"When I was a little girl, spanking normally worked."

From Create Your Own Story

Sgt Thompson and Officer Brady both look to Jim, who gives them a nod. "At least it's a start," he replies, "but it can't just be a couple swats and I don't promise that you won't need to do something else."

Sgt Thompson looks towards the cell, "How about you, Miss Brown? Are you gonna do this, too?" Megan looks sick to her stomach, but nods in agreement. "Officer Brady, go get her out of the cell and bring her to the interrogation room."

You and your friend are walked into the small room. There's a metal table with two chairs on your side and one across the way. One wall has a mirror on it, presumably a one-way mirror so that suspects can be watched. Both you and Megan are handcuffed. Hers are in front of her body while yours are behind.

Officer Brady takes a chair and slides it up against the wall. "Right, Officer Brady will take care of Miss Brown, if that's okay with you, Jim." The janitor nods to Sgt Thompson. "As for you, Miss Jones, you seem to be the ringleader here, so your punishment is going to be a little more severe. Step up to the table, Miss Jones."

You step forward cautiously. Deep down, you are actually excited by the punishment you are about to receive. "Take off your shoes and bend over the table." You do as Sgt Thompson says and as you look to the side, you see Officer Brady pulling down Megan's shorts and panties. He puts her over his knee as you feel your skirt being raised. "Better get those panties off of her if we're going to do this right, Jimmy." You feel the janitor's rough hands grab at the waistband of your cotton panties and pull them down to your ankles. You jump when a finger from a third hand rubs along your slit. "It was just a quick search," Sgt Thompson says with a smirk when you glare back at him. He then bends down and you hear a click. The cold metal on your ankle tells you what's next. "Spread your legs, you little brat." The view from the other side of the mirror must be great. Your legs are spread wide and cuffed to the table legs, your perfect round ass is in the air, with your cuffed hands just above it. You look to Sgt Thompson as he takes off his thick leather utility belt and hands it to the janitor. "She's all yours, Jim. If they want to act like brats, we gotta treat them like brats."

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