The Shot Tower Ch. 02

There was a chorus of male laughter and heard a voice say, "See, now, girlie, you missed!"

I opened my eyes and saw that my jeans were lying on the floor of the landing: I'd completely missed the window. My attempt to make my stripping go fast only succeeded in making it take longer. I bent to pick up the pants and dropped them out through the window. I then scurried to catch up to Pam which brought more laughter.

Jane had advised me as a first-timer to wear my thickest underwear to better protect my rump in the early stages of the gauntlet, but my thickest was all cotton and bright red. Now I realized as I began the climb up the next flight, that compared to the subdued beige's, whites, and light pinks, of the other women's knickers, my bright red ones, against my alabaster skin, were like a beacon to male eyes. Fortunately, Pam's bare buns distracted them somewhat.

The difference in sting between a spank on jeans and a spank on cotton panties is significant. I jerked and gasped with surprise at the first spank on the seat of my knickers. The spanks from the next two men were just as bad and I "ouch"ed and "ow"ed after each of them, twisting first one way and then the other. Ahead of me, I could see Pam's butt turning pink as it flattened and then bounced out with each blow.

As I pasted the fourth man and gritted my teeth against the expected sting of his hand. But instead I felt my undies being pulled down on right side below my buttock. I whirled in outrage toward the man, and for the third time I had to clench my fists, grit my teeth, and suppress a desire to slap a man's face. Instead, I remembered Pam's admonition: "It's all about submission." So, I resumed my climb with one of my buns exposed, something which I believe to this day is more embarrassing than being completely bare-bottom. Perhaps this is because in addition to being exposed, you look comical, ridiculous, with your knickers down on only one side.

Each of the next two men gave out a hoot of surprise when I reached them and they saw my half bare butt. My face turned as red as my knickers. But, mercifully, neither chose to target the bare side with their spanks, and I reached the 12th landing where, under the pretext of rubbing my bottom, I was able to pull the underwear back in place.

No sooner had I done this than I realized this was another stripping landing. I'd been so focused on my one bare bun, I hadn't been looking ahead. Now I saw that the woman ahead of Pam was topless and Pam was unhooking her bra, as well.

"You, too, Miss," the man standing there said to me rather formally.

I've done some heavy petting, but always in very dim light. I'd never truly bared my breasts to man or boy before. With a sigh, I reached behind me and unhooked. The bra slipped down my arms and I tossed it through the window and action which caused by breasts to shimmy and shake much to the approval of the men watching from the flight of stairs ahead of me. I felt tears of humiliation well up in my eyes, but I also felt, only seconds later, a powerful erotic excitement.

Indeed, there seemed to be a concentration of "breast men" on these steps, for their spanks were comparatively weak. Butts, I concluded did not interest them, but they kept their eyes glued on the mammary panorama before them.

"Hey," the first of them called out, when I reached him, "this little one's nipples are erect, just like Pam's". I went red in the face at the realization that he was right.

The second man confirmed this and the third one actually reached out and pinched my right nipple, as he reached down to give me a light smack on the left side of my knickers.

The fourth man actually forgot completely to spank me. Instead, he cupped my left breast in one hand and "hefted" it for a second or two. Strangely, I did not feel like slapping him. In fact, I gasped a little at his touch.

And so it went, some light spanking with a lot of breast pawing until I reached the 13th landing.

As I neared that landing, I could see that, again, a man was giving instructions to each woman as she reached the landing. I saw the woman farthest ahead pull down her skivvies to her thighs and hold them there with her hands as she walked across the landing red-faced. Then she disappeared from sight up the next flight of stairs. The woman behind also her pulled her knickers down to her thighs, but instead of holding them up with her hands, she spread her legs enough to stretch the nasties from thigh-to-thigh; she walked in a kind of stiff, splayed-leg fashion across the landing.

As I got closer, I could hear the instructions the man was giving. Each woman was required to drop her knickers down to her thighs but each one could use whatever means she chose to keep them there. It was a pick-your-poison choice, since both options forced a humiliating posture on the woman. Spankees who chose to hold their underwear up with their hands could keep their legs together as they walked and climbed the steps, but they were forced to bend forward a little, sticking out their now bare arses as if inviting spanks. Those who chose to hold the underpants stretched could straighten up as they walked, but were forced to spread their legs, revealing more of their triangular privates.

Regardless of the choice she made, each woman invariably turned pink with embarrassment as she revealed her last secrets and paraded them, in one or the other humiliating fashion, before her tormentors. I found the sight powerful erotic and felt a new wave of moisture in my channel.

When the woman ahead of Pam reached the landing, she chose to use her hands, giving a little sob of humiliation as she lowered her knickers and bent forward to climb the next part of the gauntlet. Pam, whose buns were already bare and pink, thrust down her tiny G-string with enthusiasm and chose the stretch-across method as she waddled splay-legged to the steps and awkwardly began to climb while keeping her legs spread.

As I reached the landing, the instructor said, "Down to your thighs and hold 'em there."

I gulped in nervousness as I put my thumbs into the waistband of my underpants. Then I stood there lacking the nerve to take the next step.

"Hurry it up there," said the man giving instructions, "or I'll have to give you some encouragement."

I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut and then in one bold pull, yanked the knickers down to my thighs. For the first time in my life my privates were bare to the eyes of men. I felt two powerful waves of feeling: one was mortification and, again, I teared-up in humiliation. But the second was arousal at the thought of how I was humbling myself — submitting — to the men.

I kept my underwear in my fists and, bent over a bit at the waist, I proceeded to the left across the landing and started up the next flight of stairs.

A nanosecond after my foot reached the third step I felt the first spank of my life on my bare bum. It stung and I involuntarily jerked my hips forward and straightened up. This caused my knickers to come up and partially cover my hair delta.

"Hear, hear," said the next man up the stairs, "we'll have none of that: get those panties back down."

I hastened to obey as I continued up the steps. A second later the man who had spoken gave me a swat on the opposite bum and I jerked again, but this time managed to keep in position as I heard the spanker chuckle.

There were no "breast men" on this flight of stairs. They gave all their attention to the girly bare bottoms parading past them and they took evident joy in slapping them. As I neared the next landing I looked up to watch all the women ahead of me. All of them had pink butts now, as I'm sure I must have, too; and Pam's was even darker.

Just before the 14th landing, a man was systematically feeling up each woman who passed as he gave his spank. I felt him cup my pubis and slide his hand up to my belly. This time, I did not want to slap him. I wasn't even angry. The outrageousness of his act and the fact that I had to put up with it just made me more aroused. I just bowed my head humbly as I continued.

Behind me, I heard him exclaim, "Hey, this little girl is as wet as Pam! Didn't expect that from a high school girl."

My faced turned a thousand shades of red at having my state of arousal revealed like this. My shoulders heaved as I let out an involuntary sob of mortification. But, paradoxically, I felt even more turned-on by this latest blow to my dignity.

It won't surprise you to learn that on the 14th landing, the knickers came off completely and were tossed into the shaft. After tossing mine, I crossed over to the next flight of stairs naked as a jaybird like the rest of the women, and also like them, I was rubbing my stinging bottom furiously as I walked.

I was no more than a few steps up when a male voice from above called out "intensity-stop!"

Again, the men cheered and the women, including me this time, groaned as the nude parade came to a dead halt. It seemed to me that the man I had stopped beside hurrahed with particular delight at finding that he was the lucky one who would administer a naked spanking to a nubile high school girl.

This time Pam wasn't content to merely bend at the waist as she had done in the first intensity-stop. To my amazement, she turned her backside toward the nearest spanker, spread her legs wide so that one foot was two steps up from the other, and then bent all the way over to grasp her ankles. All her treasures were exposed to her imminent tormentor.

"Don't hold back, Jake," I heard her whisper.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Pam," the spanker — Jake apparently — said.

And with that, he began a firm spanking to the rump she had so meekly and lewdly offered up to him.

I was so transfixed by this submissive performance, that I was caught off guard by the first smack from my own spanker. It landed firmly on my left bum and I jumped in surprise, but I managed to hold my position and to resist the urge to cover my aching butt with my hands.

The second and then the third swats came in rapid succession. He rained blows on my posterior, apparently trying to get in as many spanks as he could before the queue moved again. I twisted and jerked one way and the other, clenching and unclenching my bare buns. I was aware of the lascivious show I was putting on, but I was powerless to stop as I tried vainly to squeeze and twist away the pain.

Finally, someone yelled "Go" and the queue resumed, but the sounds of moaning, sniffling women filled the air and we all moved gingerly and stiffly because every move made our bums hurt.

As I neared the 15th landing, I looked up to see a poster reading Humility Corner #3. Below that was the instruction, "Bend, hands against the wall, spread legs, and ask politely for a switch. Say thanks!"

Once, again, as at the previous two humility corners, there were three men waiting. Each had a thin flexible switch in his hand. To my horror, the one on the left was Mr Ventor, my history teacher. I prayed that he would not be the only available position when I got to the landing, but as luck would have it (and I'll let you decide if it was good luck or bad) the woman ahead of Pam stepped up to the man to the right, Pam took the man in the middle, forcing me to walk across the landing to Mr Ventor. I wanted more than anything to cover my breasts and pubis with my hands, but I knew that would only make it worse for me, so I kept them stiffly at my sides and looked down as I approached.

Following the example of Pam and the other woman, when I reached Mr Ventor's side, I bent forward at the waist and leaned forward with my hands on the wall. Once again I had to squeeze my eyes shut in mortification as I then spread my legs wide so that all my secrets were revealed to my teacher.

"Well, Marian," he said with surprise, "I didn't expect to be seeing you here. I didn't even realize that you were over 18. But I certainly don't object, you've got quite a nice firm butt."

As he said this, he rested one hand on my sore left bun, and with the other he cupped my mons and slowly rubbed it.

"My, my, aren't you the wet one!" he exclaimed.

If it were possible to die of embarrassment, I would have perished at that moment. Sadly for my dignity, I survived and choked out my required request.

"Puh- please, Mi- Mister Ventor," I sniffled, "give me a switch."

"Absolutely," he said with enthusiasm, and a split second later I felt a searing sting across both buns from the lower left to the upper right. I jerked up compulsively to stand straight and grunted in pain through clenched teeth as my hands flew to my butt. A flat-handed spank, even on a bare skin, does not compare to the sting of a switch.

"Thank- thank you ... huh-uh ... Mr Vuh- Ventor." I sobbed through my tears as I turned to the left and walked to the steps rubbing my rear.

The next-to-last flight of steps, to the 16th landing, was packed with a double helping of men. They queued up along both sides of the stairway. Several recognized me and called me by name and, as I passed by, many commented out loud about my erect nipples or my damp pubes as they reached out to swat my tender arse. Otherwise, it was uneventful, if you can call being spanked and groped naked by a few dozen men 'uneventful'.

At the 16th, and last landing, we were required to drop to hands and knees and crawl the final flight to steps to the roof of the tower.

"You must remain on your hands and knees when you are on the roof," a man at the landing instructed us.

Someone had put a long thin carpet on this final set of stairs so spare our knees as we crawled up. Most of the men we crawled past were also on their knees, the better to reach our buns. But some stood up straight with long-handled paddles that they used on our blazing butts. The paddles stung like the dickens, but crawling past the kneeling men added another layer of mortification to the experience because they each got a close up rear view of the each woman's pubes. Several found it necessary to point out — out loud — how wet Pam and I were.

When I crawled up the last step onto the roof, which had also been carpeted for the occasion, I heard the buzz of conversation, just like at a cocktail party. The sun had set completely but there were several tall torches around the roof like the kind you see at night-time barbeque parties. They provided plenty of light to see.

And there was a lot to see. The roof was packed with clothed spankers — mostly men, and naked, crawling spankees — mostly women.

Don't stop now. Find out what happens to Marian on the roof in chapter 3.