Terror and Arousal

[spanking] [F/f] [domestic discipline] [corner time] 

Continued from: Warm Reception

The silence of the living room stretched like an invisible thread, pulling tighter with each passing second, the gas fireplace's soft hiss the only companion to my racing thoughts as I stood motionless in the corner, nose inches from the cream walls that seemed to pulse with my own unease as the scent of fresh paint enveloped my nostrils. Those ten minutes - marked by nothing but the distant hum of the Facility settling around me - felt like hours, an endless void where my mind spiraled through every possible scenario, the anticipation coiling in my chest like smoke from the flames behind me. The warmth licked at my back, contrasting the cool draft seeping from the edges of the corner, raising goosebumps along my arms beneath the sweater, my skin prickling as if already exposed, already judged. 

The words "deal with you" from the note echoed in my head, a phrase that carried the weight of authority, making my pulse thrum in my ears, the quiet amplifying every internal whisper - the fear of her disappointment, the secret thrill of surrender, the way my body betrayed me with that insistent warmth building between my legs, an unwanted slickness that made me clench my muscles in futile resistance. 

I snapped from the humiliating trance when the commanding click of heels echoed down the hall - sharp, deliberate, each step resounding like a gunshot in the stillness, my breath catching sharp in my throat as adrenaline surged through me.

The door opened behind me, a soft whoosh of air stirring the room, carrying a faint scent of unfamiliar but pleasant perfume that wrapped around me like an unseen embrace. I dared not turn or look, frozen in place, my hands hanging limp at my sides, fingers curling slightly as to grasp some shred of control, the sound of her presence filling the space with an intimidating elegance that made my knees weaken. 

"Young lady," her voice came at last, rich and sultry, laced with an unyielding authority that sent a shiver racing down my spine, "turn and face me. Come closer." 

I pivoted slowly, the heels clicking daintily on the hardwood, each step feeling like a mince under her unseen gaze, and when I laid eyes on Mistress Andrea for the first time, the reality surpassed every image I'd pored over - tall and statuesque, her figure commanding the room with effortless poise, confirming how beautiful, intimidatingly gorgeous her pictures had suggested. Her raven-black hair was swept into waves, framing a face of striking, youthful refinement: high cheekbones, full red lips curved in a knowing half-smile, and those piercing blue eyes, enchanting and hypnotic, looking into mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip, as if she could see straight through to the secrets I carried. 

She was dressed in tight tweed dress pants that hugged her hips and long legs perfectly, paired with nightshade hosiery that caught the light in subtle shimmers, killer black heels adding to her towering presence, and a strict black turtleneck that accentuated the elegant line of her neck and the subtle curve of her bust - a vision of composed power that left me feeling small, exposed, even in my clothes. 

"What brings you to see me today, Heather?" she asked, her tone measured yet probing, crossing her arms as she appraised me, the question hanging in the air like a gentle command. "And why do you deserve to be spanked like a naughty little girl...aren't you a little old to still be spanked?" 

I swallowed hard and dared not look at her, my voice emerging as a soft, unsteady murmur, tears welling unbidden as I fumbled with my hands in front of me, twisting my fingers together like a schoolgirl before the headmistress. 

"I...I've been short-tempered with my family and at work, Mistress Andrea," I confessed, the words tumbling out in a rushed confession, my cheeks burning under her gaze. "I've told little lies to avoid confrontations, neglected things I should handle...I deserve it because I need to feel accountable, to let go of adulthood for awhile though...through, this." 

She nodded once, her blue eyes softening just a fraction, satisfied with the raw honesty that had spilled from me. "Very well. You'll address me as Ma'am for the duration of this appointment." Then, without preamble, her expression sharpened, her voice taking on a firmer edge that brooked no argument. "Now, strip fully naked. Everything off, Heather - right here in the living room." 

The command landed like a physical blow, shock rippling through me as I hesitated, my hands freezing in place, tears spilling gently down my cheeks in silent streams, the reality of baring myself to this stranger - to someone who looks like her - crashing over me in a wave of vulnerability that left me trembling. My voice broke in a whisper, barely audible, 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

With my eyes averted to the floor, the hardwood's warm grains blurring through the sheen of unshed tears, I began the slow, deliberate process of peeling away my layers, each piece of clothing a surrender that stripped not just my body but the fragile armour of my everyday self. My hand, still trembling from the weight of her gaze, fumbled with the hem of my sweater, lifting it over my head in a whisper of cashmere against skin, the cool air kissing my back like an uninvited lover, raising goosebumps along my arms. I placed it on the coffee table with deliberate care, its grey folds settling beside my discarded high heels - still radiating faint heat from my hosed soles, the patent leather gleaming under the fireplace's glow like silent witnesses to my unraveling. 

My jeans followed - the zipper's rasp loud in the quiet room, the denim sliding down hips with a soft hush, pooling at my ankles as I stepped out, the nude stockings clinging to my legs like second skin, their sheer whisper a contrast to the growing exposure. I folded them too, onto the coffee table, with meticulous precision, the act a ritual that only delayed the inevitable. My pink lacy thong now the only barrier below, its thin string nestled between my cheeks, damp with the heat of betrayal emanating from my pussy - a warm, insistent pulse that made my thighs quiver, arousal betraying every flicker of embarrassment. 

The bra came last among the upper layers, the clasp unhooking with a soft snap, my breasts spilling free - heavy and full, dusky nipples hardening instantly in the room's draft, aflush creeping across my chest as I folded the white lace and added it to the table. Then the thong - thumbs hooking into the waistband, sliding it down my legs in a slow descent that left me utterly bare, the fabric clinging wetly to my shaved folds before dropping to my ankles, the air kissing my most private places with a cool intimacy that made me gasp softly, tears spilling over as I stepped out and folded it too, placing it atop the stack like a final confession. 

Naked now, I stood before her - one arm instinctively crossing over my nipples, the peaks pressing against my forearms like traitorous points, the other hand cupping my pussy, fingers brushing the slick warmth that betrayed me further, the heat radiating from my core like a secret fire, arousal a damp seen on my inner thighs that made me clench. 

The vulnerability was profound, a wave of embarrassment crashing over me as I felt her eyes on my body - the curve of my breasts, the flare of my hips, the amazing ass I'd always been quietly proud of now exposed for judgement, tears streaming as humiliation burned hot in my cheeks, yet that same heat pooled lower, my pussy's betrayal a slick, throb that left me confused and aching, the duality a storm I couldn't reconcile. 

She let me stand there for a moment, the silence stretching, her clothed presence a weight that pressed down on me, amplifying every sensation - the fireplace's warmth on my back, the cool air teasing my skin, the distant tick of a clock marking the seconds of my exposure. Then, her voice came again, firm and unyielding: "Go back to the timeout corner, Heather. Stand there as you are, bare naked, feet together and nose to the walls." 

The command sent a fresh surge through me, fight-or-flight chemical flooding my system - adrenaline sharpening every sense, making the room's details leap out in vivid clarity; oxytocin stirring a strange, unwanted bond to this stranger's authority; dopamine whispering promises of release amid the terror. I padded back to the corner on tiptoes, the hardwood cool under my bare soles, feet coming together as instructed, arms folding behind my back - hands clasping elbows, the posture thrusting my breasts forward, arching my spine slightly to present my ass like an offering. 

The humiliation was profound, a tidal wave that left me lightheaded, vulnerable in ways I'd never imagined - naked before a woman I'd just met, standing like a chastised child, my body betraying me with arousal that slickened my thighs, the heat from my pussy a constant, embarrassing pulse that made me clench in shame to try and stop it.

How could I be this embarrassed, this exposed, yet so aroused? The contradiction tore at me, tears flowing freely as I stood there, the chemicals surging. Behind me, I heard her clicking and rustling around the room - heels pacing with purpose, drawers opening, items clinking onto surfaces - unknown what she was doing or setting up, the mystery twisting my fear higher, my imagination running wild with visions of implements laid out, waiting to blister my bare skin. 

Eventually, after what felt like eight, maybe ten minutes - an eternity where every second amplified my nakedness - she summoned me: "Come over here, Heather, it's time for your spanking." 

I turned, mincing forward on tiptoes as commanded, the motion making my breasts bounce slightly, my shaved pussy feeling even more exposed with each step, approaching her from behind where set sat in the quintessential "spanking chair" in the middle of this foreign but cozy living room - armless and sturdy, creating a stable base over her tweed pants with her knees together, her posture composed and waiting. 

While I'd been in the corner, she'd laid out numerous implements on the table - several wooden hairbrushes of various shapes, a belt coiled like a serpent, a leather strap dangling menacingly, a ruler flat and ferocious, a few paddles with their broad faces promising thudding pain, and a feminine hard-soled slipper, dainty yet deadly with its elegant bow.

She just patted her lap invitingly as I approached, her voice calm and commanding - "Over you go, young lady" - and for the first time, I was fully naked over the knees of Andrea, the stranger, I was about to be spanked like a child from olden days, my bum thrust up into the air, pointing at the ceiling, well aware that the position also exposed my pussy and anus to her gaze, the vulnerability and tears crashing over me in a final wave of terror and arousal. 

Yours Truly, 

Heather