Introducing Shawna

Natalie has been in the corner before. She positions herself with only her toes touching the baseboards. It has her shoulder's just a hair's width from the walls. Her face isn't that much further back. She keeps her hands at the small of her back. And she leaves her pants alone, even though they've worked their way down to her knees by now.

Natalie stands still, her deep-red bottom on full display. It's a display that Shawna tries very hard not to look at. It's just oo obvious that Natalie's butt is "on fire." That it has to be stinging her almost unbearably. Yet Natalie isn't allowed to even try to do anything to ease it. She has to just stand there and suffer the full strength of that burning sting. To accept the pain.

I have Sophie fetch me a cup of water atop a saucer. I also have Sophie add a drop of red food coloring to dye the water and put a white tissue doily atop the saucer. She fills the cup almost fully to its rim, leaving about five millimeters between the water level and the rim of the cup.

I take Natalie's hands and move them for her. I don't tell Natalie what I'm doing. I just move her hands, turning them palms up and flat. I carefully set the saucer atop Natalie's palms. It has her holding it on her flat hands at the small of her back. Where she can't see it.

"Since you seem to have such a problem behaving in the corner, maybe that cup of water in your hands will encourage you to stay still like a good bitch. Spill one drop and you will wish you hadn't, bitch. Now, stay. I'll get you once you've spent your full 43 minutes here."

"Yes, my Queen..." Natalie sobs out. I can hear the shame in her voice. I can hear the reluctance, too. And the faint edge of nervousness as she thinks about how still she's going to have to be not to spill any water out of that cup.

I use the same rule for my corner as they teach in parenting classes. Sure, that rule is for little kids, not big bitches, but Natalie has just been punished like a little girl! She gets one minute in the corner for every year old she is.

Chapter 03: Exposing her Truth

I return to the sofas and stand directly in front of Shawna. It takes her a moment to look up at me. And when she does, she does it reluctantly. With wary eyes upon me, too.

I can tell Shawna wants to say something. It's more than just obvious. As is the fact that she's too afraid to. "I know what you're thinking, baby bitch. See, I know how little girls' minds work. Right now you want to say that there is absolutely no way you'll ever allow anyone to spank you like that. You're a grow-up now, and that's a very little girl's spanking. And that doesn't matter because no one is going to spank you any other way, either. Right, baby bitch? Feel free to tell me I'm wrong, just do not lie to me."

Shawna puts a little confidence in her voice. "Yes, my Queen... you know what I'm thinking."

I laugh. I laugh hard and right at Shawna. "You seem to have one very wrong idea about your place in the world, baby bitch. So let me tell you what your lot in life is. As you so happily admit, you are no longer a child. You are a big, grown-up, bitch now!

"But you live in my bitch's house. I own that bitch over there. Which means I own everything she is, and everything she has. So you're really living in my house. I have one simple rule for bitches in my house. They are either kids, which you just so eagerly admitted to not being, or they belong to me.

"It seems you have some mistaken ideas. Like that you have a choice. You don't. You have no choice in anything. If you don't like it, then move out. Now. Go find someplace to live. Pay your own way in life instead of leeching off of mommy. Otherwise, I own you just as wholly as I own that bitch over there."

Not much of it is true. I might tell Shawna otherwise, but she's free to leave if she wishes. No one will stop her. And I really can't make her move out of her mother's house. I could push Natalie, and Natalie would. But Natalie wouldn't abandon her as I'm hinting will be the case. And if she did, I'd exile Natalie for abandoning her daughter. I'm not even sure if Shawna believes it. But I know, as would any teenager, it will make her nervous, instilling a teenager's worst and constant bane, in her: doubt.

Shawna sits. She fidgets hard in her seat. She definitely wants to say something. The look on her face tells me that bursting out in tears is a real possibility as well. So "typical teenager" of her.

"I'm disappointed in you. Surely you knew it was wrong to spy on mommy's private time, didn't you baby bitch?"

"Yes, my Queen," Shawna's voice is muted. It's an almost pure shame and nervousness. As if she's ashamed to admit what she's done and equally afraid that it is only a prelude to some hideous consequence she's about to suffer. After a couple of seconds, I see a gentle tremor flow over her body. I'll bet she's thinking about impending consequences and wondering if, and how well, she'll suffer them.

"Remember what that bitch just learned over my knees. I do not allow any privacy, modesty, shyness, or shame from my bitches. Any of that will get your naughty bottom over my knees just as fast as it got her over them. You belong to me. I have every right to see all of you, even your most intimate thoughts. Now tell me the truth. Why were you spying on your mommy?"

The tears slowly run down Shawna's cheek now. She sits quietly for a moment. She averts her eyes, unwilling to look at me. And she answers in a very shamefully muted voice. "I was curious, my Queen... I mean I know less than zero about boy-girl stuff... I was just hoping... for a little hint, or something... anything! Just so that when some boy finally does like me... I won't be totally lost! I want... him to think of me as a real woman, not some little girl..."

"Ah, the truth comes out!" I say with a trace of enthusiasm in my voice. "And you had no clue that mommy was just a bitch? That she was owned? Did you?"

"NO!" Shawna firmly blurts out, "I never imagined anything like this, my Queen!"

"It's just so kinky, isn't it?"

"Yes, my Queen." Now on safer ground, questions that don't require Shawna to bare her soul, her answers come faster and firmer, her voice returning to its normal volume.

"I'm sure you've guessed that there will be consequences for spying on mommy like you were two years old or something."

"Yes, my Queen..." Shawna's voice falls back to its muteness, now running wild with nervous stutters in it.

"You will write your mommy a very humble and polite apology letter. It will be handwritten. It will no less than 1000 words. It will be the most honest and heartfelt thing you've ever written. And it will not just say you are sorry, but also why you are sorry and why you spied on her. I strongly suggest you forget about your privacy and modesty and just write the unvarnished truth. Very humbly.

"You have exactly 24 hours from when you set the first toe out of my door to write it, deliver it to your mommy in person along with a verbal apology to her, for her to read it, and for her to send it to me. I will read it as well, and then I will decide if you are truly sorry or if you need to be taught a lesson too.

"I will also grade it. Just like your English teacher would. Penmanship counts. So do spelling, grammar, and vocabulary. You may not use any electronic device to write it. Not even to look up a word. A pen and paper, and that's it. If I see a single cross-out, write-over, or erasure, I will send it back to you unread. You must score an A on it, or you will be redoing it until you do. Unpleasantly redoing it. This is your atonement. You will atone and be properly respectful as you do.

"Now, are the instructions clear, baby bitch?"

"Yes, my Queen..." Now Shawna's voice is a mix of too many emotions to count. Intense relief that she's not going to be spanked. Intense agony at the thought of the writing assignment. How it is such a "school girl" kind of punishment. And worse, how she's so obviously going to have to bare her soul to her mother. How nervous she is about her work not being acceptable to me, and earning her some punishment that she now firmly believe Natalie will not help her weasel out of.

"Good," I tell her firmly, but with a little sweetness in my voice. "Well, there's no reason to waste the next... 39 minutes while that bitch just stands in the corner, is there?" I don't wait for Shawna to answer me. "Stand up, baby bitch."

Shawna, having already heard her sentence pronounced, clearly wasn't expecting anything else. Maybe just to wait here until Natalie was out of the corner. Silly girl! Suddenly very nervously, she rises to her feet.

I pick up my crop. Tiny taps on her hands and a firm scolding get her hands flying up behind her back. And it doesn't take any taps of the crop for Shawna to straighten herself up. Maybe she's learning!

I have Shawna take off her shoes. I can see the puzzlement on her face at the instruction. But she doesn't dare defy it. I can see a little more puzzlement on her face, and a lot of exacerbation, as I tell her that just kicking them off isn't acceptable here. She has to squat down. She has to fully untie them and loosen the laces before slipping them off her feet. And then she has to tuck the laces inside and set them neatly under my coffee table. And then rise back up to stand properly. Facing me.

I tell Shawna to take her socks off now. She guesses that she can't kick those off with her toes. She stops her foot halfway and returns it to the floor. She lifts her foot up, crossing it across the front of her leg, so she can reach her sock. I stop her just before her hand reaches her sock. It gets me another wordless exasperated sigh from Shawna. But obediently she squats down and slips one sock off her foot, then the other. She follows my instructions, the ones I'm giving as she goes, and mates her socks together, folding the tops of them over neatly as if they were in her sock drawer. I hope. For all I know, Shawna's sock drawer is a jumble of lonely socks. She sets them neatly atop her shoes and stands, now barefoot, before me.

"Take off your shirt, baby bitch," I tell Shawna, my voice suddenly very strict and firm, but also soft and kind. I'm hoping it lets her know that this isn't a choice for her. That loose t-shirt is coming off. And I don't care if she's embarrassed to be seen in whatever bra she happens to have on.

I see Shawna start blushing brightly again, but not as deeply as she did earlier. I can see the question on her face as she wonders countless things. How far will make her undress? Surely not "all the way!" and will she be able to strip down however far I want her to, or will that shyness stop her from showing me whatever I'm looking to see? And more importantly, why do I, another girl, even want to see her body? Am I a lesbian? I do have a slave-girl! So that's a possibility! And then the big one: If I'm gay, am I interested in seeing her naked body?

She moves reluctantly as she lifts the bottom hem of the shirt, bringing it up and over her head. It bares a modest, and cute, white bra with lace trim. It's a simple cotton bra, like something that came from Wal-Mart. Which is might well have. It's not like kindergarten teachers make a lot of money. Its cups almost fully cover her smallish mounds, fringing them with lace.

More importantly, to me, it finally lets me get an idea of the shape of Shawna's body. She really should avoid baggy clothes, I decide. At the same time, I decide to do something about that. Her body is thin. There are maybe two extra pounds on it, one on each side right where her underarms give way to her chest at the very tops of her breasts. There's enough padding that her ribs don't show, always a good thing, but it doesn't look like an ounce more than needed. Her skin is smooth and taut. It's a light, but not pale, shade of white. More of those light tan freckles dot the very tops of her shoulders, too. And that is kind of adorably cute!

Shawna folly my instructions and smooths out her shirt before folding it very neatly and setting it atop her shoes. Then she returns to standing, her hands behind her, offering me a good view of her now-bare stomach. And of a very gentle, flowing, girly curve at her waist.

"Takeoff that bra now, baby bitch... show me those little breasts," I add the second line just to make Shawna uncomfortable. To make her think about showing me a very private part of her body. To think about how I will likely be checking them out as intently as a boy would!

Shawna trembles once. Then her hands start moving slowly and reluctantly. The blush fades from her face. Then she pales. Her eyes dart around the room nervously. It makes her even more embarrassed. It lets her see that not only am I watching her, but Sophie is as well. And that Natalie is standing demurely in the corner, offering Shawna not even a shred of encouragement. Much less the salvation Shawna is praying for.

Finally, I see the narrow straps of her bra fall to her sides. But not her breasts. She holds the bra up, its cups covering her mounds. It takes her a second to finally work up the nerve to slip the straps off her shoulders. And another to let the bra slip free of her chest and finally bare those mounds to me.

I can see that Shawna is fighting with herself. She wants to reach her arms up and cover her breasts. She really wants to put her clothes back on. But she knows that she has to fold her bra neatly and put it on the pile, atop her shirt. And she has to do that while leaving her breasts on display. Then stand up, her bare chest offered out to me, while I take my time leering at her breasts. It has a good scrunch to her face.

Shawna shouldn't be shy about her breasts. They're not big. But they're very nicely shaped. Even with her standing, her chest at it's most relaxed. The little mounds swell off her chest like half oranges, not hanging down a bit, and leaving all of their underside visible as it rises from her. They're topped with fairly narrow nipples, a hair narrower than even a pencil eraser. But they're moderately long, too, with nicely rounded tips. Their narrowness makes her breasts look slightly pointy at their tops, which they're plainly not. Those mounds are sweetly rounded. And they have to be firm. Her nipples are a light shade of pink. They're surrounded by quarter-sized rings of the same shade. Neither is big, but nothing about her breasts is big. They are decently proportional, though.

"That's a good bitch!" I tell Shawna sweetly. "Now I can see those breasts! You're not embarrassed to be showing them off, are you?"

"Yes, my Queen!" Shawna answers in her muted, very embarrassed voice that still breaks slightly. "This is just so embarrassing, my Queen!" Her eyes keep darting down to her bra as if silently begging me to tell her that she can put it back on. That I've gawked at her nakedness long enough now.

"Take off those shorts now, baby bitch." The firmness returns to my voice, leaving Shawna no doubt that she doesn't have a choice now either. She's going to lose more of her clothes, bare more of her body before I'm done with her.

It slams the nervousness back into her at full force. It has her blushing again for an instant. And it has her hands trembling slightly as they reach for the waistband of her shorts. She fumbles with the button on her first try but gets it undone on the second.

Shawna turns her eyes, ostensibly staring at what she's doing while really trying to avoid seeing anyone. Trying to lie to herself and tell herself that she's being allowed to undress in private. She slips her shorts down her legs and steps out of them. As she has to, she stands up to fold her shorts but keeps her eyes on the shorts instead of us.

It's enough for me to see that her legs are fairly lean as well. Just like her upper body, there might be two whole extra pounds on them, one each at the very top of her thighs. I can see only the faintest looseness right at the crease. I can see a pair of fairly knobby knees, too. I can even see the faint outlines of her hips bones. And some decently curvy hips.

But I can also see that her panties match her bra. Those too are simple cotton ones, fringed with a basic lace. They're neither sexy and skimpy, nor overly modest. But they do fully cover her pubes and her bottom. But otherwise, they have narrow sides to them. Sides cut only very slightly low. On her hips, but not all the way up to her hip bones. Around the edges of her panties, I can see a few stray hairs peeking out. Especially at the crease of her thighs. And I can see the puffiness at the front of her panties that tells me she's not shaven smooth.

I wait until Shawna has her shorts off, folded on the pile, and is standing back up. Then I wait a couple of more seconds, giving her time to think that I'm appraising her body every step of the way as she undresses. And giving her time to wonder if I'll be cruel or kind. If I'll make her bare the very last of herself.

"Take your panties off, too, baby bitch." I harden my voice a bit more. And I glare at her eyes.

Shawna's face blanches to a paleness as it scrunches up. Her eyes moisten, but she stops short of actually crying. She trembles, slightly, but enough for me to notice it. She has to take a deep breath and steel herself up. And then another. Only then do her hands come down to the lacy waistband of her panties. She moves very reluctantly as she starts pushing the waistband of them down. Then, after about an inch, she hesitates for a second. it's long enough to get a tap from my foot to remind her to on with it. Her panties start moving again, just a little slower than they were.

Until they've fully bared her pubes. Once her more intimate areas are visible, Shawna quickly slides the panties down her legs and steps out of them. She doesn't have anything left to hide with them. Instead, now she just wants to get this over with and get her clothes back on. She folds them very quickly, and not quite as neatly as everything else. They're just as quickly on the pile.

It leaves Shawna standing up, facing me, and fully naked. It also leaves just the slightest nervous quiver to her body. And it has her eyes trying hard to look at anything inanimate, like my wall, instead of the fully-dressed Sophie and me. It leaves her breathing a little fast, with a little stutter to her breaths, too. And it leaves her plain face scrunched up very tightly.

But it lets me see that she has a bush of sparse dark brown hairs. Hairs that are cut fairly short, making them look a little more sparse than they actually are. A bush that's neatly trimmed up with straight lines on all three sides of the triangle. And I'll bet she thinks I can't tell how amateurish the trimming is. She's gotten it very neat from the front. But she's left the hairs in the creases of her thighs. I know her fur will flow back and cover her lips, too. But at least I have to look well to notice that she hasn't shaven the creases of her thighs bare. Maybe she thought "why bother, it's not like anyone is going to be seeing it any time soon?"

I point to the wooden stool beside my desk. My desk is a rather ornate, genuine Amish-built antique. The stool is also Amish-built, but that's the only thing it has in common with the desk beside it. It's exceptionally plain. And it's simple. Just four little legs and a 12" diameter round top. But it is sealed and that gives it a slight shininess to it.

"Go sit on that stool. Sit properly. Sit with your side to the desk. Go now, baby bitch." I say it just firmly enough to remind Shawna that I'm not asking. I'm telling her what she's going to do.

Shawna walks over on hesitant feet. She keeps her hands behind her but manages to angle her body as she walks. It hides her nakedness from me for a quick moment. Partly. It also has her feet shuffling slightly sideways as she walks.