Fiction: Locked Out (F/M)

Ethan had never considered himself particularly daring. He was the kind of guy who played things safe—never got in trouble, never took unnecessary risks. But something about this night was different. Maybe it was the isolation of the hotel room, the quiet hum of the city outside, or the knowledge that his parents were sleeping on another floor. He felt a nervous excitement bubbling in his chest, an urge he had never quite acted on before.

For as long as he could remember, he had fantasized about the thrill of exposure—not being caught, necessarily, but the risk of it. The electric tingle of stepping outside his comfort zone. Now, in the dim glow of his room’s nightstand lamp, he was breathing heavily, his pulse a frantic drumbeat in his ears.

He had thought about it for a long time, but now, the idea wouldn’t let him go. His skin tingled as he shed his clothes, standing completely bare in the dim light of the hotel room.

Could he really do this?

He took a deep breath, cracked open the hotel room door, and peered into the empty, carpeted hallway. Silence. His heart hammered. The metal security latch had been carefully propped to prevent the door from locking behind him. He had tested it three times.

Ethan exhaled. Now or never.

Stepping into the hallway, he felt the cool air of the hotel corridor against his bare skin. Every nerve in his body was awake, hyperaware of the risk. He became erect. His breath came in shallow gasps as he took slow, cautious steps forward. The thrill was intoxicating. He was completely naked and erect in a public space, where at any moment someone could step out of their room, turn a corner, or return late from the hotel bar.

Just a few seconds. That’s all.

He reached the elevator at the end of the hallway, the silver doors reflecting his pale, bare body. A dangerous thought flitted through his mind—what if he pressed the button? What if he dashed inside and rode down a floor, fully exposed, before racing back? His stomach clenched at the idea. It was too much, too risky.

His breathing ragged, Ethan turned quickly and padded back toward his door, his body still thrumming with adrenaline. He had done it. He had been naked in the hallway, completely vulnerable, and no one had seen.

Relief flooded through him as he reached the door and grasped the handle. He pulled.

Nothing.

His breath hitched. He tried again, his stomach twisting into a knot. The door didn’t budge.

The latch had failed.

Panic flooded him in a sharp wave. He yanked harder, his fingers trembling against the cold metal of the handle. No. No, no, no.

He was naked. Alone. Locked out.

His skin prickled with sudden heat, the giddy thrill of before replaced by a sharp, pounding fear. He turned frantically, scanning the hallway. Empty. But for how long?

His mind raced through his options. His parents were asleep floors away—he couldn’t go to them—he just couldn’t. The front desk? No—what would he even say? His heart pounded against his ribs.

The hallway stretched out in eerie silence, the stillness making every second feel like an eternity. He had to think. Had to act.

Then, a noise.

A distant ding!—the elevator.

His stomach plummeted. Someone was coming.

Ethan darted, his instincts overriding his panic. There was a service alcove halfway down the hall, a small recess with a housekeeping cart parked inside. He barely made it before the elevator doors opened. Flattening himself against the wall, he held his breath as footsteps echoed down the carpeted floor.

A couple, laughing softly. A door clicked open. More laughter. Then silence again.

His whole body shook with adrenaline. He needed a way back into his room. Fast.

Then he spotted it.

The emergency phone, tucked near the elevator. If he called the front desk, asked them to send someone up—but no, that wouldn’t work. They’d see him like this. He swallowed hard, his mind racing.

Then, a crazy thought. Housekeeping.

Heart pounding, he inched toward the unattended cleaning cart, hands shaking as he rifled through the neatly folded linens. He grabbed the first thing he found—a sheet.

It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He wrapped it around himself. It looked ridiculous, but it would have to do. The fear had shrunk his erection, thank God.

Taking a steadying breath, he walked—walked—back to the front desk phone. His voice was shaky as he spoke.

“Uh, hi. I, um, locked myself out of my room.”

A pause.

“What’s the room number, sir?”

He gave it, his face burning. He could only pray that when security arrived, they wouldn’t ask too many questions.

And that they wouldn’t wonder why a flustered young man was standing outside his room, wrapped in nothing but a sheet.

Ethan’s face burned as he waited, shifting nervously in place. The thin sheet covered him, but the adrenaline rushing through his veins made his skin tingle. Every second felt agonizing.

Then the elevator dinged.

The doors slid open, and Ethan’s stomach dropped.

A female security guard stepped out.

She was a black woman in her mid-twenties, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Her uniform—blue slacks, a neatly pressed button-up, and a utility belt with a radio and keycard—made her look effortlessly authoritative. But it wasn’t just her presence that sent a fresh wave of nerves through Ethan.

She was pretty.

Too pretty for him to be standing in front of her like this.

Her sharp brown eyes swept over him, pausing just long enough on the sheet wrapped tightly around himself that Ethan felt an immediate, unbearable wave of humiliation.

One of her eyebrows arched.

“Let me guess,” she said, her tone dry, amused. “You accidentally locked yourself out?”

Ethan swallowed, nodding quickly. “Y-yeah. I, um… I thought I heard something outside, and I just peeked out for a second, and… the door shut behind me.”

She didn’t blink. “Uh-huh.”

Her gaze lingered a moment longer, dragging over his body, down his legs, then back up to his red, guilty face. She wasn’t buying it. At all.

“You sure that’s what happened?”

Ethan’s pulse pounded. He shifted awkwardly, gripping the sheet tighter, suddenly very aware of the way she was looking at him. His skin prickled, his heart hammering.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered.

Her smirk deepened. “Right. So you just happened to be standing wrapped in a sheet in a hallway in the middle of the night?” She tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming with something almost teasing. “And that’s the best excuse you could come up with?”

Ethan’s stomach twisted. His whole body felt overheated, too aware of her eyes on him, too aware of how small the pillowcase was.

And then—the worst possible thing happened.

A slow, involuntary stirring beneath the thin fabric.

No. No, no, no.

Horrified, Ethan squeezed his thighs together, willing his body to calm down. But the moment he panicked, it only seemed to get worse. His face burned as the sheet began lifting slightly, betraying his body’s reaction to the situation.

The security guard’s eyes flickered downward.

She went completely still.

Ethan stopped breathing.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then—slowly, deliberately—her gaze returned to his face, her smirk wicked.

“Oh,” she said, and Ethan wanted to die. “Ohhhh.”

Her voice was knowing. Amused. Smug.

Ethan’s entire body burned hotter than the sun. “I-I—I don’t—!”

She let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, sweetie.” She tsked, resting a hand on her hip. “You’re not very good at hiding your real reason for being out here, are you?”

Ethan couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even move.

She knew. And now there was proof.

Her smirk widened. “So. You like sneaking around naked, huh?”

Ethan’s throat was dry. He shook his head frantically. “N-no! I-I swear, I didn’t—”

“And you didn’t take that sheet that’s wrapped around you from the housekeeping cart over there?” she asked, gesturing towards the obviously jostled cart. “And If we go into your room right now, the bed will be missing a sheet? Sure…”

“Ohhh!” he squawked.

“Mmhm.” She was enjoying this, watching him squirm, struggling to hold the sheet over himself while very obviously dealing with a humiliating physical reaction he couldn’t control.

She laughed. “Oh, don’t look so scared. I’m not gonna report you.”

Relief flooded him. But before he could breathe again, she stepped closer.

She tilted her head slightly. “I’ve been working hotel security for a few years now. And I’ve seen guys like you before.”

Ethan stiffened. “G-guys like me?”

Her lips quirked. “The ones who get a little thrill sneaking around naked somewhere they shouldn’t be. The ones who think it’s exciting to be out in public when they’re not supposed to be.”

His stomach dropped. His skin went cold, despite the heat in his cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get you back in your room before anyone else sees you,” she said, reaching for her key card. But then she paused and gave him a pointed look. “And then we’re gonna have a little talk when I get you back into your room.”

Ethan’s stomach tightened.

She swiped the card against the electronic lock, and the door beeped open. Ethan practically bolted inside, his pulse racing as he scrambled inside, pulling the sheet tighter around him as if that would somehow erase everything that had just happened.

But the security guard didn’t leave.

She stepped inside, folding her arms again as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You’re lucky I was the one who answered that call,” she said, her voice low but firm. “If it had been one of the older guys, they probably would’ve had you escorted downstairs in exactly what you’re wearing right now.”

Ethan cringed at the thought, his stomach twisting.

She exhaled sharply and shook her head. “Seriously, kid. What were you thinking?”

Ethan’s mouth was dry. His pulse pounded so loudly in his ears that he could barely think.

What was he thinking? He wasn’t. That was the problem. He’d been stupid. Reckless. And now, here he was—wrapped in a stolen hotel sheet, standing in front of a security guard who had absolutely seen through him.

And she was right. About everything.

She’d been fair with him so far. Hadn’t called for backup. Hadn’t dragged him downstairs in front of a crowd. Hadn’t humiliated him further than he’d already humiliated himself. If he lied again, it would just insult her intelligence. And something about the way she was watching him—arms folded, expression expectant, her eyes sharp and unwavering—made it clear that she wouldn’t appreciate that.

He swallowed hard.

“I…” His voice cracked, and he coughed, trying again. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted finally.

Her eyebrow lifted. “No kidding.”

Ethan’s fingers twisted in the edge of the sheet. He forced himself to meet her gaze, though the weight of her knowing smirk made it almost impossible. “I, um… I guess you’re right. About why I was out there.”

She smirked wider, shifting her weight slightly as if she’d been waiting for that exact confession.

“I wasn’t trying to—” He hesitated, cheeks flaming. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to… show myself to anyone or anything. I just… I don’t know, I thought it would be…”

“Exciting?” she finished smoothly.

Ethan wished the ground would swallow him whole. His face burned, his hands clutching the sheet tighter against himself as his erection tented it humiliatingly, but he nodded.

Her smirk deepened, but there was something almost… approving in her gaze. “See? Was that so hard?” she teased. “Honesty gets you a lot further than lying, stammering and squirming, you know.”

Ethan swallowed, staring down at the carpet. “I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It was stupid.”

“Oh, it was,” she agreed easily. “I bet your heart was pounding when you realized you were locked out. Didn’t feel so fun then, huh?”

He shook his head miserably.

She sighed, crossing her arms again. “Look, I get it. You’re young, you’ve got… impulses. But doing dumb stuff like this in a hotel? With security cameras?” She let that sink in. “You don’t think we check those?”

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. “T-the cameras?”

The guard’s smirk was downright wicked. “Oh, yeah. We’ve got plenty. Guess what I’m gonna be reviewing when my shift’s over?”

Ethan’s stomach plummeted.

His whole body flushed hot, the humiliation hitting him in full force. He could barely even breathe as she let the silence drag out, clearly enjoying watching him squirm.

“You know,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “I could still easily report this.”

Ethan’s stomach lurched. “N-no, please! I swear it was just a stupid mistake! I—I wasn’t trying to—”

She held up a hand, silencing him. “I don’t need to hear your excuses. The fact is, you got caught. And you need to be held accountable.”

His breath hitched. “Please… I don’t want my parents to find out.”

Her sharp brown eyes locked onto his. “Then I’ll give you a choice,” she said, her voice dropping lower. She unattached the items from her utility belt, placing them on the table. Then she reached for her waist, tugging at the thick leather utility belt fastened around her hips. She loosened it, pulling it free with a slow, deliberate motion. The leather was wide and heavy, the kind of belt designed for durability—not comfort.

Ethan swallowed hard.

“I can write up a report, call my supervisor, and have your parents wake up to a very awkward conversation in the morning,” she said smoothly, looping the belt in her hands. “Or… you take your punishment from me. Right now.”

Ethan’s heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. His whole body was rigid with nervous energy. “P-punishment?”

She flicked the belt lightly against her palm. “A good whooping’,” she said simply. “With this.”

His mouth went dry.

“B-but… I—”

“You wanna be a thrill-seeker, huh?” she said, stepping toward him, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Then let’s see how much of a thrill you get from this.”

Ethan clenched the blanket tighter around himself, his mind racing. A punishment from her—with her belt. The thought sent a confusing, heated flush through his body.

She smirked at his silence, her sharp brown eyes scanning his face, watching his mind work through the terrifying prospect. His breathing was shallow, his fingers gripping the thin sheet like a lifeline.

“Well?” she prodded, her voice slow, teasing. “What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? A trip to the security office now and a little talk with Mommy and Daddy in the morning… or a good, old-fashioned whoopin’ like I got growing up?”

Ethan swallowed hard. The idea of his parents finding out made his stomach churn with dread. He could already picture his mother’s horrified expression, his father’s disappointment. No, that wasn’t an option.

But the alternative…

He stared at the thick leather belt in her hands. It wasn’t like the flimsy kind his dad wore. This was heavy-duty, wide, built for authority. His skin tingled at the thought of it lashing across him, the sting, the burn, the sheer helplessness of it.

“I-I…” His voice came out weak. His legs felt like jelly. “I don’t know if I can…”

She raised a brow. “Oh, you can, sweetie. Trust me. You’re just not gonna like it.”

His pulse pounded so loudly he thought she might hear it. He couldn’t decide what was worse—the threat of the belt itself or the look on her face, that knowing, smug smirk that told him she was enjoying watching him squirm.

“But you don’t really have a choice, do you?” she continued smoothly. “Unless you want me to call it in.”

Ethan’s throat tightened. He couldn’t let that happen.

Slowly, reluctantly, he gave a tiny shake of his head. “N-no… please don’t.”

She grinned, pleased. “That’s what I thought.”

She took a step closer, and instinctively, Ethan shrank back, gripping the sheet tighter around himself. She let out a low chuckle.

“You ever been whooped with a belt before?” she asked, her voice low, almost playful.

“N-no,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She let out a knowing chuckle. “Oh, baby. You are in for a rude awakening.”

Ethan’s stomach clenched.

“I got whooped plenty of times growing up,” she continued. “Trust me, it’ll make a good little boy out of you real fast.”

His toes curled against the carpet. His fingers dug into the sheet.

“You wanted to be naked in public?” she continued, arching a brow. “Then let’s make sure you really feel exposed.”

His breath caught.

“Drop the sheet,” she ordered.

Ethan’s hands trembled as he clutched the sheet tighter around himself, every nerve screaming at him not to let go. But the security guard was standing there, arms folded, belt dangling, waiting—expecting—him to obey.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she teased, her lips quirking in amusement. “You were strutting around this hotel buck naked for fun, and now you’re shy?” She tilted her head, looping her belt in her hands again. “Drop it.”

His face burned hotter than ever. His whole body felt overheated, humiliated, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. If he hesitated any longer, she’d think he was resisting, and he couldn’t afford to push his luck.

With a shaky breath, he loosened his grip.

The sheet slid from his fingers and pooled at his feet.

The moment he was bare, panic took over. His stomach clenched, and before he could think, he crouched, his hands flying between his legs, shielding himself from view. His heart pounded so hard it nearly drowned out the low, knowing chuckle that escaped the security guard’s lips.

“Ohhhh, honey.” She laughed, shaking her head. “You were so eager to be naked just a few minutes ago. Now you wanna hide?”

Ethan couldn’t breathe. His face felt like it was on fire, his body locked in place, trembling.

“I think we both know you get a little thrill out of showing off,” she continued, stepping closer. “That’s why you did it in the first place, isn’t it?”

“N-no,” he stammered, but the way his voice cracked betrayed him.

She tsked. “Liar.”

“Stand up straight,” she ordered. “Hands at your sides.”

Ethan froze. His stomach clenched so tight it hurt.

“Don’t make me ask again, baby.” Her voice was light, almost amused, but there was steel underneath it.

He swallowed thickly. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. But she wasn’t giving him a choice. With a shuddering breath, he slowly—reluctantly—stood up straight and dropped his hands to his sides, every instinct screaming at him to cover himself. But she was watching him, expectantly, her sharp brown eyes dancing with wicked amusement.

And then—

She looked down.

Ethan’s entire body went rigid.

For a moment, there was silence. His stomach plummeted. And then she laughed. Not just a chuckle—full-bodied, shameless laughter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she practically purred, her eyes locked on his shameful, twitching little erection. “That’s what all the fuss was about?”

Ethan wanted to die. His legs wobbled beneath him, his entire body radiating shame.

She let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “All that sneaking around, all that risk—just for this tiny little thing?”

Ethan clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms, his throat so tight he could barely swallow.

She tilted her head, smirking. “You really do get a thrill out of this, don’t you?”

His mouth opened—but nothing came out.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed, her voice dripping with amusement. “That’s just sad.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his breath coming in short, shuddering gasps.

“But don’t worry, baby,” she murmured, almost amused. “That little hard-on won’t last long once we start.”

He shuddered, unable to meet her gaze.

She smirked. “Turn around. Ass out. Hands on the bed.”

Ethan obeyed, turning and pressing his hands to the mattress, his body tense with anticipation. His erection ached, the shame twisting inside him like a knot. His breath came in short, shallow gasps. His heart pounded so hard in his chest he swore she could hear it. Bent over the bed, his hands clenched into the sheets, he could feel the air against his bare skin, cool in contrast to the heat prickling over his face. His stomach clenched in anticipation, the tension unbearable.

She hadn’t moved for several seconds.

He could hear the faint rustle of her uniform, the quiet shift of her weight behind him. And then—snap.

The sharp, unmistakable crack of the belt snapping between her hands made his whole body jolt. His fingers curled tighter into the sheets.

“Oh, you have no idea…,” she murmured, her voice silky, teasing, brimming with amusement.

Ethan swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. He could picture her standing behind him, watching him, drawing this moment out just because she could.

“You’re all tense,” she noted, almost sympathetically. “Poor thing. You’re nervous, huh?”

He bit his lip, nodding before he could stop himself.

She laughed softly. “Mmm. I bet you are.”

Another snap of the belt. Ethan flinched again, but she still hadn’t struck him.

“Do you even know what this feels like?” she asked, stepping closer, close enough that he could feel her presence just behind him.

Ethan shuddered, his fingers gripping the sheets even harder. “N-no,” he admitted.

She exhaled, a low, amused sound. “Oh, sweetie,” she murmured. “You’re about to find out.”

And then—the first stroke landed.

CRACK!

The first lash of the belt exploded across Ethan’s backside, and for a moment, his brain couldn’t even process the pain. The impact was a raw, searing shock—so intense, so sudden, that his breath caught in his throat. His body jerked violently forward, and before he could stop himself, he threw himself face-down onto the bed. His hands flew to his burning backside, clutching desperately at his stinging skin, while his legs kicked wildly, trying to shake off the fiery sting. The sheet twisted beneath him as he writhed, his body moving on pure instinct, scrambling to escape the sensation.

Behind him, she laughed.

“Ohhh, baby,” she purred, her voice rich with amusement. “That got your attention, didn’t it?”

Ethan couldn’t speak. His entire body was trembling, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. The sting wasn’t fading—it was deepening, throbbing, the pulsing heat burrowing into his very bones.

Then he felt it—his skin tightening, swelling with the force of the lash. He didn’t have to look to know what she was seeing. A thick, angry red stripe now stretched across the creamy pale skin of his backside, perfectly formed, standing out like a brand.

Her laughter deepened. “Mmm-mm. I knew you were soft.”

Ethan groaned into the mattress. “I-It just surprised me,” he stammered weakly, still clutching his stinging skin.

Another snap of leather between her hands made him flinch.

“Uh-huh,” she said dryly. “Well, I suggest you get your little surprised ass back in position.”

Ethan sucked in a sharp breath. His stomach flipped at the order, his face only growing hotter.

He hesitated—just for a second.

And then—

Her tone hardened. “Now.”

Ethan scrambled back onto his knees, then his feet, his hands trembling as he slowly bent forward again, lowering himself back into position. His muscles were taut, tense, bracing for whatever came next.

She let him settle before stepping closer, tapping the leather belt lightly against his tender skin. Just enough to make him shudder.

“That’s better,” she murmured. Then, in a tone that was both lazy and deadly serious:

“You move again, and I double your whoopin’.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. His fingers dug into the bedspread, his legs stiffening.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.

She let the moment hang between them, savoring his nervous, shivery anticipation.

Then—

CRACK!

Another lash, even harder.

Ethan yelped, his hips jerking involuntarily, his fingers clawing at the sheets. The belt’s bite was merciless, laying another deep, fiery welt just below the first. His ass throbbed, each stripe vivid against his helplessly pale skin, his body fully exposed to her gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured, her tone laced with satisfaction. “That’s already looking real pretty.”

Ethan whimpered. His chest rose and fell in panicked gasps. His ass burned, each lash making him feel smaller, more helpless, more aware of how utterly at her mercy he was.

“P-please…” he choked out, his voice cracking. “P-please, I—I’ve learned my lesson—”

She let out a slow, knowing chuckle.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed, her voice dripping with amusement. “We’ve only just started.”

Ethan’s stomach plummeted.

And then the belt whistled through the air again.

CRACK!

The third stroke landed even harder, sending a deep, burning sting through him. His knees buckled slightly.

She didn’t pause. The belt came down in a steady, measured rhythm, each stroke making his skin blaze hotter.

“You wanted to be seen, huh?” CRACK! “Wanted the thrill of getting caught?” CRACK! “Well, congratulations. You got caught.” CRACK!

Ethan gasped, biting his lip. The shame, the heat, the intensity—it was overwhelming.

She didn’t let up. The belt kept falling, painting his backside with deep, stinging welts. Every stroke made his body jolt. His breath hitched with each lash, his skin growing hotter by the second.

CRACK!

The belt whipped across Ethan’s already burning backside, sending yet another fiery stripe across his pale, welted skin. His body convulsed at the impact, his fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as he let out a choked sob.

CRACK! CRACK!

Another lash. And another.

Ethan’s gasps turned to whimpers, his legs trembling so hard he could barely stand. His once-smooth skin was now a map of thick, angry welts, each mark vivid against his pale flesh.

“Ohhh, baby,” she cooed, her voice laced with mock sympathy. “You feeling it now?”

Ethan nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Y-yes—please,” he sobbed. “I-I’m sorry, I swear, please—”

She let out a low, knowing chuckle.

“Oh, I know you’re sorry,” she drawled. “That’s exactly what a real whoopin’ does to a bad boy like you.”

Her belt whistled through the air again—

CRACK!

Ethan howled, his knees buckling. He barely caught himself on the mattress, his whole body quaking. His ass was on fire, each welt throbbing, his nerves screaming, his arousal completely obliterated. His bottom was on fire, and any misplaced excitement had been burned away by the brutal efficiency of her belt.

“See?” she purred. “Now you know what a real whoopin’ feels like.”

He gasped for breath, his face hot with tears, his body shaking.

“A real whoopin’ doesn’t stop just because you start cryin’,” she continued smoothly. “A real whoopin’ doesn’t stop just because you start beggin’.”

Ethan’s stomach twisted.

She stepped closer, her voice dropping into something low and firm.

“A real whoopin’,” she murmured, running the leather strap lightly across his swollen welts, making him flinch, “is what turns bad boys into good ones.”

Ethan let out a desperate, broken whimper.

“P-please,” he sobbed. “Please, I learned my lesson! I won’t—I won’t do it again—”

CRACK!

His body convulsed. His legs shook. A strangled, helpless sob tore from his throat.

She smirked, tilting her head.

“Mmm. I think you’re just now startin’ to learn your lesson, baby.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, fresh humiliation crashing over him.

And then—

CRACK!

The belt fell again.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

“No! Ahhhh! Please! Please! Nooooooo!”

Finally, after what felt like forever, she stopped.

“That ought to do it,” she said, standing back

Ethan collapsed onto the mattress again the moment she declared it over, his whole body trembling, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps. His ass was on fire—every welt pulsed with deep, searing heat, the pain burrowing into his muscles like it belonged there.

Behind him, the security guard let out a slow, satisfied sigh.

“There,” she murmured, her voice warm, almost affectionate now. “That was a real whoopin’.”

Ethan let out a choked whimper, his face still pressed into the mattress, his body radiating pain.

She chuckled softly. “Ain’t gonna be sittin’ for a while, baby.”

He let out a broken whimper in response. His ass throbbed—hot, swollen, covered in thick, angry welts. The pain was deep, the kind that would last, the kind that would remind him every time he moved exactly what had happened here tonight.

She stepped forward, and to his shock, he felt her warm hand gently rub one of the burning welts. The touch made him flinch, but she just shushed him softly, her voice taking on an almost maternal tone.

“Shhh, I know, baby,” she murmured. “Hurts like hell, don’t it?”

Ethan could only nod weakly, his breath still shaking as she rubbed slow, deliberate circles over the swollen flesh, making him feel every welt beneath her fingertips.

She sighed, shaking her head. “I lost count of how many whoopins’ I caught growin’ up,” she mused. “My daddy didn’t play when it came to discipline. If I stepped outta line? Ooh, he’d have my bare ass bent over that couch so fast I wouldn’t even have time to beg.”

Ethan shuddered, fresh humiliation rolling over him.

“But you know what?” she continued, her voice softer now. “Every single time… I came outta it a better girl.”

She patted his raw, burning backside, making him wince.

“And you, baby?” She chuckled. “Ohhh, you’re definitely gonna be a better boy after this.”

Ethan swallowed thickly, his head spinning.

“Now,” she said, stepping back, her voice turning firm again. “I want you facin’ me on your knees, baby.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. He blinked, trying to lift himself up, but his legs—God, his legs were so weak.

She helped him down, her touch firm, guiding him until he was kneeling on the floor, his body trembling. The thick carpet rubbed against his sensitive knees, but compared to the fire in his backside, it was nothing.

She smiled down at him, crossing her arms.

“There we go,” she murmured. “Now. Hands together, like you’re sayin’ a prayer in church..”

Ethan hesitated, but her sharp gaze made his stomach twist. He slowly, reluctantly, lifted his hands, pressing his palms together in front of him.

She smirked, her eyes gleaming. “Good boy.”

Ethan swallowed, his throat aching from all his begging, his body still trembling from the whipping he’d just endured.

Ethan had never felt so small.

Not just in size—though that, too, was painfully obvious beneath her sharp, amused gaze—but in every possible way. Small in dignity, in power, in worth. He was kneeling before her, his hands clasped in humiliating prayer, naked, vulnerable, broken.

And she was smirking down at him. Mocking him.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t hide, couldn’t do anything but kneel there as she took her time—her sweet, agonizing time—looking at him. Looking down at him. Her sharp brown eyes flickered over his trembling body, lingering low, drinking in the sight of his most shameful exposure. His tiny, fully deflated, defenseless cock and balls.

Ethan burned. The humiliation was suffocating. She saw everything. The way he trembled. The way his thighs squeezed together in a desperate, instinctive attempt to shrink himself. The way his fingers gripped each other so tightly it hurt, as if clenching his hands in prayer could somehow lessen the raw humiliation coursing through his veins. A trembling, punished boy, kneeling in disgrace, hands clasped in gratitude for the very whooping that had left him shaking.

She tilted her head. “Now, baby,” she said sweetly. “You’re gonna thank me for your whoopin’.”

Ethan’s stomach clenched. His face burned all over again, humiliation surging through him like a second wave of fire.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t say that—

“Go on,” she coaxed, the doubled belt still dangling from her hand . “My daddy always made me do it after a whoopin’.” Her lips quirked. “Said it wasn’t just about punishin’ me—it was about teachin’ me gratitude.”

Ethan shuddered. His pride screamed at him to stay silent. But his ass throbbed, and his fear of pushing her any further kept him frozen in place.

His lips trembled.

“Th-thank you…” he whispered.

She cupped a hand behind her ear, grinning. “What was that, baby? Speak up.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body boiling in shame.

“Th-thank you…” He swallowed. “Th-thank you f-for my whoopin’, ma’am…”

She let out a delighted chuckle.

“Mmm, that’s a good boy,” she purred.

Ethan wanted to die. His whole body radiated humiliation, his bare, welted backside testing on his haunches, his hands clasped in prayer, thanking the very woman who had just whipped him raw.

And then—

She reached out, patted his cheek gently, condescendingly.

“There we go, sweetheart,” she crooned. “Now, don’t you feel so much better?”

Ethan shuddered.

She lifted the thick leather strap, looping it back around her waist with a calm, practiced ease, her movements unhurried.

She knew what she was doing. She was dragging it out—making sure he watched as she buckled it back in place, securing it like she had just finished a job well done.

And God help him—she had. The belt had done its job. And now she was putting it away—because she was done with him.

She let out a slow, satisfied sigh, replacing the equipment items and adjusting the belt on her hips before finally turning back to him, arms crossed, looking down at his trembling, punished body.

“That’s exactly how I was left kneelin’ after a whoopin’,” she mused, tilting her head. “All hot, sore, shamed… and grateful.”

Ethan shuddered. His fingers twitched against each other, still locked in their humiliating prayer position.

She sighed dramatically. “Well,” she said, clapping her hands together once, as if dusting off a job well done. “Guess I better get back to my shift.”

Ethan tensed.

Just like that? She was leaving?

She had broken him. Whipped him raw. Reduced him to a trembling, sobbing wreck. Forced him to kneel naked in shame, hands clasped in humiliating thanks for the punishment she had given him—

And now she was walking away? Like he was nothing? Like he wasn’t still kneeling there, stripped of every last shred of dignity?

She stepped toward the door, resting her hand on the handle, and turned back with one final, knowing smirk.

“Don’t ever let me catch you sneakin’ around naked again, baby,” she said smoothly. “Or next time?” She tapped the belt around her waist. “I won’t go so easy on you.”

Ethan shuddered. His throat tightened, but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but kneel there, staring at the floor, his whole body boiling with humiliation.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Lord,” she muttered, as if she couldn’t believe just how pathetic he was.

Then she opened the door.

Cool air rushed in from the hallway, making his naked skin prickle.

And then she stepped out, the door clicking shut behind her.

And Ethan was alone. Kneeling. Exposed. Shamed.

Ethan shuddered as he pulled himself off his knees, his muscles weak and trembling, his legs barely holding him up. The deep, throbbing ache in his backside pulsed with every movement, a raw, scalding reminder of the punishment he had just endured.

He didn’t want to look, but something compelled him.

Slowly—hesitantly—he turned toward the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. His breath came in short, ragged gasps as he turned and looked back over his shoulder at his bare backside, each movement sending fresh waves of fire through his tender, welted skin.

His backside was ruined.

Thick, angry welts crisscrossed his previously pale skin, each mark vivid and swollen, a deep red that was already darkening to a deep purple in places. The belt had left perfect stripes, layer upon layer of punishing heat carved into his flesh, a brutal testament to what she had done to him.

His stomach twisted. It looked so much worse than it felt—and it already felt unbearable.

His fingers trembled as he reached back, lightly grazing the tender, inflamed skin. The moment he touched one of the welts, a sharp sting shot through him, and he flinched, his breath catching in his throat.

His eyes burned.

The humiliation of it all came crashing down on him—the way she had mocked him, the way she had laughed at his shame, the way she had made him kneel and thank her for beating him.

A choked sob pushed past his lips.

He couldn’t look anymore.

Turning away, he stumbled toward the bed, his vision blurring with tears. His body collapsed onto the mattress, his limbs curling tight into the fetal position, his arms wrapping around himself as if that could shield him from the unbearable shame clawing through his chest.

The bed was cool against his overheated skin, but it did nothing to soothe the deep, radiating ache left behind by the belt. His hands twitched, hesitant—then, slowly, he reached back again, fingers ghosting over the thick, raised welts that now marred his previously pale skin.

He flinched at the contact.

The skin was tender, swollen—every touch sent a dull throb through his muscles, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream. That it happened.

Another choked sob escaped his throat.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead into the mattress as the tears spilled over, his body wracked with shaking breaths.

He had begged.

He had prayed.

He had been mocked, humiliated, broken.

And now, alone, with his face burning in shame, his body curled tight in the fetal position, a fresh wave of horror gripped him—

Because despite the pain, despite the humiliation—

His cock was hard again.