Monday, November 15, 2021

Belinda's American Education - M/F, otk hand - Part 3

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 “If you’d like to, you can take her down to the nurse.  She needs to be given her shots, and to be examined for contraband.”


“Yes, I’d enjoy supervising that,” Professor Winters said, as Belinda’s eyes grew wide as saucers!


“You may wish to take a hairbrush along, in case this impudent piece of baggage gets lippy,” the headmaster counseled.


 “That’s quite alright, Frank,” Professor Winters chuckled.  “My hand will be more than sufficient to administer a memorable correction.  Besides, in Belinda’s case I definitely want to get a feel for the situation.”


 The two men shared a knowing chuckle.  Belinda blushed.


“I brought a draft of Belinda’s dissertation,” Professor Winters said, pulling the thick paper out of his briefcase.  I was wondering if I might review it with her before I took her to the nurse.”



“Of course.  There’s a spare classroom at the end of the hall, Room 222.  Perfect for a…private conference.”


The two men laughed again.  Belinda felt queasy.  


Belinda’s Professor shook the headmaster’s hand, and led Belinda out past Miss Rawlings desk into the hallway.  Miss Rawlings smirked at Belinda and gave her a playful, teasing goodbye wave, as if to say, “You’re going to get it good, young lady, and I couldn’t be more delighted.”


Belinda despised Miss Rawlings.


 To Belinda the hallway seemed strangely different – longer, darker, more foreboding.  Each closed door she passed seemed threatening as Belinda imagined some poor girl (or class of girls) being disciplined behind it.  


Indeed, the hallway was so different that for a moment Belinda thought she had come out through another door.  However she quickly realized that the hallway hadn’t changed.  She had changed.


 When Belinda had walked down the hallway this morning she had been a confident and self assured doctoral student preparing her dissertation.  

 

Now Belinda was a naughty schoolgirl preparing herself for discipline!


As they walked down the long hall a young woman approached from the other direction.  Belinda was 25, and she guessed the woman wasn’t much older than she was.  Indeed she was dressed as Belinda had been a few minutes before, in a business suit, although the suit was less expensive than what Belinda had been wearing.


Belinda’s mind flashed “rescue!”  The young woman would realize that they were peers and would demand Belinda’s release! 


As she drew near the young woman smiled at her, and Belinda felt a momentary connection, a moment that ended abruptly when the woman spoke.


“A new arrival?” the woman purred, ignoring Belinda entirely and speaking instead to Professor Winters.


“Yes.  I’m taking her to the nurse, after I give her a good talking to.”


The woman walked around Belinda, and Belinda flushed as the smiling woman appraised her juvenile school uniform with a practiced, knowing eye.   


“It looks like someone got a head start on that,” the woman chuckled.


Belinda realized to her horror that two cane marks were clearly visible on the backs of her thighs, just under the hem of her uniform skirt.


Belinda felt overwhelmed by a fresh wave of humiliation.  The childish uniform had effectively stripped her of her adult rights and reduced her to a mere teenager.  Now the stripes on the back of her thighs identified her as a delinquent who had just been given a good thrashing!


“Yes, the head had her touching her toes,” Professor Winters chuckled.  “But sad to say, it’s already time for a refresher.”


“Well, don’t go easy on her,” the young woman urged.  “Real tears lead to real learning.”


“Truer words were never spoken,” Professor Winters agreed.  


The meeting ended, and as the woman walked past she shot Belinda a sly, knowing smile.  It was obvious that Belinda’s hope that a peer might save her had been a fantasy, and the woman was as delighted by Belinda’s predicament as Miss Rawlings had been.  


As they passed a door marked “GIRLS” Belinda’s mind turned to a more pressing matter.  “Please, sir,” she said, being careful to phrase her request in the properly submissive manner the headmaster had taught her, “I very much need to use the potty.”


 “We will discuss your paper first,” Professor Winters replied gruffly.  


“Please, sir!” Belinda pleaded.  “The Headmaster said I could go after my corner time!”


“For goodness sakes, girl, how are you supposed to learn self discipline if you can’t even learn to control your bladder?”


“But…”


“Silence!  In this institution you will make water when your betters give you leave to do so.  Now come along!”


Belinda surrendered, quickly realizing that the only thing more humiliating than begging for permission to use the potty was being refused.


As they arrived at room 222 Winter’s held the door open for Belinda, not as a courtesy, but to emphasize that a recalcitrant must always be kept in plain sight.


The classroom, like the rest of the school, appeared to be very old, with high ceilings and worn, old-fashioned one-piece wooden desks that had seen much wear.  


Professor Winters pulled out the elegant large wooden chair from behind the teacher’s desk.  He moved it to the center of the room, and crooked his finger to motion Belinda forward.


Belinda stood in front of him, but Winters gruffly pulled her arm so that she was standing on his left side, looking down at his lap.  


Belinda knew what was coming, and the butterflies in her tummy took flight. 


Professor Winters was actually going to spank Belinda her over his knee!


Belinda told herself this couldn’t be happening.  She had filed a complaint with her University’s Ombudsman about Professor Winter’s use of the condescending words “child” and “young lady” and his incessant “compliments” about her lovely face and figure.  The threat of early retirement had left Winters utterly cowed, to Belinda’s delight.  


Could it actually be that the man she had once charged with sexual harassment was going to spank her over his knee like a naughty child?

 

Professor Winter’s certainly sounded like an angry father.  “When I discussed your paper with you, you ignored my suggestions,” he scolded.   “You’re standing now, and not sitting, which is an improvement.  However I think there is a better position from which we might review your shoddy, slovenly scholarship.  Do you know what position that might be, young lady”


 Belinda knew what he wanted her to say, but she desperately didn’t want to say it.  


Instead, sounding more like an unruly teen than she intended, she muttered, “I dunno.”


 “YOU DON’T KNOW?” he echoed.  “Fine.  Since you “don’t know,” you may go to the cabinet and fetch me a razor strap.”  


Belinda’s eyes widened into saucers!  A strap?  


Belinda, terrified, blurted out the answer.  “I should be over your knee!  That’s the position we should review my paper in.  Over your knee, with my bottom raised high for discipline!”


Professor Winters smiled, pleased that the threat of the strap had snapped his rebellious charge into line. “Very good.  Belinda, assume your position.”


HER POSITION?  Belinda gritted her teeth at the sly, humiliating insinuation that her “proper place” was over his knee, with her backside pointed skyward.  But she knew this was no time to argue, and in any event she was too relieved to be spared the strap to protest.  Belinda obediently scrambled into position over her Professor’s knee.  


Belinda had fantasized about spankings for years, but she had never “assumed the position” and it felt strange to her.  The blood rushed to her head; she needed her hands to steady her.   It was an awkward arrangement, and as Professor Winter’s shifted his knee Belinda struggled to maintain her balance.


Belinda clenched her teeth.  It was a precarious, uncomfortable, and humbling pose, but perfect for reminding a young lady that she was no longer in control.  At this moment, Belinda knew, it was indeed “her position.”  


As she shifted her weight Belinda quickly became aware that she was pressing against Professor Winters and that he was enjoying it.  Belinda found his excitement both infuriating and humiliating, but it was yet another indignity that she was helpless to prevent.  


Professor Winters was indeed enjoying both the view and the sensation of Belinda lying across his lap.  Pleased with the current state of affairs, he handed Belinda her dissertation.


Belinda had to take one hand off the floor and reach behind her to take the paper.  Her face was close to the floor, so she laid the paper on the ground in front of her.


“Hold the paper, child,” Professor Winters chided.  “I don’t want you to get it dirty.”


Belinda hesitated, then awkwardly arched her back up and held the paper with one hand so that she could keep it off the floor.


“Move your hand.  You may touch the chair, but not the floor.”


Belinda scarcely saw the difference, other than it was much more difficult to grasp the chair than use the floor.  Nonetheless she needed to hold something to maintain her uncomfortable pose, and she obediently moved her hand up off the floor to grasp the chair leg.


Satisfied that his naughty charge was now in a suitably awkward position, Professor Winters issued his next command.  “Read” he ordered curtly.


Belinda read the highlighted passage.  


“All too often institutionalized corporal punishment policies have disguised sexist abuse as discipline.  Rules that enable older men to administer discipline create an environment ripe for abuse, where adult women are punished more for the sexual gratification of the men than for the imagined misdemeanors with which they are charged.”


SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!


 The spanks were not hard, but Belinda was shocked to feel his large hand on the seat of her skirt, and cut her recital short.


“Sophomoric sophistry!” Professor Winters thundered.  “You accuse men of sexism, while in the very next sentence you engage in ageism.  What on earth does my age have to do with anything?  Perhaps I should invite some of your students to discipline you instead.  I’m sure there would be no shortage of 18 and 19 year old frat boys who’d enjoy tanning your saucy bottom!”


SPANK!  SPANK! SPANK! 

 

“No, not my students!” Belinda cried, horrified at the thought.  “I’m sorry!  It was stupid of me!  I’ll fix that passage!”


“Indeed you will.  But your lies and falsehoods don’t stop there.  Is my punishment of you any less effective, because I’m enjoying it?  Are you arguing I should spank harder?”


SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!


“No, sir!” Belinda cried out.  “That’s hard enough!”


 “Is it?  “Perhaps you can explain what’s wrong with a professional enjoying his work?”


SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!


“Nothing, sir!” Belinda cried out, as the spanks reigned down.  “I’ll take it out in the next draft.”


“No, you won’t “take it out,” young lady, you’ll correct it.  You’ll point out how fortunate it is that there is a ready supply of older men eager to discipline the pert backsides of irresponsible young scamps such as yourself.  Don’t you think that’s fortunate, Belinda?”


Not waiting for an answer, the Professor prompted her response with three more spanks.


“Yes, sir!” Belinda replied, gritting her teeth.  “I’m a naughty girl, and I’m lucky that there are men willing to discipline me.”


“Indeed,” Professor said.  “As for this so-called ‘sexual gratification’ you are babbling about, perhaps, a bit later in this process we can precisely determine who is gratifying whom.”


Belinda stiffened.  Belinda had fantasized about being disciplined and although she hated to admit it, the punishment she was receiving was as exciting as it was mortifying.  Belinda squeezed her thighs together, hoping her arousal wasn’t obvious.


“I would say that your paper’s blatant foolishness has earned you a forfeit.  Would you agree, Belinda?”


Belinda definitely did NOT agree.  The section that Professor Winters squashed was not mere opinion; it was footnoted, with case studies galore.  However she knew the answer that was required.


 “Yes, sir,” she said meekly.  “Very much so, sir!”

 

“Excellent,” he replied.  Belinda tensed as her Professor casually used his two thumbs to flip up her uniform skirt!


Belinda’s face flushed as the cool air from the room waft across her regulation white school panties.  Belinda chewed her lip as she imagined the lewd view she was providing, and squirmed as she felt him stiffen beneath her.  Even worse than the considerable embarrassment was her realization that Winters could now freely examine her panties.  Belinda squeezed her thighs together tightly to conceal her arousal.


Charles Winters paused to enjoy the view.    His nemesis had a perfect bottom, round but tight, supple but firm.  He had often admired it as she left his office, at least until the charges of harassment made such furtive glances impossible.


Now, however, he could take his time, and ogle her at his leisure.  Her full bottom was tightly encased in the white cotton regulation panties, which had doubtlessly been issued to her on admission.


 The thin red cane marks that branded her a naughty schoolgirl were visible on the backs of her thighs, and peeked out from the exquisitely sensitive area that separated her thighs from her buttocks.  The faint red lines were not welts, and the Headmaster had obviously gone easy on her, but Winters knew that his impudent charge would not be sitting comfortably for several days to come.


Winters felt a momentary pang of regret that he didn’t see the panties she had worn under her street clothes, for he often fantasized about their color and style.  No matter; the institutional underpants were far more appropriate, and Winters knew their snug practicality would constantly remind Belinda of her reduced stature in the most intimate way imaginable.


Belinda flinched as Winters gently ran his fingers over the seat of her underpants, which were stretched tight as a drum.  Winters smiled; Belinda wanted to protest, but could not.   A few months before he had been censured for complimenting her on her looks; now he could fondle her bottom with impunity.


 And fondle it he did.  Belinda flinched as he squeezed a portion of her cheek between his thumb and forefinger, but the sensation of her rubbing against him only increased his pleasure.  The awkwardness of her perch, the pressure in her bladder, and her sense of outrage at having her bottom intimately examined by a man she loathed conspired to leave her totally mortified.  Professor Winters did not mind.  The more she squirmed, the more he enjoyed it.


Belinda chewed her lip as Winters kneaded her bottom in his hand.  “You have a round, shapely bottom, and the razor strap will need to be well oiled, so it can snap around these tight curves.  Not to worry.  I’m sure the Headmaster will use the proper tool for the job!”  


Belinda had countless worries, but not that was not among them.


As he groped the bottom part of her left cheek, Winters felt a strange and unexpected sensation.  He looked at his thumb, puzzled.  Winters stared at the gusset of her panties, which were almost entirely concealed between her tightly clenched thighs.


Although she was trying desperately to conceal it, the darkness of the material and the dampness of his thumb proved that Belinda was aroused.   


Winters smiled.  The little minx was enjoying it!


Professor Winters brought his thumb up to his nose and savored her scent.  Aroused, was she?  Well, the little doxy would soon pay the price for her duplicity!


Professor Winters had long suspected her sanctimonious denunciations veiled a secret longing.  After all, why else would she write a dissertation on spanking?  The lady doth protest too much, and Winters now realized that her strident treatment of him was a mask for her deeply submissive streak.


Winters would have enjoyed squeezing Belinda’s lovely bottom forever, but he was anxious to proceed.  “Turn to the next section, girl,” he commanded. 


Belinda had taken advantage of her groping to rest her shoulders, and although the paper was aloft in her left hand her nose was only a few inches from the floor.  She arched her back up and shuffled through her paper to discover the next passage Winters had circled with his disapproving red Sharpie. 


“Read” he ordered crisply.


“The statistics in Appendix II-D prove that an attractive adult woman in a reformatory or prison setting is 68% more likely to have their bottoms bared for discipline than a young man punished for the same offense.  The number rises to 93% when the decision to bare the woman’s bottom is left to the discretion of a male authority figure.”


Belinda’s recital ended in a flurry of crisp, hard spanks.


 “Hogwash!” Winters thundered.  “Statistics!  As if facts proved anything!”  


“Ow!  But you said I needed empirical data to support…”


Professor Winters reminded Belinda that she was there to learn, not debate, in the most direct manner possible:  spank, spank.


“Ow!  I’m sorry, sir!”


SPANK!


 “I’ll be good!”


SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!  


“It was stupid of me!  I’ll correct it!  Truly I will!”


“Yes, you will correct it, Belinda.  Statistics should be used to support truth, not lies.  Although the numbers you cite are accurate, your snide and unsupported sexual innuendos are an insult to male prison wardens and headmasters everywhere.  It’s hard enough for these men to do their moral duty without having their motives sniped at by some half educated, spoiled, snot nosed student!”


SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!


 “But sir, the numbers show…” Belinda protested, not ready to give up a point that she had demonstrably proved.


Winters cut her off.  “Did it ever occur to you, Belinda, that there may be other explanations for your data?  Perhaps the true culprit is your obvious lack of experience.  Women’s bottoms are fatter and chubbier than men’s.  Should women have the extra insulation that nature provides, plus the insulation of pants and underpants, too?  Is that FAIR?”


SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!


“Ow!  Ow!  No, you’re right, sir!  Ow!  It isn’t fair!”


“I should say not.  So you would agree that if you were to spank one of your naughty fraternity hooligans over your knee, through his thickest pair of jeans, that the equivalent spanking for you would need to be given…” Winters paused, and slipped his finger into the waistband of Belinda’s underpants, as if they were an unwanted intruder, “… With no protection whatsoever?”  

 

Belinda knew where this was leading, and didn’t like it one bit.  “Please, sir, not my panties!  Let me keep a shred of dignity!”


Winter’s responded with a flurry of spanks.  “I didn’t ask you for your opinion!  I want facts!  I’m punishing you, not buying you an ice cream cone, you silly twit!”  


SPANK! SPANK!


The Professor’s voice calmed as he moved in for the kill.  “Is that fair that men should be allowed to keep their trousers on, while women are spanked sans panties?”


Belinda’s intellect told her it was NOT fair, but her bottom told her otherwise. 


“Yes, sir, it is fair,” she replied meekly.  “I hadn’t considered your hypothesis, sir.”


“You hadn’t considered quite a lot, you stupid girl.  Consider this.  Your bottom is striped.  Is it possible the headmaster treated you with MORE consideration by making sure the discipline was evenly distributed?”


“Maybe, but I don’t think…”


“Obviously thinking isn’t your strong suit.  So you agree that when a male instructor leaves a male college student’s trousers undisturbed, while he strips you from the waist down, it is a matter of justice, fairness, and consideration?”  


SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!


“Ow!  Yes, sir!” Belinda agreed, desperate to stop the spanking.  “It’s almost… chivalrous.”


As hoped, Belinda’s research “discovery” of male generosity ended the interrogatory…and the spanking.  “Yes, chivalrous!”  Winters agreed, chuckling.  “That’s a good word for it.  I wish to see that word in your paper, young lady!”


“Yes, sir, you will,” Belinda promised.  


“Please read the next passage.”  


 “When the so called “criminal” is an attractive female, oftentimes her panties are lowered for even for the most trivial of misdemeanors.  Their bottoms are raised and their legs are spread in the most indecent poses imaginable, and leering, snickering gawkers are invited to watch under the guise of “witnessing.”  The woman’s well reasoned but pitiful protests are brusquely dismissed since humiliation is considered a key component of punishment.”


Professor Winters was not amused.  “Belinda, raise your hips,” he said crisply.


The moment she had dreaded had come, and Belinda’s heart raced.  “Please, sir, I’ll do anything… anything …just don’t take down my panties!” Belinda pleaded.


“Would you like to keep your underpants on?” Professor Winters teased.  


“Yes, sir, very much so, sir!” Belinda replied.


“Is it important to you?”  


“Yes, sir, very important,” Belinda admitted, not sure of his intent.


“But in the passage above you summarily dismissed the idea that the lowering of the woman’s underpants was a key component of the punishment.  Indeed, you go much further, and charge indecency, and go on to impugn the integrity of male authority figures everywhere by subtly insinuating that young women are stripped for reasons that are less than wholesome.  Is it possible, perhaps, that it is not the wardens and professors who are indecent, but their charges?  Surely when these so-called victims committed these misdemeanors they knew they might be stripped for all to see.”


To Belinda’s horror, her Professor stuck his finger between her legs, and rubbed the shameful wet spot on her panties.


“Can a little slut who juices herself at the thought of a spanking cry out for clemency at the precise moment when justice is about to be served?”


Belinda desperately wanted to cry “clemency,” but instead could only gasp as her Professor’s prying finger rubbed her in the most intimate way imaginable.  


“I don’t…. oh…. oh…” Belinda gasped.


“Can a juicy strumpet halt justice by feigning modesty?  Or should her bottom be bared, and her legs spread, for everyone to see?”


Winters rubbed harder.  Belinda wanted to answer, but instead, panted.


Professor Winters, satisfied that his case had been proved, and that Belinda’s absurd pleas to maintain her modesty and feminine dignity had been dismissed as mere tripe, withdrew his teasing finger.  


Professor Winters chuckled as Belinda squirmed and grunted in frustration!


Professor Winter’s quickly redirected his attention.  “Belinda, raise your hips,” he said calmly.


Belinda’s full, round bottom was now the highest point of her anatomy, and it supported her weight.  Rising was no easy matter, given that one hand was holding her paper, the other was on the chair leg, she was gasping for air, and her head and nether regions were buzzing.  


Belinda tried to shift all her weight to her left arm, but her hand slid down the well-polished chair leg, which was not designed for gymnastics.  


Belinda finally succeeded by wiggling her hips down a bit so that she could shift her weight onto her tippy toes, and use her hand solely for balance.  Belinda’s mechanizations moved her bottom out of perfect “spank” position, but watching her shapely behind wiggle and jiggle was so entertaining that Winters didn’t mind a bit.


Belinda gasped as Professor Winter’s used both hands to pull her panties down over her hips in a single fluid motion.  Oddly, Belinda found the baring of her bottom even more humbling than his spiteful denial of her pleasure.  The latter acknowledged her womanhood, while her summary stripping incontrovertibly proved that Belinda had no rights whatsoever.


The Professor used his hands to guide Belinda’s scrumptious bottom back into the ideal spanking position, an exacting and prolonged procedure that he enjoyed much more than Belinda.  It was a painstaking process, but after much squeezing, patting, and groping Belinda’s bare fanny cheeks were once again ideally positioned for discipline.


“Shameful little slut!”  SPANK!


“Accusing your betters of indecency!” SPANK!


“While all the while juicing your panties at the thought of a spanking!”  SPANK!


“So you crave humiliation do you?” SPANK!


“Have no fear.  The authorities at this institution will see that you drink your fill…and then some!”  SPANK!


Belinda chewed her lip and sobbed softly, less from the pain of the spanks, which weren’t very hard at all, as from the harsh truth of his remarks.  


Belinda had fantasized about being treated like a naughty schoolgirl for years, and the thought of what was in store created an almost unbearable excitement.  Belinda knew she was “bad,” and in her heart she knew she was getting precisely what she deserved.


When her punishment ended Belinda raised her panties, wiped away her tears, blew her nose, and followed Professor Winters to the nurse’s office.


Belinda was horrified when Professor Winters chose to stay in the room to watch her examination.  She didn’t want to undress in front of him, but the nurse, a curt, fat woman in her mid fifties, made it clear that modesty was not an option.


When Belinda left her panties on the nurse admonished her that the order to remove her clothing meant ALL of her clothing.  


Belinda reluctantly surrendered her final garment, and the nurse smiled momentarily as she realized that they were drenched.  Professor Winters asked to examine the shameful evidence and Belinda watched unhappily as the nurse handed Winter’s her soggy panties.  


Winters did not examine her underpants, but instead pocketed them, a hard won trophy of his absolute triumph.


The scale, alas, was outside the door, which meant that Belinda was forced to stand buck naked in front of two toothless, grizzled workmen who were painting the outer office.  Belinda, her hands at her sides, stood naked for several minutes as the nurse adjusted the weights, took her measurements, and started her chart. 


Unfortunately for Belinda, the two old workmen must have been on a hiatus, for they stopped work and sat on their ladders, watching with broad, toothless grins as the nurse put Belinda through her paces.


In order to test her heart, Belinda was required to exercise and jump about for several minutes.  During this prolonged procedure no paint was applied to the walls, but the paint cans in front of the men were very well stirred.


Back in the exam room, the blood pressure and blood test were straight forward enough, although Belinda was shocked when the nurse responded to her request to use the bathroom by handing her a tin bucket.  Under the guise of securing a urine sample, the proud college instructor was forced to squat and release her seemingly endless stream in full view of both the nurse and a highly amused Professor Winters.


Belinda’s temperature was taken rectally (“for accuracy”) and a cream was rubbed into her spanked fanny cheeks to “promote healing.”  


Belinda’s suspicion that the nurse was enjoying the creaming of her bottom more than was professionally necessary was confirmed when the stirrups were snapped into place and the nurse spent the next 20 minutes “examining” her for contraband in the most intimate manner imaginable. 


Despite (or perhaps because of) her embarrassment Belinda was still quite excited.  However each time she came close to satisfaction the nurse pulled back, much to Professor Winter’s amusement. 


By the time the examination was over, it was quite late (nearly 8 pm!) and well past Belinda’s bedtime.  Calisthenics began on the parade grounds at 4 am, rain or shine, and Belinda needed her rest.  


Most of the other girls were already asleep as Belinda, dressed in her school issued T-shirt and underpants, was escorted by her dormitory’s housemother to her bunk.   Belinda noted the other young women were all in their 20’s or 30’s, and recalled that the institution only admitted adult “delinquents.”  Nonetheless some of the women had their hair in pigtails, and a few clutched stuffed animals and dolls as they slumbered in their bunks.


As a new girl, Belinda had a top bunk, and the housemother in charge of her dorm had to stand on the frame of the bed to pat Belinda on the head and kiss her goodnight as she wished her sweet dreams.


As she stared at the ceiling, Belinda hoped that her stepmother would not come tomorrow.  Belinda fantasized about humiliation, but she had certainly never fantasized about her despised stepmother, who at 22 was fully three years younger than Belinda, seeing her treated as a reformatory delinquent.


The dorm was large, and Belinda’s bunk was far from the house mother’s desk, who seemed to be watching TV in any event.  The other girls were sleeping, and Belinda took advantage of the momentary lull to sneak her hand beneath the covers and finish the work that Professor Winters and the nurse had started.


Belinda drifted into a sweet and restful slumber, blissfully unaware of the ceiling mounted security camera monitoring her bed...


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