Liza's Humiliation

I awoke the next morning completely at peace. I was happy, genuinely happy as my thoughts returned to yesterday's events. I remembered Marc's strong arms enveloping me as he stood me before those two young boys, and how he urged them to undress me. My god, I was humiliated! I curled up in bed as I relived those feelings. I stretched and brought my fingers to my clit as I remembered what happened next, though. I pinched my button as I saw again the smiles on their faces dancing before me. God I loved those looks, the attention they gave me. "I love you," Marc said to me as I sat naked at the dinner table with their eyes worshiping me.

"Hey, sleepy head. It's about time you woke up. How ya feelin'?" Marc asked as he came into the bedroom.

"Wonderful," I replied in a dreamy voice.

"I've got to go with Steve to the office for a few hours. I'm leaving the car for you, so how 'bout you join us for lunch across the street from the office, okay?"

"About noon?"

"Yeah. I put the outfit I want you to wear in the bathroom for you. See ya later!"

So, just like that he was gone. I knew right away what he was doing, of course. He performed the same trick on me over the weekend: make a casual request and disappear, leaving me to agonize over the task. The peace I had felt while waking began to fade.

I walked into the bathroom feeling both anxiety and anticipation. There, on the vanity, lay my white chemise. I picked it up and fingered it as a smile crossed my face. I knew that it must be a joke, then. Although opaque, it wasn't a garment to be worn out-and-about. This was lingerie, or at most lounge wear.

'No way does he intend for me to wear this to lunch,' I thought to myself.

The only nagging inconsistency was that if it were just a joke, why did he leave my white, open-toed, high-heels beside it? Well, the shoes I'd wear, 'but damn! Now, I had to paint my nails.' Oh, well, that much for him I'd do, 'because he sure did please me in bed last night…'

After my shower I went to the closet to find something for myself to wear. There, pasted across the point where the folding doors come together to close, was a note from Marc: "Please don't open the closet doors. I'll explain later."

"Now what," I said out loud to myself. I stood and stared at the note. 'Is there some real, outlandish reason why I shouldn't open the closet? We'd just spent the first night in our new apartment. Did he discover some danger lurking there? What rational explanation could there possibly be for this?' I thought.

A cool breeze from the open bedroom door tickled me. 'Damn, why did I leave my towel in the bathroom?' Running around naked in the apartment was getting to be a habit. Last night's nakedness in the presence of those fully-clothed boys flooded my mind, again. I felt my nipples harden, my cheeks redden: all of the conflicting emotions were still there.

'Should I just open the closet, anyway?' I continued to question myself. 'I'm perfectly capable of handling whatever the problem might be. Every piece of clothing I own is in there, after all. Marc asked me not to. If I do, the note will tear and he'll know I opened the closet, but so what. Damn! Is this really just another game? It had to be. Should I play along?' I could see that pouting face he makes when he tries to get me to do things.

Before I could think the situation through, I heard a knock at the door. 'Damn!' All I could think to do was run back to the bathroom and throw on the chemise Marc left out for me. I lifted it quickly and threw it on over my head, pulling it down. I adjusted the thin straps on my shoulders. It had been several weeks since I'd worn it, but my memory wasn't this poor. Something was different. Yes, the shoulder straps were longer, allowing the top of the loose-fitting garment to hang much lower than before, to just above my nipples. To compensate for that, the hem had been shortened. I pulled it down as much as I dared without baring my nipples, but it only came a few inches past my buttocks. It didn't reveal any secrets as long as I stood straight, 'but how long could I do that? Damned Marc! What kind of game was he playing? When did he do this? How long has he been planning this? Can I really wear this?'

Another knock at the door made me put my thoughts aside. I smoothed the back of the chemise along my ass and ran for the door. I opened it while standing behind it.

"Hi, Liza. I'm sorry to bother you, but may I talk to you a minute?" It was Ally from the apartment leasing office.

"Well, I'm really not…"

"It's rather important."

I smoothed the front of the chemise, making sure my pussy was covered and opened the door wider as I came out from behind it.

"Okay, I guess it's alright. Come on in." I held my hand at my hem in front, helping the brief garment cover me. "I was just about to have some coffee. Would you like some?" It didn't take me any time at all to switch from befuddled plaything to gracious hostess.

"Sure, thanks."

She followed me to the kitchen where I happily discovered that Marc had left nearly a full pot still warming. All I had to do was pour a couple cups and hand her one.

"Um, good," she said as she sipped, then hoisted herself up onto the tall stool at the breakfast counter. The skirt of her business suit rode up her thighs and I caught a glimpse of her panties. I looked away quickly before she could catch me peeking. I certainly didn't want to be accused of that misdemeanor, again.

'That's how I ended up naked last night!' I shouted a silent warning to myself.

"They're white. I always wear white," she laughed lightly, nonchalantly, clearly not offended.

'Damn, she saw!' my thoughts were bouncing around my head at light speed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean... The stools are so high," I stammered.

"No problem, really. These really are high stools. Why do you have such high stools? You have to bend over to use the counter once you're perched up here."

"We just got them. Marc picked them out. I haven't used them, yet."

"Guys like the tall stools. You can see why." Ally squirmed in the seat, but didn't try to adjust her skirt. Instead, she raised her knee to place just her left foot on the high footrest. With her right foot still dangling, her crotch was now fully visible. The thin satin panty was pulled tightly over her pussy and the outlines of her folds were clearly discernable. Her lips were obviously swollen. "Try it for yourself. Have a climb," she giggled.

"No, I'm fine." I stood before her at the counter, sipping my coffee with one hand, still clutching the hem at my crotch. "You said you had something to talk to me about." I changed the subject.

"Yes. I've, that is to say, we've, you and I have a problem. I need your help." She looked at me sincerely; the former lightness to her features had dimmed. I couldn't help but notice that the fingers of her right hand slowly, seemingly absent-mindedly moved between her legs to thump rhythmically on her satin-covered mound.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to ignore what she was doing.

"Well, I don't know where to start. Um, you see… Well, it seems that Ms Thomas saw you entertaining two young fellows yesterday on your balcony."

"Oh, my god."

"Is it true you were in just a towel?"

"Oh, my," was all I could reply.

"You see, since I'm the one who leased the apartment to you and your husband, I'm pretty much on the hot seat here."

"I don't understand. Why should this concern..?"

"I guess I didn't mention it while we were signing all those papers, but Ms Thomas, you see, is the owner of the apartment complex. We all answer to her."

Ally's thumping had stopped. Now she was pressing hard against herself with her whole hand. Not since my niece was five years old had I seen such behavior. To see a woman my own age doing that was unnerving, distracting. I couldn't help but watch.

"Who?" I asked.

"Everybody. Even the tenants, you must know."

"I don't understand."

"Well, like I said, I'm responsible for you since I leased you your apartment. Ms Thomas thinks I didn't do my job. I didn't make sure you understood about lewd conduct."

"Lewd..?"

"I know, I know, but Ms Thomas has her own ideas about things. Will you come talk to her with me, please? She sent me to get you. I have to be honest, my job is on the line here…and she didn't give me much time."

She jumped down from the stool, but kept her hand at her crotch, making her skirt drape around her wrist in front. Her petite frame and her attention to her pussy made her seem like a mere child. Her plaintive look reinforced that impression. She took my hand and started toward the door.

I frankly didn't know what to say. My mind flashed at the sight we would make on the sidewalk, walking hand-in-hand, Ally's hand at her pussy. But wait, that wasn't quite the whole picture, because I, too, had my hand there, at my hem between my legs. I must have seemed nearly as silly to Ally, as she seemed to me. 'Could she be thinking that I am touching myself? Is she mimicking me, making fun of me?'

I quickly released the clutch I had on my chemise, blushing suddenly at the realization of what it must have looked like. Just as quickly, Ally's skirt fell into place as she removed her hand, also. I could have died. I wanted to sit down and catch my breath, talk to her. I wanted to assure her…

"Her place is just in the next building," she said as she opened the door and pulled me through it.

Ally pulled us along nearly at a trot and before I knew it we were at a door being greeted by what must have been the maid. I identified her by her uniform, or perhaps "outfit" would better describe it. It wasn't quite the uniform you see in black-and-white period flicks, rather a cross between that and one of those short, nearly indecent frocks you see in racy magazines. My eyes bugged out. They stayed large as we were led into an apartment four times the size of mine, occupying two floors. Everything oozed of money, from the hardwood flooring to the impressionist art on the walls. Wood was throughout. 'Wow, I though my apartment was nice…'

"Madame will see you shortly."

We were left standing in what I took for a library, on the second floor. That we hadn't been invited to sit was fine with me. I was still thinking about my chemise, but unwilling now to try to add to its length with my hand. Ally seemed nervous and she infected me with more than a little apprehension.

"When she comes in…"

"Good morning, Miss Faber," she addressed Ally. "Is this Mrs. Daniels?"

Ms Thomas was a tall, athletic woman in her forties. She was abrupt and to the point, coming right up to us like a whirlwind coming through the door. I wished I had gotten to hear the end of Ally's warning.

"Yes, ma'am." Ally replied with a subservience I'd never before heard.

"Do you know why you are here?" she barked at me.

"I…" my voice trailed off. I couldn't sustain my thoughts. Things were going too fast.

"I explained it all to her, Ms Thomas." Ally blurted out.

"Then you know why I'm going to throw you and your husband out on your butts and fire Miss Faber."

"But..." I stammered.

"But what?" She mimicked sarcastically.

Instead of answering, I just lost it. I began to cry. Actually, I could use the word "wail" and be closer to an accurate description. I put my hands to my face, my nose started running. My body shook. You know what a woman looks like in that condition. We've all been there. Self-pity and the assumption of injustice brought about all the commotion. A day ago my life had been so simple, predictable even. My husband and I were a typical young couple living a normal life in every way. Marc was climbing the career ladder, able to afford ever more luxuries, like our new apartment just a short walk from the beach. Oh, he was so happy to find this place. His words, "Let's never move again," came to mind. 'Oh, god! He was going to die. But it was his fault, really. He's the one who called me a prude and made me sit on the balcony in just a towel. He's the one who forced me to sit around all evening naked in front of Sam and Jake. That wasn't my idea. Now, this awful woman was humiliating me just because I wanted to please him. Damn!' I cried ever louder.

"Miss Faber, leave us."

Ms Thomas moved to me and draped her arm over my shoulders. She put a handkerchief to my nose and I held it there. Her touch was remarkably gentle as it guided me to the large couch in front of the fireplace. We sat together for several minutes. She quietly held me as I calmed down and came back to reality.

When the flow from eyes and nose had finally stopped, I gave a shudder and calmly said, "My husband loves it here."

I opened my eyes at last. My head, bowed, was in a position to see that I had been sitting with my chemise bunched around my hips. My shaved pussy was on display to my tormentor. 'Damn!' I quickly slammed my knees shut and put my hand to my lap to regain a shred of modesty, dignity.

"You just can't make us leave," I pouted.

"Oh, my dear, I assure you I can. You think you have a lease, but let me tell you, I all but wrote that document myself. I know all its nooks and crannies and have a team of lawyers to interpret it my may."

Her voice was firm, but there was a quality to it now that hadn't been there before. It was as if she were explaining a difficult concept to a small child.

"Please don't do this to us." I looked her in the face, trying to use that expression Marc uses on me to get me to do things.

"I have rules here, my child." Yes, she called me "child," I remember. "This apartment complex is my home. I must insist on these rules or my home will be ruined. Didn't you have to abide by your parents' rules when you lived at home?"

"Yes, but I'm an adult, now. I shouldn't have…"

"Even adults follow rules, and pay the consequences when they break them." She squeezed my shoulders with her arm that was still draped around me, holding me. It was a motherly hug. "And besides," she went on, "life isn't always fair. Look at Miss Faber, now. She's losing her job because of you. That's not fair, is it?"

"Please don't fire her. Please..."

"Rules were broken, expectations weren't met," she replied mater-of-factly.

"There must be some way. Something I can do," I pleaded.

She was silent, just looked at me as upon a lost soul.

"You talk of rules and consequences," I went on, "and I know all about that. You talk of living by my parents' rules and I know all about that. But they never threw me into the street. They punished me and made me do better, that's all."

"Um," Ms Thomas said thoughtfully.

"I know I can make it up to you," I begged.

"If you were to accept a punishment, enough for both you and Miss Faber, do you really think you could be a good tenant?"

"I'm sure of it. Please give me a chance," I begged, sure that I was winning her over.

"How did your parents punish you?"

"My father spanked me when I was little, but…" I blushed at the admission, unable to progress to other, more mature forms of correction.

It was a seamless motion. With her arm that was still around my shoulders she gently pulled me facedown over her lap, right there on the couch. My knees came onto the couch and my legs stretched out. My torso extended in the other direction. My bare ass was on her lap. I didn't resist in the least. I watched the whole process from afar, as if contemplating it, considering the whys and wherefores. The mechanics of the movement were a childhood memory, a pattern which once begun was finished without thinking. I felt ten years old. No, it was more than just a feeling: I was ten years old. That's the only way I can say it. I buried my face in the cushion and awaited the inevitable. A wave of humiliation crashed over me.

Whack! The first blow was firm and sure, true to the nature of my landlord. I yelped and bounced. Ms Thomas grabbed my hips and settled me down. A second blow arrived, as hard as the first, but I was better prepared this time. I managed to keep my place. The third and fourth alternated from one stinging buttock to the other. Several more landed in rapid succession. Whack. Whack. Whack. The sound filled my ears, and my cries now could not be held back. Ms Thomas was not tiring; her blows became ever more forceful. I wiggled and shouted, but she held me in place. I sobbed as one blow after the other inflamed my butt. I couldn't catch my breath. The pain was becoming more than I could endure. I was near panic. Whack. Whack. I'd begun counting the blows from the start, I don't know why, but now I'd lost track completely. Whack! Whack! I wailed and kicked. Whack!

It was over. I lay still on the couch, draped over Ms Thomas like a deer on the hood of a hunter's truck. My ass was in flames and I moved my hand to rub it.

She intercepted my arm, though, saying, "No, let it sting. The memory will last longer."

I used that hand to blow my nose again into the handkerchief I still held.

"Go now to the corner and stand there. I'll tell you when you may leave."

Like the chastised child I was, I slowly lifted myself from her lap and walked toward the corner. I couldn't help but bring my hand again to my stinging rear.

"Don't rub, I said." Her voice was as stern as ever. "And lift that dress. I want to see my handiwork as you stand there."

So, there I stood, facing a corner, again holding my hem, but this time above my hips. I was overwhelmed by my humiliation to the point that dignity no longer held for me any meaning. My nose ran, but like a two-year-old, I didn't even notice anymore. All I could feel was the sting of my ass. I can't tell you what was going through my mind, because I truly don't believe anything was.

"I sometimes made my daughter stand in the corner for an hour at a time," her voice brought me back from painful oblivion. "She's away at college, now. Studying architecture. She helped design this complex while she was still in high school. She turned out all right. I suppose there's hope for you, too. Boy, I haven't administered a spanking like that since she was just a tiny thing. I'm glad to see I haven't forgotten how…" She was babbling and went on for several more minutes.

"Martha, send Miss Faber in here!" She changed her train of thought at last.

I turned to see what was going on, but Ms Thomas pointed at me and yelled, "You stay still. Don't you dare move a muscle, or you'll regret it!"

I whimpered silently. Just when I thought I'd reached bottom, now it was going to get worse. Ally was going to see me standing here, like this. A shiver ran down my spine. My whole body tingled.

"Yes, ma'am?" I heard Ally's voice in the room.

"You have a good friend, Miss Faber. Mrs. Daniels has persuaded me to give you another chance. Like Jesus Christ himself, she accepted punishment on your behalf. Come here."

I listened as they approached me from behind. My anguish grew with each step.

"You see those welts?" Ms Thomas asked Ally. "Take a good look at them. They earned you your job."

They were so close to me I could feel their bodies.

"Go on, touch that welt, there."

Ally's hand was cold, but the soothing of that coolness more than compensated for the humiliation. I wanted her cold hands all over my hot ass.

"Now say, 'Thank you' to Mrs. Daniels," Ms Thomas instructed her.

"Thank you."

Ally removed her hand.

"Now, get back to work. But never say anything about this to anybody, or you'll find yourself right back on the unemployment line. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am, of course," Ally said as I heard her voice recede toward the door.

"And next time it will be your ass on fire!"

"Yes, ma'am," echoed from the staircase. I heard the front door close.

After that, not much happened. I heard Ms Thomas moving around the room from time to time. She called to Martha with instructions concerning one thing or another a couple times. She even left the room for a few minutes.