The Unknown

You're late

I started to tear-up, out of both fear and frustration. I know I shouldn't have kept my relationship with Sean a secret but I'm almost an adult already. Doesn't that count for something? When I walked into Shane's room, I bent over his bed and lowered my leggings and thong below my hips before resting my cheek on his soft flannel sheets. I sighed and wiped my eyes as I waited for Shane.

Approximately five minutes later, Shane walked in, belt in hand.

"Oh, Stacey, why did you have to antagonize Mike? You should know that's a fight you're never going to win."

I didn't say anything. I didn't really feel like having a conversation in this position. It's kinda humiliating trying to have a rational discussion bent over, ass bared to the wind.

"You're not in enough trouble already, Stacey, for being thirty two minutes late? You have to mouth off to Mike as well?"

What Shane said next, not only surprised me but honestly terrified me a little bit as well.

"I know thirty-two strokes seems a tad extreme for missing your curfew, Stacey, but I think we both know this punishment isn't just about being late."

Little beads of sweat appeared on my forehead and I ran my clammy hands over his soft sheets as I became terribly nervous about just how much Shane knew.

"I've known for awhile now what's been going on and I feel that it's time to finally address your dishonesty. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, Stacey, and some space to make your own decisions because I recognize you're not a young child anymore, but I can no longer idly stand by and allow you to continue down this path without facing some consequence. I love you too much for that and I hope you know I will do everything in my power to help you grow into the amazing beautiful intelligent woman I know you're on the verge of becoming. Understand?"

Realizing I wasn't in a talkative mood after being met with more silence, Shane decided to get down to business.

"Alright, Stacey, if you've got nothing to say to me, you can recite the count to my belt. I want you to count each stroke out loud with the last five followed by I'm sorry for being thirty-two minutes late sir, it won't happen again."

I cringed with every painful stroke Shane's belt delivered to my bare bottom. I tried to remain stoic and just recite the count without any show of emotion but that plan went out the window after stroke eight. Shane's ability to lay his belt repeatedly over the same patch of skin across the center of my buttcheeks proved to be my undoing. I clutched his sheets tightly in my fists and hissed out each number as my tears began to fall. Shane wasn't going easy on me by any means.

"You're seventeen, Stacey, not seven. I certainly shouldn't have to explain to you the importance of being on time. Now should I?" Shane lectured inbetween strokes.

When I didn't respond, he slapped my thighs hard with his right hand.

"That question wasn't rhetorical, young lady. I expect an answer."

Not sure at this point exactly what Shane's question was and if I should say yes or no since I kinda tuned him out, I decided to play it safe.

"I understand, sir."

Shane spanked the ultrasensitive crease between my buttocks and thighs with his open palm, ten times in rapid succession.

"It's very clear you're not even listening to me, Stacey."

The disappointment in Shane's voice hurt worse than the sting in his painful slaps, well almost worse as Shane spanked really hard.

"I'm sorry, Shane," I said sadly.