Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Frannie had seemed pretty tough, a few moments before—the way we all did, or at least I thought I seemed tough, and the other girls certainly seemed that way to me. She lost it completely, though, at this point. She turned to the guard with a sob, tears seeming to spring from her eyes.
“Please… I… you smashed it. I won’t… Mr.… Mr. Garrison…?”
The guard’s face took on an expression of disgust that made my heart race and my stomach churn.
“Put your hands against the wall, girl,” he commanded.
Frannie blinked at him, her eyes going wide, but she obeyed his instruction tentatively. I could tell that she had grasped at the order as some kind of compromise from Mr. Garrison, but I could also tell that it really was nothing of the kind. Still, she reached out and laid her palms against the brick, then turned to the guard with a pleading look, as if to say, See, I did it. Now can I just get back on the bus?
But the next thing he did was to reach around to the front of her waist so that he could unbutton her jeans. Then she started to struggle—not in any really defiant way, but clearly out of sheer panic. The rest of us, still standing in the lines in which Mr. Garrison had put us, one line of the girls who needed to go into the restroom and the other of those who had finished, looked at each other uneasily. I swallowed hard when I saw that every face seemed to have the expression I knew mine wore: a mixture of distress for the girl getting her pants taken down and helpless but guilty gratitude that it wasn’t us.
“Don’t make me get the others to hold you in place, Frannie,” the guard told her coldly, his breathing completely unaffected by the effort required to hold her in place with one arm across her chest, covered by a black concert t-shirt from some long-ago band, and the other around her waist. “You’re not gonna sit down for a week, if I have to do that.”
“You can’t!” Frannie yelled, as Mr. Garrison showed her just how incorrect she was about that, easily using one hand to unfasten her jeans and pull down the fly. Her arms flailed out, but the guard clearly had training, or experience, or maybe both, in doing this, and Frannie’s little fists made contact with nothing but air.
He shoved her up against the wall, his left hand on the small of her back to keep her in place while he dug his right into the waistband of her jeans and panties and pulled them down to the middle of her thighs. Frannie kept yelling and struggling, but Mr. Garrison’s strength overcame hers as if he barely noticed her resistance. Then, without further ado, he started to spank her with his huge open hand.
CHAPTER 2
Grace
I let out a little cry of my own, and so did at least one of the other girls. Frannie herself just kept sobbing.
“Let me know when you’re ready to follow my instructions,” Mr. Garrison said, his voice as calm and even as if his arm weren’t moving steadily back and forth, his hand sending sharp slaps through the open air around the gas station as it made contact with Frannie’s quickly reddening ass.
I felt as if I must be dreaming. I looked over at the guy at the pumps, who had obviously finished filling up his car’s tank but now stood watching, as if it were, like, okay to watch a young woman get punished with her pants down. A shudder went through my whole body as I found that as much as I didn’t want to watch it myself, my eyes just had to turn back to the mortifying scene of the enormous black guard spanking the curvy blonde girl, his hand moving from left to right and back, distributing the blows evenly between the two sides.
“I…” Frannie sobbed. “I… I… just…” Her body heaved with every spank, and her words rose in pitch with each broken attempt to protest. She still struggled against Mr. Garrison’s tight grip around her waist, but her resistance looked more and more like it came from a rag doll rather than an actual young woman. Her backside had turned a bright pink now, and she clenched it and unclenched it in a way that made my stomach flip over and my chest fill with some emotion I simply couldn’t name.
“Okay!” she screamed. “Okay! Please… please, Mr. Garrison…”
He stopped spanking her and he made sure she would balance securely on her feet before he took his arm from around her waist. The guard’s movements seemed somehow more gentle, now that Frannie had yielded. I bit my lip, feeling my forehead crease very hard. More of that unnamable emotion rose in my body at the sight of the big black man suddenly taking care of the blonde girl he had punished that way.