Performance Review

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

At 7:00 the next morning Judith waited nervously in her living room. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been showered and dressed at that hour. She knew that she should keep working, but she was too uneasy. Jeremy had said he would be there at 7 a.m. sharp, and Jeremy was a very prompt man.

She didn’t know what to expect, or what was expected of her. She’d worked hard the day before and faxed in her list at the end of the day, but there was still the matter of the daily punishment to contend with. When Jeremy had told her the day before that she would be paddled or strapped with his belt every day for a month, her mind hadn’t quite been able to process the idea. For one thing, she’d never been punished physically before.

An hour later, standing in the corner after spending some quality time bent over the back of her couch, things were looking a little clearer—and a little less tolerable. The first stroke had come as a complete surprise. Whatever she’d expected, but it hadn’t been pain that would make her wiggle and wail. Jeremy had been cool and methodical while she’d dangled over the back of the couch, skirt hiked up around her waist and panties around her knees, struggling not to kick and scream.

By the tenth stroke, she’d been crying steadily and loudly, awash in pain and humiliation, certain that she couldn’t bear another one, let alone the additional twenty he’d promised. He reacted calmly.

“The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be. This is your reality for the next thirty days—and perhaps longer, if things don’t improve. You will begin your day in this position, feeling this pain, every day for a month. We have only just begun, and there is far worse pain to come.”

With that statement, he landed a stroke directly on top of another, and Judith howled. If he was going to do that she absolutely wouldn’t survive.

“Don’t do it again!” she gasped. “It’s too much!”

He stopped for a moment. Then he said, very quietly, “It’s too much? Is that what you said?”

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Is that for you to decide?” he asked, his voice deadly calm.

She could scarcely get out enough air to say “No.”

“That’s what I thought,” he responded. “You still want to run things. Bare-assed over the back of your couch surrounded by a mess you made and then couldn’t fix without some very close supervision, you still want to call the shots.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make things worse.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, almost to himself, and then landed a hard stroke right on top of the last one.

She screeched and she squirmed and she cried, but she didn’t ask him to stop.

Another blow fell almost immediately, again in the same spot. She screamed so loudly that he warned her in that same implacable tone that she might disturb the neighbors, but she did not ask him to stop. She silently, she was constantly begging him to stop. But the blows rained on. Begging turned to praying that he wouldn’t strike that spot again. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to stand it.

Again and again struck. She’d been right. It was more than she could bear. She howled again and saw red, and then black. The pain radiated through her whole body. But it made no difference. She couldn’t bear it, and yet somehow she was. She had no choice.

“Those three don’t count,” he said. “That was the penalty for trying to tell me how to handle this.”

Nineteen to go, then. It was beyond her imagination.

As if he’d read her mind he said, “If things don’t improve, you’ll soon learn that there are far worse punishments than thirty strokes with my belt.”

She couldn’t comprehend that, didn’t want to try. This was more than enough pain to teach anyone any lesson. She thought about the list that Jeremy had made for her and knew that she’d be working diligently on it, wasting no time and respecting all of the boundaries he’d created. Whatever the “far worse punishments” were, she never intended to experience them. In fact, she never intended to experience this one again. Her mind was simply not accepting the idea that she’d be feeling this every morning for the next month.

And yet, here it was the next morning and she was waiting in the living room for Jeremy, all dressed for work except that she wore no panties, waiting for him to bend her over the couch and administer the second of her thirty punishment spankings. Her bottom was still sore to touch after the encounter with the belt, and so she knew on some level that today’s spanking would be worse. Knew it, but couldn’t quite imagine what “worse” would be like.

Jeremy knocked on the door and then entered without pause. In his hand was a wide, flat paddle. It was thin, not heavy, but its surface area was large enough to cover her whole butt. She thought instantly about what that meant—every single blow would be landing directly on top of the last one. Unconsciously, she began to squirm.

“Over the couch,” he commanded without preamble.

She bent over the couch and raised her skirt, but a sudden thought made her stand up again abruptly.

“Did you just carry that in here like that? Right out in the open?”

She flushed at the thought of her neighbors seeing Jeremy arrive with a paddle each morning.

“Of course,” he said.

“But…but…the neighbors,” she sputtered.

“What about them?” he asked carelessly.

“What will…I mean…they’ll think…”

“The truth?” he asked.

“Well, maybe!” she snapped indignantly. “But it’s none of their damned business!”

“Judith, have any of your neighbors been in your house in the past few months?”

“A few,” she admitted.

“So,” he said slowly, “you weren’t ashamed to have them see how you were living, but now you’re ashamed to have them see you pay for it?” He said that like it was a ridiculous position, but he’d summed it up perfectly.

He shook his head. “We will address this in more depth later. Meanwhile, bend over the couch.”

As she moved forward she saw him reach to remove his belt. An instant later, she heard it snap.

“Before we begin your scheduled paddling, I’m going to give you ten strokes with my belt on the back of your thighs. Do you know why?”

“No,” she choked.

As she said it, a hard stroke landed across her legs, just below the crease between her buttocks and thighs.

“No idea?” he asked, landing another stroke directly on top of the first one.

“No,” she gasped, writhing.

“THINK,” he commanded, neatly laying a third blow in exactly the same spot.

She screamed. Then she cried out, “Please! I don’t KNOW!”

The fourth time the belt fell on precisely the same strip of well-punished flesh she howled like a dog. Knowing she’d lose her mind if he struck that spot again, she made her best guess.

“Because I got up from the couch?”

“Very good!” he exclaimed, laying the belt an inch lower. The stroke was hard but it came as a relief after the previous few.

He quickly laid five more hard strokes across her thighs and then told her to remain in position. She heard him putting his belt back on and then he picked up the paddle.

“Now, if you’ll kindly stay where you belong, we’ll begin what we came here to do.”

The reminder that, after those ten agonizing strokes, her punishment had not yet begun nearly moved her to tears. She dangled over the couch, the backs of her legs striped red, wondering how she’d managed to go wrong so quickly. Only yesterday she’d vowed that she wouldn’t earn any additional punishments, and she hadn’t even made it to 8 a.m. on the first day. She’d have to work harder. She simply couldn’t keep inviting this kind of pain.

‘Your daily punishment will begin now,” Jeremy said, and she tried to prepare herself to feel the paddle for the first time.