Suzi strolled down the dimly lit, cobblestone path, her heart fluttering with excitement for the upcoming Halloween party. The chilly October breeze played with the loose strands of her long brown hair, and she shivered, pulling her velvet cape closer to her body. The cape was part of her meticulously crafted Gibson Girl costume—a nod to the elegant, turn-of-the-century style she had always admired. Her Julian stone-white, close-fitting gaucho pants hugged her figure, and a delicate panty line was just visible beneath them, hinting at the layers of petticoats she wore beneath. The outfit was completed by a frilly blouse and a jaunty hat adorned with a feather that danced with her every step. Her cheeks were a bit plump, giving her a youthful, chipmunk-like appearance that was only enhanced by the warm smile that never left her lips.

As she approached the covered walkway that led to the old Victorian mansion where the party was being held, a figure emerged from the shadows, making her jump. It was Art, a familiar face from their high school days, though she hadn’t seen him in years. His costume was unmistakable: the iconic red plaid shirt and clear plastic hockey mask of the infamous Jason Vorhees from “Friday the 13th.” In his hand, he held a plywood axe, painted to look menacingly realistic. Despite the chilly evening, a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, and his eyes twinkled with mischief beneath the mask.

“Hi Art, it’s Suzi,” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and delight. “I’m a Gibson Girl tonight.”

Art chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask. “Nice to see you, Suzi,” he said, raising the plywood axe in a playful salute. “Looks like you’re ready to cut a rug!”

The twinkling lights in the covered walkway cast a playful dance across her costume, and the grin on her face grew wider as she stepped closer, her heels clicking rhythmically on the cobblestone path. The air was thick with the scent of burning pumpkins and the faint whisper of dry leaves being stirred by the chilly wind.

Art’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Time had been kind to Suzi, her youthful beauty now seasoned with a maturity that made her all the more captivating. “Suzi, you look absolutely stunning,” he said, his voice a bit too loud and awkwardly muffled by the plastic mask. He felt a sudden rush of nerves, hoping she didn’t find his costume too scary.

Suzi’s eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Thanks, Art,” she said, her voice as warm as a cup of cider. “And you make a terrifying Jason, I must admit.” She playfully shivered.

Art’s grin grew wider. “Well, I’ve always had a knack for the dramatic.”

Suzi’s chuckle grew into a laugh, the sound as sweet as the candy corn that lined the walkway’s edges. “That’s the Art I remember,” she said, her eyes twinkling like the stars above.

The party was in full swing when they reached the mansion’s entrance. The grand double doors stood open, revealing a whirlwind of vibrant colors and the echo of laughter bouncing off the high ceilings. The hall was decorated with fake cobwebs and dangling bats, the chandeliers casting eerie shadows across the faces of the guests. The smell of spiced apple cider and baked goods filled the air, mingling with the scent of candle wax.

Art offered his arm to Suzi, and she took it gracefully. They stepped into the party together, their eyes scanning the sea of elaborate costumes. Despite the festive chaos around them, Art felt a calming familiarity in Suzi’s presence. His thoughts drifted back to their high school days, to the quiet moments they’d shared in the school’s library, poring over dusty history books and sharing stories of their weekends. Those memories felt like a warm blanket on a cold night.

Suddenly, the cobblestone path beneath them gave way, and with a shout, they found themselves falling through the air. The twinkling lights of the walkway above them grew smaller as they plummeted, their hearts racing. But instead of the cold, hard ground, they landed in a soft, surprising embrace—a massive sea of golden hay. The impact was cushioned, and for a moment, they were weightless, the only sound the rustling of the hay and their own gasps of surprise.

Suzi looked up to see that they had fallen into a hidden pit, cleverly disguised by the party decorations. Art’s laugh boomed above the noise of the partygoers, the mask still in place but his eyes now shining with excitement. “Looks like someone had a little trick planned for us,” he said, helping her to her feet.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the unexpected fall, but the sight of Art’s grin was infectious, and soon she too was giggling. The plumpness of her bottom had indeed saved her from a bruised behind, and she felt a strange sense of gratitude for the costume choice she had so meticulously made. She dusted off her velvet cape, noticing the panty line she had worked so hard to hide was now prominently on display. Her laughter grew a little more self-conscious, but Art’s gaze was filled with kindness, not mockery.

“Well, that was an entrance to remember,” Art said, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. He offered her his hand once again, and she took it, feeling the comfort of his grip. They climbed out of the hay pit, the strands sticking to their costumes and adding a rustic charm to their already impressive attire.

arty’s decorations, but it had been so well-executed that for a split second, they had both believed it was real. The walls were lined with flickering torches, casting a warm, yet eerie glow over the space. In the corner, a pair of wooden stocks stood, open and waiting for an unsuspecting victim. Art couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of someone being caught in such an undignified position, their ankles and neck trapped.

“Hey, let’s give this a go,” Art said, his mischievous side coming out to play. He gently guided Suzi toward the stocks, and before she could protest, he had secured her wrists and neck in place. The wood was surprisingly smooth, and the restraints didn’t tighten too much, but the sudden playfulness in his touch made her pulse quicken.

Suzi giggled, a bit nervously. “Art, really?” But her protests were cut short by the sound of more shrieks and laughter from above, the partygoers oblivious to their descent.

Art nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Why not?” He stepped closer, and the scent of his cologne—familiar yet forgotten—tickled her nostrils. His hands moved with surprising deftness, closing the wooden planks of the stocks around her neck and ankles. The pressure was light, but the sudden immobility sent a thrill down her spine.

“Remember when we used to walk to class together?” Art’s voice took on a teasing lilt, his gaze flickering over her. “And how your slacks would swish back and forth?”

Suzi’s eyes widened, realizing his intent. “You noticed that?” she asked, her cheeks growing warmer.

Art leaned in, his voice low and playful. “How could I not?” He stepped away, the axe still in his hand, and turned to the wooden plank that would close the stocks around her neck. With a dramatic flourish, he brought it down, the sound echoing in the enclosed space. It thudded into place, leaving a small gap so she could breathe comfortably. The planks around her ankles followed, securing her in place. “Now you’re a proper damsel in distress,” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Suzi’s heart thumped in her chest as she felt the plank press against her neck. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden dryness in her mouth. “What are you going to do with me now?” she asked, her voice wobbly.

Art’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Now, I’m going to paddle you, of course,” he said, his tone light and playful. He stepped over to a nearby table that held a variety of party favors, including a wooden paddle with the words “Naughty or Nice?” painted on one side.

Suzi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Art, are you serious?” she squeaked, her heart racing.

Art’s grin grew mischievous. “Oh, completely,” he said, his voice still playful, yet with an underlying current of something else—something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “You’ve been naughty, wearing that panty line like a trophy.”

Suzi’s eyes searched his, trying to gauge his intent. Was he joking or was there a hint of truth in his words? She felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation as he approached her with the paddle. “Art, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings back then,” she said, her alto voice barely above a whisper.

Art stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently caress her cheek. “It’s all water under the bridge, Suzi,” he said, his voice now softer. “But tonight, we can play a little game, can’t we?”

Suzi felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine. “What kind of game?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Art held up the paddle, the question mark on its surface seeming to wink at her. “A little game of ‘Naughty or Nice’?” He suggested, his voice low and teasing. “For every question you answer truthfully, you get a nice little tap. But if you lie...” He let the threat hang in the air, unspoken but clear.

Suzi felt a knot form in her stomach as she nodded, her heart racing. “Okay,” she breathed, her eyes locked on his. “I’ll play.”

Art stepped closer, the plastic mask seemingly magnifying his eyes, which bore into hers with a newfound intensity. “Why did you turn me down all those times?” he asked, his voice a mix of playfulness and a hint of the hurt he’d carried all these years.

Suzi’s heart skipped a beat. She’d never told anyone the real reason for her rejection, not even Art. “I ... I didn’t think we’d be right for each other,” she lied, the words feeling forced.

Art’s smile grew, his grip on the paddle tightening. “That’s not very naughty or nice, now is it?” He tapped the paddle against the side of her thigh, the sound echoing through the dungeon. It stung a bit, the fabric of her gaucho pants offering little protection. “Let’s try again,” he said, his voice still light and playful, yet with a firmness that told her he wasn’t letting go of the topic.

Suzi took a deep breath, her heart racing. She hadn’t anticipated this twist in their reunion. “I was ... I was afraid,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

Art’s smile faltered, his eyes searching hers for any hint of a lie. “Why?”

Suzi took a deep breath, feeling the wood of the stocks press against her neck. “Because I was popular,” she began, the words coming out in a rush. “And you were ... different. The guys who picked on you, they were my friends’ boyfriends like Duncan. I didn’t want to risk it.”

The smile on Art’s face disappeared, replaced by a look of understanding. He brought the paddle back and took a firm stance. “Let’s say I believe you,” he said, his voice even. “But that still doesn’t explain why you didn’t stop them.”

Suzi felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The truth was harder to admit than she’d thought. “I was ... scared,” she whispered. “They were all so powerful, and I didn’t want to lose my place.”

Art’s expression was unreadable behind the mask, but his grip on the paddle didn’t falter. He brought it down with a swift motion, and it connected with the curve of her butt with a resounding crack. The pain was sharp and unexpected, and she yelped, her eyes filling with tears. The fabric of her gaucho pants did little to dull the impact, and she could feel the heat spreading across her skin.

“Why did you do that?” she managed to ask through clenched teeth.

“I came to play,” Art said, his voice now a blend of the mischief from before and something darker. “You’re dressed like a Gibson girl, but you’ve got a secret,” he added, tapping the paddle against the plank that framed her neck.

Suzi’s cheeks burned as the reality of her situation set in. The panty line she’d been so self-conscious about earlier was now a glaring target, a symbol of her past indecency in Art’s eyes. The plank around her neck was a constant reminder of her immobility, the pressure of the wood against her skin making it difficult to breathe deeply.

Art stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers as he took in her reaction. Then, without a word, he brought the paddle down again, this time with a little more force. The smack echoed through the dungeon, and the heat from the impact radiated across her bottom. She gritted her teeth, determined not to show any more fear or pain. The sound of her costume fabric being pulled taut and then releasing with each smack grew more pronounced as Art’s swings grew quicker.

Suzi’s heart raced, her breaths coming in short gasps. The initial shock of the first strike had worn off, and now she felt a strange mix of fear and arousal as the paddle met her skin again and again. Each smack grew hotter, sending a warmth that spread from her buttocks down to her thighs. Her panty line grew more prominent with each hit, the plumpness of her bottom jiggling slightly with each impact. The sound was oddly satisfying, like the crack of a whip in the background sounds along with blood chilling screams. However, she knew that the reality was far more intimate and humiliating.

The atmosphere in the dungeon shifted, the playful banter replaced by a tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Art’s movements had taken on a methodical rhythm, each swing of the paddle punctuating the air with a sinister sound that mirrored the pounding in her chest. The plastic of the hockey mask reflected the flickering torchlight, giving his eyes a predatory gleam that made Suzi realize that, for this moment, he was indeed channeling Jason Vorhees.

Her bottom grew warmer with each smack, the pain morphing into a strange, pulsating heat that seemed to spread through her body. Despite herself, she found her breaths quickening, her heart racing not just from fear but also from a thrill she couldn’t quite explain. The cobblestone walls felt cold against her palms as she gripped the wooden stocks, her mind racing with thoughts of how she’d allowed herself to be caught in such a vulnerable position.

Art’s eyes remained locked on hers, the plastic of the hockey mask glinting in the flickering torchlight as he studied her reaction. With each swing, she could see the muscles in his arm tense and release, his grip on the paddle never wavering. The sound of the paddle meeting her flesh echoed through the dungeon, mingling with the distant laughter of partygoers who were blissfully unaware of the unfolding drama below them.

The pain grew more intense, and she couldn’t help but arch her back, her bottom pushing up towards the ceiling with each smack. Despite her efforts to remain stoic, her body betrayed her, responding in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Her breaths grew shorter, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, and she felt the heat from her cheeks spread down her neck and across her chest.

Deep in her heart, as she watched the plume of dust rise from the hay with each impact, Suzi couldn’t help but admire Art for finally sticking up for himself. She’d always known he was capable of more than he let on, and the strength he was displaying now was both terrifying and thrilling. She felt a twinge of guilt for the part she’d played in the tampon prank back in high school—how she’d laughed along with the rest of them, even though she’d known it was cruel. The memory of that day played out in her mind: the boys, their faces flushed with excitement, as they’d approached her with the blue and white tampon wrapper, begging for her help. She’d given in, her own insecurities making her eager to fit in, and together they had executed the humiliating prank.

The sound of her velvet cape swishing against the wooden stocks brought her back to the present as Art continued to rain smacks down upon her. She could feel the heat radiating from her bottom, and she knew that she deserved this punishment. Each smack served as a reminder of the pain she had caused him, and she took it with a strange sense of relief. The plumpness of her buttocks made them bounce with each impact, and she couldn’t help but think of the irony—how the very thing she had been so self-conscious about was now the focus of their little game.

The sudden wetness in her panties was a confusing sensation, one she hadn’t expected. She felt a mix of embarrassment and arousal as the fabric grew damp with her own guilt and the physical reaction to her punishment. The scent of her arousal filled the space between them, a silent confession of the thrill that coursed through her veins. Art paused, his eyes flicking down to the visible wet spot growing on her panty line.

For a moment, she thought he’d stop, that he’d realize the depth of his power over her in this moment. But instead, he stepped closer, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “I know what you’re feeling, Suzi. I know you liked watching them do that to me.” The accusation hung in the air, heavy and palpable.

Her heart stuttered. “Art, it was me,” she confessed, her voice shaking. “I gave the boys the tampon to tie to your rearview mirror after they lifted your car.” The words tumbled out; a confession long overdue.

He stepped back, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You did?” The paddle hovered in the air, his grip tightening.

Suzi nodded, the plank pressing against her neck as she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Art. I didn’t know how to tell you back then.”

Art’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the paddle tightening. “That was mean, Suzi,” he said, his voice now devoid of playfulness. “What do you think I should do to make that right?”

Her eyes searched his, a mix of fear and excitement in their depths. “Pull down my pants and my panties,” she said in a voice that was both husky and vulnerable, the words coming out in a rush that seemed to shock even her. “And make this naughty girl’s bottom colorful and bright.”

Art’s breath caught in his throat at her words. He had never seen this side of Suzi before, this willingness to submit to his playful dominance. The power of the situation was intoxicating, and the bulge in his pants grew more pronounced as he reached for the button of her gaucho pants. His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the fastening and began to slowly lower the fabric, revealing the creamy white skin of her thighs.

Suzi felt a strange mix of dread and excitement as Art’s hands touched her, his rough fingers grazing her skin as he pulled her bell bottoms down to her ankles. The coolness of the dungeon air hit her exposed bottom, making her shiver. She had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone, especially not someone she had hurt so deeply.

As Art lowered her panties, she felt the heat from her cheeks spread to her chest and neck. She was now fully exposed, the soft light of the flickering torches highlighting the redness of her skin. The plumpness of her bottom was on full display, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride that she had endured the paddling so far.

Art took a step back, taking in the sight of her bare, blushing cheeks. The plastic of his mask seemed to gleam with a new intensity, as if reflecting the power he now wielded. “You’re really going to go through with this?” he asked, his voice thick with anticipation.

Suzi nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Yes,” she whispered, the word barely audible above the thundering of her heart. “I need to make it right.”

Art set the novelty paddle aside and reached for the plywood axe he’d been carrying earlier. The weight of it in his hand was substantial, and she couldn’t help but feel a jolt of fear as he held it up, the blade glinting menacingly in the torchlight. “This is what you’re asking for?” he said, his voice still tinged with disbelief.

Suzi nodded; her eyes wide with determination. “I know it’s going to be tough,” she said, her voice steady. “But I need to atone for what I did.”

Art’s gaze searched hers, the weight of the plywood axe in his hand feeling heavier than ever. “And you’re willing to go through this?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of doubt. “It’s going to get harder.”

Suzi’s eyes remained locked on his, her breath hitching in her chest. “I know,” she said, her voice firm. “But I want to do this. I need to make it up to you.”

Art nodded, a strange mix of anger, excitement, and something else playing across his features. He stepped closer to her, the plywood axe now in both hands, the weight of it seemingly forgotten. “Very well,” he murmured. “But remember, you can’t back out.”

Suzi’s heart pounded in her chest as she felt the cool wood of the axe’s handle press against her bare skin. “I know,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “I won’t.”

Art’s grip on the axe tightened, and he took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. “Before I begin, Suzi,” he said, his voice thick with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite decipher, “I want to say that it saddens me to have to corporally punish you to this level. But I think we both know it’s necessary.”

Suzi felt the weight of his gaze and nodded solemnly. The plank around her neck was a constant reminder of her decision, the wood pressing gently but firmly against her skin. The anticipation of what was to come was almost unbearable, but she knew she had to face the consequences of her past actions.

With a final look of determination, Art swung the axe. It whooshed through the air, and the flat side connected with her bottom with a thud that made her jump. The pain was more intense than the plastic paddle had delivered, and she couldn’t hold back a gasp. Yet, she remained in place, her eyes watering but her resolve unbroken.

The second strike followed, the plywood leaving a distinct pattern on her skin. She felt the heat building, the pain now a constant presence that she both hated and craved. Each hit brought a mix of agony and relief, as if she were being cleansed of the guilt that had haunted her for so long. Her bottom was now a canvas of red and white stripes, a stark contrast against her pale skin.