|The tight jeans I loved wearing.|
The things that really mattered to me were drinking sprees which we would end up drinking until we blacked out! During those sessions me and my friend Anne, loved to wear extremely tight jeans that exposed our shapely behinds. It acted as magnets to boys. Some would always smack us on the dance floor playfully and we loved it. Actually we competed secretly to see who would have the most smacks and win
So one day on a Saturday morning, Anne called me and told me to rash to her house which was a few blocks from my place. She had hot news. When I arrived she could not hold the information. I was soon to realize that one of our 'close' friend called Susan had taken pictures of us in the dance floor with certain boys doing things that I cannot mention. And to make it worse, those pictures were circulating on Facebook. I could not hold my anger and I could not think rationally.
Somehow we decided we would teach that bitch a lesson. She never leaved very far and to cut the long story short, that afternoon we called her at Ann's place. It didn't take long before we ambushed her with our belts. We beat her senselessly. She couldn't run since we had locked the main door and we didn't care of her loud pleads since Ann's parents were not around. By the time we were letting her off she was all in tears.
So the next day I went to see a friend and when I came back I found my mother waiting for me with a uniformed policewoman. She never talked much but she told me she had heard what I and Anne had done to Susan and it was her interest that the policewoman escorts me to some local police station. I started freaking out wondering why I had to go to the police station. My mother nodded to the policewoman and left. The policewoman held one of my hands and led me to the waiting police car outside. I wondered why I hadn't noticed the car earlier on.
The police station wasn't far and in 5 minutes we were there. Inside the police station we went to some room and surprisingly Susan was there. She had sat on a wooden block looking sad and seemed to have been crying. The policewoman who was like 35 told me to have a sit. She told Susan to stand and face the wall. "Could you kindly drop you trousers so that She can see how bruised you are" the policewoman asked Susan. And true, she was really bruised. Her butt cheeks had welts turning purple. This is what we had done the previous day and for the first time I felt apologetic. without wasting time the policewoman told me remove my jacket. I was left with very tight pants and some tight t-shirt. I guessed the jacket had been partially covering my bottom.
When I had left in the morning, I had worn the pants with a thong since i was going to see Fred who I had previously met in a club.
So here I was, frightened.We were only the three of us in the room. I remember the policewoman telling me that I should never ever take the law in my hands and that because of what we had done, I should be given a sharp shock and that my mother had agreed to that
She simply told me to lay across the bench. That was unexpected , okey i hadn't thought of how she would punish me but as things turned out, I would be whipped.
I hesitatingly placed my self on the bench. I felt like an 11 year old who was about to be punished. I felt guilty and the first tear drop fell. All i could do is look at Susan and the policewoman with pleading eyes. But they were both unmoved.
"I will give you 8 lashes, then you will be free to leave", said the policewoman
I held the bench as if my life depended on it as I awaited for the thrashing. I had heard of unofficial whipping in the police station but I had never thought I would be a recipient.
|Ann was also dragged from her house and made to change into gym pants|
The policewoman yielded a thin belt. The thrashing began and it was no joke.
The first stroke landed on the middle of my ass and it was excruciatingly painful. I greeted my teeth hoping the policewoman would hurry up on the other strokes. She paused at every stroke and this was just unbearable. I didn't comprehend how that thin belt stung. My mature butt felt as if it was being stung by bees!!
By the 4th stroke I involuntarily stood up clutching my ass and massaging while in tears. I pleaded with the officer telling her of how am sorry in between sobs.. I stood behind Susan thinking that she would offer me protection in case the officer decided to attack me.
After a couple of minutes I was back in the bench for the remaining strokes. By the end of the ordeal I had no tears left and for sure I never ever repeated the offense again. I was forced to apologize to Susan.
Ann underwent the same ordeal. She was forced to change into gym pants for her punishments. and today as we meet we always joke about 'the stinger'. The stinger is the policewoman's belt that we were punished with.
For such stories purchase 'Punishment Ordeals' by sending $2.99 to paypal account email@example.com