Chapter 7: Hands On Your Knees, Ass in the Air

Continued from chapter 6:

Her voice came out in a broken rasp. "My name is Roxie."

"Look me in the eye," I said. "And say it."

The command hit her like a whip. Her head snapped up, chin trembling, and she forced herself to maintain eye contact. She knew looking away meant the phone call and the sirens. Tears shimmered at the edges of her vision—frustration, not surrender. She refused to let them fall. Brielle, behind her, covered her mouth with both hands, muffling a gasp. Nell stared at the floor, unable to watch her idol unravel. Marisol watched, detached, like a priestess presiding over a ritual of humiliation.

Roxy’s chest heaved, her tank top sticking to her skin with sweat. She inhaled, slow and ragged, then exhaled through clenched teeth.

"Hold that thought," I said. "Roxy needs some encouragement. Nell, get on your knees behind her. I want you to spank her five times. Roxy, you will let Nell spank you five times, and then we will hear your confession."

Chapter 7:

For a moment, everyone froze. The absurdity of the request crashed into the tension, making the scene feel feverish and unreal. Nell looked at me, eyes huge, then at Roxy, then down again, as if she could disappear behind her own glasses. Color flooded her face. She was the least likely candidate for such a task, but the hierarchy had been established. After an impossibly long pause, she stood, chair scraping back, and circled the table. Her legs wobbled. She took her place behind the kneeling mountain of muscle.

Roxy’s body went rigid. Her hands gripped her thighs even tighter; her jaw bulged with the strain of holding back a scream.

"Kneel behind her, Nell."

The directive brooked no delay. Nell hesitated, then let herself fall to the floor, knees creaking, her movements mechanical. She looked tiny, almost spectral, kneeling behind Roxy’s thick, tattooed arms and broad frame. Roxy looked carved from stone, every muscle tensed, her body a fortress under siege. The air between them buzzed with static, a live wire of humiliation and dread.

Nell’s voice came out as a near-whisper. "O-okay."

"Roxy, lean forward," I said. "Hands on your knees, ass in the air for Nell."

Roxy let out a guttural, animal noise, rage and humiliation merging in her throat. But she obeyed. Slow, deliberate, she shifted her weight, braced her hands against her knees, and arched her back. The movement was heavy, a visible surrender. Her cargo pants stretched tight across her ass; she looked like an athlete poised at the starting line, but with none of the dignity. Nell’s hands hovered, shaking so badly she could barely hold them steady.

"Put your hand on her bottom, Nell. Give it a good rub"

Nell’s breathing grew shallow and fast. She looked at me for reassurance. I nodded once. She looked at the back of Roxy’s head, then at Roxy’s ass, and extended her hand. Her hand was pale, cool, and trembling as it landed on the curve of Roxy’s pants. The contact was so light it was almost a caress. Roxy flinched, hips jerking involuntarily at the touch, but didn’t resist.

"Five spanks, Nell."

Nell drew her hand back, hesitated, then brought her palm down. It made a soft, muffled slap. Roxy grunted—more from the humiliation than the pain—and the muscles under her pants bunched. Nell’s face twisted in horror at what she’d done, but she didn’t stop. The second slap was firmer, the third landed with a sharper report. Roxy’s face went scarlet, and this time a single tear broke loose, tracking down her cheek. She bit her own tongue to keep from crying out.

On the fourth strike, Roxy swore under her breath. I could barely make it out, but it was there: "Fuck."

I spoke softly. "That’s an extra two for swearing, Roxy."

Nell’s hand faltered midair. She looked at me. "Do I have to—?"

"Six more, Nell."

Nell’s mouth worked silently, but she nodded. The fifth and sixth slaps landed in quick succession, both louder, and Roxy’s hips rocked forward, her breaths sharp and ragged, tears streaming down her face. When it was done, Nell sank back, hands limp at her sides, breathing like she’d just run a mile.

"Thank you, Nell," I said.

To be continued in chapter 8...