Haylee and the Spanking Machine

Haylee obeyed and sat on the bed. Instinctively, she knew to be docile. She was surrounded by people who could make her life worse than it was already going to be and there was no reason to piss them off.

The guards ignored Haylee, talking to each other. "Can you get the trestle on your own?" the woman asked the guy who'd brought Haylee.

"I guess," he said as he left back out the door and disappeared down the hall.

The investigator approached Haylee. "Hello, prisoner," he started, "I'm the investigative observer of your punishment, today. I'm going to ask you questions as we go on today. Some of the questions are going to be on a scale where I ask you to rate something on the scale of one to five and others are going to be open ended and some are just going to be yes or no. Make sure you listen to the questions, as some of them are complex. Please be as detailed as possible, I might ask you to expand on something and if I feel like you are hiding information on purpose, then I can recommend further punishment. Do you understand?"

Haylee nodded. She hadn't thought about what it meant to be an experimental subject, but she never would have thought she'd be being asked questions. She was imagining a scientist in a lab coat on the other side of the glass, but this was much more personal. A pang of guilt was added to her anxiety as she realized the information that she gave him would be used to make it worse on future victims.

"Ok, first I'm going to start with some general questions. One, have you ever been subject to court ordered judicial punishment in the past?"

"No!" Haylee answered quickly, feeling like she was accused of being an even worse criminal. She didn't even feel like she had done anything wrong this time, much less like she had been on the wrong side of the law previously.

The investigator either didn't notice the tone of her answer or ignored it, as he didn't react. "Age?"

"Twenty-one."

"Sex?"

Haylee frowned at the questions, "Female."

"Gender identity?

"Female, or woman, I guess."

"Sexual identity?"

"Straight."

"Racial identity?"

"Black." Haylee could tell that the constant questions were going to be annoying.

"On a scale of one to five, five being the most prepared and one the least, do you feel prepared for your punishment?"

"Two, I guess," Haylee answered. Her lawyer had told her what could happen, but how could she be prepared?

"Again, on a scale of one to five, do you feel like you know the process by which you will be punished?"

"I don't know," she answered, "I mean, I know I'm going to get stripped and flogged, right?"

"It doesn't matter if you're right. The question is if you think you know what will happen."

"Um, three, I guess," she said, deciding to sit on the fence.

"Did you know before attending the Center today, that you would be completely naked for your punishment?"

"Yes."

"Did you know that you would be asked to strip in front of observers?"

"No, I wasn't certain."

Haylee thought she saw the female guard frown, sympathetically, from the corner of cell.

"Do you consider yourself attractive?"

"Why?" Haylee wondered to herself, but she didn't want to be adversarial. "No," she admitted, aloud.

"On a scale of one to five, one being less anxious than you currently are, five being more anxious, and three being no change in anxiety," he read carefully, "Would you feel more or less anxious if only observed by members of the same sex?"

"One."

"On the same scale, would you feel more or less anxious if only observed by members of the opposite sex?"

"Five," she answered, resisting the urge to add 'obviously.'

"Good," he said, "Now I'm going to ask you questions that are only asked to prisoners who did not know their punishment before arriving at the Punishment Center. Did you know of any potential punishments that you might be subject to?"

"Yes," Haylee muttered.

"Please tell me what you thought might be your punishment?"

"Um, I knew that the other girls who got in trouble with me were caned, so I thought it would be similar."

"On the same scale of anxiety, how do you think you would have felt, if you knew your punishment ahead of time?"

Haylee thought for a second. On the one hand she'd decided she didn't want to know what was coming, but she could see the benefit, "Three."

"I see," he said, buying himself time as he tapped his screen, "Same scale again, how does being told that your punishment will be administered by a machine change your anxiety level?

"Five," Haylee answered. She could only imagine that it was going to hurt more, and it wasn't going to reduce the number of people seeing her punished. If anything, it added the extra observer.

"Ok, good. I'll have more questions for you later. Thank you for your answers so far," the investigator smiled and moved back toward the wall.

Haylee still felt like she was going to puke. There was no way she was going to be zoned out if she had to keep answering questions. The investigator was going to make her think about her situation and even analyze it.

Less than a minute after the questions ceased, the mean guard returned half carrying and half dragging a wooden thing. Haylee struggled to figure out what to call it until she remembered the guards calling it a trestle. When the guard got it into the cell, she was able to examine it. It looked like a waist height bench with no back rest. The 'seat' was covered in thin padding and there were support struts that ran between the trestle's legs and four leather cuffs would eventually secure her ankles and wrists as she bent over for her punishment. Even worse, though, she could tell from the placement of the cuffs that her legs were going to be tied far apart, "They're going to be able to see everything!"

The thought made Haylee's heart race and she wondered if the investigator was going to ask her to rate her anxiety. However, the female guard approached instead, "I have good news, for you, this Punishment Center doesn't require a full body search because of the scanner at the front door, which makes this next part easier."

Haylee wondered if she was joking. She was obviously about to have to strip and she knew something was going to have to be done about her pubic hair. "Anxiety level is still five," she thought to herself, wryly.

"Take off all your clothes and lay them on the mattress to be searched by my partner."

Haylee nodded and took a deep breath. "Just going to follow directions," she told herself. Still sitting on the mattress, she brought her feet up and loosened her sneakers and pulled them off, laying them on the slab next to her. Next, she pulled off her socks, and she realized the easy part was over as her feet hit the cold concrete floor.

She had a gray, hoody that she'd chosen because it covered her like a sack, hiding her curves. Underneath that she wore a blue t-shirt that protected her skin from the non-so-soft underside of the sweatshirt. Without standing up, she crossed her arms in front of her and grabbed both hems. She pulled both of her shirts over her head and revealed her tan bra. Her billowy clothes had covered her large chest. She had a noticeable belly, still partially contained by her high-waisted yoga pants, but she had a little bit of a waist that narrowed below her chest before widening around her hips.

The male guard approached the side of the mattress and started to search through the clothes. Haylee wondered why. Anything hidden would have been caught by the scanner, but she realized that his attention was split, and she could rush and keep his eyes off her while she stripped.

Her thumbs hooked the elastic waistband of her pants and she started to force them down, lifting her bottom off the mattress. She hesitated as they bunched up above her knees, but she collected her resolve to get them off her ankles.

She felt herself flush as she noticed the investigator staring at her as she reached behind her back to the clasp of her bra. The female guard was staring at her, too, but at least the mean guard seemed to be engrossed in his search. Even if he was just a good actor it made it easier to let her bra fall and her boobs unleash.

They were large and hung down, pointing away from each other, without the support. She had often been self-conscious about how they sagged and her large areolas. They covered a much larger portion of her breasts than she had seen in other girls and they were more dark espresso compared to her milk chocolate skin. She crossed one arm over her breasts and held them tight to her chest. She tried to force the shame from her mind, but it was hard. She'd been raised to be a good girl and good girls were modest. "You're not flaunting. This isn't by choice," she told herself, as her free hand descended to her navy briefs.

Haylee pushed down the waistband off one hip and then the other, uncovering, dark, curly hair sprouting from her mound. She lifted her butt from the mattress and struggled to pull the fabric out from under her with one hand. Finally, she got it and keeping her thighs pressed together she let her underwear fall to the floor and tossed them onto into the pile.

Haylee looked at the female guard who was obviously eyeing her crotch with a raised eyebrow. The guard stepped up and spoke, "I know I said we weren't doing a full search, but I still have to do a couple things. Shake your hair in front of your shoulders and brush your fingers through it."

That was easy enough. She wasn't uncovering anything, at least, as she shook her leaned her head forward and let her black hair fall in front of her face. With her free hand she followed directions, proving she didn't have anything hidden in her thick tresses.

"Alright, that's good," the guard said, kneeling down, "Mouth open, please."

Haylee let the guard peer in with a flashlight, moving her tongue around as she was instructed. "What do they think I'm hiding?" she wondered, "Pain relievers, maybe?"

When the guard was done with that, things got worse for Haylee. "Open your knees, please," the guard ordered.

Haylee felt her face flush and her belly continued to ache. She looked up at the ceiling as she opened her legs, showing her hair covered lips to the woman.

The guard didn't talk to her, but to her partner who was now done searching her clothes, "Yeah, she's going to need the depilatory."

The male guard groaned, "I'll go fetch it." He left the cell again and Haylee thought she heard him mumbling about having to do everything as he went down the hallway.

The woman rolled her eyes at him and then spoke to Haylee again, "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. We will let you remove your own hair and it's easy."

"That's good," Haylee thought, but it worried her that they weren't just calling it a razor.

The guard filled her in, "It's just a cream that lets you wipe the hair off. We can't give you anything sharp, after all."

Haylee nodded. She'd never used those products before and her mind jumped to horror stories about chemical burns between her legs, not that she could do anything about it. It was better than having the guards shave her, which seemed like the other options if she wasn't allowed to use a razor herself.

As she was lost in thought the investigator stepped forward with his tablet. It was worse now. Answering the questions were hard, but she now the strange man hovered over her while she sat naked in a jail cell.

"I have some more questions for you, are you ready?"

"Yeah, I guess," she nodded making sure she was covering herself as best she could.

"On a scale of one to five, one being less anxious, five being more anxious, and three being the same level of anxiety, are you more or less anxious after removing your clothes."

"Five," she answered. She knew that stripping was going to suck, but now she was worrying about everything. Her nipples were too big and dark. She was embarrassed about being so hairy, and she hoped nobody noticed the stretch marks on her hips.

"This is a different scale, ok? On a scale of one to five, one being not embarrassed and five being extremely embarrassed, how embarrassed were you to take off your shirt?"

"Five."

"Same scale, how embarrassed were you to take off your pants?"

"Five."

"Same scale, how embarrassed were you to take off your brassiere?"

Haylee flared her nose, "Five." Before the investigator could continue, "Five for my underwear, too." She knew what they were doing since she'd learned about statistical surveys in her Psychology classes. They were trying to see if some parts were worse than others and if women were more embarrassed than men, and other things like that. The pang of guilt she felt reemerged as she remembered that it would be used against future criminals, especially because she knew too many of the criminals were just young people who made mistakes and couldn't afford the fines.

The investigator shrugged and tapped in her answer for the next question. "Same scale, how embarrassed were you when brushing through your hair."

"One."

"How embarrassed were you when the guard was searching your mouth?"

"Two," she answered, deciding it was slightly worse than the hair.

"Alright, one sec," he said, tapping on his screen, "I have to skip a few questions because this PC doesn't do more invasive searches."

Haylee's stomach turned again, and she told herself to be thankful. That was one lucky thing, at least.

"These questions are about grooming habits, ok?"

Haylee nodded.

"Did you know that criminals usually have to remove pubic hair before their punishments?"

"No."

"Do you usually groom your pubic hair?"

"Sometimes."

"To what extent do you sometimes groom your pubic hair?"

Haylee paused and thought how to answer that, "I've never got rid of all the hair. I usually just keep it trimmed so it stays, you know, inside my underwear or swimsuit."

"What method do you use for hair removal?"

"I shave."

"Have you ever used the method that is used at this Punishment Center?"

"Nope."

The cell door creaked open and the guard came back holding a pink bottle of what Haylee guessed was the foam, and a box that she recognized as wet wipes.

"I'm almost done," the investigator said, turning to the guards. Turning back to Haylee, he continued, "Back to the anxiety scale, do you know which one that is?"

"Yeah, less, same, more."

"Correct, are you more or less anxious that you have to remove your pubic hair?"

"Five," she said, continuing to be surprised how deep the pit in her stomach could go.

"Are you more or less anxious that you get to remove the hair yourself."

"Less, or, one," she caught herself.

"Thank you, prisoner," he said, making Haylee's skin crawl. "I'm done for now," he said speaking to the guards.

The female guard approached her, holding the foam and wipes. "Ok, honey," she started.

Haylee thought she sensed sympathy from the guard. Maybe, being a woman, she knew how personal it was to have to remove her bush.

The guard continued, "Here's what you do. All the hair between your legs has to be removed. Rub this foam into it and wait for two minutes, then you just wipe it off with these." She held up the box of wipes and paused. Her mouth curled as if she was debating what to say next. "I know you're embarrassed. It helps to turn toward the wall, so you don't have to worry about us watching."

Haylee was glad that she'd been right that this guard wasn't all bad, and she nodded, trying to communicate thanks with her eyes. The guard set the implements down on the bed and stepped away.

Carefully, Haylee picked her feet up off the floor and, making sure to keep her thighs together, she turned toward the cinderblock wall behind her. Glancing behind her, she noticed the investigator walk so that he was directly behind her and she imagined that the other woman had motioned him over to give her privacy.

She opened her legs and brought her ankles toward her, so she sat cross legged and let go of her breasts. She grabbed the bottle of depilatory foam with her left hand and let her right hand run through her bush. She knew that she didn't want to let any of the foam get in between her lips, fearing that it might burn the sensitive area hidden beneath.

With a sigh, she squirted some of the yellow-tinged white foam onto two fingers and started to massage it into her crotch. She focused on her labia first, running her fingers up and down one side and then the other. When she was satisfied, she added more to her fingers and spread it through the hair on her mound.

She stretched her skin taut and made sure that the foam was spread throughout her hair. Her stomach dropped again as she sprayed the last of the foam onto her index finger and carefully applied it to the dark curly hair that grew between her opening and her anus and then she started to count.

"One, two, three . . ."

She didn't really know what her vagina was going to look like without any hair. Before today, she'd never let anybody see it except . . . she couldn't even remember the last time anybody saw it. She wasn't a prude, but she was just too busy to ever worry about dating. A few people had seen her topless in locker rooms and changing at the sorority house, but that was different.

"Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two . . ." she continued to count silently.

She had masturbated enough and watched enough porn that she knew her vagina wasn't the perfect porn pussy, closed and tight up against her pubic bone. However, she was pretty sure her outer lips were closed, hiding her inner lips. They were just puffier than what she imagined was ideal. She felt her skin tingle now as the chemicals did whatever they did. "Does it dissolve the hair?" she wondered.

Haylee was almost to one-twenty now and she got a wipe ready, anxious to get it off in case it burned her skin. When she was sure it had been two minutes, she wiped up her labia bringing tuffs of curly black hair up with the cloth. She tossed the used wipe to the side and grabbed another one as she examined herself.

Without the hair she could see her lips were darker than the surrounding skin, just like her nipples, and they came together like a perfect clam. Strangely, she was proud that she couldn't find a reason to worry about how it looked.

More haphazardly, she wiped off the hair on her mound and her thighs and started to feel herself. She was soft but her skin was extra sensitive under her touch and tingled like she had goosebumps.

"Seems like you're done," the woman called.

"Um, yeah, I think so," Haylee answered, realizing that that meant her punishment but soon be approaching.

"Turn around and let me see if it is satisfactory," the guard ordered.

Haylee collected her breasts against her chest with one hand and covered her bare mound with the other as she turned around and returned to her previous position. The other woman squatted down, and without needing orders, Haylee spread her legs to let the guard inspect her.

"That looks good to me," the guard told her, "See was that so bad?"

Haylee wanted to disagree. Everything about this sucked, but she thought better of speaking her mind and answered with a quick shake of her head.

"Good," the guard said, "Now it's time to get started. I promise it will be over soon. Do you want to put this on yourself?"

The guard held a black piece of fabric out in front of her. It took a moment for Haylee to figure out it was a blindfold. Everything really was about to start. She knew that she would be blindfolded before the technician arrived to carry out the punishment so this must mean he was almost here.

Finally, she nodded and took the cloth dangling from the guard's hand. Being blind was going to make her feel even more helpless but, somehow, it was better if she put it on herself. She wondered if that was why she was allowed to take off her clothes, too, "Maybe that's how they keep us calm."