Laura Ch. 01

The spanking continued and my pussy throbbed wetly as my sister abused my poor backside and I felt as if my ass was being scorched. I had never suspected that a spanking could be so agonizingly painful, but I had also never suspected that the pain of getting spanked could be sexually arousing either. My ass felt as if it were burning, but I was determined to keep the punishing spanks going until I either came or the pain became unbearable. The stinging was extremely intense, but it wasn't more than I could handle...yet.

I squirmed my naked ass shamelessly across my sister's lap and writhed in both pain and sexual arousal. And just as the pain seemed overwhelming and I almost called out for Lexis to stop, the stinging pain began to fade into the background and the libidinous thrill between my legs began to surge throughout my entire body and leave me charged with the most intense sexual energy I had ever experienced.

"Aaahhh! Aaaahhhh! Aaaaahhhhh!" I screamed, but now I was screaming in sexual ecstasy instead of screaming in stinging pain. My entire body was overwhelmed with sexual heat, and I surrendered to it. My orgasm broke and I twisted and jerked around in a libidinous frenzy. My pussy was soaking wet, and I felt a surge of shame as I realized I must have gotten my sexual juices all over my sister's thighs, but the powerful orgasm carried me away on a tidal wave of sexual rapture. Any feelings of shame or dignity I might have had were too small and unimportant to matter. My orgasm was like some ancient and mighty force that rolled over me and made any of my concerns seem petty and unimportant.

I got up from my sister's lap on shaky legs and had trouble walking. I was emotionally and physically exhausted and my legs felt like rubber. I walked over to Lexis's full-length mirror and used it to get a good look at my poor, abused ass.

I looked over my shoulder and saw that it was red all over. Something about that made me proud. I was still sobbing as I examined myself in the mirror, but I felt a deep sense of accomplishment for taking as much pain as I did.

My pussy was soaking wet, and Lexis was staring right at me. To make matters worse, with me standing, and her sitting on the bed, my pussy was practically at her eye level. The good news was, I had broken out in an abundance of sweat while I was being spanked. My torso, my back and even my thighs had rivulets of sweat dripping down, so maybe she wouldn't realize how sexually aroused I had become. Also, I had a thick growth of pubic hair obscuring my swollen pubic lips, so that might work in concealing my arousal as well.

"I'm sorry," my sister said when she and I made eye contact. "It wasn't my intent to hurt you so much, but every time I tried to stop, you just told me to keep going."

I kept sobbing, but I told my sister she didn't do anything wrong. "This was exactly what I needed. I had to know if I could bear it. Or if it would just be too damn much."

"Oh," my sister replied calmly. "And what's the verdict?"

"Oh, it hurts. My ass feels like I sat on a hot stove. But I'll survive. It's not so bad that I can't bear it."

Since I was going to be away for ten days, Lexis felt it would be wise to come up with a cover story for our parents. I told my mother that I was going to a ski resort in Zermatt and that I'd be gone for at least a week. She didn't question that. I'd gone to Switzerland before for the skiing and the shopping and was gone sometimes for as long as a month.

* * *

There was almost a week between that spanking and my trip to Crestview. True to her word, my sister hired someone from A.G.S. to bring me in on that morning. Lexis and I explained that I wasn't a flight risk, however, we requested that I be handcuffed during transport to the Crestview Center anyway.

"Sure," the security guard said, and she removed a pair of handcuffs from her belt. "Now turn around."

My wrists were handcuffed tight behind my back, and I felt a delicious tingling sensation take possession of my entire body. My heart pounded with excitement and there was a soft, wet, throb in my sex. I had to bite my lower lip to suppress an impassioned gasp.

Knowing that I would be delivered, helpless with my wrists bound filled me with a delirious sense of excitement. I'd never been a handcuffed prisoner before and as I experienced what it felt like for the first time, I felt a wild swirl of emotions carry me away.

The trip from my hometown to the Crestview Center was almost 200 miles. At some point we stopped at a gas station so my captor could fill the gas tank and I could have an opportunity to stretch my legs.

When I got out of the car, it felt as if everyone was scrutinizing me. There I was, a pretty, blonde girl, handcuffed and under the control of a tall, strong authority figure. Heads turned and everyone got a good look at me, both male and female.

I was wearing a low-cult corset top that revealed a significant amount of cleavage. And because my wrists were pulled back and bound behind me that meant that I was thrusting my breasts out and putting them on display for all the customers and gas station employees to enjoy.

It occurred to me that when I got to Crestview, one of the first things they would do was take away my clothes and tie my hands behind my back. I wondered if I would blush, being stripped naked and put shamelessly on display for a crowd of strangers. I saw a middle-aged woman looking at me from across the station like I was something mouth-wateringly delicious. Her gaze drew me in. With my boobs pornographically thrust out in front of me, I set my eyes on her and ambled forward. I wanted her to have an unobstructed view of my young, bound body. Actually, what I really wanted was for her to grab me possessively and run her hands all over my body.

I was less than ten inches away from her and I pulled my shoulders back even further, making my breasts even more prominent when I heard a stern voice call out, "Laura! I don't want you wandering off. Get over here by the car!"

I turned away from the middle-aged woman and saw the security guard giving me a severe look. She was after all hired to make certain I arrived at Crestview. If it looked like I was trying to escape from her custody, of course she was going to exert her authority and make me resume my position by her side.

* * *

About an hour later we arrived at our destination. The main building of the Crestview Center was an imposing building of white marble. It looked more like the administration building for an Ivy League university than a prison, however, I knew that young women weren't getting an education in there. Instead, they were being made to suffer for their sins.

I was still handcuffed when the security guard took me out of the car. She took me by the arm, led me out onto the sidewalk and then forward until we reached the large double doors that took us to the main lobby of the building.

The lobby looked like the lobby of a tastefully decorated law firm. It had beautiful hardwood floors and a polished counter that surrounded the receptionist desk. The counter looked as if it might be made of marble, and it was raised high in one spot, presumably to hide the receptionist's computer and printer.

There was a modern art painting hung up on the wall and perhaps a dozen comfortable leather chairs for visitors to sit.

I noticed that three of the chairs were occupied. Well-dressed, well-groomed women with an air of entitlement scrutinized the security guard and me as we made our way across the lobby. They were all older women. Two of them looked to be in their early thirties, and the most disdainful looking of the females looked as if she was in her late forties or early fifties. All three women were wearing designer clothing. I felt as if the eldest woman was appraising me, evaluating me...perhaps all three of them were.

I had a hard time believing that the Crestview Center was a women's prison. From the looks of the lobby, it seemed more likely to be a law firm or a brokerage firm.

I had stopped and stared, taking it all in. Then the security guard tightened her grip on my arm and pulled me forward to the girl at the receptionist desk. The girl smiled politely at the tall, authoritative security guard and said, "May I help you?"

The girl was young, slender, wearing a fashionable V-neck sweater dress and was polite, but in a businesslike manner.

The Security guard nodded at the girl and replied, "This is Laura Sterling. She's been sentenced to ten days in your institution. I need somebody to sign for her and take her into custody."

"I can sign for her," the fashionable receptionist said. The security guard handed her an electronic pad with a touch screen. The receptionist signed for me, and I was officially designated to be in her custody.

Since I was no longer the responsibility of the security guard, she unlocked my wrists and put her handcuffs back into her utility belt. I rubbed my wrists and the receptionist said, "My name is Robin."

"Hello, Robin," I said. "Pleased to meet you."

We briefly shook hands and then she said, "Laura, you do realize that you're a prisoner, right? You can't leave. We have our own security people, who will keep you from leaving."

"Yes, I get that," I said.

"It's just you seem so calm for somebody who's been sentenced to be incarcerated for ten days. Most of the women who are brought in here scream, throw tantrums, beg for mercy, that sort of thing. You seem uncharacteristically at peace with the whole thing."

"I suppose I'm just resigned to it," I said. "I come from a rich and powerful family, and I've offended them. I've embarrassed them, I've been a thorn in their side. Rich and powerful people don't put up with things like that."

"You're doing really well for your first day," Robin said. "I am so proud of you."

Robin's friendly manner was contagious. I found myself smiling at her and then she pulled out a cardboard box and said, "This is the part where I ask you to take your clothes off and place them in this box. Detainees at the Crestview Center aren't permitted to have clothing, jewelry or personal items of any kind."

Lexis had already told me that I would have to strip. All prisoners at Crestview were kept naked, but it was still an emotional jolt to be told to strip naked in a public place. I mean...in addition to the receptionist, there were those middle-aged women in the lobby. I was accustomed to undressing in private. Having four strangers watch as I took off all my clothes was disconcerting.

My shoes and socks went into the box first. Then I unbuttoned the front of my jeans and pulled down the zipper. My jeans were skintight, so pushing them down my hips was something of a struggle, but eventually I got them off and stopped them in the box as well.

Reaching behind me, I unzipped my corset top and allowed the material to fall away from my breasts. My nipples immediately felt sensitive and became harder and more erect upon direct contact with the cool air of the air-conditioned lobby, and when I dropped my top into the cardboard box, the cheerful, young receptionist didn't attempt to conceal the fact that she was staring directly at my bare breasts and rigid nipples.

When I was down to just my panties, I stole a glance over at the aloof, elegant women on the other side of the lobby. One of them was leaning forward and raising her chin to get a better look at me. The eldest of the three women produced a pair of expensive-looking, gold and black opera glasses and proceeded to use them to get an improved view of my near-nudity.

Being naked in front of four total strangers was a new experience for me. I felt my face heat up with the flush of embarrassment as eight strange eyes bored into me and waited for me to remove my last item of clothing.

I felt a sense of helplessness and humiliation, however, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slid them down my legs.

When I was fully naked, I dropped my panties into the box, along with all my other clothes. I felt helpless and vulnerable, as the receptionist and the three older women openly appraised my naked body, however, I also felt a pulsing fire in my loins. There was a heady thrill that went along with my sense of helplessness and vulnerability.

"I'll also need your watch and any jewelry you might have," the bright-eyed receptionist said, "Detainees at Crestview aren't allowed to own any personal property, so you'll have to surrender anything you have and give it to me."

I sighed, removed my watch, and dropped that into the box as well. My only jewelry was my high school ring. I pulled that off and dumped that into the box as well.

While the three aristocratic women evaluated my naked body, the receptionist took the box with all my clothes and sealed it with packing tape. She then took out a wide-tip magic marker and wrote my name across the top of the box in very neat handwriting. She also wrote some additional information on the box, including the date I arrived and the date I was scheduled to be released.

The receptionist carried the box to a locked door, unlocked it with her keys and placed the cardboard box with all my possessions on a shelf inside the storage closet. I couldn't help but notice there were several other very similar cardboard boxes already being stored in there. This led me to wonder how many other naked girls were incarcerated in this building.

While I was stripping naked and feeling sexually objectified by the women in the lobby, two security guards approached without me even noticing. When I was finally aware of their presence, they were both close enough that they could reach out and touch me.

The security officers were both female, however, they were both tall and imposing looking. I surmised that each one of them were six-feet tall and they were both athletic looking. They were both wearing very sharp-looking black and grey uniforms. They were both slender in build and both had high cheekbones and oval faces. One might even have called them attractive if not for the severe and unkind expressions on both of their faces.

"Miss Sterling, please turn away from me and place your hands behind the back of your neck," one of the uniformed security guards said. I obediently followed her orders, and she took advantage of my obedience, and handcuffed my wrists behind my back.

After I was naked and handcuffed the congenial bureaucrat at the desk turned to one of the security guards and said, "Adrianne Schilde has been assigned as Laura's handler. If you could escort her to Adrianne's office, I'm sure she'd like to get started molding this bad girl into a respectable member of society."

The guards each grabbed one of my arms and roughly 'escorted' me down the hall. They were needlessly rough, but when I complained that they were manhandling me, they ignored my complaints and continued to treat me like I was some sort of dangerous felon.

We left the lobby and headed through a plain, white door behind the receptionist's desk. Naked and handcuffed, I was taken down a long, stark hallway with doors on either side. The last door on the left had Adrianne Schilde printed on it in bold, black lettering.

One of the guards knocked and a female voice bade her to enter. Adrianne's office was understated. It had a desk, a computer, a printer, a fax machine, a phone, two filing cabinets and an office chair. The most impressive thing about the office was the woman occupying it. She was tall, slender, graceful, and somewhat athletic looking. She had an oval-shaped face, high cheekbones and hair that was midnight black. She looked up from her computer screen, favored me with a wicked smile and said, "You must be Laura."

She stood up and walked over towards me. She was wearing a fashionable, black blazer, black dress pants and a white, button-down shirt blouse. Her standing so close and dressed so dapper made me feel even more naked than I had in the lobby.

"I've read your file," she informed me as she placed a hand between my breasts. "You're an embarrassment to your family. You've been rude, disruptive, and inconsiderate. It's my job to break your spirit and turn you into an obedient, well-behaved, considerate young lady that your family can welcome back with open arms."

"Rude?" I asked, deliberately sounding offended. "I haven't been rude."

I protested loudly, but Adrianne calmly raised an eyebrow and replied, "Well, you say that, but I've read your file."

She went on to add, "According to your file, you threw a temper tantrum on your sister's eighteenth birthday and destroyed an ice sculpture, you spray-painted a homophobic slur on your sister's car, you set a gazebo on fire, and you told dozens of people that your sister has chlamydia."

I had never done any of those things, however, Lexis and I agreed that we needed to make a list of my sins, so the Crestview Center would feel supremely confident I'd been a bad girl and needed to be punished.

"Are you going to deny that you've done those things?"

My heart thudded energetically in my chest. I hadn't committed any of those crimes, however, with Adrianne looking me in the eye and holding her hand on my chest, I felt a surge of guilt as if I had just been caught doing something very naughty. It was as if Adrianne's presence made me feel like a bad girl who desperately needed to be punished.

I felt feverish and began to sweat. It was like this woman had the power to make you feel guilty even if you hadn't done anything wrong. My head was reeling, and I had no idea how I should reply, but when I opened my mouth, words came tumbling out anyway.

"The gazebo thing was an accident," I said hurriedly. "I had been drinking tequila and lighting Mexican fireworks. Honestly, they should put a warning on bottles of tequila! They should tell people not to play with matches or explosives when they're drinking that stuff!"

"Being careless with matches and fireworks," Adrianne said. "That's still destructive behavior. We'll have to break you of habits like that."

"Your family has decided that you must be punished for your bad behavior," Adrianne explained. "It's my job to see that you suffer so that you'll become terrified of the Crestview Center, and you'll behave rather than be sent back here for additional punishments."

A chill ran through my body at Adrianne's words. I was here because I craved punishments, and yet her words still somehow managed to seem ominous.

Apparently, the way the Crestview system worked was to punish a girl repeatedly until she was cowed into submission. I made a mental note to act traumatized by my punishments and to apologize for my sins, so that they would think that the pain and humiliations they were inflicting on me were achieving the desired effect.

"Of course, since we're stripping you of your arrogance and your dignity, one of the first things we'll want to do is remove all of this," Adrianne announced.

She stepped forward and grabbed my pubic hair. My pubic hair wasn't phenomenally long, however, it was long enough that Adrianne could grab a healthy handful.

Adrianne pulled and I thrust her hips out in an obscene manner to try to save myself from the pain of having my pubic hair being yanked out by the roots.

"Waxing is very painful," Adrianne informed me. "It's a form of punishment. However, that's not the only reason we do it. Pubic hair allows a woman a certain degree of modesty and dignity, as it obscures their genitals. By waxing your pubes bald, you'll be twice as naked and exposed. And that exposure will leave you feeling shamed and vulnerable. It's a good mindset for a prisoner to have, so we wax the pubes of every woman who comes here, shortly after they arrive."