Julies Corner Time Punishment

If you are looking for a story with nudity and sex you may want to look for something else. This is a story purely about how it feels to be punished. I spend a lot of time writing and fantasizing about the pain and humiliation that comes with a punishment. Sometimes I think about being forced to be naked or spanked on the bare bottom but today I'm writing (and fantasizing!) about a corner time punishment. Here the narrator describes in detail what it feels like to be placed in a corner with instructions to remain quiet and still. And the fear of the consequences of breaking those instructions. Read on if you find this interesting.

Oh, and by the way, everyone in this story is over 21.

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"Julie, Corner time. Now."

My stomach drops at those words. I want to complain, "No, it's not fair!." I want to fall to my knees and beg, "Please no. I'll do anything else!" I want to fight, "It wasn't my fault!"

But I said none of those things. I know from experience that to do so would only lengthen my punishment. I quietly hang my head and slowly walk to what is known as the punishment corner in our house.

The punishment corner is in the front room. It is on the back wall across from windows that look over the sidewalk where anyone walking by can see a naughty girl or boy being punished. It is also opposite the front door where my housemates and their friends come in and out all the time. Corner time is anything but a private punishment.

I know what to do. I get in close enough to the corner so that my toes touch the baseboard along the floor and that my nose is only an inch from the crease that brings the two walls together. I place my hands on my head, interlocking my fingers--an elbow brushes against each wall. Leaning against the wall is forbidden so I make sure that they are barely touching.

I know what is expected of me. I am not to let my hands down. I am not to turn around or look anywhere but straight ahead. I am to remain both quiet and still. Breaking any of the corner time rules will result in a lengthier sentence. I don't want that, so my hands stay on my head and I try not to move.

I am immediately uncomfortable. With my hands clasped over my head, my shoulders are pushed back and I am forced to stand up straight. My toes touching the baseboard makes it even worse. There is no way to lean except backward. My legs, back, and arms are all stressed.

I am wearing a short skirt and a loose top. I am aware that with my arms up and my back straight, my skirt rides up in the back. I want to pull it down but my hands won't move from my head. I wish I had more comfortable shoes on.

Time passes slowly. I stare and the dull tan walls. To my left, I can see the side of a painting. To my right, I can see where the sunlight from the windows lands on the wall, reminding me that others outside can see me standing here. Other than that, there is nothing. At the moment there is no sound other than the quiet noise of cars going by. I wonder if anyone is in the room. I could be all by myself or my punisher could be sitting in a chair behind me. I want to look but don't dare.

I feel sorry for myself. I tell myself I don't deserve this punishment but I know that is not true. I was wrong and even though I wanted to fight for my freedom, deep down I know this is where I am supposed to be. It doesn't make me feel any better about being here.

I am supposed to be doing other things this morning. Now there won't be time to get everything done before I need to go to work. Other chores will have to get pushed to tonight after work when I wanted to go out. My day is all screwed up because of this punishment. I try to replan my day but can't think straight while I am standing here.

I wonder how long I have been here and how much time is left before I am freed from this prison of aches and boredom. Not knowing how much time has gone by makes the punishment that much worse. I try counting the seconds, knowing that if I hit sixty then one more minute has passed. I try to do it enough times to mark five minutes but my mind wanders and I can't keep count.

I hear movement behind me. Perhaps someone coming into the room? I sense someone is looking at me. Perhaps it is my punisher checking on me, or perhaps it is someone else, wondering why I am here in this position. Are they quietly laughing at me? Are they feeling sorry for me? Whoever it is, they are looking down at me as they would anyone who is being punished. I feel tiny right now.

It is quiet again and I wonder if anyone is still there. I didn't hear them leave so again, I don't know if I am alone. I desperately want to turn around. I want to see something other than those two damn walls. I want to face the person who is staring at me or see that I am in an empty room. But I don't dare. Adding to my time here would be horrendous.

Slowly I lean from foot to foot. I need to move my muscles as I am stiff. I don't hear a voice telling me to be still so I move my elbows slightly just to get the blood moving again. I stretch my neck. Either no one is there or whoever is there understands that I need to move around a little bit.

The light changes on the wall next to me and I hear the front door open. The room is filled with voices. It sounds like two people. I recognize a housemate's voice.

"Uh oh, it looks like someone is being punished"

I hear a giggle and a woman's voice that I don't recognize. "Oh no, what happened here? Who is that?"

"That's Julie, she lives here. Guess she got in trouble today."

"Poor girl. I used to get corner time when I was little. How long does she have to stay in the corner?"

"45 minutes is the normal punishment. I'm guessing that's what she got."

"Eww, that's tough. I would only get 20 minutes but it's probably different when you are older. What did she do?"

"Dunno. I guess she was a bad girl."

With that comment, they move out of earshot and into the back of the house. The words "bad girl" echo in my head. The words hurt and I tell myself I am not a bad girl. But then I think that maybe I am. I do bad things so maybe I am a bad girl.

I want to shrink into nothing. The two girls were talking about me and my punishment and there was nothing that I and do or say. Having them stare and talk about me is humiliating. I hope that at least the visitor will be gone by the time I am let out.

45 minutes is a long time and if I am lucky and don't get caught moving around or talking I will get out in that amount of time. I know from experience that the punishment will get extended to one hour after the first offense. I had never had a second offense but I have been made well aware that it would result in a 90-minute stay.

It is quiet again and my mind wanders as I stand staring at the walls. What if everyone forgot about me? Maybe I have been here for hours. When do I let myself out to go check? I go through these thoughts every time I am in corner time. I've never walked away but I have always feared being forgotten.

Whenever I am doing corner time I always get an itch somewhere. Maybe when you know that you can't scratch you get itchy. Today it is under my nose. I can think of nothing other than pulling my hand down and giving it a good scratch. Is anyone in the room? If I am alone in the room I can pull my hand down real quick and scratch my nose. I really need to know if someone is here. It is so quiet that I decide I am alone.

I lean back a little and turn my head just a bit. I see no one but I can't see the whole room. I turn just a little further and I find myself staring into the eyes of my punisher who doesn't look happy.

"That is 15 minutes more for you, Julie!"

I turn back quickly not wanting to receive further extensions. I feel sick to my stomach. I want to be anywhere but here facing this corner.

I now know that I have more than 15 minutes of time remaining but have no idea how much more time I have. I should have looked at the clock on the mantel when I turned around. I curse myself for not looking.

I continue standing, toes touching the baseboards; elbows occasionally brushing the walls; my mind and body hurting from this punishment that has been dolled out to me with little thought. I want to cry but no tears come. I want to scream but my voice has been silenced. I want to fall to the floor but my muscles continue holding me in place.

I try counting again. One thousand one. One thousand two. One thousand three... I get to 60 and tell myself one more minute of this painful punishment is done. One out of somewhere more than 15 minutes. I can't keep counting. It is driving me crazy so I try to think of other things. Happy thoughts won't stay in my mind. I try to see myself at the beach sitting at a bar on the boardwalk drinking beer and eating nachos. I name the people who are there with me - even placing them around a table. It is a lovely fantasy but somewhere in there, I start seeing that I am not at the table. I'm hearing my friends say that Julie couldn't make it because she is at home standing in the corner.

I try to come up with another fantasy but my mind keeps asking how much time left? I'm going to have to step back from the wall and put my arms down. My back hurts. I wiggle around just a little.

"Julie ... your punishment is over. You may come out now."

The voice scares me at first. I think am getting another extension when I hear my name. Then the rest of the sentence hits my brain and my hands fall from my head. I remove myself from my prison. I look at the clock on the mantel. 60 minutes have passed. This is time I will never get back. I have been truly punished.