Story: Biometrics don't lie. Part 9.

by Melissa

Part 9. A setback and a punishment

My heart plummeted as the receptionist's words washed over me. The glimmer of hope I had clung to, the possibility that Maria's intervention could give me back my true identity, seemed to vanish in an instant. "You didn't send the letter?" I gasped in surprise.

The receptionist, her gaze now avoiding mine, nodded slowly. "No," she admitted. "I... I read it first, out of curiosity. And after what I read, I couldn't bring myself to send it."

"You read my letter?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her gaze unwavering. "I did. And frankly, Miss Jones," she continued, her voice laced with disappointment, "it painted a far from flattering picture of your actions towards Maria. Allowing her to be falsely accused of theft and then, but only after needing her help, offering her money as a kind of consolation... it doesn't speak well of your character."

Shame burned through me, hotter than all the stoves I'd been forced to clean since my arrival at Elmwood Academy. The receptionist's words mirrored the self-recriminations that had haunted me since realizing the gravity of my mistake. "I know," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. "I was scared and selfish. And until now, I didn't understand the true cost of my silence."

"Maybe you just deserve what's happening to you," she continued, her voice devoid of malice but laced with a firm conviction. "Perhaps this experience is a harsh lesson, one you sorely needed."

Her words were a mirror reflecting my own doubts, the ones I'd tried to suppress in my desperate search for validation. Was I truly a victim in this situation, or was I merely reaping the bitter harvest of my own misdeeds? A wave of nausea washed over me. The injustice of my current situation, the indignity of being treated like a thief when I was innocent, all felt insignificant compared to the weight of my own guilt.

"I know that what I did was wrong," I whispered, my voice barely above a sob. "I was indeed a coward, letting Maria suffer the indignity of a false accusation."

The receptionist sighed, a hint of empathy softening her features. "But understanding doesn't erase the consequences, does it? Perhaps this experience, as unpleasant as it may be, is a necessary lesson. A chance to truly understand the weight of your actions and the importance of standing up for what's right." Her words held a bitter truth. Maybe, just maybe, this bizarre turn of events wasn't just punishment, but a twisted form of penance. An opportunity to face the consequences of my past and emerge, hopefully, a better person.

"Maybe you're right," I croaked, my voice full of guilt, "maybe I deserve everything that's happened to me. I was a coward, I let Maria down. Perhaps it's only fair that I should face the same accusations, the same hardships. But I believe that I also deserve a chance to make amends. I have therefore to wonder, how do you think I can make it up to Maria if my apology letter doesn't reach her?"

The receptionist's gaze was sceptical. "Are you sure your apology is truly sincere?" she asked, her voice laced with doubt. "Or are you just trying to manipulate Maria into helping you, without any real regret for your actions?"

My heart plummeted. The receptionist's words felt like a fist clenching around it. Not only had the letter, my desperate apology, not reached Maria, but the woman I had confided in didn't believe my sincerity. Her previous words echoed in my mind, sharp and accusatory: "Maybe you just deserve what's happening to you." Shame washed over me. Could she be right? Had I truly buried my guilt so deep beneath layers of self-pity that genuine remorse never truly surfaced? Was my apology a genuine plea for forgiveness, or was it simply a desperate attempt to escape my predicament? Maybe the universe, somehow, knew my heart better than I did. The punishment, though harsh, perhaps mirrored the injustice I had inflicted on Maria.

Shame and introspection battled within me. Taking a deep breath, I met the receptionist's gaze. "My actions towards Maria were unforgivable, and I deserve no sympathy," I admitted honestly. "But I'm no longer the same selfish girl who let Maria take the blame. This experience has opened my eyes, and I truly regret the pain I caused Maria. I wouldn't be here begging if I didn't."

"Clearly, your apology to Maria is well-written," the receptionist admitted with a raised eyebrow, "but I wonder how authentic it is. Maybe you are sincere when you eloquently pretend to be a changed girl. Or maybe it's just a clever performance rather than genuine remorse. Frankly, Miss Jones, I don't know if you deserve my help, but I am still ready to give you a chance."

"Thank you," I chuckled. "You are awesome. You are my only friend here."

"Not so fast, Miss Jones," the receptionist said, pondering her words. "Before I send your letter, I need to see if you truly care about others, not just yourself."

"Just tell me how", I answered, wondering what she was expecting from me.

Silence hung heavy in the air. Then, the receptionist spoke, fixing me with a challenging stare. "What's my name?"

"Your name?" I replied, completely flabbergasted, turning pale as I realised I hadn't the faintest idea of how she was called. "How is that even relevant?" I tried, making a feeble attempt at avoiding to answer.

"Just answer my question, Miss Jones," the receptionist insisted. "If you don't know my surname, my first name will suffice."

My throat tightened. Shame washed over me in a searing wave. In my self-absorbed world, I hadn't even considered asking the name of the woman who offered me a sliver of kindness amidst my struggles. Her silence was deafening, her disappointment palpable. My only ally, the last thread of hope, slipping away because of my own selfishness.

"I... I don't know," I stammered, the weight of guilt crushing me.

The receptionist's anger flared. "I was the only one who believed you," she spat, her voice trembling. "But you're too self-centred to even care about my name."

The weight of her words crushed me. I had been so focused on my own plight, I had completely neglected the person who had offered me a lifeline. The realization was a painful wake-up call. True change wasn't just about apologies. It was about genuine care and respect for others. Just as I opened my mouth to stammer an apology and ask for the receptionist's name, the sharp voice of Mrs. Henderson, the head maid, cut through the tension. "What is happening here?" she demanded, noticing the receptionist's raised voice.

The receptionist, her anger boiling over, pinned the blame on me. "Melissa was being incredibly rude and disrespectful," she accused.

Before I could explain, Mrs. Henderson silenced me by slapping me hard in the face. Then she turned to the receptionist. "Don't worry, she will be severely punished for her insolence," she declared, before grabbing my arm and dragging me away. Leaving the bewildered receptionist behind, I was marched towards the staff room, my heart pounding with dread.

Sabrina, another school maid, was already in the staff room, enjoying a cup of tea. Her eyes widened at our unexpected arrival. Mrs. Henderson, her expression grim, addressed her. "Sabrina, please stay here and witness Melissa's well-deserved punishment," she instructed, leaving me wondering what cruel fate awaited me. Sabrina looked puzzled, but sat back, her curiosity piqued. My stomach churned. I knew then that whatever punishment awaited me would not be delivered in private. I stood there in fear, bracing myself for whatever torment awaited me. The possibility of my apology never reaching Maria also loomed large, adding to the weight of my despair.

Mrs. Henderson turned to me, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "Girl," she declared, her voice echoing in the confined space, "your insolence towards the receptionist will not be tolerated. You forget your place. As punishment, you will..." The head maid seemed to hesitate and paused for a moment's reflection.

I braced myself for additional scrubbing duties or an extended laundry shift. But Mrs. Henderson's next words sent chills down my spine.

Mrs. Henderson looked at me with distaste and said: "I think a good old-fashioned corporal punishment is in order. You deserve a long and hard spanking over my knee, in front of Sabrina."

My heart raced in terror at the word "spanking." I had never experienced such an indignity before and could only imagine the pain it would bring. But this wasn't just punishment, it was public humiliation. I was especially afraid of having to go through this humiliating experience in front of one of my work mates. "Please Ma'am," I pleaded with despair, "don't do that. I know I did upset the receptionist, but I didn't mean to. Please give me a chance to apologise to her and make up with her. Please, I beg you Ma'am."

"I don't like what I'm about to do, girl," Mrs Henderson answered, "but your bullying of Agnès, the receptionist, can't stay unpunished, especially as she is probably the kindest soul in the whole school. You should have thought of the consequences before going after her."

Agnès, I thought, the name of the receptionist is Agnès. I turned to Sabrina. "Please Sabrina," I pleaded darting my eyes towards her, "I have never been spanked before. Don't let this indignity happen to me. Try to reason with Mrs. Henderson."

Sabrina, her face pale and eyes averted, remained first silent, but, then, she looked at me and said: "Maybe it's precisely because you've never been spanked before that you've become such a thief and a liar. In your case, a long and hard spanking is obviously both well-deserved and long overdue."

Mrs. Henderson then walked over to a chair, settled herself in it and gestured to the floor beside her. "Stand here, girl," she commanded in a voice full of authority.

"Please no, Ma'am, have mercy," I begged further.

"Enough, girl" Mrs Henderson snapped, "if you don't obey at once, you will be spanked in front of a gathering of all the maid staff. Maybe even in front of the whole school. Understood, girl?"

I didn't dare protest again for fear of irritating Mrs Henderson even more. As I was also completely terrified by the prospect of being spanked in public, I moved to stand beside her feeling weak and small under her disapproving gaze. The head maid grabbed my wrists and pulled me across her lap. The position was awkward and uncomfortable, and I felt particularly vulnerable.

After pulling up my dress, exposing my panties, Mrs. Henderson spoke up, her voice cracking like a whip. "I'll spank you until I think you've learned your lesson," she declared. "It will hurt, as it is meant to, and you'd better accept it with good grace."

Just as the head maid was about to deliver the first blow to my bottom, the door of the staff room swung open and Agnès, the receptionist, walked in. "Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing?", she demanded.

"Welcome Agnès," said Mrs Henderson to the receptionist. "You've come at just the right time to witness Melissa's punishment.

"No, please, Mrs Henderson," pleaded the receptionist, "don't strike her bottom."

"That's right Agnès," Mrs. Henderson admitted, "you're the offended part, so it's only fair that you should be the one delivering the spanking."

"No please," insisted the receptionist. "I'm still angry with Melissa, but I don't want to see her in physical pain."

"Why not?", asked Mrs. Henderson. "It's well deserved and it can only do her good."

"I'm the reason you want to punish her," declared the receptionist. "Please don't. Her community service is punishment enough."

"Sorry Agnès," Mrs Henderson explained, "my hands are tied. Judge Thompson is adamant: the Court has ordered that Melissa be severely punished every time she misbehaves."

Sabrina suddenly joined in the conversation and said: "I might have another suggestion to teach Melissa a lesson she won't soon forget." Then she gave me a thoughtful look and asked: "Melissa, do you really want to avoid that spanking?"

"Yes, please," I implored, "I'll do anything to avoid such an indignity."

"All right, Melissa," said Sabrina, "but my suggestion may be worse than a spanking. So don't hate me afterwards if it's not to your liking."

"What's your idea?" wondered the receptionist.

"As we all know," Sabrina explained, Elmwood Academy has a well-stocked wine cellar and, now that the school year has begun, the maid staff is supposed to fetch the crates of wine from the cellar, to bring them up to the main storage area where the liquor is kept and to stack them up on the shelves. This is a heavy task that takes a lot of effort. It was supposed to be done by a team of at least 3 school maids, but now, instead, I suggest that we force Melissa to do it all by herself. As this is a punishment, she would have to carry all the crates in her arms, without being allowed to rely on the trolley we normally use. And, of course, if Melissa complains or doesn't work quickly and efficiently, she could still be spanked afterwards."

"That's not a bad idea," Mrs. Henderson admitted. "Agnès," she said, turning to the receptionist, "Would such an alternative punishment - hard labour instead of corporal punishment - be acceptable for you?"

"I... I suppose so," the receptionist conceded, after looking at me with a sorry expression on her face.

"Then it's settled," Mrs Henderson declared. "Girl," she said, turning to me, "you will go to the cellar, fetch the crates of wines, deliver them to the main storage area and stack them on the shelves. And you will do it quickly and without any help from anyone."

"But... But Ma'am..." I meekly protested, "there are a lot crates of wine in the cellar and they must be very heavy. I don't know if I am strong enough."

"You shall have to find a way to get the job done, girl," Mrs. Henderson insisted. "The task is very simple. All you have to do is fetch the crates and deliver them on the shelves. Do not attempt to give me excuses. I expect that you shall complete this task with no hesitation and no complaints. And you better do a good work, because, otherwise, you will face a long and hard spanking in front of a gathering of all the maid staff. We might also invite the students, as they might find it entertaining. Do you understand me, girl?"

"What? But..." I mumbled, utterly terrified that the head maid might carry out her threat to spank me in public.

"Do you understand me, girl," Mrs. Henderson insisted?

"Yes Ma'am," I mumbled, defeated.

"Sabrina," the head maid said, turning to her, "as this was your idea, you will watch Melissa's every step, making sure that she doesn't slack off."

Humiliation burned through me. To be forced to perform menial labour under the watchful eyes of Sabrina, felt like a cruel form of public shaming. But I knew defiance would only worsen my situation. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, I followed Mrs. Henderson and Sabrina while they led me to the cellar. As I went down, the air became more musty and a bit damp. The smell down here was very heavy and unpleasant and it became even more humid as we walked further down the damp and dark hallway. Finally, we reached the end of the hallway and I could see that this part of the cellar was almost filled with crates full of wine, each of them obviously weighing a considerable amount, especially for a frail maiden like me. I felt anxious and nervous about the task, but I knew I was expected me to complete it.

"These crates are not going to move themselves, girl," Mrs. Henderson said. "Now begin carrying the crates one by one and stacking them neatly on the shelves of the storage area."

I tried to lift the nearest crate of wine. It was very heavy and took considerable effort to handle it, especially as I was expected to do this all alone. It took all my strength and power to lift that first crate and I felt my muscles begin to ache from the effort. As I was struggling to lift the heavy crate, Sabrina looked at me you with a hint of amusement on her face. She could sense me straining and was watching my muscles aching and twitching as I pulled this crate of wine up.

Heaving the first crate onto the shelf, I collapsed, panting. "Exhausted already?" the head maid smirked, "There are more where that came from. Sabrina, keep an eye on Melissa and make sure she's pulling her weight. And don't assist her: she has to do this on her own." Then Mrs Henderson left, leaving me to work under Sabrina's watchful eyes.

Despite putting in all my effort, I was struggling to lift the crates. I was working hard and could feel the effort and fatigue in my very muscles and joints. In fact, I was almost pushing myself past my physical limits to complete the task. Sabrina was smiling at first, and I could tell that she was enjoying that I was the one doing all the hard work, and not her. As I kept lifting up crate after crate, I could feel my muscles almost reaching that point where they couldn't carry the weight any longer. But I was afraid of what would happen to me if I didn't continue, so I kept going, pushing myself beyond my physical limits. My hands almost began to tremble from the weight of lifting up the next heavy crate. I was now at the absolute limit of my physical strength. My body was struggling against my own will, begging me to put that crate down and give in to the fatigue. But I refused to yield to the pain and exhaustion and I finished putting that crate in its place on the shelf.

I felt as if the room was almost spinning. I had exhausted my physical strength and my movements were becoming very sluggish. My strength seemed to be rapidly dwindling and I felt as if I did not have much left in me. As I struggled, Sabrina was watching me from the door and started to look a bit worried. "Sorry girl," she said to in an apologetic manner, "this is harsher on you than I thought. I didn't realize there were so many crates of wine to move. Frankly, you should have chosen the spanking instead. Now please take a break, I promise, I won't tell Mrs. Henderson."

"If I stop, I am sure I won't be able to continue," I told Sabrina and went straight back to the task at hand, despite the fact that I could barely move my feet. But I had to work through the exhaustion and continue performing my role.

"I will help you," Sabrina suddenly offered.

"Please don't do that, Sabrina," I begged, utterly terrified and with tears in my eyes, "Mrs. Henderson will know it and carry out her threat to spank me in public."

"Don't be silly, girl," Sabrina said and helped to lift the next crate, "I will make sure that this won't happen. Besides, Mrs Henderson is not so bad as you think. If she were to discover that I helped you with the last crates, I am pretty sure she would decide to look the other way." Sabrina then assisted me with the remaining crates. Together, we finally finished putting the final crate in its place on the shelf. With this action, I had completed the task of lifting up these heavy crates, but I could barely stand, my knees almost buckling and giving way under my own weight. I was almost completely exhausted, and it was almost a miracle how I had even been able to lift up these heavy crates of wine and stack them on the shelf. I had given it all I got in this exhausted physical state and I felt as if I could collapse of exhaustion any moment.

Sabrina came over to me and supported me with her arm on my shoulders. At this moment, I was completely drained and I had to lean into her for support. She guided me over to my room into the maid's quarter and slowly pushed me down on my bed. Lying down provided a lot of relief after standing for a long while in this exhausted state. My body could finally relax and I could barely keep my eyes open. I closed them and leaned back in the chair, feeling the exhaustion wash over me. After a while, I opened my eyes again and saw Sabrina still leaning over me. She was looking down on me with a hint of concern as she stared at the exhausted and drained look on my face. Then she left the room without a word, finally giving me a chance to rest...