A Suitable Penalty

"I found that one pretty tricky too, actually. I'd say the anal penetration was the easiest -- for me it was less about the pain and more the strangeness of the sensation."

"Right..." Yasmin wondered if she would ever be able to take a punishment like that, faith or no faith, and decided that she wouldn't. "I couldn't ever do it. My butt's for sitting."

"Yeah," agreed Lucy. "Now then, if you please, I'd like you to bare your breasts. Both of them."

"Okay..." Yasmin's hands separated and, fingers trembling, she took a gulp of air. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Would you prefer if I wasn't watching?" Lucy asked. "A lot of girls find that undressing while being watched is the hardest part."

"I think that'd be better, yes, please," said Yasmin, nodding so quickly she feared giving herself a headache. Lucy nodded back, that same kind smile on her face, and turned to face the wall and give Yasmin some vague notion of privacy. But the camera still watched. Again, Yasmin moved to readjust her hijab, and then her hands had their next task and it took all of her will to stop them from deserting.

Yasmin's arms bent back as she reached underneath and up her shirt, hunting for her bra strap, finally finding it after just a second or so too long -- long enough for her to feel she was looking silly in front of Lucy. Her trembling hands struggled with the hooks until a sudden looseness came over Yasmin's chest as the bra's straps separated. She reached up the front of her shirt and pulled her bra out -- it was plain black, just like her thankfully unseen panties, and it dangled from her hand as she took a moment to glare into the eye of the camera and hope her steely gaze might fry whoever ended up on the other end.

"Where do I put my bra?" she mumbled to the back of Lucy's head, her face burning.

"Oh," said Lucy, "you can just leave it on the desk." Yasmin placed it down where instructed, then brought her hands to the hem of her shirt. Lucy had never told her to take it off and so, she hoped, she could just lift her shirt up and, once it was over, it could fall safely back down to cover her. There'd be no need to scramble for her clothes again. Her shirt was just tight enough that it clung stubbornly to her ever-so-slightly toned belly, sticky with nervous sweat, as she pulled it up and over her breasts. Both were presented, her nipples already as hard as they could be and sensitive to the cool air of the office. Yasmin had never much liked her breasts, thinking them too small, too pudgy, her nipples a little too dark and her areolas just a bit too big, and the thought that other people might now judge them too left her knees trembling.

"Okay," said Yasmin, or tried to say -- it came out more as a hoarse whisper. "I'm ready."

Lucy turned back to face Yasmin and, to the frightened young Muslim's surprise, didn't even glance at her exposed breasts. Her disciplined blue eyes stayed in line with Yasmin's watery browns. Yet still the feeling of exposure, of being on show and not being able to entirely call her own body hers, gripped Yasmin. Her face was on fire.

"See? You can do it," said Lucy with a smile. She approached the trembling Yasmin, her shirt,

But there was something else. Something stranger. It was so strange that she felt compelled to mention it.

"This isn't so bad." Lucy smiled.

"I told you, didn't I? Now, hands behind your back, please."

"Okay." Her heart still pounding against her chest, trying to get out, beating down the door, Yasmin obeyed, her hands leaving her shirt to vanish behind her back where they linked fingers and fastened together like an intricate lock. She didn't trust them not to try and break out, to cover herself at any moment. Her shirt stayed where it was, pulled up just over her naked tits, as Lucy approached and stood before her. For the first time, she looked down at Yasmin's exposure, and Yasmin took in a deep breath, only now realising that, with her shirt like this, a few inches of her body below her navel were exposed and then realising that in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter one iota. Lucy took her phone from her jeans pocket, tapped the screen a few times, then placed it down on the desk next to Yasmin's bra.

"I've set the timer. Now just try to relax," said Lucy, smoothly, her hands cupping Yasmin's bare breasts. Yasmin shivered. Electricity rolled from her chest and across her body. A superconductor with its tits out. "Nice, controlled breaths."

"Uh-huh," mumbled Yasmin, staring just past Lucy at some anonymous part of the wall, wishing there was another poster there so some little part of her brain might be distracted. Oh gosh, she thought, oh gosh, oh gosh, her hands are on me, a stranger's hands are on me and she's touching my breasts and...

Lucy squeezed.

The pain was immediate. There was nothing sensual nor sexual about the way Lucy touched her -- this, Yasmin suddenly remembered, was a punishment. And it felt like one. Yasmin squealed, wanted to clasp her hands against her mouth to stop such stupid noises escaping her, or just to fight off Lucy's torturous fingers, but kept them fastened behind her. Her knees buckled. Her head lolled back. Her eyes slammed shut and she whimpered and cried out, trying so desperately not to be loud lest people just outside this room hear her, as Lucy's fingers tightened on her hard nipples and the pain exploded out. Some strange, vague mixture of pleasure existed in there, deep in the well, but Yasmin couldn't get her hands on it. There was only the pain and, now, the sense of humiliation. Her body was on fire.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God..." hissed Yasmin at the ceiling.

"Just hold your position," Lucy instructed, twisting her fingers on Yasmin's left nipple by a few degrees. Her nipple screamed in reply.

"I am, I am," Yasmin insisted, squeezing her own hands together so hard they began to hurt too. She only did it harder, trying to make her hands feel as much pain as possible, just to distract from the pain in her chest, but it did no good. Her knees pressed against each other, every part of herself tightened and clenched, trying to ride out the pain as Lucy tortured her soft breasts and showed no sign of reprieving her.

"You're doing great, Yasmin, really great," said Lucy encouragingly. "You just need to take this punishment and then everything will be fine." As if it were punctuation, she twisted both of Yasmin's nipples to the right. The pain filled the young girl's mind.

"Ow, ow, ow," Yasmin whined, her eyes watering, then bursting, tears running down her cheeks at long last. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," Lucy cooed. "You'll be okay." Her fingers tightened and Yasmin let go, screaming through her teeth to the ceiling, no longer caring if she was heard or even seen anymore.

"Please stop, please stop," Yasmin whimpered, though she knew Lucy wouldn't. She was sure her nipples would be misshapen from now until forever.

"We're almost done," said Lucy, with all the reassurance she could muster. Another squeeze. Another twist, this time in the other direction, and Yasmin's sweaty fingers came apart -- and yet she fought them back together. The girl just grunted, tried to push down all the noises, kept her eyes shut, but she could feel Lucy's breath against her face and knew if she just opened them she might be able to stare down her torturer. But she couldn't. She belonged to Lucy, just for this moment, but it was too much, too much, too much, she was going to rip her nipples right off, she was going to disfigure her, she was going to make her scream the whole building down and

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Lucy's fingers vanished from Yasmin's nipples at the first hint of the alarm. Yasmin gasped at the sudden relief but still the pain lingered, the last guest still hanging around a party long since over, and opened her eyes to see Lucy stepping away from her and towards the desk to fetch her phone.

"You did brilliantly, Yasmin," said Lucy, as she turned off the infernal beeping. The birdsong returned to its rightful dominance. "You can get dressed now, if you like."

"Okay, I..." Slowly, slower than she would ever have thought she would, Yasmin went to her shirt and pulled it back down to cover herself. Her nipples stung, crackling with fire and lightning, and the pain drifted out in a spider web across her chest and up and down her spine like an express elevator. Her groin tingled in a strange and unfamiliar way.

"How do you feel?"

"Like someone just tortured my nipples," mumbled Yasmin, wiping at her face, smearing her cheeks with tears. She didn't feel ready to put her bra back on. The last thing she wanted was something else having close contact with her desperately stinging breasts -- even the gentle fabric of her shirt was unpleasant. "It's not often you find yourself wishing someone had put their fingers up your ass..." She almost snorted at her comment.

"Would I be right in thinking the tension's been broken?" Lucy asked as she turned to click off the camera, which still stared at her.

"I guess. Maybe." Yasmin sighed, rubbing at her chest. The pain wasn't going down. Her nipples prickled at every touch.

"Good. Now then..." Lucy stepped back towards Yasmin and, even though she knew no further punishment was coming, the girl took a step back. "What have you learned from this experience?"

"That I should submit my essays more than ten minutes before the deadline."

"I think that sounds about right." Lucy smiled. "Now, your nipples might be quite sensitive for a while, and you may get a bit of bruising. If it bothers you, apply an ice pack, if you have one. Otherwise, frozen peas are fine."

"Okay," said Yasmin quietly. She glanced at the desk, where her bra waited, and there was nothing she wanted to put on less -- but her nipples were visible, pressed against her shirt, and though she no longer cared that Lucy could see, she would surely care once she got out into the corridor. And so, reluctantly, Yasmin picked it up with the intention of returning it to her body privately, in the first bathroom she could find, where she'd wash her face and step back out into the world like nothing ever happened. "I really did well?"

"You really did well," Lucy confirmed, digging into her bag to produce a piece of paper. "I just need you to sign this and then you can be on your way." Yasmin examined it -- it was a confirmation that she had received her punishment, written in fancy formal syntax which thankfully avoided any unpleasant specifics. Yasmin accepted a biro from Lucy and, slinging her bra over her shoulder, signed her name.

"Done," she said quietly, and Lucy took the paper and returned it to her bag.

"Come on," she said, "I'll walk you to the door."

"Oh, that's okay," said Yasmin, "I've gotta go to the bathroom. I'll find my own way out."

"Alright," said Lucy with a nod. "I've gotta run, anyway. I've got another appointment."

"You have a pretty interesting job."

"You've got no idea," said Lucy, and, though her nipples still screamed beneath her shirt, for the first time Yasmin smiled.

...

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