From the Top Shelf - Serving Time, Part II

As we saw yesterday, the prisoner is in for an over the lap spanking at the hands of the prison psychiatrist.

He pushed the button on the wall leading to the driver's cab, and the glass panel immediately wound down. "Rab, one spanking over her pants to be recorded in the punishment book."

Fern shivered and closed her eyes, hating the fact that the driver might hear her taking her thrashing. He could watch in the cabin's mirror as she got a toasted rear end.

"And a second smacking on the bare backside for being rude to me," Dr. Marshall added in a conversational tone.

Fern squirmed in his lap. She felt hugely aware of her small high buttocks and was glad that her panties were waist to thigh white cotton...She tried to steady her breathing, aware that the inscrutable doctor was still staring down at her helpless buttocks. What would this correction be like? She had never been spanked before.

"You aren't really going to do this?" She said, but it came out a question rather than a determined statement.
"Oh trust me - I certainly am," the tall dark doctor replied.
...
Fern sensed rather than saw the movement:, felt the air currents change then winced as the first downward slap made contact with her taut right cheek. As the warm glow spread through its smooth center, her tormentor spanked the flesh above it, then below it.

"Ouch, that hur..." Fern started, the word changing to an indignant squeal as he turned his attention to the other buttock and doled out three equally stinging slaps. Then her tormentor smacked the bare flesh at the top of her thighs till the cool flesh felt hot and tender.

"Girls hate a tops-of-leg spanking, but it makes them behave much better," he murmured, before smacking the backs of her thighs all over again.

After that, he settled into a painful pattern. Spanking first one pantied buttock then the other. Fern wriggled about defenselessly as he used her bottom like a drum on which he beat out a one-handed tattoo. His right hand was big, his right arm was strong, her small rump was soft and supple.

"Shouldn't have tried to seduce you. Won't do it again!" she gasped, wincing and squirming across his lap.

The doctor spanked the lower portion of both tender cheeks. "You won't if a hot sore bum reminds you of the error of your ways."

Fern writhed across his knees as he continued with his relentless hand-heavy rhythm. Her nipples rubbed against the van seat. Her pubic mound pushed against his lap as she tensed and untensed her major leg muscles. Her main attention, though, was concentrated on her poor disarmed bottom, still receiving slap after slap

At last he stopped. Fern cautiously opened her eyes. The van looked brighter than before, as if filled with extra sunshine. She could see that Rab the driver had left his glass partition fully wound down. Damn it, he'd have heard her apologize, heard her little gasps and squeals, her breathless entreaties. She'd never be able to look him squarely in the face again!

What was a woman to say or do after a man had spanked her for being devious? Fern's mind raced with possible humorous and dramatic one-liners, each of which she instantly sent sway. Her backside was still beneath the police psychiatrist's palms, so she didn't want to enrage him further. She just wanted to be allowed to sit on the side of her hip and pretend this had never happened and continue the journey to the reformatory in sore-bummed peace.

"Does your bottom hurt?"
She winced as the bearded man stroked her hot cheeks again and again. Of course it bloody hurt -- it had been well-roasted.

But wait. There's more to come. Stay tuned...