She demands a second opinion

"Excuse me," she says brusquely, turning to the woman seated beside you, "I wonder whether you happened to see what just occurred."

"Indeed I did," the older woman beams with delight at being consulted. "I think it's clear that this young woman was blocking the pavement by leaning over the bench instead of sitting down…" Now it's the blonde's turn to beam.

"I think six smacks from you and six from me is quite appropriate," the witness continues.

Great. Now you're getting double the punishment, although she hasn't mentioned paying for the coffee, yet.

The energetic blonde takes over at this point, giving you instructions whilst wiping her cup with a tissue, which she disposes of, before returning the branded rubber and plastic item into her rucksack.

"Right, legs apart, stand straight, boobs out, clasp each elbow with the opposite palm behind your back." You obey, grimacing, feeling more embarrassed still, which you did not think possible after what already happened today. The lady on the bench continues to look on intently.

"Good," the younger girl remarks curtly, noting your obedient position and laying her open palm onto your left boob. She must indeed be in a hurry as three slaps ring almost as one. You groan and sway but not far enough to avoid a solid connection on each smack. The tips of her fingers catch your nipple every time, leaving it more sore than you thought possible after such a brief hand spanking; you can also see a clear hand print on the spot she struck. She lines her palm up for the next three on your right boob and delivers them with the same brutal efficiency. This time you are more prepared for the fast pace and manage to stay still but it stings just as badly. You don't move, knowing that you have more to come, but your spanker doesn't want to hang around.

"Can I leave you to the rest?" she asks, fishing in her rucksack for something, but doesn't receive the reply she expects.

"No, we still have to discuss the collision. Although this young lady was obstructing the path, there was plenty of space to go around her and I can only conclude that you weren't watching where you were going, which is not merely inconsiderate, but downright dangerous when you're carrying hot coffee."

Even in your current situation, you're rather impressed by her guile. She made sure the tiny girl implicitly accepted her authority by letting her administer the first portion of punishment, before revealing that she, too, was going to get a spanking today.

"Shall we say five smacks on each breast from you and five from me?" It takes a moment for you to realize she's asking your opinion, but you quickly agree that it seems appropriate. The other member of your little trio is hardly in a position to demur.

Your second chastiser stands up and takes a coiled strap from her bag, shaking it out to reveal eighteen inches of thick rubber, perforated with thumb-sized holes and attached to a plastic handle. Things just went from bad to worse, for both you and your soon-to-be-spanked companion, who is looking considerably less happy than she was a minute ago.

Standing to your right to strap the left boob, the taller woman rotates on the ball of her foot to swing with shocking strength, hammering your chest with an impact that stings like it's on fire. The length of the strap means that your right breast catches a glancing blow that's at least as painful as the three smacks you've just received put together; the left is more intense by a wide margin—and you still have two to go.

Tears prickle your eyes on the second lash and you start to whimper on the third, leaving you grateful for the few seconds' respite you get whilst your disciplinarian changes sides. The final three, on top of the bruising already starting to form, threaten to break your resolve and if it weren't for the experience of the punishments you've already received today, you don't think you could have held still. As it is, you end up howling in agony, weeping steadily. The spectacle has attracted a small crowd, which is particularly unfortunate for the girl yet to be whipped.

You do not leave your position even though the punishment should be over, but both your tormentors declare themselves satisfied, with varying levels of enthusiasm. The diminutive blonde is then ordered to take off her top and offer her much larger boobs up in the same way you did. She folds the khaki polo neck and puts it in her backpack, presumably not expecting to be allowed to wear it afterwards, then her sturdy black brassière goes the same way, freeing a pair of knockers that look positively massive out of their fabric prison. Her pink nipples are pierced with tiny silver rings, which she also removes for safety and slips into the cross pocket of her jeans.

Since you're still recovering, the lady with the strap goes first and if you thought having larger tits would provide some protection, you're dead wrong, as they're set bouncing into one another and their owner lets out a wail of anguish. Your tears drying (although you don't dare brush them away), you see a dark stripe appear instantly, mottled with red splotches corresponding to the holes in the rubber. You instinctively look down to check the state of your own chest and find your tiny titties almost black and so swollen that you could be a cup size bigger. Not wearing clothes might be a relief as at least it doesn't hurt to breathe right now.

A shriek draws your attention back to the thrashing going on in front of you. The diminutive blonde has doubled over and has to be told to stand up straight again; clearly she's not coping nearly as well as you. The lash is repeated and one more added for good measure, leaving her sobbing less than a quarter of the way in. The disciplinarian continues relentlessly, but not long after changing sides, a particularly vicious stroke catches the girl's left nipple in one of the holes, yanking it to one side. Its owner immediately lets go of her elbows and brings her arms forward to clutch her battered boobies.

"Stop that at once!"

"I can't," she wails. "It hurts so much!"

"Would you like me to hold her?" asks a helpful gentleman, who's been watching avidly.

"No, no, I'll do it," she replies, returning hastily to the position she chose for you, but the repeat and two extras prove too much and she again ends up cradling her heavy breasts in her hands. The volunteer won't be denied a second time and pulls her arms firmly behind her back, almost lifting the slight girl from the ground as he does so. She's too weak for her struggles to make any difference and screams helplessly when the older woman returns mercilessly to her task. Five lashes later (including extras), you see a dark patch forming in the crotch of her jeans and realize she's wet herself. From the comments you overhear, this added humiliation hasn't gone unnoticed.