Stephanie drinks too much and allows her friend to help her get the guilt out.
I had always heard the saying “if you do that, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to sit for a week” but I never truly understood it. Could one really spank a kid so hard that they wouldn’t be able to sit for a week? I mean, sure, with a cane or something, that’d leave marks for a good while. But really now, in this America place, we don’t usually keep canes in our basements to use on the kids. Perhaps a belt, hairbrush, maybe even a paddle… and those things could probably hurt for a night or two, but it really wouldn’t make it where you couldn’t sit for a week. But the threats seemed to be good enough, cause the kids wouldn’t do what they were told not to. I guess whatever works.
I learned that this was true, though, one weekend whenever I had a bright idea. I’m not always the brightest crayon in the box, and sometimes I found myself in trouble for not thinking before I reacted… you know, look before you leap? Yeah, I wasn’t always too great about that. But it never bothered me much, cause for the most part I never got caught. Believe me, my mom wouldn’t be too thrilled with some of the stuff I’ve done…
The last day of my sophomore year, I wanted to experience something different: getting drunk. Ah, yes… the sensation of laying in front of the toilet all night as you puke your guts out. Well, I was curious, just wanted to try it. Wanted to see what would happen whenever I was drunk. I mean, I was indeed 16 years old, and I had never gotten wasted before. I’d drank, really never gotten a buzz. This would be something fun to try.
So that night I walked to my friend’s house, drank lots of alcohol, got myself shitfaced and almost raped. But I wasn’t raped, just almost raped, and it wasn’t cool. That night I threw up everything I had eaten the entire day, probably stuff from the day before, too. The next morning my head ached and I was still drunk.
“You seem… different,” my friend, Wesley, said that evening as I stumbled into work a little late. I was always a good 20 minutes early for work. Never since I had begun working there had I been late.
I just shrugged.
“What’d you do last night?”
“Partied too hard,” another friend answered for me.
I was too tired to do anything other than glare.
“Partied?” Wes said, raising his eyebrows.
I shrugged again.
We left it alone at that as I walked to my cashier position and stared at him from a distance, his eyes fixed on me worriedly. Wes was 21, a few inches taller than me, baby blue eyes, brown hair, and an adorable grin. For a while there, I had a crush on him. The crush faded, though, as we became closer friends and I realized that we could never do more than just be friends. But it was okay cause that was better than nothing.
I went through the night, drowsily ringing people’s stuff up, trying to act enthused whenever I told them to have a good evening, fucking up the amount of change I gave people back. You can imagine how relieved I was whenever I was told to go on my break. I turned the light off above my register and clocked out and made my way to the back of the building where I plopped down on the steps. I put my knees up close to me and looked out across the empty parking lot, wishing that I felt a little better. I felt so sick I couldn’t even eat…
“Hey,” the voice behind me said, causing me to jump nearly three feet in the air and have a heart attack.
“Jesus Christ…” I muttered.
“No, not quite, but close enough,” Wes said and plopped next to me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m great,” I said, so tired that I missed the sarcasm.
“What happened last night?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“Don’t worry bout it, Wes.”
He paused then said, “but I am worried about it. You don’t look so great…”
“I don’t feel so great,” I replied, looking at the ground rather than him.
He didn’t say anything, just sat there next to me, keeping me company since I felt so lonely…
“I got drunk,” I finally spat out, looking at him now, gazing into his deep blue eyes. He just looked back at me, urging me to continue. “I… I stayed at my friend’s house and we drank, and drank, and drank… it was lots of stuff, and her boyfriend was over there and his friend was over there and..” I broke off, a knot welling in my throat.
Wesley sat there listening. “And..?”
“And… I don’t remember half of what happened, but.. I know… we… er… I know he touched me… and did some stuff… and… yeah.” I couldn’t look at him any longer. His face was full of concern, worry, hurt… lots of stuff. The concrete was more dull.
“Did he hurt you… or do anything you didn’t want him to do?” Wes asked me, his voice now showing that he was ready to kick some ass…
“No. I just kept drinking stuff… kept telling them they could do what they wanted.”
“Wow.” There was silence for a moment. “You could have gotten raped..” he said, suddenly.
“I know,” I said, a tear slipping down my cheek.
He put his arm around my shoulder. “Steph… you can’t do stuff like that..”
“I know,” I murmured again.
We didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, just sat there, his arm around me providing me with all the protection I needed. Except protection from that stupid guilt that was inside me.
After my thirty minute break was over, I stumbled back to my register to finish of my last two hours before I could go home and get some more sleep, and maybe eat something cause my stomach was growling but I was still afraid that I’d throw up. But the two hours dragged along, creeping by slowly. And finally, FINALLY, my shift was over and I let a manager count out the money, give me my tip, and then I headed towards the back door, only to meet Wes on the way there.
“Hey,” he said, still having that concerned look on his face. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine…”
“Parents still out of town?”
“If you need anything, you have my number, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, blushing a bit. He walked me out to my car.
“Steph, you know that you shouldn’t have gotten drunk like that..” he said, causing a bigger pit in my stomach to form.
“I know, Wes… and I feel super bad about it… I… I don’t know what came over me. I guess I just…” I broke off, not knowing the exact words I wanted to say.
He just hugged me. “Have a good night, okay? Get some rest.”
I nodded and gave a slight grin back.
The next morning I woke up feeling guiltier than ever. Yes, I had indeed gotten drunk, and yes, I had indeed hurt my liver really badly, almost got raped, and worried the hell out of Wesley. I had pulled off a lot in two days, and I felt horrible.
I stumbled to the kitchen and fixed a glass of ice water. My hands were shaking like crazy. I just felt so guilty for what I had done and…
My thoughts broke off by the loud ringing of my phone next to me. That definitely didn’t make the fact that I was shaking any better. My heart started pounding like crazy.
“H-hello?” I said.
“Heya honey!” my mom said on the other end of the line.
“Oh, uh, hi Mom.”
“How are you?”
“That’s good. Everything okay?”
“Good good. Well, if you need anything you know the number. Give me a call tonight before you go to work.”
“Sure thing.” I yawned as I hung up the phone. If I was feeling guilty before, I felt much worse now.
I looked at the phone in my hand. Well, if there was anything I could do to help myself feel better, I could ask Wesley. He was super smart, knew the answer to many dumb questions like that. My hands still shaking, I dialed his number on my phone.
“Hello?” the groggy voice answered.
“Hey, Wes?” I said, my own voice very shaky as I was nervous and guilty as hell..
“It’s me, Stephanie..”
“Oh, hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Uhmmm, well… since you know the answer to everything, I was wondering… Cause i feel super guilty about what I did… And I just wanna make the guilt go away…”
He waited for me to go on, but when I did not, he sighed softly. “Well,” he began, “um, I know something that’d help the guilt go away, but I’m not sure if you’d go for that. Why exactly do you feel guilty? Cause you got away with it?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then you’d have to tell your parents. That’s the only thing I can think of.”
I thought to myself. “Is… is that all?” I said, the knot growing tighter and tighter.
“Either that, or, I could punish you..” he said, the words sounding as if he felt awkward.
“Um,” I said, not exactly sure what he meant.. “how?”
“Look… to not feel guilty you’d have to be punished for what you did, and you’ll have to result to your parents for that… unless you want me to.” He paused.
Obviously, he avoided my question. “My mom won’t be home for another week… I can’t stand the guilt that long…”
He didn’t answer me.
“You’d.. p-punish me?”
“If you’d want that.”
I let the thought sink in for a moment. “Okay,” I said, thinking that his “punishment” would be grounding me or something, lecturing me about what I did wrong and then telling me how much he worried about me until I was crying and he pulled me onto his lap to tell me that everything was okay, cause I was okay and not hurt. “I’ll take your punishment.”
I could tell he was nodding. “Okay, then. Ima come over, okay? Where do you live?”
I told him the directions to my house as my heart pounded so loudly inside of me that I couldn’t hear myself think.
“Okay, I’ll be there in about 10 minutes.”
“K.” I paced around the livingroom, my wide legged jeans sweeping the floor. My nerves were so on edge.. I was so nervous…
The ringing doorbell ten minutes later made me more nervous, but I was determined not to show it as I opened up the door and saw Wesley standing there.
“Hey,” I said, moving out of the way and inviting him in.
“Hi.” He stepped inside the door and I shut it behind him then we walked inside the livingroom. “Okay,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes. “You know what you did was wrong, and you’re going to accept what I do, right?”
“Good girl. Have a seat.”
I sat down on the couch and looked up at him. I now felt small as his giant figure gazed at me. “Young lady… you know that drinking is wrong. You are 16 years old and that’s way too young to be doing any of that kind of stuff.”
I nodded, feeling really bad about what I had done and looking down at the floor.
“Look at me,” he said, sternly. I lifted my head back up and stared into his blue eyes that were blazing with fire. “You could have gotten arrested, or raped, or passed out, or even worse. Do you realize that?”
I thought on this for a moment but shook my head. “I didn’t think about that…”
“Didn’t think? Steph… come on, you’re a big girl… you know what drinking does to you. I can’t believe that you would do something this irresponsible and immature.”
I wanted to look down at the floor again rather than face his disappointment.
“I’m so disappointed in you. You knew better, and I know you knew better.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m sorry..” I muttered.
“I know your sorry, but think about how much more sorry you’d be if you were in jail right now, or in the hosiptal, or pregnant.”
He paused for a moment letting the thoughts of any of that happening sink in. Him punishing me sure wasn’t making me feel any less guilty…
“I have to punish you for this… you understand that, right?”
“All right,” he said, reaching a hand out to me. I took his hand without thinking and now stood up facing him. He sat down on the couch where I was. “Pull down your pants,” he ordered.
“Pull down your pants, Stephanie.”
My heart nearly stopped. “Uhmmmm….”
“Stephanie, now!” he said sternly. “You got drunk the other night, and you are going to get punished for it and if you don’t pull down your pants I’ll do it for you.”
I gave him my best puppy face but it had no effect on him. I undid my pants and let them fall to the ground and stood there, looking at him.
He nodded and led me towards him by taking my left arm in his hand, then pulling me over his lap.
“What you did, was very dangerous and very illegal,” he said. I felt his fingers at the waistband of my panties and then felt them being tugged down to my knees. My body quivered as he did this. My bottom was now exposed to Wesley, one of my closest friends. “You know I only do this because I care about you, right?”
I nodded as best as I could, my hands gripping the sofa with all my life due to fear of what was about to happen.
“I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, Steph. You’re too good of a friend to lose over something so stupid, okay?” I felt his right hand resting on my bare bottom and his left was on my back, making sure I was held down securely.
I jumped and yelped from pain. “Owwwwwwwww,” I exclaimed, honestly not expecting it to hurt as bad as it did. I kept my hands planted firmly onto the sofa though. I deserve this, I kept telling myself.
He spanked me a good 30 or so times, causing me to exclaim “ow” nearly everytime he did so.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!!!!!!!! he finished, then rested his hand on my now glowing bottom.
I whined like crazy. “It hurts,” I moaned.
“I know it does. Think about this next time you decide you want to drink.” With that, he lifted his right hand back up.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!!!!
“I don’t EVER want you to drink that much again, do you understand me??” SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!!!!
“Owwwwwww. Yessssss,” I whined, refraining from kicking or crying out in pain.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!!!!
“Owwww, owwww.. owwwwwwwww!”
He continued spanking me, I, not fully crying yet, but still whining and on the verge of tears.
He stopped for another moment, allowing me to regain my composure a bit and resting his hand once again on my now stinging and aching bottom.
“Underage drinking is a crime, Steph. No more alcohol til you’re 21, okay?”
“I won’t, I won’t,” I whined, my backside stinging really really badly at this point in time.
“I do hope you won’t,” he said then began spanking me again.
By this time my bottom was stinging like crazy and his hand was hitting me so rapidly that I could think of nothing but the pain in my bottom and the fact that he was fussing at me cause I got drunk and how sorry I really was. Finally, the spanking settled and he rested one hand on my bottom, rubbing it slightly, and the other he rubbed my back with as I laid there crying. “Shhhh, shhhh, it’s okay, Stephanie,” he said in a soothing voice. “It’s all over now, honey. It’s okay.”
I laid there for a few minutes unmobile, just crying, whether it was more out of guilt or pain, I wasn’t sure.
Finally, he pulled my panties back up and gathered me into his arms and rocked me back and forth. “I’m sorry, Steph,” he said softly. “It’s going to be okay. Shhhh shhhh. You’re forgiven. I know you’re sorry. I know you won’t do it again. Calm down, babygirl..”
I muttered apologies as my head laid buried into his chest. But he just shushed me and continued rocking me and soothing me til I nearly fell asleep in his arms.
“Do you feel better now?” he asked after I was all cried out and finally forgiven.
“Yeah,” I said. “I really am sorry for drinking so much though.. and I definitely won’t do it again.”
He smiled. “I know. I care about you lots, though, Steph. I don’t want you to hurt yourself like that again, or I’ll have to spank you again, worse.”
I nodded. He got up from his spot on the couch and made his way towards the door, me following him. “Hey Wes?”
“Yeah?” he said, raising his eyebrows.
He grinned. “No problem,” he said then gave me a hug and walked out of the door.
After he left, I sat down on the couch with much trouble, as my bottom still stung like crazy. I decided to stand back up and have a look at it, to notice that it was indeed bruising. Whoa.. I had never known that a hand could bruise like that… I pulled my pants and such back up and sat back down on the couch, wincing from the pain. In three hours, I’d have to go to work. I desperately hoped that I wouldn’t ache so much at work…
But, I went to work, and I still ached. I went to bed that night, and had to sleep on my stomach. The next afternoon I sat on the couch and it still hurt. Wes gave me very consoling looks at work everytime he saw me wince, but I just rolled my eyes at him and grinned. It wasn’t so bad, but of course, that was whenever I realized that whenever parents said they’d make it to where you couldn’t sit for a week, it was true. Cause me, I could sit after a week, but for a couple of days there, I wouldn’t have doubted it if I would have been standing for a while.
Needless to say, I didn’t drink much after that.