while kicking her legs to distract her brain from the pain. She had voluntarily pulled her skirt back up, lowered her tights, and laid herself down across his lap, which he saw as an act of submission that pleased him immensely.

"You can take your tights off. Keep your skirt up and bring me your plug and the bottle of lubrication from the front pocket of my bag."

She did so, and returned to him with the lube and the charcoal-colored invader that she was intimately familiar with from the start of her sentence in the belt. As she placed the items in his hand, she had nothing but remorse painted on her face. The defiance was gone and the grip she held on the narrative that she was innocent in this little episode had been released. "I want you on your hands and knees, backside facing me. Lower your head to the ground and keep your ass in the air."

"Yes, sir."

When she put herself into position, he instructed her to reach back and pull her ass cheeks apart. The position was mortifying enough with her hands on the ground, but she followed his directions without fuss, blushing from head to toe when her fingers gripped her tender flesh and separated her cheeks, exposing her puckered hole to him. He pulled the cord from between her cheeks and lubed her up. With a seesawing motion, the plug was carefully inserted and she relaxed her muscles to allow him to seat it all the way in.

"Alright, we're all set. You'll keep the plug in for 10 days."

"Yes, sir," came her soft, subdued response. When she was asked to kneel, Danielle pulled herself into the requested position, folding her hands in her lap.

"Why were you punished today, Danielle?"

"I went to the protest and you specifically told me not to, sir."

He nodded his head in acceptance of her response and he finally relaxed his body; they were back on the same page.

As she kneeled on the carpet, the plug stirred feelings within her of arousal and sweet humiliation that she would be unable to escape for the next 10 days. It would serve as a constant reminder of her disobedience and subsequent punishment; a punishment that was particularly humiliating. Had it aroused Officer Grant as it did her? Did he take pleasure in spanking her, subduing her, and modifying her behavior to his preferences? She looked up at him as he tapped away on his computer, likely logging the punishment session on her D.O.C. file. "Sir?" she asked meekly.

"Yes, Danielle?" he said. His fingers stopped typing as he turned his full attention to her.

"Sir, can you please reconsider the plug component of this punishment?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why? What is wrong with the plug?"

She replied in a low voice that was little more than a whisper, "It arouses me and makes me uncomfortable. The arousal makes it difficult to maintain my composure and stay on track with my program." She shook her head when he asked her if she was in pain. "No, sir," she said.

Grant suppressed a smile. "The arousal and 'discomfort' are the whole point of the punishment. You're meant to feel it, be bothered by its presence, and have it in the back of your mind why it's there, and what you did wrong to cause this outcome. You're expected to idly consider it, and let your mind wander to how you can improve so you don't get punished in this way in the future. As for the arousal, that is also a key feature of this punishment. You're denied sexual release, and I am using your sexuality to enhance your punishment. I am deliberately agitating your sexuality and highlighting your inability to gain relief. If you want an easy sentence with me, you will follow my rules and expectations."