I squeeze my eyes shut. That small voice in the back of my head asking myself why I'm here. Why am I here, bent at the waist with hands braced against the wall of the janitors closet. The smell of cleaning chemical tickling my nose. My professional black skirt hiked up over my hips. Eyes almost wet with tears because of my mistake. One stupid, stupid mistake, that to the outside world would seem like nothing.
He was a man who liked routine, so his punishment scenarios rarely changed. She'd kneel at the bottom edge of the bed, face down in a pillow, ass in the air, legs spread wide. It was humbling, this holes-exposed-for-punishment position, and just being in it could cause her tears to flow.
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