You want to, but...

You want to step forward and tell the businessman you were about to deal with the situation yourself and he need not bother himself. It is hardly serious anyway. However, you hold yourself back. The girl (assuming she is eligible to be spanked at all, she does look young) probably will not get punished too harshly and whatever she gets she brought about herself, however accidentally. Not to mention being naked and very recently spanked is hardly the best state to be in to intervene in a potential conflict; more likely you will only get into further trouble yourself. You wait to see what happens before you take that risk.

“Oh, s-sorry, S-sir” the girl stutters. “I didn’t realise...” She hastily stops the song but it is too late. The gentleman is intent on teaching her a lesson and he angrily demands to know her age. The Rulebook helpfully suggests he will have to right to contact her parents if she is underage; if she is not, you know all too well what will happen. The girl pauses ever so slightly before responding, possibly wondering if she would get away with a lie and deciding not to find out. “Eighteen, sir,” she says in a resigned voice.

The man nods with satisfaction. “Good.” He says. “I have another half a dozen stops to go and unless you want to make an appointment to visit me tomorrow you will stay over my lap for the whole time. That should teach you.” The girl gets up. Her face maintains a respectful expression as she holds onto the rail about to step across the aisle but before she does the businessman gets up too and moves to the area in front reserved for pushchairs but currently empty; the girl meekly follows. He puts down one of the flip seats on the side for himself and waits for the young offender to stand in front of him. The rack with paddles is right above his head well within his reach.

The girl's hoodie is lifted and her jeans are opened expertly and with no fumbling. The gentleman clearly has done it many times and in one motion he pulls the jeans and underwear to her knees exposing her skinny, almost boyish butt, white and unblemished so far. She goes over his knee readily, sticking her bottom out. From your place, you can see everything perfectly, as far as the girl's closed legs will allow you. The man’s left hand can cover the small cheeks almost entirely and he wastes no time before starting to smack her hard and fast. Despite the rapid and relentless **** of the clearly experienced hand on her cheeks, the girl is steady and continues to offer her bottom for chastisement. Most heads are turned her way now; even though nobody has as good a view as you do, the satisfying sounds of solidly landing smacks cannot fail to attract attention.

The spanking continues uninterrupted through the first stop; people get on and off with regretful looks, but nobody requests the special needs space or demands to know what is going on. The girl is maintaining her resolve too, staying in her place with no trouble. The small sounds she is making are almost entirely swallowed by the hum of the bus engine and the outside traffic noise. Her bottom does not colour in as easily as yours but nonetheless it is changing shade under the hard-working palm. When the bus stops for the second time and the pair of cheeks are a very solid pink the disciplinarian pauses. That seems to you like sufficient correction for a few seconds of annoyance. He gives the small bottom a good feel, not quite lewdly but certainly longer than absolutely necessary and reaches over his head for the paddle.

You're revolted. A paddling? For an unintentional disruption? And what is it with copping a feel? The girl shudders visibly as she senses what her spanker is doing (she probably cannot see much in her unfortunate position) but even at her young age, she knows better than to express her feelings in any more obvious way. You feel too that a paddle is a bit excessive for a disruption that was unintentional and lasted seconds anyway. The paddling cannot last very long, given what the man said about his stop. The girl will just have to hope there is no traffic. You don't really want to risk your bottom for her, but the rulebook permits unfair punishments to be challenged. Maybe someone else will put an end to this.

The paddle in the meanwhile is lined up for the first stroke and with no time wasted it finds its small target with an echoing crack. Robust as the girl's bottom may be, the medium-weight paddle leaves a very clear print on it. The last four stops will be very long for the careless teen. The businessman raises the paddle again and you wince and close your eyes, and that's when you hear the metal click of a handcuff being fastened. No! That's going much too far! He wouldn't dare restrain—

"Let go of the paddle, please, sir," says the transit policeman who has suddenly appeared in the row behind you. He's tall and has a deep voice. He has an Asian complexion, but his hair is shorn in a military cut and his eyes are hidden behind wraparound sunglasses. He might be older or younger than you; it's hard to tell. Still, he's handsome. His uniform fits his broad torso perfectly. "Thank you. Pull up your pants, miss. Go wait over there." He nods to the space directly behind the bus driver.

The girl obeys speedily and gratefully while the cop turns his attention to the businessman. "Stand up and place your other hand behind your back. I'm arresting you for violating section 27B-6 of the Transit act, malicious **** on a correctee."

"That's— But I was only going to paddle her three times— I was about to switch back to—" he protests, but does he stand up as instructed. The other cuff closes around his right hand.
"Tell it to the magistrate, sir," the cop says while he frisks the businessman.
"But she was playing—"
"I saw what she did. You had choices, sir. Did you ask her to stop?"
"No, but—"
"A bare-bottomed spanking and paddling until the corner of Rattan Avenue? That's fourteen minutes away this time of day. Does that seem proportional to you?"
"But in these situations, who can really say what—"
"They'll teach you that at Strikers Island Education Center, sir." He speaks into his radio. "Transit 5 mike 4 kilo to Central."
"5 mike 4 kilo, go ahead."
"One in custody for transport from Broadway and Birchbranch Road."
"5 mike 4 kilo acknowledged, prisoner transport responding to Broadway and Birchbranch."
"Thank you Central, good day."

The businessman splutters, "My taxes pay your salary and—"
"So do your victim's, sir. Sit down."
"I'll sue you and the city for every cent you have! What's your badge number?" You know that one. This hero is badge number 5M4K. Maybe it's not just women and girls who have trouble paying attention to authority.

Using a quiet and assertive voice that only the few of you at the front of the bus can hear, the officer says "I think you want to be quiet. I think you hope I don't ask you about that grope. Is that correct sir? ..that's what I thought. You want to grope someone, get a girlfriend."

The businessman slumps in his seat and says no more.

The bus pulls into its next stop. "Birchbranch Road," calls the driver. You can hear a siren approaching.
The cop turned his attention to the teen. "We're getting off at this stop, miss. Let's go." As she stands up, he gives her bottom a sharp swat over her jeans. "You'll remember to behave yourself on the bus, won't you?"
"Yes, sir. I will, s-sir." She rubs her bottom. It clearly doesn't take much for the officer to make his point. Which may be the point he's making to the businessman.
"We can't be in every place at every time. Avoid trouble and you won't need us to be, understood?"
"Yes, s-sir."

The tall, muscular transit cop turns to you. "Ma'am, would you mind coming with us for a few moments? A witness statement from you would be helpful."