My steps, though slow, small and shuffling finally took me to my personal trainers side. He made a comment that we had work to do about speed and posture. My mouth opened to argue, but at his raised eyebrow I quickly closed it again and I bowed my head in embarrassment. I was a mess of emotions. Confusion as this was not an alternative therapy that I would ever have imagined. Frustration that I hadn't thought to seek out the small print or make further inquiries. Embarrassment that I was about to submit myself to such a humiliating punishment and awe that I seemed to be complying with this mans directives instead of giving him a scathing lecture on his so called treatment and making my way to the door. That was an option after all, they had no control over my comings and goings. I may have to forfeit the fee, but I COULD leave.
So why wasn't I moving? I stood there silently, naked as the day I was born wringing my hands waiting.
My trainer seemed to be aware of my inner debate and patiently waited for me to come to a decision. I couldn't raise my head and I couldn't speak but when I realized that I was in fact still willing to go through with the program my hands released their grip on eachother and fell to my sides.
Having seen the gesture the man asked me if we were to continue, his tone remained calm with that patronizing edge, as though he knew the answer and was just asking for my own benefit. I clenched my jaw but nodded, he accepted my nod and Instructed me to lie over his lap using his hand on my wrist to guide me and once I was lying on my stomach over his knees he adjusted me so my bottom was high and centered and my hands were on the floor for stability. He explained that he would spank my bare bottom until he deemed I had learned my lesson about dishonesty and that I was allowed to cry and talk but I was not to physically interfere with my correction. He asked me if I understood and I nodded a blush suffusing my cheeks. I suddenly felt a single sharp slap on my bottom as he said he couldn't here me. His tone had gone from patronizing to firm. I gasped out yes, surprised at the sharp sting from his hand. He replied with a patronizing very well then and informed me that I would be well served to pay attention as he would be taking the opportunity of going over some of the rules. I once again gasped out a yes but surprised myself by adding 'sir' after it. This address seemed to please my trainer though and he began with that rule as he proceeded to pepper my bottom with slow but firm slaps. I was allowed to address him by his name, Jesse, while training or during downtime. If I had earned myself a punishment like I had now then I was to address him as 'Sir'. He asked me if I understood, punctuating the question with a slightly sharper slap? I gasped again but replied with another 'yes Sir'. This earned me a 'good girl', as acknowledgment as he continued his attentions on my bottom. As he continued with the rules his smacks, were firm and controlled, though the were jolting and I could feel heat begin to build in my bottom it wasn't too painful. He outlined the importance of puctuality, completion of tasks, focus and attention in classes on top of honesty and compliance adding that this naughty bottom had already earned a punishment for the latter two. Again I blushed at the childish references but felt my eagerness to please rise and longed him to refer to me as a 'good girl again'. He outlined the uses if spankings, enemas, butt plugs (reminders), and various suppositories that would be used as therapy, motivation, or punishment as he or my other instructors saw fit. I blushed at the idea of others applying such techniques upon my person but was unable to dwell on the concept as the spanking had intensified and each swat of his hand was beginning to leave a burning reminder that I would be better served to behave. I began to fidget and whimper at the smacks the actual feeling of pain coming to the forefront. Suddenly he stopped and I let out a sigh of relief, he commented on the redness of my bottom as he stroked it gently. I groaned in a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort. Suddenly his hand slid down and his fingers began to stroke the wet lips of my sex. At the initial touch I gasped again and attempted to rear up, but he chuckled and pressed a firm hand at the base of my spine. He made the humiliating observation that I was quite wet, made the observation that I might actually like getting my bare bottom spanked. His tone had grown whispery and sensual. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole such was my mortification. He then began to describe the rewards I would receive if I was a 'good girl' his fingers working sensual magic as his words described some truly erotic scenarios. I found myself close to Cumming just with his fingers and his words, my moans now pleading my embarrassment still there but muted, my need more important. Suddenly just as I was about to reach my completion he removed his hands and I whimpered with frustration. His tone returned to an almost gleeful scolding as he informed me that that was for good girls only! He explained Trainers had sole discretion on when their charges had earned a reward orgasm, that I would be tied to the bed every night so I could not self pleasure without permission AND I certainly hadn't earned it now while I was about to get my first punishment. My mind reeled as he outlined this latest bit of information, then I looked at him over my shoulder in shock as my minded computed the last part if his statement. ABOUT to get my first punishment? He smiled knowingly and said now that I was nice and warmed up the punishment could begin. His smacks began to rain down on my now tenderized hind end each one sending an Ouchie message and he steadily began to create a fiery pattern that had me gasping, wiggling and pleading for forgiveness in short order. Yet the attentions continued until every other thought was driven from my brain, my wails became more pronounced, my legs churned as though running away from the pain, my words unintelligible. My bottom felt swollen and throbbed with heat his hand felt like steel. Finally the smacks stopped, it took me a couple of minutes to regain some form of composure. His hand lightly stroked my abused flesh. When I had calmed some he shifted me until I was sitting on his lap, the jolt of pressure in my bottom brought a fresh wave if tears, but he enfolded me into his arms and rocked me, cooing comforting words. To my surprise I returned the embrace crying into his shoulder. He said how proud he was of me and how I was halfway through, I just had to accept my enema. I stiffened at the knowledge it wasn't over yet, but the fight had completely left me. He assisted me to my feet and directed me to the corner if the room. He had me lean forward back arched slightly, toes pointed in and hands on my head. He told me he was going to go prepare my enema and he wanted me to stay in position and reflect in all the events of the day so far, and how I can improve. I replied with a teary 'yes Sir' and he patted my abused bottom gently and I heard his footsteps retreat to the bathroom. I stood there, I contemplated, and I waited.
To be continued.