Yes, so you get out of it with little new damage

Seconds pass, stretching into an eternity of expectation and hope your bottom will avoid another proper beating... "Fine", the taller man finally says to your relief. "I don't get why are you so defensive of them, they deserve it and it's not like they'll sleep with you for your help", he adds but gets no reply to that. Four lashes with a belt is as low a penalty as you will get out this with, you realise, and decide not to try anything further. It will not get better; it very well may get worse.

With that conclusion you stick your bottom even further out and turn back to face the wall, hanging your head between your shoulders. The wait is not exactly long; the belt swishes through the air and hits you at a slight angle across the cane lines, drawing an unwilling loud moan out of you. The second one is lower, but still catches more than one cane line as it lands as your most recent spanker did not bother to bend and the strikes came from the side and above. Your would-be defender is a bit more considerate in this sense as his turn comes; he makes sure the strikes are horizontal but he is either much stronger or much more experienced with a belt, because his lashes hurt a lot more individually. All shame forgotten, you shake your bottom desperately as the belts are being replaced, waiting for permission to get out of the position.

It comes in the form of a (rather unacceptable, really) smack on your bare and very sore now behind and command to stand straight. "We're sorry too", the second man says rather unconvincingly, but you suppose you must take what you can and apologise again too and thank them most politely. Once their backs are turned you make sure to give your bottom a vigorous rub again but only start walking once that is done and you are sure you will not run into anybody else. You just want to get back to your office.

You do actually make it there without further adventure and although you know your newest punishments are apparent, you are at least spared the humiliation of explaining your delay. You sit down (noting to yourself how each time you perform this simple action you are doing so more and more gingerly) and trying not to drown in the sea of inquisitive looks and call over the couple of people you need to share the new information with. And give a closer look at your breasts too, of course - that is just how things are for you now.