The Public Bus Stop Spanking

Sofia_xx
Dec 2
4 min read

The bus was already running late, and the small crowd gathered under the shelter was growing restless. A cold wind cut through the evening air, making everyone shift, tuck their hands into their pockets, and check their phones for the time.

I was frustrated. Tired. Irritated with everything and everyone, including the older man who had tried, politely, to remind me that the line formed behind the posted sign. I snapped at him without thinking. Sharp. Unnecessary. Too loud for the quiet group around us.

“Maybe mind your own business,” I muttered. “It’s just a bus.”

A few people shifted uncomfortably. Someone raised their eyebrows. But the man didn’t react with anger. He simply looked at me, steady, calm, and far too composed.

“Young lady,” he said quietly, “you’re being rude.”

His tone wasn’t harsh, but it cut straight through the cold air. I rolled my eyes and turned away, hoping that would end it. It didn’t.

When the bus didn’t come and people drifted down the street to check the next stop, I stayed under the shelter, arms crossed, trying to ignore the growing heat in my face. The older man stayed too, standing beside me, not close, not looming, just present.

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “Someone should have corrected you long before now.”

My chest tightened. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t raise his voice. “A warning, a reminder, something. You shouldn’t speak to anyone the way you just did.”

I swallowed. “I said I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t,” he replied. “And even if you had, your tone tells me you don’t mean it.”

His calm certainty made my stomach twist. I looked away, suddenly wishing the bus would appear more than anything.

“Young lady,” he continued, “I’m going to tell you exactly what you needed to hear after that outburst.”

I braced myself, expecting a lecture. Instead, he stepped forward, took my elbow. not roughly, but firmly enough to guide me, and turned me to face him.

“You are out of line,” he said softly. “And if you were mine to correct, you would not be standing here with that attitude. You’d be over my knee learning some manners.”

The words hit harder than the wind. My mouth went dry. “Y-you can’t just—”

“I’m not touching you,” he said calmly. “But you are going to stand here and listen to the consequences of how you treated me. And you are going to feel every bit of the embarrassment you earned.”

He pointed to the far end of the bus shelter, where the advertising panel cast a bright rectangle of light. “Stand there. Hands at your sides. Back straight.”

Heat flooded my face. “What? No. I’m not—”

“Now,” he said, with a firmness that took my breath.

And somehow, I moved. I walked to the panel, feeling people glance as they passed. When I reached it, I stood up straight, heart pounding, cheeks burning.

“Good,” he said, stepping close enough for only me to hear. “That’s the posture of someone taking responsibility.”

My pulse raced. The humiliation was sharp and sudden. A woman walking her dog slowed just enough to look twice. A teenager smirked as he passed. I felt exposed, chastened, held in place by authority that didn’t need volume or force.

The older man stepped behind me, his voice low. “If you were mine, you’d be over my lap getting a proper spanking for the way you spoke. Right here. Right at this bus stop. And believe me, it would be loud enough to match your attitude.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“But this,” he continued, “is your warning. Your public reminder. You will not talk to people the way you did. Not again.”

I stood frozen, the weight of his disapproval settling heavier than the cold. Someone else walked past, giving me a puzzled look. My cheeks burned so hot I wished I could disappear.

"Maybe I do need that right now" I whispered.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"Maybe I do..."

"Are you giving me consent?" He quickly replied.

"Yes.... Sir...."

He didn't wait a minute, he quickly grabbed me by my waist, and sat down on the little bench. He threw me over his lap and spanked my bottom over my jeans. People watched, but nobody said a word. He smacked my bottom hard and steady, right there and then. "I'm glad you realised this is what you needed..." He told me sternly. "You really needed to be corrected."

"Yes Sir" I said in between the hard smacks.

Then he did something I did not expect. He pulled down my pants withouth any warning. I wanted to protest but I couldn't out of embarrassment. Everyone walking by, everyone waiting on the bus could now see my red naked bottom... "Here we go. A real spanking is on bare bottom." He spoke like nothing had happened.

He smacked me hard and steady, it hurt so much more without my jeans to protect me. My eyes started to water and I softly started to cry. "I'm so sorry..." I whispered.

"I know you are." He said, but he didn't stop. He continued for a full 5 minutes, making my bottom incredibly sour and my face as red out of embarrassment.

"This will do." He then said, with one final incredibly hard smack.

"Stand up, dress yourself."

I stood up, teary eyes, red hot bottom... "And what do we say now?" He asked looking me right in my eyes. "Thank you, Sir..."

"I knew you had some manners in you, you just needed to get corrected."

At that second, the bus arrived. The man got on and left me there in full embarrassment with a heated bottom and red cheeks.