Spanking & Chastening: Exhibition

"Ding," Rang the elevator on its timely arrival, barely audible over the background roar of mail room machines. The doors slid open revealing an empty car, eliciting a sigh of relief as I stepped inside. Arms laden with my pyramid-esque stack of clothes, I shuffled the weight to press the fourth floor button without dropping things or significantly altering the careful placement, covering only my midriff and nothing more, demanded by David Zephyr.

Unsurprisingly, the doors slid open at the lobby level, admitting more passengers, but I was fortunate enough only a single woman joined me. She stared at me for a moment, horror in her eyes, before pushing a button for the sixth floor. She wore a near exact replica of the outfit I had in my arms, bringing my full attention to the obvious contrast between us, making me blush hotly while wishing I was her. I tried to tell myself to get over it, she would hardly be the last to see my shameful state with most of the work day still ahead of me, but I was unable to shake the foolish embarrassment of holding my day's attire, exposing my nakedness instead of concealing it.

"Please don't tell me you were late," She said, as the elevator started to rise again.

"Not exactly. Why, are you?" I said, concluding it to be likely from her nervous twitching and worried eyes, not to mention it was easily a half hour beyond the typical start time at Quondam.

"It's my first day. I got lost, the city streets are so confusing and I'm not from around here. I've never even seen a place like this until last week. I grew up in Kansas you know," She said, as if explaining herself to me was going to make her problems go away.

Facing her more fully, I re-appraised her; She was my age, or even a couple years younger, probably straight out of University. The black suit, while outwardly professional, only barely concealed a stiff awkwardness unique to those new to suit attire. She was almost in tears, her eyes bubbling over with them as she twisted the long locks of blonde hair gathered on her shoulder.

"You'll be alright," I said, hoping I sounded more reassuring than lacking in compassion.

"Says the naked girl in the elevator," She said. My face burned scarlet, my eyebrows rose high and I wondered why I even bothered opening my mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just really need this job and I can't believe I'm going to get punished on my very first day in spite of all the precautions I took."

"You can't change today. All you can do is accept whatever happens, but that doesn't mean you need to be back here tomorrow," I said as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. "Focus on what you can change and don't waste time worrying about what you can't." I stepped out into the hall, leaving her to face her fate as I faced mine.

Unabashedly smirking, Mr. Foley watched me walk the distance to his desk. His singular attention accentuated my already piqued awareness of exposure, easily observed above and below my clothing stack, flushing my skin with a pink glow and painfully hardening my stiff nipples. Stopping in front of his desk, my lower half obscured from his view, I enjoyed a moment of respite from his unrelenting eyes until my peripheral vision noticed the open doors leading into the HR offices allowing the occupants an unobstructed view of my profile.

"Are those for me?" Mr. Foley asked, standing and reaching for the clothing in my hands. I nodded allowing him to take the pile, leaving my arms awkwardly empty.

"Mr. Zephyr also said I should retrieve a level two strap from you," I said, my voice a tremble. My curiosity questioned what exactly a level two strap might be, while my common sense insisted I did not need or want to know.

"I'll be back in a moment," Mr. Foley said, walking toward the open doors. "You can wait at the wall, I'm sure I don't have to tell you to face it this time."

I hesitated behind his retreating back before assuming the expected pose. The wall's infinite possibilities, disguised as white texture, captured my attention distracting me from the ogling onlookers and their murmured gossip. I pretended not to care, all the while hackles prickled at my neck, goosebumps dotted along my flesh, and every click or crackle twitched my ears. Mr. Foley's moment lasted a moment longer than too long and still I waited.

"Here you are," Mr. Foley said, nearly sending me out of my skin from his quiet approach. I turned, finding his outstretched hand inches away, holding a blue strap a foot long and an inch and a half wide. My fingers wrapped around the stiff leather, firmly grasping the wicked implement and taking it from his hand.

"Your belongings will be available in the lobby at the end of the day," Mr. Foley said. "Now, don't dawdle, I'll be calling down to Mr. Zephyr and letting him know you're on your way back."

The subsequent elevator ride was brief and pleasantly uneventful, allowing me a few moments of much needed privacy. I studied the strap in my hands, admiring the tightly stitched and rounded edges despite knowing those very edges would soon be biting into the tender flesh of my backside. It slapped smartly into my palm producing a light sting and warm glow from my half-hearted effort almost certainly indicative of a much worse result from David Zephyr wielding it a bit more zealously. Standing outside his office door, I was enormously tempted to throw the strap into the mail sorting machines, with the hope it would remain lost, but before I could gather the nerve to do anything so reckless, the door opened and David invited me inside.

"You didn't run did you?" David asked, closing his door and isolating us from the sights and sounds of the mail room. I shook my head, slightly confused as to why he would even ask. "I mean I just got off the phone with Mr. Foley and he said you had only just left so naturally I was surprised you were already knocking on my door."

"The elevator didn't have any other stops coming back," I said.

"Certainly not something you're going to complain about," He said, smiling as he looked me up and down to illustrate my nakedness as an explanation, as if I needed one. "I mean, I'm sure Mr. Foley and some others got enough of an eye full for your tastes."

"Yes," I said, my meek affirmation doing nowhere near enough to emphasize the extent to which I agreed with him.

David said, "You know it's to be expected of course. I mean, they don't assign these duties unless they intend to embarrass you and not just a little either. I could have mitigated things a bit for you I suppose. I mean policy doesn't dictate total nudity, but I really don't see any purpose in only doing a job halfway. I'm sure you'd agree if only it wasn't your bosom being exposed, although I'm sure you can understand. I mean certainly you must realize how much more embarrassed you are to be totally naked rather than only half and in turn how much more effective it is that you are."

He was right in terms of embarrassment. On the other hand I would have liked to debate the question of effectiveness, but was smart enough to know it was neither the time or place to do it. David seemed well-intentioned enough in any regard which left me feeling a little betrayed, knowing he had a choice and had in fact chosen against me. Of course, from his perspective it was all for my own good, but his good intentions did little to mollify the hurt.

"I don't have to like it do I?" I said, realizing he was waiting for some sort of a response beyond an embarrassed glance at my bare feet when I was no longer able to meet his gaze.

"There'd be no purpose if you did," He said and then reached out toward the strap still dangling against my leg. "May I?" He asked and reflexively, I offered it to him and he took it, leaving me with nothing.

A spanking at the hands of this man seemed a contradiction, not my father, not my superior, in every way; An ordinary man. Anticipating the moment soon to come, naked, trembling, I stood firm because there were worse things than facing consequences. My eyes stared unblinking at the strap, hanging in the air between us, its stiff leather curving ever so slightly toward the floor while held purposefully in his hand. The steady hum of the machines outside washed over me, calming me as if they were offering their strength to supplement my own.

David said, "I suppose we should get this over with. I mean, we both know it has to be done and waiting won't change it."

"I'd rather get it over with myself," I said, nodding. "I feel rather silly standing around without my clothes and not sporting a red backside, if you know what I mean."

He nodded and said, "Of course. Would you pull that chair out into the middle of the room here?" I turned to the chair I had first sat on, grasping its back and moved it. "Excellent. Now we'll just have you over the back and hold the front legs as far down as you can manage."

I studied the chair a brief moment, imagining myself in the specified position, exposed and vulnerable. Swallowing a twinge of fear mixed with shame, I forced myself to follow instructions. My feet carried me as close as they could to the back of the chair and my hands rested on the top of the back. I hesitated, looking down at the torn cushion and biting my lower lip. Tears welled in my eyes, but held in check, they did not yet fall.

"Don't make me give you extra," David said, an unnatural sternness in his tone.

Lips quivering, cheeks twitching, I fought against the threat of spilling tears. My body moved like a stuck hinge, involuntary moans and whines emanating from my throat, I grabbed the front of the seat and then, as my balance shifted, the legs, my hands sliding a short distance on the cold metal until I could stretch no further. The fabric on the back of the chair was all I could see, but I remained completely aware of my exposure in such an embarrassing position.

"All the way over," David said.

Confident I was as stretched and bent as I could manage, I said, "I can't—

"Up on your tippy toes and stop resting your head on the seat," David said. "You're not meant to be comfortable."

I groaned, but chose not to argue. Pushing myself up onto my tip toes, I moved myself further forward, until my chin rested on the front edge of the chair making me stare at the floor and my hands came to rest on the front legs almost at the point where they met the floor. I was certain if I moved even an inch further forward, I would topple over the chair completely and land on the floor.

"Perfect," David said. "Now obviously this is going to hurt, it is supposed to, but hopefully you understand the pain is meant to deter you from repeating the foolish actions which landed you here in the first place."

I listened as he walked around behind me, undoubtedly enjoying an unobstructed view. The gentle movement of air between my legs, against my sensitive skin, left me no doubts as to the openness of his view. Blood flooded my face with red hot shame and I wished he would just get on with the act of spanking for at least then the sting of leather would give me something else to focus on than the exposure of my most private flesh. The sudden lash of the strap across the center of my upturned buttocks made me quickly reconsider, although it was far too late for my desires to have any say in the proceedings.

"Ow!" I said, responding to the sudden impact rather than any real physical pain. Muscles tensed throughout my entire body for a moment, hands gripping tighter on the chair legs, until I forced myself to relax and wait for the subsequent licks while David resumed his pacing.

"Now let's not make a big fuss. I mean you certainly know you deserve this or you should have contested it long before now," He said, whisking the strap through the air to land again on my backside with a solid clap and a nerve tingling sting.

A gasp erupted from my pursed lips and my chin bit harder into the edge of the seat. My eyes clamped shut as I continued to fight against the inevitable fall of tears. How was it I could better withstand a brutal whipping at the hands of a sadistic bastard than a disciplinary spanking from a man devoid of any true malevolence?

The whop of leather biting into my backside interrupted the formation of any answers I might have found. My eyes burst open and tears spilled forth onto my hot cheeks. "Ow," I said, my chest convulsing and my hands gripping the chair legs tighter to keep me from rearing myself up. The sting slowly transformed into an uncomfortable warmth, begging to be massaged away.

"Ow, oh-oh, ow!" I yelped in response to an expertly applied double lashing of the strap. My tense muscles convulsed, jabbing me tighter into the edges of the chair and scooting it forward with a rickety bounce I half expected would leave me lying on the floor. In a panic, my hands nearly let go of the legs and flew backward to grab my simultaneously stinging and burning backside, but I managed to keep the presence of mind to resist the impulse.

"Now, now, let's have none of that," David said, pacing the floor behind me. "I'm sure it hurts, I mean it's supposed to, but toppling over that chair isn't going to make anything better."

Like the hum of the machines outside his office, David's words were merely background to the screaming inside my own head. Chiding myself for responding so physically to a spanking I should have easily weathered, I cried tears of shame for the pitiful display I afforded him. I told myself to get a grip, but my composure was mostly lost and regaining it was most surely not going to happen while my butt remained pointed at the ceiling.

David slapped the strap down on the crease between my buttocks and thighs just as I was sucking in air trying to calm the tear induced convulsions wracking my body. "Ow," I cried, but managed to avoid another reckless jolting. My legs trembled, struggling with the sting and burn as well as the effort required to keep my toes on the ground.

"Much better," David said and then whipped the strap down just a little higher, catching my buttocks on the fullness of the round edge just above my thighs. I let the tears flow freely, giving up on the effort to control anything more than the gyrations of my body. As if sensing my final surrender, he brought the strap down without the thundering force of the previous blows.

For a moment I thought it might have been over, but it was illusion induced by teary eyes. David began a flurry of swings covering and recovering every inch of my bottom. The slaps were far less forceful than he had already shown himself capable, but the effect of the rapid repetition was a blending of sting and burn. My legs bounced up and down, desperately attempting to ease the pain, as if mere motion in the office air would have any comforting effect. I cried and despite the pain, a catharsis settled over me as if a part of me had needed the release of control.

When it actually ended, I am not certain. Lost in tears and thoughts of how I had ended up getting spanked in Quondam's basement, I was startled when David's hands grasped my shoulders and pulled me back on my feet. A gentle smile on his lips, a glint of concern in his eyes, his face titled to the side trying to catch my gaze with his own. It took a few moments before I could really return his gaze, but he waited like a gentleman.

"Thank you," I said, hoping he would not ask me for what. He nodded and handed me a tissue from the box on his desk. I longed for the comfort of a hug, but although I doubted he would object, it would not have been appropriate. My senses slowly returned themselves to normal and my eyes grew wider and wider as the burning sensations emanating from my bottom began to consume my every thought and impulse.

"There are still a few hours before the delivery carts will be ready for the day," David said, while I wiped the tears from my cheeks and struggled against the budding urge to dance around the room, grabbing at my burning backside. "In the meantime, a little corner time showing off your beautifully red bottom should keep you out of trouble."

"It seems like I could be doing something more useful," I said, wincing as I involuntarily tightened my buttocks, further invigorating the sting.

David said, "You have to be trained to safely use the equipment in here and there really wouldn't be any point unless of course you plan on making regular visits down here. I mean I'm certainly not opposed, but I can't imagine you would share my feelings."

"Where do you want me?" I asked, surrendering to the inevitable act of displaying my spanked backside for no greater purpose than my humiliation.

"The corners connecting to the elevator's hallway seem ideal. I mean, anyone coming in or out of here will certainly have to pass by there." He said. Confused, my eyebrows raised wondering how a pair of outside corners would serve the purpose of corner time.

"Much as I'd like to keep you in here, I have other matters I must attend to today. Come along, hands on top of your head," David said and as I complied, resting my hands together on top of my head instead of massaging my buttocks like I wanted, he grasped my elbow and steered me out his door and back toward the elevators.

I soon learned standing to an outside corner is not all that different from the typical inside corner. My nose pressed firmly against the point, filling my vision with nothing more than wall although instead of wrapping into me, the walls opened away from me. While I could see nothing more than blurry movement in my periphery, it was painfully obvious I was much more exposed to the view of others, giving those around me a back, side, and partial frontal view I would have rather they not seen. Although, in light of my situation for the day, it hardly seemed like it should matter.

Not unexpectedly, there were murmurs and snickers as news of my presence, exposure, and reddened butt, made its way around the mail room. Although I could easily have allowed the sounds of the machinery to drown out all the other noises, my ears seemed determined to focus in on the other sounds. My arms grew tired with the strain of keeping my hands atop my head, but I dared not give them a rest and risk additional punishment. Somehow I held the position throughout the remainder of the morning and even as the staff filtered out for lunch. David gave me a short break for a snack and water until the staff returned and it was time for me to begin the delivery rounds.

After a brief introduction to the mail cart and delivery policy from a young woman, whose blushing rivaled my own despite the fact she was fully clothed, I pushed my assigned cart into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. It seemed just my luck to have to deliver mail not only naked and embarrassed to dozens of Quondam employees, but to have to do so to those I worked with on a daily basis. There would be no denying just how shameful my punishment was to any of them after walking in with the facts so obviously on display, not to mention myself and my spanked bottom.

The trip to the 32nd floor seemed to take forever, the elevator stopping every few floors to collect new passengers and drop others off. None said a word to me, but their smirks and taunting eyes were more than enough to flush my face redder and hotter until, by the time I reached my destination, spontaneous combustion seemed imminent.

Taking a deep breath I pushed the cart off the elevator and into the hallway leading to my normal work area. Lacking my security card I was left with activating the intercom and waiting for one of my colleagues to respond. My head swam with the various possibilities while I waited, none being great. Would I be lucky enough to only encounter Jack or perhaps Tom or would they all be there standing around and gawking at me? It was almost enough to make me turn tail and run.

"Yes?" Kyra's voice squawked out of the tiny speaker.

"Mail delivery," I said, embarrassed to hear the trembling in my voice.

"V? Is that you?" Kyra asked.

"Y-yes," I replied.

"Why don't you just use your security card?" Kyra said.

"I don't have it with me," I said.

"What? Why not?" Kyra replied.

I was certain she was having a laugh at my expense, but saw no choice other than to play along. At least there was no one around to see me and admittedly, I was actually in no real rush to step inside and reveal my humiliating state to Kyra or any of the others.

"My clearance has been temporarily revoked," I said.

"Ah that's got to suck and mail delivery too?" Kyra said. "Hang on, I'll buzz you in."

A moment later the lock on the door buzzed allowing me to pull it open, step inside and then pull my mail cart in after me. Jack was pacing his office off to the side and I am certain he saw me, but he did an excellent job of pretending he did not. Kyra appeared to be the only other person around which was something of a relief although she was probably the last person I wanted to see in Q5.

"Oh my, how embarrassing," Kyra said, her tone more amused than compassionate, while her eyes made pointed stares at my nudity. "And gosh it looks like you got strapped too. How many days did you get?"

"Five," I said, mumbling.

"What was that?" Kyra said, as if she did not hear me. I gave her an annoyed look hoping she would get a clue. "Maybe I should call down to David and suggest an attitude adjustment."

"Five," I said loudly, knowing Kyra was just enough of a bitch to actually follow through with her threat.

"Did HR take your clothes or was that David?" Kyra asked.

"David," I said, gathering Q5's mail from my cart and offering it to Kyra. She shook her head, refusing it, pointed across the room and said, "Put it in the basket." I followed her finger and walked across the room where a wire basket sat on top of a filing cabinet.

"So are you in the mail room everyday or what?" Kyra asked.

"I don't know. I have to report to HR each morning for my assignment," I said, dropping the mail in the basket.

"Well you better get going, it looks like you've got a lot of deliveries to make," Kyra said.

I nodded agreement and pulled my cart back to the door. With a final glance at Jack, who continued to ignore my presence, I left Q5 and proceeded to the rest of my deliveries. Kyra was hardly the last to tease me and in truth I had expected no less. In the words of David Zephyr, "I mean who isn't going to get a little pleasure seeing an attractive young executive delivering mail in her birthday suit." It certainly did not make the experience any easier, but then short of getting my clothes back, what would?

Once most everyone else had gone home for the day, I was at last allowed to reclaim my clothing from Cathy in the lobby and get dressed. I was more than happy to leave, but the last place I wanted to go was home after the day I had survived. I walked slowly to my car in the parking garage, my clothes feeling oddly constricting and yet also comforting.

Carefully, I sat on my tender, yet no longer sore buttocks and started the engine with no idea where I was going. The evening flow of freeway traffic swept me along like a river to the ocean and soon I found myself parked in the familiar parking lot. I walked out to the breaker and sat on the rocks, my feet dangling above the water as the waves crashed in below me. Moonlight flickered on the water and a cool breeze tossed the stray strands of my hair. Seaweed and salt smelled sweet and combing with the rhythmic crashing of water on the rocks, the tension drained from my muscles, easing but not erasing the humiliation of being disciplined in such a public manner at work.

Time slipped away and the cool air turned to cold. I shivered, pulling my blazer tighter to me. Realizing it made no difference, I sighed and pushed myself up from the rocks, retreating to the warm coziness of my car. Part of me wanted to stay right where I was, as if I could postpone the morning's arrival if I never went home and went to sleep, but exhaustion was driving me home. I pushed aside thoughts of what tomorrow would hold, telling myself it was pointless to agonize over things I could not change.

I arrived at the apartment complex and was about to unlock my door when I suddenly realized the lights were on inside. Careful to keep noise to a minimum I slipped my keys back into my purse and grabbed my phone while backing away from the door. A quick glance at the face of the phone and I selected Tom from the directory and pushed the button to call him. My heart pounded in my chest at the thought that everyone's worst fears had come to pass and I had indeed blown my cover and most likely endangered my entire family. In that light my troubles at work hardly seemed sufficient penance.

"Yeah," Tom said, answering my call. My front door swung open to reveal my father with an impatient almost angry expression on his face and my mother standing behind him. I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing my assumptions had been utterly false.

"Tom? I'm sorry I must have dialed you by accident," I said, looking at my father and wondering what he was doing in my apartment.

"Sure, not a problem. Are you alright?" Tom asked.

"Fine, I'll talk to you later okay?" I said.

"Sure. Call me anytime," Tom said.

"Thanks," I said, ending the call.

"About time you got home," Dad said, stepping out of my doorway so I could go inside.

"I didn't know you were coming over," I said, closing my door and locking it. "How did you get in here anyway?"

"The apartment manager let us in," Mom said and when my eyebrows raised, explained, "Your father cosigned your lease."

"Right," I said. "Is everything okay?"

"Maybe you have something you'd like to tell us?" Dad said.

Quizzically, I looked between my parents wondering what it was they thought they knew. For a moment I nearly panicked thinking they might have found out about my troubles at work, but that was impossible. Then I realized, it was most likely all about missing my nephew's birthday party. Everyone seemed to be upset about it and for some reason the fact I was not even in the country at the time did little to appease any of them. I doubt they would feel any differently even if they had known the full details, but why my parents felt the need to harass me about it, late at night no less, I could not figure.

"Look I'm really sorry I missed Geoff's birthday, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. I tried to get Jenny to help me out but she didn't have the time either I guess," I said.

"That's not why we're here," Dad said and Mom handed him her cellphone. He turned it around so I could see the face and held it out to give me a good look. "You want to explain this?"

The picture was low quality and slightly blurred from an unsteady hand. The lighting gave everything a greenish tint, but there was no mistaking the woman pushing a mail cart; It was me. Worse than just being me, it was me, fully naked, showing a hint of the marks the strap had left on my backside and obviously at work. My breath caught in my throat, not because I was going to have to explain the image to my parents, which was bad enough, but because there weren't very many ways my parents could have ended up with that picture. The most glaring of possibilities meant that someone I had encountered on my rounds knew me as both Virginia West and Allison Beaumont.