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Stephanie was still feeling strange when she got home that night. What had just happened to her? Her mother was preparing dinner in the kitchen, and she jumped right in to help with the meal. She quickly lost herself in cutting some vegetables. Soon she was sitting at the dinning-room table. It was a long table. Her mother sat at one end and her father at the other. Steph would always sit in the middle. Her parents droned on, telling each other how their days had been. Stephanie didn’t pay much attention. She was still dwelling on what all had happened. Just what had happened? What did it mean?
“Stephanie, we need to talk,” her mother’s voice snapped her out of her daze.
“Yes mother . . .”
“Stephanie—when I went to buy lunch this afternoon, I noticed twenty dollars was missing from my purse.”
“Mother, I’m sorry . . .”
Her father bellowed, “You will be sorry. I’m not going to live with a thief in this house. Your mother and I have tried to teach you the difference between right and wrong. You are always falling short of what we expect from you. We don’t like punishing you, but you will be punished for any behavior like this. Now, go to the bathroom and get your hairbrush.”
Stephanie swallowed hard. She knew what that mean. Any argument would only escalate the situation. Her best bet was to be very passive. If she didn’t resist, it wouldn’t be so bad.
She got up from the dinner table. Her mind was spinning. She quickly went to the bathroom and opened the bottom drawer. There was her hairbrush. It was a large oval-shaped brush with dark animal-hair bristles. She carried it back into the dinning room. Her place at the table had been cleared. She knew she wouldn’t get any more food tonight. Her father was turning on the stereo. It was playing Mozart’s Symphony no. 25 in G minor, the song they always played when she was punished. He sat down in his chair and lit his pipe. He was going to watch tonight while mother beat her.
Mother was sitting in her chair, motioning for Steph to come to her. Stephanie handed her mother the hairbrush and lay across her lap. Suddenly she remembered that she was not wearing panties. She had forgotten. It was too late. She couldn’t stop this. Slowly, her mother raised the back of her skirt. Her bottom was exposed. She was naked. She squeezed her legs together, trying to maintain some modesty. Her body burned pink with shame.
There was a pause, a moment that seemed to last forever. “Stephanie, could you tell mother why you aren’t wearing your panties?”
“I—I don’t kn—know,” Stephanie stammered.
Wham! Bam! The hairbrush hit her twice on the ass. The hard blows took her breath away.
“Tell me why you aren’t wearing panties,” her mother demanded.
“Stephanie, answer your mother right now,” said her father.
“A girl—a girl at school took them. She wouldn’t give them back.”
Whack! Whack! Whack! The brush hit her three more times. Steph’s body felt week with pain.
“You expect us to believe that someone just took your underwear? There are teachers watching you all day at that school. They aren’t just going to let someone take your underwear. What have you been doing?”
Her mother breathed in sharply, Steph braced her body to receive another blow. She waited. As soon as her body relaxed, her mother struck her again. This was some sick game. Her mother was enjoying this way too much.
Her mother hit her harder and harder. She screamed and cried. It was an awful hurt. Her ass, her legs, everything hurt. All for twenty dollars.
When the beating stopped all she could do was roll off her mother’s lap. She lay on the floor crying while her mother ranted on about what a thieving whore she was. She was so weak from the spanking she couldn’t even pull her dress down. She just lay there, in front of her mother and father, naked from the waist down.
The phone rang. Her mother answered it.
“Hello, you’re calling for Stephanie? She isn’t going to be allowed to talk on the phone for a while. She’s grounded. No, she can’t go out or anything. I’m sorry.” She hung up the phone.
“Stephanie, that was a boy named Mike. He was calling to talk to you. Is he the reason that you aren’t wearing panties?”
Stephanie just cried. Why was he calling? Why couldn’t mother just let them talk? Was did she have to get spanked tonight? Today had been such a good day. She had finally had sex; she finally felt beautiful. He called her. He wanted to talk. Why couldn’t her mother have just looked past the twenty dollars this one time?
Stephanie slept on the floor that night. She hurt too bad to move to her bedroom. When she woke up the next morning, her dress was still bunched up around her waist. She still hurt. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw her bottom was a mass of purple and black bruises. She looked horrible. What if she saw Mike today? What if he offered to make love to her again? She couldn’t let him see her like this, but if she turned him down, he might get the wrong idea. She could easily be replaced. He might start making fun of her again. Suddenly she felt sick and threw up in the toilet.
As she got ready for school, she couldn’t help thinking about Mike. What had he called last night? Was he going to make fun of her again? Was it possible that he was attracted to her? She powdered her bottom with some facial powder to try and hide the bruises. It didn’t work very well. If she did get a chance to be naked for him again today, she could just be very careful not to turn around.
She thought very carefully about what she was going to wear that day. She didn’t have many choices. She so desperately wanted to look sexy for him. She thought about not wearing panties; she had really started to enjoy the excitement that she felt when she wasn’t wearing panties. She had a pair that was so cute though. Her aunt Emma had given them to her for her birthday earlier this year. She felt so sexy when she wore them; she often fantasized about modeling them for a boy.
She was glad her meal had ended early last night. She was a little hungry, but her stomach was so nice and flat. She knew most of her clothes weren’t that attractive. She had to buy her own clothes and her mother never really gave her much money for them. Most of the outfits she had once belonged to her grandmother. She had gotten to pick clothes from her grandmother’s closest when she had died the other year.
Stephanie tried on everything in her closet before she picked out a skirt she used to wear when she was little. It had a small spot on it, but it was so short and she really liked the way her legs looked. She found a little blouse to go with it that really showed off her figure.
She felt so sexy when she walked into the school that morning. As she looked around, she noticed that she was getting second glances from some people. She passed Mike in the hallway and their eyes met for just a moment; he smiled before he looked away. Unpopular kids don’t magically escape the wrath of their peers. When they stand out, when they shine, they are flooded by the ridicule they are trying to escape. It didn’t take Stephanie long to figure that out. As she walked down the hallway, cold sticky wetness hit her from behind. Several guys she had just passed sew her and decided to spray her with a can of coke they had shaken up. She turned around quickly and there stood an obnoxious guy, laughing and holding the spraying can. He was laughing so hard. Everyone in the hallway was laughing. Everyone. She was going to be sticky the rest of the day. Her makeup was ruin. She was going to have to walk the halls the rest of the day wearing he badge of shame. Everyone would see that she didn’t belong, couldn’t belong. She was an outcast. Her clothes were stained brown now, she was ugly.
Stephanie ran away crying; she let them see her cry. She ran to hide in a safe place that she had once found. There was an unused classroom on the third floor of the building. It had been locked to keep students out, but the lock would spring when you hit the doorknob from the bottom with a book. She would hide in there at lunch sometimes because she didn’t have anyone to sit with. She didn’t care if she missed classes this morning. She didn’t care if she got beaten at home for cutting class today; she could deal with that. Right now, she couldn’t deal with being around people.
The classroom was quiet. She didn’t turn on a light. The room was being used to store extra textbooks, lab supplies, and a plastic skeleton. There were lots of desks stacked up. Stephanie curled into a ball and lay in the corner, crying. Her wails turned to sobs, and her sobs turned to whimpers. Soon she was a quiet little ball of despair. She didn’t stir when there was a knock at the door. A familiar voice called out to her. It was Mike.
She couldn’t see him. She was messed up, her clothes were stained, and her face was read and puffy from crying. He didn’t want her, couldn’t want her. She was ugly. He had used her and she felt so stupid for letting him fool her. She had cared. She let herself feel good and tried to fit in. Now she was reminded of her place in the world and she would never feel hope again. She would always remember where she belonged. This was her vale of tears.
Mike knocked on the door and called out to her again. He violently pushed on the door and jiggled the knob. Soon, he found a way to spring the lock. She didn’t look up as he came into the room. She heard the door close behind him. She wished she were invisible. She didn’t want him to see her.
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