"The Unyielding Slab"

As I slowly regained consciousness, I found myself lying across a cold, hard slab. The surface beneath me was unforgiving, offering little comfort to my sore body. Groggily, I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my head, forcing me back onto the slab. I couldn't remember how I got there or where 'there' even was. The last thing I recalled was walking home from the library on a crisp autumn evening. Now, I was faced with an unfamiliar ceiling, a dull grey that seemed to close in on me. Panic set in as I frantically searched for any clues. I was in a small, dimly lit room with stone walls and a low ceiling. A single, flickering torch cast eerie shadows around the space. I tried to remember if I had taken any wrong turns that night, but my memories were hazy. As I lay there, I became aware of a presence in the room. Footsteps echoed off the stone walls, growing louder with each passing moment. I strained my neck to see who was approaching, but my vision was limited. A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing. They wore a long, black robe that billowed behind them like a dark cloud. The figure's face was obscured by a hood, making it impossible to discern any features. Without a word, the figure reached out and grasped my wrist, pulling me back onto the slab. I tried to struggle, but their grip was unyielding. I was pinned down, helpless. The figure raised their free hand, and I flinched, anticipating a blow. Instead, they adjusted their robe, revealing a long, wooden paddle hanging from their belt. My heart sank as I realized what was about to happen. The figure's hand came to rest on my buttocks, and I felt a surge of fear. I tried to speak, to beg for mercy, but my voice caught in my throat. The figure's hand stilled, poised for a moment, before delivering a sharp smack to my buttocks. The sound echoed through the room, and I felt a searing pain as the paddle connected with my skin. I cried out, shocked and terrified. The figure didn't flinch, their expression hidden beneath the hood. They raised the paddle again, and I knew I was in for a world of pain. The spanking continued, each smack landing with precision and force. I lost count of the number of blows, my mind consumed by the agony. Tears streamed down my face as I begged, silently, for it to stop. But the figure showed no signs of mercy. They continued to spank me, their movements rhythmic and unyielding. I was trapped, unable to escape, forced to endure the punishment. As the spanking persisted, I began to lose all sense of time. The world narrowed to the pain, the paddle, and the slab. I was a prisoner, subject to the whims of this mysterious figure. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the spanking stopped. The figure stood over me, their chest heaving with exertion. I lay there, my buttocks throbbing, my mind reeling. The figure turned to leave, but not before speaking in a low, gravelly voice, "You will learn to obey." The door creaked open, and they vanished into the darkness, leaving me to suffer in silence. As the room fell quiet, I was left to wonder what I had done to deserve such punishment. The slab, once a simple surface, had become an instrument of torture. I lay there, helpless and afraid, unsure of what the future held.