Harriet's Arrangement

Closure

Tom led her across to the bed and helped her over his knee. "I'm not angry or upset with you," he soothed, lifting her skirt and lowering her knickers, "I want you to relax for me now."

She nodded silently as she lay across his lap, choosing not to address him as 'Sir' as she normally would in this position, not wanting in that moment to connect the two men who were disciplining her this evening. This, she knew, Tom was doing because he cared.

He began spanking her, and she really did try to relax, working with his rhythm, hearing his murmured reassurance. She couldn't quite rid herself of the nerves twisting inside her, but the spanking eased them, and she welcomed the familiar feeling of surrender as he continued.

It was certainly not a punishment spanking, and it also wasn't a purely for-play spanking: he was being efficient about it, she noticed. She knew he was doing all he could to prepare her for Malcolm's inevitably harsh beating, and her gratitude for that came as she recognised a release in the tears that trickled onto her cheeks. "Thank you," she sniffed, as the spanking slowed and came to an end.

He pulled her knickers up and brought her up to cradle her on his lap. "You've got this," he breathed into her ear, "This really is the end of it. Ok?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Ok," she said tearfully.

He lifted her to the floor and without another word to each other they walked hand in hand back along the corridor to Malcolm's room. With a quick squeeze of her hand, Tom knocked, and the door opened. Malcolm waved them in, wordlessly, his expression ominous.

Harriet swallowed as she saw the all too familiar wooden paddle on the desk, which had been pulled to the centre of the room. She glanced across at Kieran, who was sitting nervously in the corner, not looking at anything in particular. She felt a twist of guilt mixed in with her nerves.

"I'll take it from here," Malcolm said, a strong hand on Harriet's shoulder, tugging her away from Tom. One last squeeze and she let his hand drop. She levelled her gaze with Malcolm, trying to forget about the fact that there was an audience now.

He raised his eyebrows. "I can hear that attitude without you even opening your mouth, darling," he said, dryly, "Drop it."

She lowered her eyes, a little cowed, but said nothing.

"I thought as much," he said, "Strip, please, Harriet."

She did so, slowly, folding her skirt and knickers and placing them on top of her shoes by the wall. She hesitated slightly before undoing her blouse buttons, but Malcolm cleared his throat impatiently and she could imagine Tom closing his eyes in mild frustration as she already threatened to put herself at risk. As she added her blouse to the pile, and stood before Malcolm in her bra, with her back to Tom and Kieran, she could already feel a humiliated blush rising in her cheeks.

"Why are we here, Harriet?"

"So you can punish me, Sir," she said quietly.

"Louder, Harriet, we have guests!" he chided, "Why are we here?"

"So you can punish me, Sir," she said again, louder, the blush deepening. She so desperately wanted to look at Tom but she knew she mustn't. She prayed Kieran was looking away.

"Why are you being punished?"

"Because I broke your most important rule, Sir," she said, remembering to keep her voice at a consistent level.

"And how are you being punished?"

She swallowed. "Sixteen lashes with the belt, and ten swats from the paddle, Sir." It felt like she was about to recieve the most intense punishment he had ever delivered for her in a single session, aside from the day she'd been late – but she knew she shouldn't be surprised by that. This was bound to be different: the entire situation was designed to make her feel more unsettled, more embarrassed, and more afraid.