Chapter Four

Justice Must Be Seen To Be Done

Little did I know just what I was destined to receive that day, not for being forgetful, but for my original offence. My disciplining by him was far from over, only I did not know it as I stood before him, nervously waiting.

“That’s better.” He holds out his hand, not leaning forward obviously waiting for me to pass him his coffee. Once he is holding his mug he nods for me to join him. I kneel on the floor, not actually at his feet but close enough, if I ignore the table between us. The cake is delicious, all gooey and wicked; even as I enjoy the sumptuous taste I feel my fear growing. Something is telling me I am far from finished receiving my discipline, if I am to be truthful I still feel that I needed much more if I am to fully pay for my previous disgusting behavior.

“Now where were we? Ah yes, you took the magazine home and hid it from your mother by taking it upstairs! As I understand it, you then lied to her and later still you went back upstairs yourself telling your mother you had homework to get done for your college course. Though, Miss, according to your letter of confession, you went upstairs to enjoy reading about all the trials and tribulations of the girls between the pages.”

It is very hard to talk with a mouthful of thick chocolate cake, so I nodded in answer. His eyes never left my face and I could feel my cheeks rouging up with shame, as his stare penetrated me to my very core, or that is how it felt to me.

“So you are a liar as well as a thief, and not once, but twice, and to your mother as well! What am I going to do with you girl? What will it take for you to make amends and learn to be a good girl I wonder?”

What can I say? Nothing, the cake is still gumming up my mouth, and besides what can I say other than ‘Yes, Sir’, and he already knows that answer. Sorry, Sir, would not be acceptable to him, my bottom can attest to that. I wait, and leave my imminent future and the consequences of my actions in his capable hands; only bowing my head slightly to hide my fast expanding shame. He has a way of inducing humiliation in me with a simple look, never mind the words, and he is doing exactly that to me now.

His empty coffee mug settles to the table, then he stands up clicking his fingers for me to follow him. He leads me back to the kitchen and through yet another door I have not noticed. Then along a narrow passageway and out into a large double garage.
What awaits me there takes my breath away, and makes my knees feel weak. The room is white, every wall, even the ceiling had been painted clinical white. Racks line the walls, whips canes and straps dangle from them, all just waiting to be taken down and used on some culprit. I am the only culprit present and I realize that some of those painful looking weapons of discipline will soon be applied to my naughty bottom, and perhaps with growing dread I realize even to my thighs. He strides dominantly towards the far end of the room where a wooden structure waits. A gentle tug and the whole thing moves out from its resting place.

His