Cart racing of sorts

"Please put your bag onto the cart, Jenna. Just not on the very top", Ms Stevens instructs and adds her blazer on top of it once you follow the command having found an empty spot on the second shelf. Without much warning then the two of them grab you by thighs and arms and lift you with surprisingly little apparent effort. Your initial reaction is to struggle, but you make yourself suppress that. Not only they might drop you if you do, you will also certainly not get away with a hand spanking in that case.

You are not being carried far; in fact, it is only a step or two before you are half-flipped in the air and landed on the top of the janitorial cart, once again ending up on all fours. Without thinking you open both your knees and elbows to find the relatively steady points of support on the wide edges of the cart as opposed to the cleaning spray bottles- and tools-filled insides. Yet again during this rather eventful day you find yourself in the most humiliating and exposing position so far; this does beat every previous time because you are open even wider and all your points of interest are much closer to your audience's eye level. Not to mention your bottom is only getting redder every time, less and less resembling how an adult woman should look like in that department.

Before you are quite finished settling into your new position and finding good points to hold onto, the janitor walks to stand directly behind you... And slaps both your cheeks with both open palms, as if performing two low volleyball serves at once. Your poor red half-globes scream in protest and your body jerks forward... Except as you are grabbing onto the cart with every limb, it is the whole cart that gets pushed. You expect him to put the little wheel break on for obvious reasons... But instead he delivers another double spank in the same manner, once again propelling you forward. "Perfect, exactly as we hoped", Ms Stevens says, making you want to throw something at her. At her head, preferably. Instead of you have to strengthen your grip as another double spank propels you further still. Although you travelled now more than a couple of yards in total, it feels like a long journey already... And it will only get longer.

You turn out to be quite correct with your last guess, as Ms Stevens and the janitor whose name tag you did not pay attention to before and are in no position to see now roll the cart using the same method of propulsion up and down the hallway. It turns out that you can even turn corners (albeit with quite a large radius) if several hard spanks are directed on just one cheek at an outward angle. The resulting pain and the sideways wobble of your cheeks that leaves your butthole even more exposed for inquisitive glances do not do anything to discourage them. From your end, apart from the pain, obviously, the main worry is that you do not start dripping onto the cart in such a full view.

Your comfort level is not exactly increased when another after-hours worker passes by and asks the janitor (who is at the moment busy watching Ms Stevens attempt to get over a yard of distance with a single spank) what might he be doing. Your boss, however, looking much more impressive and not-to-be-messed-with now, assures him that her new friend is assisting her with punishing a deserving subordinate. You listen to the conversation frozen in place, burning bottom high in the air.

You are finally allowed to hop off the cart (with a very painful and embarrassing bounce or everything on you that can bounce) once you have passed every door on the stretch of hallway in question four times and your bottom feels about half a dozen times its original size. You were not driven back to tears though, the less serious mood of the latest instalment in your punishment plan somehow giving you strength to hold yourself together better. You are, of course, made to thank the janitor who expresses his hope to see you again before you can retrieve your handbags and continue your way to the garage.

The latter is blissfully empty sparing you further humiliation (other than the grin of the guard who obviously knew about the policy but probably did not get much chance to witness it in action himself) and you follow Ms Stevens towards the German beauty of a car. You breath out a sigh of relief when you see that the back windows are tinted but this turns out to be ever so slightly premature. "Front or back?", your far-too-inventive boss asks and before you can give the obvious answer (controlled humiliation with the Rulebook is one thing; being driven naked through the city on full display is quite another) she dangles her blazer off her finger in front of you. "You get this if you ride in the front".