by Frank Martinet
Reginald poked the broad plump hindquarters bared before him. The girl's eyes bulged slightly more than they were a microsecond earlier. She twitched nervously, her face pink with blush.
"Do you know what this is for?" he asked, again poking the butt, though he chose the left cheek this time.
Pepper was too embarrassed to answer. She shook her head.
"This," - a pat this time - "... is the seat of learning. The good Lord has gifted you with a large one because you're in such need of education."
He laughed, a sound that made Pepper cringe. She closed her eyes, shuddering. She did not like this man, this place, or anything that was happening to her. But there was nothing she could do about her situation. She was only 16, a minor, and the state had sent her here for rehabilitation. She couldn't deny she deserved it. Though the accident hadn't been intentional, it was her lack of judgment and carelessness that had caused the two girls to die. She would live with that guilt for the rest of her life.
"What we do here at CPI is provide you with a place to reflect upon your actions and learn better behavior."
The lecture continued with another pat on her bottom. Pepper wished he'd just get on with this. This torment was torture. But clearly Reginald was in his element and enjoying himself, circling the helpless naked girl strapped to the frame. She was bent in such a way as to enhance the presentation of her broad rump, making it appear even larger and more expansive, a giant target for discipline.
Pepper couldn't help but notice the thick rubber paddle in the man's hand. It was black, an ominous color, and looked tough and well-worn. She shuddered to think how many bottoms it had smacked over the years.
He rounded to behind her again, a hand caressing her right buttock. He concluded the gesture with a pinch at the base of her bottom.
"Do you know how we do that, Pepper? How we encourage you to reflect and reform?" He cackled again, and then tapped her ass with the paddle. It was gentle, but a clear warning. "We motivate you with sessions in here, in the Punishment Room."
The paddle rubbed the crowns of her butt. Pepper cringed, wishing she could somehow draw her butt into herself, to get it away from that vile weapon, but she was immobile, bound to the contraption. Instead, her ass jutted out toward the man, the pert rounds thrusting eagerly as though wanting the spanking.
But I don't. I don't want this, thought Pepper, hating the betrayal of her ass which was asking for the paddling.
"Depending on your situation, your behavior, and your reaction, you'll be in here two to four times a week. More is possible, of course, if you're recalcitrant. But few girls are tough enough to resist time here. I predict you'll be like most: bawling for your mama within a minute and promising us everything in exchange for mercy."
His laugh was curt. "There is no mercy here, young lady. That's the first lesson you'll learn. You're here to be punished and that's what you'll be. Right here, on the sensitive part of your anatomy where God made girls fit to punish."
So saying, the man patted the meaty cheeks with his paddle, then drew back the leather well-behind him and brought it forward with a dreadful whack.
Pepper heard it before she felt it. The sound was like a taste, rich and spicy and loud. She could feel it in the air around her, the burn spreading across her bum like a marching colony of ants. Then she felt the keen sting and gasped.
It hurt. It hurt far more than she'd imagined possible. She'd anticipated a candle flame and this was a bonfire. Just as she was starting to process this, there was another deafening crack and another wave of pain washed over her.
Her body jerked into wild life, spasming and twisting and struggling, but she was pinned to the mat and couldn't hide her exposed rump or shield herself from the horrid paddle. It rose and fell, and each crushing blow stung like splatters of hot oil. Pepper shrieked, writhed, and screamed for mercy. She howled, begged, and sobbed for her mother to save her. She apologized, wept, and told the world she'd had enough.
But nothing stopped the inevitable paddle. The ebony demon pummeled her rear cheeks, one side and then the other, so fast the ripples from one spank hadn't ceased before another blow fell. Never had Pepper felt anything like this before. If it hadn't been so horrible, it would have been intriguing. Her ass felt enormous, one chub jiggling while the other one was made to wobble. The pain was as furious as a flamethrower, heat engulfing her body and consuming everything.
If all this had lasted just a few seconds, it would have been the most horrible thing in Pepper's young life. But this wasn't over so quickly. It continued, on and on, until time itself had no meaning. Existence was pain. She was pain. Her butt was pain. Everything was heat and suffering, and like heat, it could get hotter infinitely. She thought it was bad and it just got worse. And then that got worse. A minute later she dreamed of having it hurt only as little as it had earlier, back when she was so naive and innocent.
A long time later Pepper was in her cell. Technically, it was just a room, similar to a plain college dorm with cot and desk, but to her it could never be anything but a prison. The door was locked and she was alone. Her bottom itched and throbbed and every time she dared look back at the pulsing mass of red that had once been her buttocks she was filled with revulsion, fear, and dread.
The spanking, she had been assured, was minor. She'd heal in a few days. It didn't feel like it now. Right now she felt permanently disfigured, her butt ruined for sitting for life. She supposed they knew what they were doing and might be right, but even if they hadn't screwed up and destroyed her ass, that didn't change how it felt. She was glad she wasn't being spanked any more, but the road back to a white bottom was going to be hell.
What really bothered her, the fear that she didn't want to acknowledge as it pricked around the edges of her consciousness, was that this was just her first punishment session. Twice a week she was going to be punished. They'd told her that. Twice a week minimum.
That idea was truly horrifying. No matter how well she healed, this would just happen again. It wouldn't always be the flat rubber paddle. Others had warned her there were much more wicked implements. Special whips and canes, things scientifically designed for maximum suffering and minimal damage. She'd heal so they could do it again and again and again.
Two years. She had two years in this place, until she was 18 and then she'd be on probation until she was 21. That sounded like a lifetime away. Two years was 104 weeks. Over 200 spankings, and that's assuming she was a good girl who reformed quickly and didn't need more arduous methods.
Pepper shuddered. She'd arrived here thinking she was tough. She was going to survive this and give everyone here the finger. It was all an act, mere bravado. She knew now, after just one little spanking, that she had no strength left. She was weak. She was empty. She was defeated.
She lay on her thin bed and sobbed.
Morning came early and the days were long and tedious. Pepper had never been much for schooling, but here the alternative was the Punishment Room. She studied. She studied like she'd never studied before.
Surprisingly, it was interesting. She enjoyed it. She couldn't sit for it that first day, but reading and learning was less boring than staring at her bare walls.
The days crawled by and then one day it was time. She lost her gray tee and her panties that were her uniform and was marched down the corridor nude. This time she was properly terrified, weeping before she arrived and hating herself for being so weak.
The punishment was as before, Reginald smarmy and cackling and ruthless. He used the same miserable rubber paddle and Pepper's plump cheeks went from pale to scarlet to blister-red in seconds. She howled and wept and her butt felt like a nuclear furnace. It lasted for hours, she thought, though she knew it wasn't, and then she was guided back to her room to cry into her pillow and dread her next spanking.
The days were identical. The food was repetitive, bland and institutionally nutritious, uninteresting. Pepper lost weight. She focused on her studies, exploring history, math, science, literature. The terminal built into her desk was limited to educational material, but she devoured all she could get. Anything was better than just waiting for her next rump-warming.
The spankings came regularly. She wasn't sure of the precise routine. There was variance, perhaps based upon the condition of her bottom. Sometimes two days went by without a spanking, sometimes three. Sometimes they arrived at dawn to spank her before breakfast. Sometimes it was after supper.
But they came. And she was spanked. That's all she knew - that they'd come and she'd be punished. Twice a week it happened, just like they'd said. She had no clock, no way to know the day. The terminal was special software that restricted such information. Pepper tried to keep track in her head, then used a fingernail to make indentations on the wall. But she kept getting confused, her count uncertain, and after a while it seemed pointless. What did it matter? She was in here until she wasn't.
She wrote messages to her family. They were read and censored, of course. She wasn't allowed to say anything about her treatment, only that she was fine and learning a great deal and reforming. Lots of apologies for her victims, of course. Plenty of remorse.
Their responses were similarly void of content. They assured her everyone was healthy and doing well, dropped news of distant relatives getting married or having babies, and avoided mentioning anything about her situation or the accident.
At first it was great getting these tastes of home, but they grew stale and waned in importance compared to Pepper's awful visits to the Punishment Room. Learning that your cousin was engaged to someone you'd never met didn't have the same excitement when you were bound nude to a padded bench for a furious caning.
Pepper had learned first hand there were worse things than Reginald's paddle. There were even worse 'educators' than him, such as the evil Sally, a matron-like woman who favored a long thick prison strap left Pepper's ass super-heated and covered with welts.
Another horror was Davis, a tall thin man who was as silent as Reginald was chatty. It was he who used the cane on her, a razor thin fiberglass rod that left swollen ridges across her bum by the score. He knew just how to whisk that cane right under the bulb of her butt so she couldn't sit for days and had to do her homework and reading standing up.
Gradually, even the whippings grew to be routine. Pepper was shocked at the first time she realized she didn't care. They always spanked and beat her; what else was new? A persnickety guard put her down for a punishment for not putting her lunch tray away just right. It landed an inch off of stacking on the previous one and he ordered her to adjust it.
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