The Unknown

Meanwhile

Stacey and Lisa slowly make their way down to Neil's office. Knowing what lies ahead they're in no hurry.

Lisa's pov

I don't like the idea of Dr. Curtis punishing us. If he can hand Mike and Shane their asses, he must be one scary dude.

"Stacey, wait."

"What?"

"I don't want to go in there," I say, nervously picking at my fingernails.

"Nobody wants to walk the green mile, Lisa. Do you seriously think we have a choice here?"

"How can you be so calm, knowing we're about to get paddled?"

Stacey's pov

I love how Lisa whispered the word "paddled" like it's a trade secret or a really dirty word.

"You know what they say. Pain is in the eye of the beholder."

Lisa replies, "That's beauty and I'm pretty sure having your ass smacked repeatedly with a hard wooden board is always gonna come up painful on the magic 8 ball." I mimic shaking an invisible magic 8 ball and being disappointed seeing the same response each time.

"I don't know how worrying about our impending doom changes said doom, but I do like your idea of consulting the Magic 8 ball for all major life decisions. That's what they call progressive thinking."

Lisa's pov

"There is something seriously wrong with you."

Stacey shrugs.

We're now standing outside Dr. Curtis's office. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale before knocking on the door. Dr. Curtis tells us to come in, so we strap on our blindfolds, light our cigarettes and step before the firing squad.

"Sit down, ladies, while you still can," Dr. Curtis says ominously.

Wait, did I just hear him say what I think I heard? Oooh, not me, girl. I look at Stacey to see her reaction but she seems oblivious. We sit down on the couch.

Dr. Curtis makes a production of slowly removing his suit coat, rolling up his sleeves, and taking off his tie. I really hope this is as far as the undressing goes. Dr. Curtis reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out the hardest looking wooden paddle I've ever seen, well actually it's the same paddle we saw earlier. Technically, my former statement is still true because it's still the hardest wooden paddle I've ever seen, it's just my second time seeing it. Regardless, this shit just got real.

Dr. Curtis half sits on the corner of his desk, staring us down. Oh oh, here comes the lecture.

"You ladies racked up quite the litany of offenses last Saturday."

Please don't keep us in suspense I think, list them all in great detail.

And Dr. Curtis proceeds to do just that.

"1. Breaking curfew."

"2. Leaving the grounds without permission."

"3.  Auto theft." ( I got the look )

"4. Driving without a license."

"5. Underage drinking."

"6. Driving under the influence."

"7. Dishonesty."

"8. Disrespect."

"Normally, I would leave the disciplining to your guardians but when the offenses are this egregious, I prefer to handle it myself."

Is this SAT prep test vocabulary lesson part of our punishment, or just an added bonus? I think to myself.

"Do you ladies have any explanation for your behavior?"

Why do I get the feeling he stopped talking because he expects a response? Dammit, I hope Stacey was listening. I glance over at her, she wasn't. Okay, I have a 50% chance of getting this right.

"No sir," I say, with little to no conviction.

Dr. Curtis replies, "I think ten strokes per offense sounds fair."

My eyes were as big as saucers upon hearing that number. That's eighty strokes. He can't be serious. I don't think the human body is built to withstand that much pain. That definitely falls under the category of cruel and unusual punishment.

As if reading my mind, Dr. Curtis says, "Don't panic, it'll be spread out over three days. The first thirty begin now. Stand up and bend over the couch, ladies. NOW!" Dr. Curtis barks. Seeing our hesitation, he slams the paddle against his desk, the noise causing us to jump.

Leaning over the couch just waiting for that first stroke is maddening. I could hear the whoosh of the paddle as he swung it in the air, warming up. He tapped the paddle gently against our bottoms a few times before beginning our punishment.

WHACK.

The first stroke lands sharply across my rear, stinging right through the denim.

"Count them out loud, ladies, followed by sir."

"One sir," Stacey and I start to count. "Two sir, three sir, four sir." He delivers these three in rapid succession. "Five sir, six sir, seven sir, eight sir, nine sir." Fuck me, those five really hurt.

By stroke thirteen, I'm fighting back tears and counting through a clenched jaw. My bottom is stinging, yet somehow numb at the same time.

"Eighteen sir, nineteen sir. SHIT!" That last one hit right above the thigh, the pain causing me to reflexively jerk up and let that expletive slip from my lips. At that moment, time stood still. I was too terrified to turn and look at Dr. Curtis.

He held the paddle firmly against my inflamed buttocks, pressing it harder against my punished flesh as he leaned in close and whispered harshly in my left ear, "If I hear you curse again, Lisa, your punishment will be doubled and if you think I'm kidding, try me." 

He flicked his wrist back and whacked me so hard with the paddle, I yelped out in pain, instinctively reaching back to rub my bottom. He swatted my hand away with the paddle, leaving my knuckles smarting. 

"Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," I squeaked, tears now streaming down my face.

"Good. Let's resume the punishment at stroke twenty. Shall we?"

Dr. Curtis proceeded to land a particularly wicked smack to my left buttcheek causing my knees to buckle.

"Hold your position, Lisa," he warns, "or we'll start over at one. Understand?"

"Yes sir," I say, through gritted teeth.

"Good, we'll repeat stroke twenty then."

Tears flow freely down my face as strokes twenty-two, twenty-three, and twenty-four hit precisely the same place, right on my sit spots. I struggle to hold still, biting my lip inbetween counts. I'm sure those strokes left bruises.

Dr. Curtis rubbed the end of the paddle in circles on my buttocks.

"These last three are going to hurt, ladies. Brace yourselves."

"Twenty-eight sir." He wasn't kidding. He was putting a lot more force behind these strokes. The pain was surpassing unbearable. "Twenty-nine sir." The sound of the paddle smacking against our bottoms echoed in my ears. I'm seeing stars and white spots before my eyes. "Thirty sir." Thank God, it's over. I can finally breathe again. I was afraid of passing out.

"Turn and face me, ladies." 

We do as we're told, facing Dr. Curtis through tear stained eyes. He isn't even breathing hard, the son of a bitch. The stern look on his face gives me butterflies in my stomach. He is really scary when he's pissed, even more so than Mike. A chill runs through me and I shudder.

"I sincerely hope you two are starting to learn your lesson. I expect you back in my office tomorrow at 7pm for part two of your punishment and bring your cousin," he says, looking at Stacey. "You're dismissed."

It hurt to walk but we hurried out of his office anyway. It wasn't until we were safely on the other side of the door, that I felt like I could breathe again. I don't think I can survive two more nights of this.